The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield In two volumes |
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THANKSGIVING. |
 | The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield |  |
THANKSGIVING.
When young Time sung in Eden's bower,
And angels echoed back his strain,
Ere sin mildewed each morning flower
Of hope, and pleasure died in pain,
Each love-winged thought that rose on high
Was man's melodious prayer of praise,
And happy hearts threw o'er the sky
Blessings, as flowed the elder days,
While Heaven benignly smiled and breathed the grateful lays.
And angels echoed back his strain,
Ere sin mildewed each morning flower
Of hope, and pleasure died in pain,
Each love-winged thought that rose on high
Was man's melodious prayer of praise,
And happy hearts threw o'er the sky
Blessings, as flowed the elder days,
While Heaven benignly smiled and breathed the grateful lays.
No seasons, then, by power assigned,
Restricted songs of holy praise,
For man's pure heart and pious mind
Threw glory o'er life's younger days;
But, his high spirit higher soaring,
He knowledge bought, and was unblest;
And, when he should have been adoring,
Lost Eden—love's abode of rest,
And wandered forth o'er earth, an exile sore distrest.
Restricted songs of holy praise,
For man's pure heart and pious mind
Threw glory o'er life's younger days;
But, his high spirit higher soaring,
He knowledge bought, and was unblest;
And, when he should have been adoring,
Lost Eden—love's abode of rest,
And wandered forth o'er earth, an exile sore distrest.
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There was a jubilee in Heaven,
When man to being sprung, and raised
His soul in praise for blessings given,
The image of the God he praised;
And there are songs of glory swelling
O'er Heaven, e'en in these sinning days,
When man laments his long lost dwelling,
Yet for earth's joys chants hymns of praise,
And sings in Eden's speech, though lost to Eden's ways.
When man to being sprung, and raised
His soul in praise for blessings given,
The image of the God he praised;
And there are songs of glory swelling
O'er Heaven, e'en in these sinning days,
When man laments his long lost dwelling,
Yet for earth's joys chants hymns of praise,
And sings in Eden's speech, though lost to Eden's ways.
For sunny skies and balmy showers,
And mellow airs, and cheerful health,
And bloomy meads and dales of flowers,
And fields of beauty rife with wealth,
And still green vales and wooded hills,
And Plenty smiling o'er each home,
Whose rose-lipped love with odour fills,
And sweet Content, who scorns to roam;
For blessings such as these, let glad Thanksgiving come.
And mellow airs, and cheerful health,
And bloomy meads and dales of flowers,
And fields of beauty rife with wealth,
And still green vales and wooded hills,
And Plenty smiling o'er each home,
Whose rose-lipped love with odour fills,
And sweet Content, who scorns to roam;
For blessings such as these, let glad Thanksgiving come.
No pestilence hath stalked abroad,
And thrown o'er bliss the funeral pall;
No sword of crime-avenging God
Hath marred man's toil-won festival;
His earthquake voice hath not been heard
Amid the cheerful mirth of men;
The soul in peace hath drank His Word,
And Life found joy in wold and glen,
And Love crowned every bliss again—and yet again.
And thrown o'er bliss the funeral pall;
No sword of crime-avenging God
Hath marred man's toil-won festival;
His earthquake voice hath not been heard
Amid the cheerful mirth of men;
The soul in peace hath drank His Word,
And Life found joy in wold and glen,
And Love crowned every bliss again—and yet again.
| The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield | |