Once again our glad thanksgivings
Rise before our Father’s throne,
As we try to count the blessings
Of the year so swiftly flown;
As we trace the wondrous workings
Of His wisdom, power, and love
And unite our “Holy! Holy!”
With the seraphim above.
As we gather round our firesides
On this glad Thanksgiving Day
Time would fail to count the blessings
That 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.
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 judgments,
And prolongs our day of grace.
While we love to count the blessings,
Grateful for the year that’s gone,
Faith would sweep a wider vision,
Hope would gaze yet farther 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!
(A. B. Simpson)