Of our glorious league the Home.
Thou the strawberry’s seed dost fold,
Thou its little roots dost hold,
First of all the fruits that raise
Gifts for us in summer days.
Thanks, too, thanks we give thee, lowly
Ha-wen-ne-yu, great and holy!
Maker wise! of all the sire—
Earth and water, air and fire.
Water, thanks! we safely glide,