Thanksgiving

THANKSGIVING Now gracious plenty rules the board, And in the purse is gold; By multitudes in glad accord Thy giving is extolled. Ah, suffer me to thank Thee, Lord, For what thou dost withhold!

I thank Thee that howe'er we climb There yet is something higher; That though through all our reach of time We to the stars aspire, Still, still beyond us burns sublime The pure sidereal fire!

I thank Thee for the unexplained, The hope that lies before, The victory that is not gained,— O Father, more and more I thank Thee for the unattained, The good we hunger for!

I thank Thee for the voice that sings To inner depths of being; For all the spread and sweep of wings, From earthly bondage freeing; For mystery—the dream of things Beyond our power of seeing!