A Thanksgiving

"Thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me."
Lord, in this dust Thy sovereign voice
First quicken'd love divine;
I am all Thine, — Thy care and choice,
My very praise is Thine.
I praise Thee, while Thy providence
In childhood frail I trace,
For blessings given, ere dawning sense
Could seek or scan Thy grace;
Blessings in boyhood's marvelling hour.
Bright dreams, and fancyings strange
Blessings, when reason's awful power
Gave thought a bolder range;
Blessings of friends, which to my door
Unask'd, unhoped, have come
And, choicer still, a countless store
Of eager smiles at home.
Yet, Lord, in memory's fondest place
I shrine those seasons sad,
When, looking up, I saw Thy face
In kind austereness clad.
I would not miss one sigh or tear,
Heart-pang, or throbbing brow;
Sweet was the chastisement severe.
And sweet its memory now.
Yes! let the fragrant scars abide,
Love-tokens in Thy stead,
Faint shadows of the spear-pierced side
And thorn-encompass'd head.
And such Thy tender force be still.
When self would swerve or stray'.
Shaping to truth the froward will
Along Thy narrow way.
Deny me wealth; far, far remove
The lure of power or name;
Hope thrives in straits, in weakness love.
And faith in this world's shame.