  Our Father, whose unchanging love Gives soil and sun and rain, We thank Thee that the seeds we sowed Were planted not in vain, But that Thy hand the year hath crowned With wealth of fruits and grain. But more we thank Thee for the hope Which hath our solace been, That when the harvests of our lives Have all been gathered in, Our weary hearts and toil-worn hands Thy welcoming smile shall win. We thank Thee for the cheerful board At which fond faces meet, And for the human loves that make Our transient years so sweet; We thank Thee most for hopes of heaven Where love shall be complete. Though on some dear, remembered face No more the hearth lights shine, We thank Thee that the friends we loved Are kept by love divine, And though they pass beyond our gaze, They do not pass from Thine. If at the harvest feast no more Our words and smiles shall blend, We thank Thee that, though sundered far, Our steps still homeward tend, And that our Father’s open door Awaits us at the end. |
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