Occasional Impressions

The Harvest of the Muse

In the Glistening Field

In the glistening field by bowing low
the ears of corn show their Creator honour.
They cry, “Come, let the sickles chime!
But do not forget to sing the praise of the Lord.”

All-bountiful God, you let a year endure
until the grain is ripened which must feed us.
Now you bestow, and we collect, your bounty;
all our good fortune comes from your grace.

For when you, Lord, speak the divine ‘Amen’,
the earth soon fills itself with rich gifts.
But if you turn away, we cannot live;
we stumble, quaking in the dust.

O Lord, we are yours
and we want no more than to feel in the sweat of our brow
the toils of labour.
We pray only, Father, that you bless our handiwork:
give us health, new strength and power.

For, as children to God, we want to cherish hope
and to share from your abundance with the poor.
For you give us enough - that we may be satisfied.
You give to us richly - that we should have much to share.

The good gifts come from you, O Lord;
we are only your helpers -
and at the end,
you will demand an account of our deeds.

For Death will reap us like ripened sheaves
and carry us to the grave.*

And then, Lord Jesus,
take our souls into the granary of heaven,
that we may celebrate the eternal Sabbath.
For the Lord has said that
those who sow with tears the noble seed on earth
will reap with joy the harvest of his heaven.**
Wilhelm Gortzitza, after Bernhard Rostock (1738)
(IIG 1998)

* Luke 16.2
** Psalm 126.5,6
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