300 



DECEMBER. 



Thou that created'st all ! Thou fountain 

 Of our sun"s light — who dwellest far 

 From man, beyond the farthest star, 



Yet, ever-present ; who dost heed 



Our spirits in their human need, 



We bless thee, Father, that we are! 



We bless thee for our inward life ; 



For its immortal date decreeing ;. 

 For that which comprehendeth thee, 

 A spark of thy divinity, 



Which is the being of our being ! 



We bless thee for this bounteous earth ; 



For its increase — for corn and wine ; 

 For forest-oaks, for mountain-rills, 

 For cattle on a thousand hills ; 



We bless thee — for all good is thine ! 



'I he earth is thine, and it thou keepest, 



That man may labour not in vain ; 

 Thou giv'st the grass, the grain, the tree, 

 Seed-time and harvest come from thee, 

 The early and the latter rain ! 



The earth is thine — the summer-earth ; 



Fresh with the dews, with sunshine bright ; 

 With golden clouds in evening hours, 

 With singing birds and balmy flowers, 



Creatures of beauty and delight. 



The earth is thine — the teeming earth ; 



In the rich bounteous time of seed, 

 When man goes forth in joy to reap, 

 And gathers up his garnered heap, 



Against the time of storm and need. 



