Classic Poem

Not once a year, but every day,
With hearts by gratitude grown tender,
Would we thus pause upon our way
And praise and thanks unto Thee render.

Yet in this harvest of the year,
We come, with hearts o'er full, confessing
How all our land is filled with cheer
And all our coasts bask in Thy blessing.

Then let us all survey our past,
And note Thy guidance to our living,
Till each confesses he, at last,
Has greatest cause for true thanksgiving.