Thanksgiving Hymn

A beautiful hymn I pulled off the CCEF blog:

Come, ye thankful people, come

Come, ye thankful people, come, raise the song of harvest home;
All is safely gathered in, ere the winter storms begin.
God our Maker doth provide for our wants to be supplied;
Come to God’s own temple, come, raise the song of harvest home.

All the world is God’s own field, fruit unto his praise to yield;
Wheat and tares together sown unto joy or sorrow grown.
First the blade and then the ear, then the full corn shall appear;
Lord of harvest, grant that we wholesome grain and pure may be.

For the Lord our God shall come, and shall take his harvest home;
From his field shall in that day all offenses purge away,
Giving angels charge at last in the fire the tares to cast;
But the fruitful ears to store in his garner evermore.

Even so, Lord, quickly come, bring thy final harvest home;
Gather thou thy people in, free from sorrow, free from sin,
There, forever purified, in thy garner to abide;
Come, with all Thine angels come, raise the glorious harvest home.
—Henry Alford, 1844

One of the really good things about living in Dallas

Better than Dreyer's/Edy's, better than Haagen-Daz, and better than Tom & Jerry's, is Blue Bell ice cream! Adam and I have 3 tubs in our fridge. We like ice cream. And my definite favorite is the seasonal peppermint ice cream - if you come visit us around the holidays, we'll treat you.

Adam and I are starting to feel more like ourselves again, as if a heaviness has been lifted off our souls. Here's an analogy: if you take one of those stress reliever squishies that you get from career fairs and put a filing cabinet on top for a year, and then take the filing cabinet off, the squishy looks at first like it's permanently squished. But then it ever-so SLOOWLY starts to expand again. That's where we are. We'll try to revive our posting again. Meanwhile, check out our more 'academic,' less personal blogs at:

adamisblogging.blogspot.com
scribeintheward.blogspot.com