See, in the woodland, the leaves turning crimson;
Hark, how they rustle and fall to the ground.
Autumn, bright autumn is smiling and glowing,
Showing the treasures that now may be found.
Praise the Creator who giveth us richly
All His good bounty to use and enjoy;
Lift up your hearts and your voices in singing,
Joyful thanksgiving the days should employ.
Sheaves that are golden are housed in the garner,
Fruits that have ripened are gathered and stored.
Autumn has come with its bounteous blessing,
Riches and beauty are freely outpoured.
Life has its autumn, its sheaves to be garnered,
Then we shall reap what at first we have sown;
Grant us, O Father, Thy grace and Thy guidance,
Let us be reapers of blessings alone.