1 When the world is radiant, rich with summer hours,
Wood and field and garden gemmed with brightest flowers;
When the wheat is golden, gleaming in the sun,
And the scythe and sickle harvest have begun.
May our thoughts turn often, in our gratitude,
To the Lord of harvest— giver of all good.
He is Lord of harvest, and to Him we raise
Songs of sweetest measure, thankful songs of praise.
2 He who in the winter clad the ground with snow,
He who lit the springtime, caused the seed to grow;
He who sent the showers, and the dew at morn,
Then the sunny hours, ripening fruit and corn— [Refrain]