O Painter of the fruits and flowers! We thank Thee for thy wise design Whereby these human hands of ours In Nature's garden work with thine.
And thanks that from our daily need The joy of simple faith is born; That he who smites the summer weed, May trust Thee for the autumn corn.
Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; Who sows a field, or trains a flower, Or plants a tree, is more than all.
For he who blesses most is blest; And God and man shall own his worth, Who toils to leave as his bequest An added beauty to the earth.
And, soon or late, to all that sow, The time of harvest shall be given; The flowers shall bloom, the fruit shall grow, If not on earth, at last in heaven!