All glory to You who raises the sun,
And commands the moon to set!
Your purposes are pure,
And Your ways are right.
I stand silent before Your providence,
Dumbstruck by Your wisdom,
Awed by Your love.
When I awake in the morning,
I will go forward in confidence,
For the reins of this world,
Are in Your mighty grasp.
It is Your beast of burden,
You have set it to plow Your fields,
The same which bear the fruits of Your glory.
Ripe and succulent they grow,
Nourished by the blood of the Lamb,
They are a food most desirable for Your people.
From Your storehouse they are offered,
But please forgive Your people, Lord,
We reach for the most appealing fruits first,
The ones with vibrant color and soft skin.
Praise be to the Lord that You do not cater to our whims!
For when it is required,
You pass down pallid fruits,
With hardened shells,
And sharpened thorns.
With special attention You teach us,
To persevere against the thorns,
To overcome the dense shells,
To see past the ashen hues,
And taste an even sweeter flesh.