The God of harvest praise,

In loud thanksgivings, raise

Hand, heart, and voice;

The valleys laugh and sing,

Forests and mountains ring,

The plains their tribute bring,

The streams rejoice.

Of food for man and beast,

Jehovah spreads a feast,

Above, beneath:

Ye herds and flocks, draw near,

Fowls, ye are welcome here;

His goodness crowns the year

For all that breathe.

Garden and orchard ground,

Autumnal fruits have crown'd,

The vintage glows:

Here plenty pours her horn;

There the full tide of corn,

Sway'd by the breath of morn,

The land o'erflows.

The wind, the rain, the sun,

Their genial work have done;

Wouldst thou be fed?

Man, to thy labour bow,

Thrust in the sickle now,

Reap where thou once didst plough,

God sends thee bread.

Thy few seeds scatter'd wide,

His hand hath multiplied;

Here thou may'st find

Christ's miracle renew'd;

With self-producing food,

He feeds a multitude,--

He feeds mankind.

The God of harvest praise;

Hands, hearts, and voices raise

With one accord;

From field to garner throng,

Bearing your sheaves along;

And in your harvest song,

Bless ye the Lord.

Yea, bless His Holy Name,

And your souls' thanks proclaim

Through all the earth:

To glory in your lot

Is comely;--but be not

His benefits forgot

Amidst your mirth.