Thanksgiving Always.

Thanksgiving Always.
489.3

When barn and byre are safe,
When flocks are in the fold,
When far and near the burdened fields
Have bowed ‘neath harvest’s gold:
When clusters rich have dropped
From many a blushing vine,
And genial orchards, wide and fair
Have owned the touch divine;
Then, up from grateful hearts
Let joyful praise arise
To Him who gives the waiting earth
The blessing of the skies.
When round the mother’s knee
The little children cling,
When night and morn the household caves
With merry voices ring,
When not a sunny head
Is missing from the throng.
When not a silver note is dropped
From out the daily song:
Then, up from thankful hearts
Let fervent praise arise
To Him who fills the happy home
With blessing from the skies.