Harvest Hymns Poem by Martin Farquhar Tupper

O nation, Christian nation,
Lift high the hymn of praise
The God of our Salvation
Is love in all His ways:
He blesseth us, and feedeth
Every creature of His hand,
To succour him that needeth
And to gladden all the land!

Rejoice, ye happy people,
And peal the changing chime
From every belfried steeple
In symphony sublime:
Let cottage and let palace
Be thankful, and rejoice,
And woods and hills and valleys
Re-echo the glad voice!

From glen and plain and city
Let gracious incense rise,-
The Lord of life and pity
Hath heard His creatures' cries;
And where in fierce oppressing
Stalk'd fever, fear, and dearth,
He pours a triple blessing
To fill and fatten earth!

Gaze round in deep emotion:
The rich and ripen'd grain
Is like a golden ocean
Becalm'd upon the plain;
And we, who late were weepers
Lest judgment should destroy,
Now sing, because the reapers
Are come again with joy!

O praise the Hand that giveth
-And giveth evermore,-
To every soul that liveth
Abundance flowing o'er!
For every soul He filleth
With manna from above,
And over all distilleth
The unction of His love.

Then gather, Christians, gather
To praise with heart and voice
The good Almighty Father,
Who biddeth you rejoice:
For He hath turned the sadness
Of His children into mirth,
And we will sing with gladness
The harvest-home of earth!