This morn, O God, on lowly bended knee
Our fairest Utah lift her heart to Thee
In Thankful prase:
For all the blessings which the year has brought,
For all the mercies Thy dear hand hath wrought,
In divers ways.
We thank thee, Lord, thou hast preserved from fire,
From flood, from pestilence, and famine dire
Our much loved land:
Kindly forgiving our unworthiness.
Thou hast seen fit,
O Lord, to hold and bless
Within Thy Hand
Snow capped our mountains, bearing yellow gold,
Smiling our plains, with fruitfulness untold.
Healthful the breeze;
Do Thou, most kindly, graciously draw near,
List, while Thy loving, waiting children here,
Bless Thee for these.
Nothing we ask; in Thee we put our trust,
Thou knowest, Father, what is best for us;
Thy hand alway Tempers the wind,
and what soe'er be tide
Will bring again a sweet, well-satisfied
Clara Treadway Weir