By the poor wi­dow’s oil and meal
Elijah was sus­tained;
Though small the stock it last­ed well,
For God the store main­tained.

It seemed as if from day to day,
They were to eat and die;
But still, though in a sec­ret way,
He sent a fresh sup­ply.

Thus to His poor He still will give
Just for the pre­sent hour;
But for to­mor­row they must live
Upon His word and pow­er.

No barn or store­house they pos­sess
On which they can de­pend;
Yet have no cause to fear dis­tress,
For Je­sus is their friend.

Then let not doubts your mind as­sail,
Remember, God has said,
The cruse and bar­rel shall not fail;
My peo­ple shall be fed.

And thus though faint it oft­en seems,
He keeps their grace alive;
Supplied by His re­fresh­ing streams,
Their dy­ing hopes re­vive.

Though in our­selves we have no stock,
The Lord is nigh to save;
His door flies op­en when we knock,
And ’tis but ask and have.