 | Poems |  |
A THANKSGIVING.
I bring my hymn of thankfulness
To Thee, dear Lord, to-day;
Though not for joys Thy name I bless
And not for gifts I pray.
The griefs that know not man's redress
Before Thy feet I lay.
To Thee, dear Lord, to-day;
Though not for joys Thy name I bless
And not for gifts I pray.
The griefs that know not man's redress
Before Thy feet I lay.
Master! I thank Thee for the sin
That taught mine eyes to see
What depths of loving lie within
The heart that broke for me;
What patience human want can win
From God's divinity.
That taught mine eyes to see
What depths of loving lie within
The heart that broke for me;
What patience human want can win
From God's divinity.
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I thank Thee for the blank despair,
When friend and love forsake,
That taught me how Thy cross to bear,
Who bore it for my sake,
And showed my lonely soul a prayer
That from Thy lips I take.
When friend and love forsake,
That taught me how Thy cross to bear,
Who bore it for my sake,
And showed my lonely soul a prayer
That from Thy lips I take.
I thank Thee for the life of grief
I share with all below,
Wherein I learn the sure relief
My brother's heart to know,
And in the wisdom taught of pain
To soothe and share his woe.
I share with all below,
Wherein I learn the sure relief
My brother's heart to know,
And in the wisdom taught of pain
To soothe and share his woe.
I thank Thee for the languid years
Of loneliness and pain,
When flesh and spirit sowed in tears,
But scattered not in vain;
For trust in God and faith in man
Sprang up beneath the rain.
Of loneliness and pain,
When flesh and spirit sowed in tears,
But scattered not in vain;
For trust in God and faith in man
Sprang up beneath the rain.
I thank Thee for my vain desires,
That no fulfilment knew;
For life's consuming, cleansing fires,
That searched me through and through,
Till I could say to Him: “Forgive!
They know not what they do.”
That no fulfilment knew;
For life's consuming, cleansing fires,
That searched me through and through,
Till I could say to Him: “Forgive!
They know not what they do.”
What fulness of my earthly store,
What shine of harvest sun,
What ointment on Thy feet to pour,
What honored race to run,
What joyful song of thankfulness,
Here ended or begun,
Shall mate with mine, who learn so late
To know Thy will is done?
What shine of harvest sun,
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What honored race to run,
What joyful song of thankfulness,
Here ended or begun,
Shall mate with mine, who learn so late
To know Thy will is done?
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