1. Within this food we remember the pouring rain
And the sun’s warm spreading hands.
We also remember the morning breeze,
The breath across the land.
And all of the miracles born of the earth,
And the glories that stream from above
Within this food, this fruit of the field, this labor of love.
Chorus:
Thanks for this food.
Thanks for this food.
Thanks for this food, this fruit of the field, this labor of love.
2. These unmatched dishes tell the stories of who I’ve known
And places that I’ve been. I’m setting the table with memories
Of family and friends.
These guardian angels support every meal
With each of their beautiful souls,
Both new and old, both fancy and plain, both broken and whole. (Ch)
3. Now I sit down at the table with neighbors and friends
And soon we’re in high gear.
We’re getting the latest on everyone else,
Whether or not they’re here.
I look in these faces around me and see
A necklace of glimmering pearls,
Strung with the years, the sharing of food, the smiles and tears. (Ch)
Words and music by Bret Hesla.
© 1991 Bret Hesla. All rights reserved. Use with permission, please.
Licensed via OneLicense.net. Contact: Bret.hesla@gmail.com.