For this long-favour'd land;

That now, as in the days gone by,
Her strength may be Thy hand.

May she her holy lot fulfil,

Earth's sanctuary to be;

And stand amid the nations still,

A witness true to Thee.

And when the last dread trumpet's sound

Upon her ear shall ring,

Grant that her children may be found

Prepared to meet their King!

141.

HARVEST.

PRAISE to God, immortal praise

For the love that crowns our days; Bounteous source of every joy, Let Thy praise our tongues employ: All to Thee, our God, we owe, Source whence all our blessings flow.

All the blessings of the fields,
All the stores the garden yields,
Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain :
Lord, for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

Clouds that drop their fattening dews,
Suns that genial warmth diffuse,
All the plenty summer pours,
Autumn's rich o'erflowing stores:
Lord, for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

Peace, prosperity, and health,
Private bliss and public wealth,
Knowledge, with its gladdening streams,

Pure religion's holier beams:

Lord, for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.