We Praise Thee, God, for harvest earned,
   The fruit of labor garnered;
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 life's gathered grains
   And blessings in our cup that brim;
But more for pledge of what remains
   Past the horizon's utmost rim.

        October, 1972 "The Gospel Standard"