1 Once more the liberal year laughs out
O'er richer stores than gems or gold;
Once more, with harvest-song and shout,
Is nature's bloodless triumph told.
2 O favors every year made new!
O blessings with the sunshine sent!
The bounty overruns our due,
The fullness shames our discontent.
3 We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on;
We murmur, but the corn ears fill;
We choose the shadow, but the sun
That casts it, shines behind us still.
4 Now let these altars, wreathed with flowers
And piled with fruits, awake again
Thanksgiving for the golden hours,
The early and the latter rain.
Source: The Hymnal for Boys and Girls #28