A Harvest Prayer For Nerthus

Fruitful Mother,

Devouring Mother

I hail You.

Eldest of all,

Veiled and Mighty

I sing Your praise.

Terrifying and trembling,

awash in adoration,

I will lay my treasures

before You.

With head bowed low

upon the earth, that is Your gift

(and our obligation),

I whisper my prayers

remembering always the rhythms

of Your holy groves.

You sent Your family forth,

gifting the world of man

with the arts of civilization.

These things You and Yours have given.

These things we have received:

The skill of drawing sustenance from the sea 

The skill of tilling the soil

Of planting

of bringing forth crops

the gift of the harvest

The crafts of the earth and clay: of throwing a pot and working a kiln

Of building

Of reading the weather

The yoking of animals

Stewardship of the land

Burial of the dead

The merit of sacrifice

The terror of mystery

For these things, we are grateful.

Prayers to You, oh Nerthus,

Ancient and wise.

Prayers to the Mother.

Be thou always honored.