Lead us to the mountain where we decide our Isaac not a worthy sacrifice
But consider it a token of a fat full burnt offering
And in our filthy hands thou wouldst not
We do not deserve the burning of thy divine ram
In the degree of our polluted hands oh make us clean
It's not from dogs that the king should dine
Only through the washing of thy crimson tides
Oh lead us safely unto dust
From whence we wanting having nothing came
Of cavalry redemption Blood fill us wholly all
We wait not for the children bread
But the privilege to nourish in their crumbs
And whenever they fall we recall the daily manner
When we fed as mixed multitude with saints
Through thy great compassion we taste the children bread
We do not consider it a right but a heavenly privilege
Praising you for the master seed
When through thy sparing falling crumbs
Had kept us homeward save
For without we starve the wilderness wild
Until the Lords seed falling crumbs save us so

George Egba

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/save-by-the-crumbs/