Lord Of The Harvest Once Again

Lord Of The Harvest, Once Again,
We Thank Thee For The Ripened Grain;
For Crops Safe Carried, Sent To Cheer
Thy Servants Through Another Year;
For All Sweet Holy Thoughts Supplied
By Seed Time, And By Harvest Tide.

The Bare Dead Grain, In Autumn Sown,
Its Robe Of Vernal Green It Puts On;
Glad From Its Wintry Grave It Springs,
Fresh Garnished By The King Of Kings;
So, Lord, To Those Who Sleep In Thee
Shall New And Glorious Bodies Be.

Nor Vainly Of Thy Word We Ask
A Lesson From The Reaper’s Task:
So Shall Thine Angels Issue Forth:
The Tares Be Burnt; The Just Of Earth,
To Wind And Storm Exposed No More,
Be Gathered To Their Father’s Store.

Daily, O Lord, Our Prayers Be Said,
As Thou Hast Taught, For Daily Bread;
But Not Alone Our Bodies Feed,
Supply Our Fainting Spirits’ Need:
O Bread Of Life, From Day To Day
Be Thou Their Comfort, Food, And Stay.

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