Thanksgiving Day, 2003
2003-11-27 : 4:46 p.m.
Most gracious God, by whose knowledge the depths are broken up and the clouds drop down the dew: We yield thee hearty thanks and praise for the return of seedtime and harvest, for the increase of the ground and the gathering in of its fruits, and for all the other blessings of thy merciful providence bestowed upon this nation and people. And, we beseech thee, give us a just sense of these great mercies, such as may appear in our lives by a humble, holy, and obedient walking before thee all our days; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with thee and the Holy Spirit be all glory and honor, world without end. Amen.
-�Thanksgiving for the Harvest,� The Book of Common Prayer (1979 Revision)
You are to be praised, O God, in Zion;
to you shall vows be performed in Jerusalem.
To you that hear prayer shall all flesh come,
because of their transgressions.
Our sins are stronger than we are, but you will blot them out.
Happy are they whom you choose
and draw to your courts to dwell there!
They are satisfied by the beauty of your house,
by the holiness of your temple.
Awesome things will you show us in your righteousness,
O God of our salvation,
O Hope of all the ends of the earth
and of the seas that are far away.
You make fast the mountains by your power;
they are girded about with might.
You still the roaring of the seas,
the roaring of their waves,
and the clamor of the peoples.
Those who dwell at the ends of the earth will tremble
at your marvelous signs;
you make the dawn and the dusk to sing for joy.
You visit the earth and water it abundantly;
you make it very plenteous;
the river of God is full of water.
You prepare the grain,
for so you provide for the earth.
You drench the furrows and smooth out the ridges;
with heavy rain you soften the ground and bless its increase.
You crown the year with your goodness,
and your paths overflow with plenty.
May the fields of the wilderness be rich for grazing,
and the hills be clothed with joy.
May the meadows cover themselves with flocks,
and the valleys cloak themselves with grain;
let them shout for joy, and sing.
-Psalm 65, from The Book of Common Prayer (1979 Revision)
All beautiful the march of days, as seasons come and go;
The Hand that shaped the rose hath wrought the crystal of the snow;
Hath sent the hoary frost of Heav�n, the flowing waters sealed,
And laid a silent loveliness on hill and wood and field.
O�er white expanses sparkling pure the radiant morns unfold;
The solemn splendors of the night burn brighter than the cold;
Life mounts in every throbbing vein, love deepens round the hearth,
And clearer sounds the angel hymn, �Good will to men on earth.�
O Thou from Whose unfathomed law the year in beauty flows,
Thyself the vision passing by in crystal and in rose,
Day unto day doth utter speech, and night to night proclaim,
In ever changing words of light, the wonder of Thy Name.
-Frances C. Wile, 1912.
