THANKSGIVING
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Many mansions, Lord, are Thine
In the universe, Thy home; Glowing planets bear Thy sign, Seething yet with primal foam. Star-clouds, still a shapeless horde, Nascent cells And burned-out shells, Unborn worlds that wait Thy word Hold Thee as their tenant, Lord. Yet no fairer home is Thine Than the fields of Autumn Earth, Where the fruit of tree and vine Spread a feast of matchless worth; Every field her gift hath sent, All the year her labor spent; Every man hath shared his gain From the wealth of mine and plain. Yes, the stars of newer birth By their beauty praise Thy name, All the heavens joining Earth Thy wide bounty to proclaim; All Thy mansions, Lord are fair, Yet can none with Earth compare, For Thy Holy Son dwelt there, When He came, man's life to share. |