Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1898-11-24

ts59szxss5eS w. in beauty waves
- the banner OF the
Baptized in blood at Lexington. the nation
calls il blest,
II droops not 10 a foreign foe, II owns no
kings behest;
Its stars reflect new glory underneath the
autumn sky.
Its welded stripes of white and red wide
10 the breezes fly:
No more the crimson river rolls between
the Blue and Gray,
And all the people celebrate the lands
Thanksgiving day.
The harvest song stf1l fingers where the
golden waters run
Through far Dakota's acres TO the seas of
endless sun,
The cities TEEN with labor for the work
mans eager hand.
Our granaries groan with richeat store, no
hunger Ia the land:
The cotter's little family on the rugged
mountain side
Takes up the song Of plenty till II echoes
far and wide.
And we send across the pillows as they
ceaseless rise and fall
This message to the nations: 1--WE have
food enough for air.
Goo smiles upon the nation that has set
people free,
We worship but at Freedoms shrine fro4a
surging sea to sea,
The boy who drives the cattle home across.
the mesa bare
Looks up with pride nor feels ashamed be-
side the rich mans heir;
Our navses ride the oceans with our starry
flag unfurrd,
Our traders bear their cargoes to the hAr-
bors of the world;
Aye. back to rs from lands as fair and dis
tant as Cathay
Come argosies that help to crown this glad
Thanksgiving day.
Old Glory proudly waves to-day e'er battle
fields afar,
The foreign foe hath humbled been beneath
the clouds OF war;
Aye, every star that dots our flag upon the
land and main
Recounts the story OF the men who crushed
the might of Spain;
No longer ride her boosted fleets, no longer
flash their guns,
The seal of silence hath been planed on
them by Freedoms sons:
With victory on our banners fair we CRATE
full kneel and pray,
And thank the watchful Father for this
proud Thanksgiving day.
There's plenty in the southland where in
white the cotton blows.
There's plenty In the northland meath
Katahdin's crest of SHOWS,
The east has heard the reaper's song DER
countless fields Of grain,
The golden corn has gathered been on
many western plain;
me winter has no terrors for the land we
dearly love.
The skies that promise happy times are
blue and bright above;
Our nation In Its splendor can take up the
glad refrain:
20 Father, Thou hast blessed us. Let
Thanksgiving come again!'
We've seen the years fall from His hand
like leaflets In the void,
The crown He's set upon our land Is har-
vests crown OF gold;
The anthems OF Thanksgiving, rising high
'twixt sea and sea.
Stir every heart that beats beneath the
banner of the free:
In the turmoil OF the battle we were born
to bless the world,
Our fathers on historic fields our match
less flag unfurld:
With five and forty stars 70 light to greater
deeds the way,
We as a nation celebrate this glad Thanks
giving day.
o bells that tell the story OF our coun4rv.u
rise 10 fame,
Ring out the paeans OF glory meath the
nag we love TO name;
With plenty all around we can lift the Joy
fui strain,
And the harvest song IN echoed In the ma
tton's heart again;
Let the benedtction sweeping DER the land
from shore to shore
Shake the mountains with the chorus:
Praise the Lord torevermore!
Praise our Father Cor His goodness. reach
ing far from sea to sea,
He has blessed uS as c nation; he has mafe
and kept Us treoi'
T. c, HARBAUGH.