Joseph Anstice (1808–1836)

LORD of the harvest! once again

We thank Thee for the ripen’d grain;

For crops safe carried, sent to cheer

Thy servants through another year;

For all sweet holy thoughts, supplied

By seed-time and by harvest-tide.

The bare dead grain, in autumn sown,

Its robe of vernal green puts on;

Glad from its wintry grave it springs,

Fresh garnish’d by the King of Kings;

So, Lord, to those who sleep in Thee

Shall new and glorious bodies be.

Nor vainly of Thy Word we ask

A lesson from the reaper’s task;

So shall Thine angels issue forth;—

The tares be burnt;—the just of earth,

Playthings of sun and storm no more,

Be gather’d to their Father’s store.

Daily, O Lord, our prayer is said

As Thou hast taught, for daily bread;

But not alone our bodies feed;

Supply our fainting spirits’ need;

O Bread of Life! from day to day,

Be Thou their Comfort, Food, and Stay!