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.

O brothers louder, louder chant your praise,
That weary men may know
Heaven's perfect days
Come not with searching to and fro;
But here and now we walk the ways of God's estate.
Nor high, nor low, nor soon, nor late,
But everywhere, and in th' eternal now,
Springs being, never unto death to bow.

What joy to know that Spirit's perfect life
Waits not the deary sanction of the grave,
Nor looks above, beyond a world of strife
For full unfolding! He that walked the wave
Hath said, "the kingdom is within;"
And she, our Leader, blest with quickened sight,
Hath dared to know that what hath been
Is now, and that the far, supernal light
As seen by mortal vision,
Bright over fields Elysian,
Enfolds us close as ambient air
Both here and now, if we but open wide
The windows of the soul, and bravely dare
To stand, God's children, cleansed and glorified.

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