I Dreamt, Last Night, Thou Didst Transfuse Oil From Thy Jar Into My Cruse; And Pouring Still Thy Wealthy Store, The Vessel Full Did Then Run O'Er; Methought I Did Thy Bounty Chide To See The Waste; But 'Twas Replied By Thee, Dear God, God Gives Man Seed Ofttimes For Waste, As For His Need. Then I Could Say That House Is Bare That Has Not Bread And Some To Spare.