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Poem by John Newton


Manna Hoarded


The manna favored Israel's meat,
Was gathered day by day;
When all the host was served, the heat
Melted the rest away.

In vain to hoard it up they tried,
Against tomorrow came;
It then bred worms and putrefied,
And proved their sin and shame.

'Twas daily bread and would not keep,
But must be still renewed;
Faith should not want a hoard or heap,
But trust the Lord for food.

The truths by which the soul is fed,
Must thus be had afresh;
For notions resting in the head,
Will only feed the flesh.

However true, they have no life,
Or unction to impart;
They breed the worms of pride and strife,
But cannot cheer the heart.

Nor can the best experience past,
The life of faith maintain;
The brightest hope will faint at last,
Unless supplied again.

Dear Lord, while we in prayer are found,
Do thou the Manna give;
O! let it fall on all around,
That we may eat and live. 



John Newton


John Newton's other poems:
  1. The Disciples at Sea
  2. The Hiding Place
  3. Zion, or the City of God
  4. Praise for the Incarnation
  5. But One Loaf


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