What a pity it would surely be
to be an atheist on Thanksgiving.
Bound by custom, forced to see
all that…no one?…has given me?
* * * * *
To pause and count the gifts and days,
the moments full of cheer,
without a voice or prayer of praise
with thanks for all that’s dear
* * * * *
A table spread with hearty fare
surrounded by dear faces
but Who to thank for all that’s there
when none gives their graces?
* * * * *
A warm meal served for hearts grown cold
with no God to thank, no Truth to hold.
Fellowship with kin, but not with Him,
the peace of Christ, far from them.
* * * * *
It’s not the bounty, nor the gold
but Who we thank for what we hold.
For riches here will fade away
while thanks to God should always stay.
* * * * *
What a pity it would surely be
to be an atheist on Thanksgiving.
Bound by custom, forced to see
all that…no one?…has given me?
* * * * *
What else could I call that,
and what else could that be;
to be an atheist on Thanksgiving
is a woeful tragedy.
* * * * *
~Matthew