For the wealth of path­less for­ests,
Whereon no axe may fall;
For the winds that haunt the branch­es,
The young bird’s ti­mid call;
For the red leaves dropped like ru­bies
Upon the dark green sod;
For the wav­ing of the for­ests,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the sound of wa­ters gush­ing
In bub­bling beads of light;
For the fleets of snow-white li­lies
Firm an­chored out of sight;
For the reeds among the ed­dies,
The crys­tal on the clod;
For the flow­ing of the ri­vers,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the rose­bud’s break of beau­ty
Along the toil­er’s way;
For the vio­let’s eye that op­ens
To bless the new­born day;
For the bare twigs that in sum­mer
Bloom like the pro­phet’s rod;
For the blos­som­ing of flow­ers,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the lift­ing up of mount­ains,
In bright­ness and in dread;
For the peaks where snow and sun­shine
Alone have dared to tread;
For the dark of si­lent gorg­es,
Whence migh­ty ce­dars nod;
For the ma­jesty of mount­ains,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the splen­dor of the sun­sets,
Vast mir­rored on the sea;
For the gold fringed clouds that cur­tain
Heaven’s in­ner mys­tery;
For the molt­en bars of twilight,
Where thought leans, glad, yet awed;
For the glo­ry of the sun­sets,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the earth, and all its beau­ty,
The sky, and all its light;
For the dim and sooth­ing sha­dows
That rest the daz­zled sight;
For un­fad­ing fields and prair­ies,
Where sense in vain has trod;
For the world’s ex­haust­less beau­ty,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For an eye of in­ward see­ing;
A soul to know and love;
For these com­mon as­pi­ra­tions,
That our high heir­ship prove;
For the hearts that bless each oth­er
Beneath Thy smile, Thy rod;
For the am­ar­anth saved from Eden,
I thank Thee, O my God!

For the hid­den scroll o’er­writ­ten
With one dear name ad­ored;
For the heav’n­ly in the hu­man,
The Spir­it in the Word;
For the tok­ens of Thy pre­sence
Within, above, abroad;
For Thine own great gift of Be­ing,
I thank Thee, O my God!