To Thee, O Lord, our hearts we raise in hymns of adoration,
To Thee bring sacrifice of praise with shouts of exultation.
Bright robes of gold the fields adorn, the hills with joy are ringing,
The valleys stand so thick with corn that even they are singing.
And now, on this our festal day, Thy bounteous hand confessing,
Upon Thine altar, Lord, we lay the first-fruits of Thy blessing.
By Thee all human souls are led with gifts of grace supernal;