Page:The Five Nations.djvu/175

Rh For the ungrazed upland, the untilled lea

Cry, and the fields forlorn:

"The dead must bury their dead, but ye—

Ye serve an host unborn."

Bless then, our God, the new-yoked plough

And the good beasts that draw,

And the bread we eat in the sweat of our brow

According to Thy Law.

After us cometh a multitude—

Prosper the work of our hands,

That we may feed with our land's food

The folk of all our lands!

Here, in the waves and the troughs of the plains,

Where the healing stillness lies,

And the vast, benignant sky restrains

And the long days make wise—

Bless to our use the rain and the sun

And the blind seed in its bed,

That we may repair the wrong that was done

To the living and the dead!