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1 To praise the ever-bounteous Lord,
My soul, wake all thy powers:
He calls, and at his voice come forth
The smiling harvest hours.
2 His covenant with the earth he keeps;
My tongue, his goodness sing;
Summer and winter know their time,
His harvest crowns the spring.
3 Well pleas'd the toiling swains behold
The waving yellow crop:
With joy they bear the sheaves away,
And sow again in hope.
4 Thus teach me, gracious God, to sow
The seeds of righteousness:
Smile on my soul, and with thy beams
The rip'ning harvest bless.
5 Then, in the last great harvest, I
Shall reap a glorious crop:
The harvest shall be far exceed
What I have sown in hope.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | To praise the ever-bounteous Lord |
Title: | Summer - a Harvest Hymn |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1845 |
Topic: | Special Occasions: The Seasons |