TO God, the Giver, thanks for all He wills. His hand hath planted us on kindly soil, Which teeming harvest yields to honest toil, And many a spacious barn with plenty fills. His are the cattle on a thousand hills. He bids us freely share the countless spoil; Whilst bursting presses flow with wine and oil, And industry swift turns her busy mills. But thank Him most for mind, through culture free To scan His large designs and share His though; And worship more with heart than bended knee. By neither fear nor favor weakly wrought, Yet quick the claims of brotherhood to see, The man will dare to do the thing he ought. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 1. THE BRIGHT MOON by CONRAD AIKEN SOPHISTICATION by CONRAD AIKEN THE HOUSE OF DUST: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN POETICAL ABSTRACTS: 2. METAPHYSICAL by HAYDEN CARRUTH HOW THEY GO ON by JAMES GALVIN BROTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |