Harvest Song (Danielson)

Pumpkins are heaped in piles

Big and round and yel­low;

Apples are stored away

Rosy-cheeked and mel­low;

Oats and bar­ley fill each bin

Corn and wheat are ga­thered in

Fragrance of new-mown hay

Through the wide barn pass­es—

Scent of sum­mer grass­es.

Squirrels their plans have laid

For the win­ter wea­ther.

Brown nuts are packed away

Lying snug to­ge­ther.

Through the sun­ny sum­mer hours

Bees were steal­ing sweets from flow’rs

Now they need have no fear

With their gold­en treasure—

Honey with­out mea­sure.

Father of child and bee

For us ev­er car­ing

Squirrel and small­est bird

In Thy boun­ty shar­ing;

Hear us sing our har­vest song

Of Thy love the whole year long.

Father of child and bee

We our thanks are bring­ing—

Listen to our sing­ing.