The Thanksgiving

The Thanksgiving

Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness,
Leave the gloomy haunts of sadness,
Come into the daylight's splendor,
There with joy thy praises render
Unto Him whose boundless grace
Grants thee at His feet a place;
He whom all the heavens obey,
Deigns to dwell in thee to-day.

Hasten as a bride to meet Him,
And with loving reverence greet Him,
Who, with words of life immortal,
Now is knocking at thy portal;
Haste to make for Him a way,
Cast thee at his feet, and say,
Since, O Lord! Thou com'st to me,
Never will I turn from Thee.

Ah! how hungers all my spirit
For the love I do not merit!
Ah! how oft with sighs fast thronging
For this food have I been longing!
How have thirsted in the strife
For this draught, O Prince of Life!
Wish'd, O Friend of Man, to be,
Ever one with God; through The!

Here I sink before Thee lowly,
Fill'd with joy most deep and holy,
As with trembling awe and wonder,
On Thy mighty works I ponder—
On this banquet's mystery,
On the depths we cannot see;
Far beyond all mortal sight
Lie the secrets of Thy might.

Sun, who all my life dost brighten,
Light who dost my soul enlighten;
Joy, the sweetest man ere knoweth,
Fount whence all my being floweth,
Here I fall before Thy feet!
Grant me worthily to eat
Of this blessed, heavenly food,
To Thy praise, and to my good.

Jesus, Bread of Life from Heaven,
Never be Thou vainly given, 
Nor I to my hurt invited;
Be Thy love with love requited;
Let me learn its depths indeed,
While on thee my soul doth feed;
Let me, here so richly blest,
Be hereafter too Thy guest!

J. Frank—1653

1:20, p. 4

12.3.1859