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!