Thanksgiving

Yes, I know it isn't fall and it certainly isn't anywhere near Thanksgiving, but I couldn't wait how many months to post this poem so here it is!
(and seeing as fall is my favorite season...this brings some fall flavor into spring!)

By Della Thompson Lutes


 I thank Thee, Lord, for house and home
and lands-possessions sweet;
I thank Thee more for friends, who,
loving, pause to greet
Me, as we, moving onward, meet.

I thank Thee, Lord, for little children, and
the touch of tiny, helpless hands
Which cling to mine in tender truthfulness; the
sound of childish voices in the land
For birds and butterflies, for flowers, and,

I thank Thee, Lord, for work, for
toil and labor, sweat of brow, and
Well earned rest; for sleep and wakefulness
again to here and now;
For Hope of Future Life and-Thou.

But more than all I thank Thee, Lord, for
love, and power to laugh and weep
With the who on their way rejoicing go, or
pause beside the vigil keep
A moment by their dead who sleep.


For house and home and friends and
work-gifts from above
I thank Thee, Lord; but more than all,
yea, more than all, I thank Thee,
Lord, that I can love.