We praise Thee, God, for harvests earned,
The fruits of labor garnered in;
But praise Thee more for soil unturned
From which the yield is yet to win!
We praise Thee for the harbor’s lee,
And moorings safe in waters still;
But more for leagues of open sea,
Where favoring gales our canvas fill.
We praise Thee for the conflicts won,
For captured strongholds of the foe;
But more for fields whereon the sun
Lights us when we to battle go.
We praise Thee for life’s gathered gains,
And blessings in our cup that brim;
But more for pledge of what remains
Past the horizon’s utmost rim!