Making America throb with the building of souls and the glory of good;
Yea, and we would,
And before the last Autumn we will
Build a temple from ocean to ocean where deeds never still
Melodiously shall proclaim
Thanksgiving forever that Thou hast set here to our hand
So wondrous a mystical harvest, that Thou dost demand
Sheaves bound in Thy name,
Yea, supersubstantial sheaves of strong souls that have grown
Fain to be known