You who have ripened with the grain,
Gilt with the its golden glory,
You who are the singer and the song
The ear of the earth-hearing
And the seer unseen,
You for whom we feast this day,
It is you that I bespeak.
It is known to me that you are
One among many of your kind--
But as leaves upon the oak,
Part of a greater One.
You share with me your sun-sought strength
And lift me in my sorrows.
You are a light to my path;
You are the path itself
And a walker by my side.
You guide my pen
And guard my heart.
For these things I thank you.
I ask a blessing on the land,
Happiness for them that dwell therein,
And hope for the cold and dark days
That will surely come and surely pass
In the ceaseless turning of the wheel.
May you find only love in my deeds
And in my heart no hatred,
And may I walk always
Under the shelter of your hand.