Once again our glad thankgivings
Rise before our Fathers's throne,
As we try to count the blessings
Of the year so swifty flown
As we trace the wondrous workings of
His wisdom, power, and love,
And unite our "Holy, Holy!"
With the seraphim above.
He has blessed our favored country
With a free and bounteous hand;
Peace and plenty in our borders,
Liberty through all our land.
And although our sins and follies,
Oft provoked Him to His face,
Mercy still restrains His judgements,
And prolongs our day of grace.
As we gather round our firesides
On this new Thanksiving Day,
Time would fail to count the blessings,
They have followed all our way.
Grace sufficient, help and healing,
Prayer oft answered at our call;
and the best of all our blessings,
Christ Himself, our all in all.
While we love to "count the blessings,"
Grateful for the year that's gone,
Faith would sweep a wider vision,
Hope would gaze yet further on.
For the signals all around us
Seem with one accord to say,
"Christ is coming soon to bring us
Earth's last, best Thanksgiving Day!"
Author: A.B.Simpson |