Albuquerque evening citizen. [volume] (Albuquerque, N.M.) 1905-1907, 1905-12-02
Thanksgiving TALK for
AbSemGeeS from Church

hammedan Fakir may lacerate his flesh. deform his per-
son, and consider himself holy in exact proportion as he
finds himself unhappy; even the ignorant monk may
think to increase his sanctity by rendering life almost
unbearable through. self torutures; but the Ian
guage of true religion, coming in condemnation of all
these, says BE careful for nothing; but. in every thing,
by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your
requests be made known unto God" That our religion
is intended to be one of joy and gladness, may be gath
cred from the whole tenor of scripture, is expressly
stated in passages too numerous to mention, and is init
mated with no uncertainty Of purpose in the giving of
the very Law itself. For while in that law but one
fast-day was enjoined, the days for public and united
thanksgiving we're many and divinely instituted. While,
then, it is true that in the gospel no day Of national or
ceremonial feast is appointed; yet it cannot be denied
that the observance of such is in strict harmony with
the religion we profess.
Though there may be in the minutiae and detail OF
our affairs, much with which many are sorely dissatisfied;
yet even the most discontinued cannot look at all that
has been done for us, without excaiming in full graft
tude of heart, What hath God %wrought?" But yester-
day, it seems, in comparison with the long lengthening
lines of the worlds recorded past, the light of civilization
first kissed the sterile sands on which the rude Atlantic
throws it's boisterous pillows; and now that light flashes
from peak to peak across the mighty continent and fails
in golden showers upon the western slopes. Where the
curling smoke of the solitary wigwam went up through
entwinlng branches and overhanging boughs. or where
the red deer slaked his thirst and sought in leafy coverts
cool retreats from the noon-tide sun, cities spread their
broad extents and burden the ear with their sounds OF
toll; where once the redman rode in his rude canoe and
washed from his tomahawk the blood of his foe, the
palatial steamer plows its putting way as it churns the
waves with its revolving wheels; and where once the
buffalo rolled in awkward galop, shaking its shaggy name
and believing its cry to its following young, the steam
car rattles along it's level way, startling the air with its
shrilly scream; until like so many veins and arteries,
rivers and roads bear to and from the hearts of COM
merce, the life-giving streams of national prosperity.
Look over our fair and fertile fields and see them yield
ing their increase till the wants of man and beast are
all supplied, whilst in the far off east multitudes have
died for lack of bread. See our mines yielding their
hidden treasures to increase our comforts and our wealth,
whilst our factories, with increasing multiplicity, give
employment to the poor and augment the possessions OF
the rich. Let us think of all these things, and then, as
we eat our daily bread, not with girded loins and san
daled feet and staff in hand, as those who are prepared
to flee, but in quietness and peace, in our own homes,
and surrounded by our own friends, let us acknowledge
a national cause for a national thanksgiving in the pros
perity we have so little deserved.
War with his sword bathed in blood, and followed
by the demons of hate, lust, discord, and destruction, has
been abroad upon his path amongst the nations of the
earth; but he has passed US by upon the other side.
Pestilence. hinging his dark banner upon the breeze, has
mounted the chariot of death and driven forth in direful
havoc through many a land, cutting broad swaths in the
field of life; but our fields stand yet unvisited by pesti-
lence. Whilst famine, with sunken eye and wasted
cheek, has gone with stealthy step from door to door, and
with fingers long and lean and lank, has clutched many
a heart and from It wrung the ebbing drops of life; but
even famine has not come near our doors.
But religiously, also, we have much cause for re-
joicing. True 1t is that in our own land the gospel still
sits weeping at the door of many barred and bolted
hearts, while sin reigns and reyels within; and true it is
that in many lands beyond the sea, the weary watchers
turn in vain their anxious gaze to catch upon the noun
tain tops the breaking of the gospel day-the night OF
death and sin still hanging along their skies. Yet it is
also true that the condition OF the world considered with
reference to religion is more to be rejoiced over than
ever before. God himself, in his wonderful providence
seems to be so guiding the affairs of nations that spirit
ual good is resulting from all their confusion and blood
shed. On some heather lands the sun of righteousness
has already arisen with healing in his wings; on others
the morning star has just begun to fling its rays of pro-
mise, forerunner of the day when those who sow in tears
shall reap in joy; whilst in others, multitudes who once
wandered destitute, tormented. afflicted, amidst the tombs
of hope and joy and virtue. are now sitting at the feet
of Jesus, clothed and in their right minds. Indeed, in
lands professedly Christian, where the cross was but the
emblem of ignorance, superstition and sin, the cursed
bars which bound the word of God have been wrenched
away, and now the bread of life may be freely fed to the
furnishing thousands. Who that loves his God and loves
his race, can contemplate these things and not feel his
soul overflow in praise and thanksgiving to Him to whose
sovereign care we are indebted for them all?
But as individuals we have special and abundant
causes for rejoicing. Since last Thanksgiving day was
celebrated, old Winter, leaving his home about the frozen
| pole, rode upon his Boreal steeds up and down the land
shaking his frosty locks and breathing his chilling breath
and as he rode death went forth by his side, and many
a heart grew still as the waters on which he breathed
and many a form as cold as the ice and SHOWS he laid
above their breasts. Then Spring came tripping from
her southland home, hinging kisses at the amorous sun
and strewing flowers along her joyous path; but death
lay hid in every dimple of her cheek, and shot his poA
oned arrows amidst. her sweetest smiles, till many of hel
, fairest flowers were hung as garlands upon the new
made graves. Then Summer, staid matron of the yea
e came slowly stepping from out the Torrid zone, and as
she bound the wheat about her brows and sent the reap
ers forth to gather into her lap the sheaves OF plenty
there went in their midst the reaper whose name if
a Death.
l. And with his sickle keen,
y He reaped the bearded grain at a breath
And the flowers that grow between"
until many hands that had sowed the spTouting seeC
II were idly folded before there was shouted the haTves
Il home. And then, when Autumn blew his blasts from
II out the gathering clouds, and nature paled and droopeC
u and died, and the sun hung low and wan above the south
a-n hfla lnllRar lit. -. Geo - ~ all go,