Some men's consciences are so worthless that if put up and sold to the highest bidder, the auctioneer would have to call off the sale.
Thanksgiving Hymn.
Dear Lord, for all the joyous days
Thy loving hands to us have told
We thank thee humbly, and we praise
Thy wondrous mercies manifold!
We thank thee for thy gifts of love,
Thy blessed benisons of good,
For all thy mercies born above,
And every fond beatitude.
For all the blessings thou hast sent,—
For paths that led us far from wrong,—
For holy joys and sweet content,
We praise thee with our hearts of song.
From thy rich treasuries above
Thy freest bounties full have come
To swell the laughters of our love
Around the happy hearths of home.
The fields have borne abundant store;
The roses and the lilies white
Have crowned the prairies and the shore
With raptures of their love and light.
The orchards bend with fruitage tall,
And plenty rules from sea to sea,
And at the Harvest Home we call,
Dear Lord, in thankfulness to thee!