We Lift Our Eyes, Our Hands, to Thee

We lift our eyes

our hands

to Thee

Our knees

our souls

to Thee we bend;

Thou Father of earth’s fa­mi­ly

Th’appoint­ed weeks of har­vest send.

The ground

Thy ta­ble

is full spread

With food to nour­ish man and beast;

Hast Thou pre­pared the child­ren’s bread

And wilt Thou now for­bid the feast?

In sum­mer

winter

day and night

Both seed time

har­vest

Thou hast willed;

And dew and rain

and warmth and light

Have each their gra­cious work ful­filled.

Shall whelm­ing floods the hopes de­stroy

Of those who in Thy pro­mise trust?

Shall storms pre­vent the reap­er’s joy

And lay his con­fi­dence in dust?

O bid the winds and wa­ters cease

The low­er­ing fir­ma­ment un­shroud;

Think on Thy co­ve­nant of peace

Look on Thy bow—’tis in the cloud!

We fall ad­or­ing at Thy feet

Our pray­er is heard

the veil is riv­en;

With pure heart of­fer­ings let us eat

The bread that com­eth down from Heav’n.