Lord, in Thy name Thy ser­vants plead,
And Thou hast sworn to hear;
Thine is the har­vest, Thine the seed,
The fresh and fad­ing year.

Our hope, when au­tumn winds blew wild,
We trust­ed, Lord, with Thee:
And still, now spring has on us smiled,
We wait on Thy de­cree.

The for­mer and the lat­ter rain,
The sum­mer sun and air,
The green ear and the gold­en grain,
All Thine, are ours by pray­er.

Thine too by right and ours by grace,
The won­drous growth un­seen,
The hopes that soothe, the fears that brace,
The love that shines se­rene.

So grant the pre­cious things brought forth
By sun and moon be­low,
That Thee in Thy new heav’n and earth
We ne­ver may for­go.