Monroe City Democrat. (Monroe City, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-11-28
freedoms Thanksgiving Day.

Baptized in blood at Lexington, the
nation calls it blest;
1t droops not to foreign foe, it owns
no kings behest;
Its stars reflect new glory underneath
the autumn sky,
Its welded stripes of white and red
wide to brcezes fly:
No more the crimson river rolls he.
tween the Blue and Gray,
And all the people celebrate the land S
Thanksgiving day,
The harvest song still fingers where
the golden waters run
Through far DakOta's acres to the
seas Of endless sun,
The cities teen with labor for the
workman : eager hand,
Our granarics roanwith richest store.
no hunger in the land:
The cottcr's little family on the rug
ged mountain side
Takes up IA" song If plenty till it
echoes tdr and wide.
And we send across the pillows as
the, ynascles9 rise and fall
This message to the nations: eve
have food enough for ALL
God smiles upon the nation that has
set people free,
We worship but at Freedom shrine
from surging sea to sea,
The boy vino drives the cattle home
across the mesa bare
Looks mp with pride nor feels asham-
ed beside the rich mans heir:
Our navics ride the oceans with our
starry flag unfurl'd.
Our traders bear their cargors to the
harbors of the world;
Aye: back to us from lands as fair
and distant as Cathay
Come argosics that held TO crown this
Glad Thanksgiving day,
Old Glory proudly waves today Ger
hattlcfc'ds afar,
The foreign foe hath humblcd been
beneath the clouds of war:
aye, every star ihHt dOtS our nag up
on the land and maiu
RccounJs the story OF the men who
crushed the might o. Spain;
No longer ride her hoasted fleets, no
longer fash their guns,
The seal of silence hath been placed
on them by Freedoms sons:
With victory ON our banners fair we
grateful kncel 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
Ger countless fields of grain.
The golden corn has gathered been on
many western plain;
The 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:
so Father, Thou hast blessed us. Let
Thanksgiving come again"
We've seen the years fall from His
hand like leaflets in the fold,
The crown He's set upon our land is
harvest's 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
matchless flag unfurl'd:
With five and forty stars to light to
greater deeds the way,
We as a nation celebrate this glad
Thanksgiving day.
o bells that tell the story OF our
couutry's rise to fame,
Ring out the paeans of glory meath
the flag we love to name;
With plenty all around we can lift
the joyful strain,
And the harvest song is echoed in the
nations heart again;
Let the benediction sweeping DER the
land from shore to shore
Shake the mountains with the chorus:
"Praise thesLord forevermore.
Praise our Father for His goodness,