We lift our eyes, our hands, to Thee,

Our knees, our souls, to Thee we bend;

Father of all earth's family,

The appointed weeks of harvest send.

The ground, Thy table, is full-spread

With food to nourish man and beast,

Hast Thou prepared the children's bread,

And wilt Thou now forbid the feast?

Summer and winter, day and night,

Seed-time and harvest Thou hast will'd;

And dew and rain, and warmth and light,

Have each their gracious work fulfill'd.

Shall whelming floods the hopes destroy

Of those who in Thy promise trust?

Shall storms prevent the reaper's joy,

And lay his confidence in dust?

O bid the winds and waters cease,

The lowering firmament unshroud;

Think on Thy covenant of peace,

Look on Thy bow,--'tis in the cloud!

We fall adoring at Thy feet,

Our prayer is heard, the veil is riven;

With pure beart-offerings let us eat

The bread that cometh down from heaven.