Stand before the altar, holding aloft the sheaves of grain, saying these or similar words:

   Now is the time of the First Harvest,
   when the bounties of nature give of themselves
   so that we may survive.
   Oh God of the ripening fields, Lord of the Grain,
   grant me the understanding of sacrifice as you
   prepare to deliver yourself under the sickle of the
   Goddess and journey to the lands of eternal summer.
   Oh Goddess of the Dark Moon,
   teach me the secrets of rebirth
   as the Sun loses its strength and the nights grow cold.

Rub the heads of the wheat with your fingers so that the grains fall onto the altar. Lift a piece of fruit and bite it, savoring its flavor, and say:

   I partake of the first harvest, mixing its energies
   with mine that I may continue my quest for the starry
   wisdom of perfection.
   Oh Lady of the Moon and Lord of the Sun,
   gracious ones before Whom the stars halt their courses,
   I offer my thanks for the continuing fertility of the Earth.
   May the nodding grain loose its seeds to be buried in
   the Mother's breast, ensuring rebirth in the warmth
   of the coming Spring.