A THANKSGIVING SONG by R. A. Young

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Feb 18, 1897

A THANKSGIVING SONG.

By R. A. Young

For what shall I thank Thee, my Lord and my King, As for Thine acceptance my praises I bring; My thoughts rise in gratitude, rapture, and song, And praises I offer, where praises belong.

I thank Thee for life, and I thank Thee for breath, For the love that preserves me and keeps me from death; I praise Thee for rest when I'm weary and worn, For Thy mercies that fail not, but are new every morn.

I thank Thee for food, for my raiment and health, For peace and contentment, more precious than wealth; I thank Thee for friends that to me have been given As some of the choicest of gifts sent from Heaven.

For the sunshine I thank Thee, whose bright beams impart Warmth, cheering and gladdening—it bids gloom depart; For the air pure and bracing, the skies calm and blue, That all tell Thy goodness, so perfect, so true.

I thank Thee for nature, so lovely, so fair, For the works of Thy hand that I read everywhere; The flowers rich in color, and in fragrance so sweet, That rear their proud heads, or lie low at my feet;

For the birds that pour forth from their innocent throats Their songs so entrancing in clear, liquid notes; For the joy that is mine when I list as they sing, Or watch their quick flight as they rise on the wing.

I thank Thee for clouds, for the shadows and rain, For the gladness that comes when the sun shines again, For the moonlight so tender, the bright stars that shine, Bespeaking the care of a Father divine.

I thank Thee for sorrow, for the pain I may bear, The woe I may lighten, the grief I may share, The cares I may soothe, as some sad heart I see, This makes my heart tender, and so more like Thee.

I thank Thee for all that this world has to give; Abundantly I its best blessings receive; But for far more than this my thanksgiving ascends, For more than earth's pleasure, enjoyments, and friends.

Above all, I thank Thee for Jesus my Lord, For what sin had lost, and His grace has restored, For His precious salvation, so boundless, so free, That pardons and saves a poor sinner like me.

For Thy wonderful patience that still with me bears, Tho tried was that patience through long weary years, For hope for the future, for help in the past, And for the bright promise of heaven at last.

And there in that city whose streets are of gold, Whose radiance and splendor can never be told, I shall render Thee thanks with unfaltering tongue, And through boundless ages Thy praises prolong.

R. A. YOUNG.

Sanitarium, St. Helena, Cal., Thursday, Nov. 26, 1896.