Song of Thanksgiving
(to the air - Portuguese Hymn)
by
We thank thee, O Father, for all that is bright--
the gleam of the day and the stars of the night;
The flowers of our youth, and the fruits of our prime,
And blessings e'er marching the pathway of time.
We thank thee, O Father, for all this is drear--
The sob of the tempest -- the flow of the tear;
For never in blindness, and never in vain,
Thy mercy permitted a sorrow or pain.
We thank thee, O Father, for song and for feast--
The harvest that glowed, and the wealth that increased;
For never a blessing encompassed thy child,
But thou in thy mercy looked downward and smiled.
We thank thee, O Father for all! for the power
Of aiding each other in life's darkest hour;
The generous heart, and the bountiful hand,
And all the soul-help that sad souls understand.
We thank thee, O Father--for days yet to be --
For hopes that our future will call us to thee:
That all our eternity form, through thy love,
One Thanksgiving Day in the mansions above.
**Copyright 1910 Every Where Publishing.
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Count of Monte Cristo
Chapter 115. Luigi Vampa’s Bill of Fare
Chapter 116. The Pardon
Chapter 117. The Fifth of October
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