Hail Lord of the Fields,
the warrior without a weapon,
you who make the grain sprout forth,
and you who falls at harvest;
Every year of your life, death, and rebirth,
just as the earth mirrors you.
Give me a love bound with commitment,
a love bound to the land.
As one must toil for the harvest,
teach me that love is worth working for.
Bless my life with
a land to call my own,
a love to warm me,
through the harshest winter,
and faith in the coming spring
and the bountiful harvest
after a season of work.
Frey,
Witness This!
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