1 Is thy cruse of comfort wasting?
Rise and share it with a friend,
And through all the years of famine
It shall serve thee to the end;
Love divine will fill thy storehouse,
Or thy handful still renew;
Scanty fare for one will often
Make a royal feast for two.

2 For the heart grows rich in giving;
All its wealth is living grain;
Seeds which mildew in the garner,
Scatter'd, fill with gold the plain.
Is thy burden hard and heavy?
Do thy steps drag wearily?
Help to bear thy brother's burden,
God will bear both it and thee.

3 Is thy heart a well left empty?
None but God its void can fill;
Nothing but a ceaseless fountain
Can its ceaseless longings still.
Is thy heart a living power?
Self-entwined, its strength sinks
It can only live in loving,
And by serving, love will grow.