Parents, would you believe this?
Here’s a bit of nostalgia for you. I am a grandmother. I went to elementary school in the 1950’s, before the Supreme Court decree in 1963 that God was no longer allowed in the schools. I distinctly remember that we learned the following two hymns in the fourth grade. These hymns clearly refer to God as the Giver of the blessings of the harvest. Furthermore, we were taught grammar, diagramming sentences, how to write cursive (which apparently kids don’t learn anymore, because they text everything and don’t even have to spell right), and, simply, how to write. When taught writing, we were instructed to capitalize the names of Deity. Yes, in fourth grade, we were taught the meaning of Deity, and it was simply a given that we capitalized His name.
Both of these hymns are in my church hymnal. Every time we sing those, I’m taken back to my fourth grade class with Mrs. Moffit, more than 50 years ago, in California, no less. I am a great friend of technology, but I must admit I miss the substance we used to experience in the traditional education which included history and Character Education.
Enjoy the gratitude—which begets reverence—portrayed in these two lovely hymns. ~Christine Davidson
Prayer of Thanksgiving (This hymn reflects upon the pilgrims who sought religious freedom—something which has been abridged in our schools today.)
We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;
He chastens, and hastens his will to make known.
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing,
Sing praises to his name; He forgets not his own.
Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,
Ordaining, maintaining his kingdom divine;
So from the beginning the fight we were winning;
Thou, Lord, wast at our side; All glory be thine!
We all do extol thee, thou leader triumphant,
And pray that thou still our defender wilt be.
Let thy congregation escape tribulation;
Thy name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!
~Anon. The Netherlands, ca. 1626, translated by Theodore Baker, 1851-1934
Come, Ye Thankful People
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.
~Henry Alford, 1810-1871