Poem November 21, 1903 Issue

A Song of Thanksgiving

GEORGE AMBROSE DENNISON.

New-winged with truth, as never winged before—
The Master's truth, reborn these latter days—
Thanksgiving anthems ring from shore to shore
Around the pendant world, with joy and praise.
For lo! the truth sheds healing from its wings;
To wakened ears it sings
As once it sang in Galilee;
And now, as then, it sets the captive free.

Long have we dwelt as in a sunless room,
Our vision bounded by its narrow walls,
Save for a chink that dimly lit the gloom,
As now and then we peered where splendor falls,
A something far and high,
A vast beyond, an unattained sky.

The chink has widened till the walls are gone,
The little rift become a universe.
We face the light of everlasting dawn,
We rise triumphant o'er the primal curse,—
That ancient Dragon,—sense dominion,—
Which through all time has held the aspiring pinion.
Chained to the sordid, earthly sod,
And raised the walls that hid the smile of God.

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