Poems (Blake)/Thanksgiving, 1863
THANKSGIVING, 1863.
God of the day and night!Whose presence dwells, serene and lovely still,Above all waves of human good or ill, In darkness as in light!
When summer skies are fair,—When Peace and Plenty reign above the land,The weakest soul can feel Thy guiding hand, And read Thy mercy there;
But when the tempest's mightSullenly bursts above the faded flowers,And all that smiled upon this earth of ours Is dashed from vale and height,—
It needs a stronger trust,Beyond the wrecks of hope and light to seeA purer life made beautiful by Thee, Whose ways are ever just!
We do not weakly fearBeneath the roughest blast of Winter's breath,Nor shrink before his icy calm of death When all is dark and sere;
We know he holds the Spring;Till flinging back its robe of ice and showersThe sunshine laughs on bees and buds and flowers, And bids its wild birds sing.
Yet do our spirits faint,When, rolling on the blood-stained cloud of war,We catch the shadow of the strife afar, And smell the battle taint,—
Forgetting, in our pain,The Lord of Hosts, who strikes from scenes like theseThe grandest chords of human destinies, And makes all bright again!
Teach us O Lord! to seeWith the same faith that laughs the clouds to scorn, Past the dark night, and to the coming morn Made glad and fresh by Thee!
So shall our anthem sweet,Of Praise and Thanks and Love, swell glad on high,And pierce beyond the clouds of soul and sky To seek Thy blessèd feet.