Good morning, dear Lord, as I pray
You keep me safe and from harm's way.
Please bless me in these farmer's shoes
And help me walk the path you choose.
A simple tiller of the soil,
I know the sweat of honest toil .
If I should stumble, trip, or fall,
Please help me up, Lord, when I call.
Lead and guide me through this morn,
And take away the sharpest thorn.
At twelve o'clock, no shadows cast,
As I take my noon repast.
We talk of crops, we talk of rain,
We talk of loss, we talk of gain.
At one o'clock, back to the field,
To gather in the bumper yield.
The combine hums a merry song,
The happy giant lumbers on.
The crop is good, the corn is dry,
The sun is bright and clear the sky.
By six o'clock the wheat is in
And resting safely in the bin.
Now with the happiness I feel,
I take my bath and evening meal.
As I relax once more I pray,
Thank you, dear Lord, for this fine day.