Thursday, November 28, 2013


File:Wasatch Mountains, Utah oil Albert Bierstadt.jpg

This morn, O God, on lowly bended knee   
Our fairest Utah lift her heart to Thee 
In Thankful prase: 

 For all the blessings which the year has brought, 
For all the mercies Thy dear hand hath wrought, 
In divers ways. 

 We thank thee, Lord, thou hast preserved from fire, 
From flood, from pestilence, and famine dire
 Our much loved land: 

 Kindly forgiving our unworthiness.  
Thou hast seen fit,
 O Lord, to hold and bless  

Within Thy Hand 
Snow capped our mountains, bearing yellow gold,
 Smiling our plains, with fruitfulness untold. 

 Healthful the breeze; 
Do Thou, most kindly, graciously draw near,
List, while Thy loving, waiting children here,
Bless Thee for these.

Nothing we ask; in Thee we put our trust,
Thou knowest, Father, what is best for us;
Thy hand alway Tempers the wind, 

and what soe'er be tide
        Will bring again a sweet, well-satisfied
                                                                         Thanksgiving Day

                                                                       Clara Treadway Weir

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"In all of us there is a hunger, marrow-deep, to know our heritage - to know who we are and where we have come from."

~Alex Haley

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