Adapted with permission from Angela & Brian\'s poem:
\'Harvest in 19th Century America\'
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Tune: Golden Sheaves
(\'To thee, O Lord, our hearts we raise\')
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Heap high the farmer\'s wintry hoard
It gathered with no discord
High heap the golden corn, for known
No richer gifts Autumn [has] shown
It best to love the hardy gift
To the Lord our praises lift
Gift of golden wheat fields bestowed
Before storms make their inroad
We sowed the seeds o\'er hill and plain
In sunny May, now again
It did ripen, and as it grew
Marauding birds away flew
For we the seed from them did guard
Through bright June days it ne\'er tired
But leaves did spring up green and fair
Midsummer\'s soft yellow hair
And now with Autumn\'s moonlit eves
The Harvest comes, man receives
Of the good produce of the land
All sent to us by God\'s hand
Ears from stalks are separated
The Lord He us again fed
Bringing the harvest home, we praise
God\'s provision through all days
Richer than was the fabled gift
Of Apollo, for we sift
With fair hands here the golden grain
Give thanks to God once again
Though Apollo, Greek god showered
And mythical times flowered
Yet truth be, God does create all
Meets needs of who on Him call