See the grain fields wave and toss
O‘er the acres far and wide;
A gold that knows no dross
Adorns the countryside.
Such bounty year by year,
Is given to the earth,
And Autumn‘s harvest here
But heralds Spring‘s rebirth.
Grandfather.
Aye, aye, my children, ‘tis a glorious sight,
The waving cornfields in the sunshine bright.
And I, who now am old and full of days,
Reverently offer up my thanks and praise
To the great Giver,—to our God above,
Who well deserves our thanks and praise and love.
Grandfather sings, with Peace and Plenty (air, “America”).
Our fathers‘ God to thee,
All thanks and praises be
For Harvest cheer;
To thee our thanks we bring,
To thee our praises sing
For thou art God and King
Of all the year.
Girl. (who has been quietly listening).
Now, if you please, I have a word to say.
You‘ve missed the meaning of Thanksgiving Day!
For all the rich abundance of this store
You have expressed your pleasure o‘er and o‘er.
And, mother,—you and grandmother make claim
Thanksgiving dinner is its end and aim!
Father,—and brother,—you more crops would raise.
Grandfather, your heart‘s full of prayer and praise.
And all these things are right,—but I still say
You‘ve missed the meaning of Thanksgiving Day!
Time. (‘‘amused‘‘).
Tell us, my child, what you have in your mind.
