Classic Poem

THEE we praise, O God of Harvest,
Thee we worship and adore;
Souls and bodies Thou createst,
Thou sustainest with Thy store.
Corn on boundless prairies growing,
Wine from bursting presses flowing,
Oil its radiance glad bestowing,
These Thou givest evermore.

Corn in golden sheaves Thou sendest,
Staff of life to sons of men,
Type of other food, and nobler—
Angels' food—vouchsafed again.
Bread from Heaven, Thine its leaven,
Feeds the hungering souls of mortals,
Till, from out the shining portals,
Thou shalt come, with power, to reign.

Wine in ruddy flow Thou givest,
Thou Thyself the glorious Vine;
Thine the clusters, by Thy Passion
Trodden into precious Wine.
Thus appeareth wine that cheereth
God and man, in mystic union;
Thirsting souls, in sweet communion,
Drink, and thrill with love divine.

Oil in balmy streams Thou pourest
On man's wounds, with healing wine;
In the R OCK , by anguish cloven,
Joy hath found its holiest shrine.
Oil of gladness, conquering sadness,
Laden all with sweetest spices,
Everywhere its fragrance rises,
Through all glooms its lights do shine.

Glory to the God of harvest,
Henceforth and for ever be;
Threefold gift from threefold Giver,—
One, to all eternity:
Truth of God the F ATHER holy,
Love of God the S AVIOUR lowly,
Joy of God the S PIRIT , wholly
Three in One and One in Three.