God The Father! Whose Creation

God the Father! Whose creation

Gives to flowers and fruits their birth,

Thou, whose yearly operation

Brings the hour of harvest mirth,

Here to Thee we make oblation

Of the August-gold of earth.

God the Word! the sun, maturing

With his blessèd ray the corn,

Spake of Thee, O Sun enduring,

Thee, O everlasting Morn!

Thee in Whom our woes find curing

Thee that liftest up our horn.

God the Holy Ghost! the showers

That have fattened out the grain,

Types of Thy celestial powers,

Symbols of baptismal rain,

Shadowed out the grace that dowers

All the faithful of Thy train.

When the harvest of each nation

Severs righteousness from sin,

And archangel proclamation

Bids to put the sickle in,

And each age and generation

Sink to woe, or glory win;

Grant that we, or young, or hoary,

Lengthened be our span or brief,

Whatsoe'er the life long story

Of our joy or of our grief,

May be garnered up in glory

As Thine own elected sheaf.

Laud to Him to Whom supernal

Thrones and virtues bend the knee;

Laud to Him from Whom infernal

Powers and dominations flee;

Laud to Him the co-eternal

Paraclete, forever be.