ON this day in cold November
This Fall Two Thousand One
We've gathered here together
'Neath Your pale autumnal sun,
Impatient in our old ark
Our feast soon to begin,
Old harvest of tradition
From those thought free of sin.
A feast quite rare for saints of yore
Who quite preferred to fast,
Lest blessings that they celebrate
Offend, too brief to last.
Yet last they have, and we are
Here like Pilgrims then of old,
Descendants of their grimmer faith
Our bounty vast, untold.
This land of theirs a promised one
For all who would be free,
And if, in truth, not all quite yet,
Well, we'll just wait and see.
For their great God Jehovah's
Blessed us all beyond compare.
There's not a man who walks
This earth who envies not our share.
Our power and wealth bestride it,
Our banners raised on high,
No Pope, mullah, nor President
'cept ours commands the sky.
For this grace we've paid dearly
In love, and life, and limb.
For freedom for this worship,
Our fallen honor Him.
And it's Him who we convoke here
On our nation's day of thanks,
Him and His One begotten gift,
Who joined our mortal ranks.
Lest we forget the source
Of all we celebrate today,
We offer here a sacrifice,
To Him, the Truth, the Way.
And more lest we forget that
We've not favored here alone,
We sacrifice for brothers, and
With our prayers atone,
For anything we may have done
To leave them lost, bereft,
Unless when all our days are gone
We're those who're left.
So on this day I offer here
A prayer for those our foes,
For though our ways be different
On them, too, His mercy flows.
For without that -- His Mercy
All are lost we clearly know.
It's Hell not Heaven that we
Create without Him here below.
Now that's been said, I turn
To things for which all here
Give thanks, one voice for all,
Not one above assembled ranks.
Thank You for light Uncreate,
And for the Dark Divine, and
Thank You for Descent of Dove,
And David and his line.
And thank You for forgiveness,
Devotion, and Despair, for knees
Bent on the prie dieux, and Your
Still Small Voice in prayer.
And thanks for wine and wafer,
And for the bells and smoke,
For the Host's great elevation,
And the Sanctus Angels spoke.
And thanks for congregation
In silence and at song, graced
In both hope and tribulation,
Your faithful, loving throng.
Thanks for Your Word and Blessing,
Your altar and Your Cup,
Your Ghost's gilt invitation,
At Your table here to sup.
And for Holy sinews broken,
And pure Flesh offered up,
For sins of ours, Your loved ones,
Your blood-washed incorrupt.
Thanks for the touch of Spirit,
And brave voices in the choir,
And for the robes the Sisters
Sewed, fragrant with desire.
And for the hands, the hearts,
The minds of pilgrims now
And past, the sanctified,
The martyrs, whose glory lasts.
Thanks Father, Son, and Spirit,
Three Persons Loved in One,
For Pentecost's ignition,
And Virgin's grace, like sun.
And for balm of good confession,
And souls healed and contrite,
For the penance of a lifetime,
Just once to get it right.
For pastors, teachers, preachers,
For this ark, and waves, and shore,
For the journey's joys and hardships,
Sailing homebound, evermore.
For the pilgrims here beside us,
And Your love that we all share,
And the wonder of the children,
And Your gift of grace, their care.
For trial and for endurance,
The holy Yes, the Fearful No,
For the Cross, the lash, the soldier's
Spear that opened up the flow
Of a river of a Savior's blood
And water, streamed from His
Wounded side, that made the sweet
Dark place in which we hide.
Thanks to greatest of all Lovers,
In reparation thought a fool,
Two Thousand One years later,
We Proclaim his Mighty rule.
Yea, in all tongues world over,
Lord Jesus called to come again,
God-Man, Lamb, Eternal,
Our Mass-feast now and then.
To You our gifts we offer,
On this day of thanks, Amen.
Mine but a poor writ Gospel rhyme,
From a broken pilgrim's pen.
And if it be not worthy, why
It's one of many here, all poised
To bless and thank You, Lord
In Your new millennial year.
So with one voice we now offer
From hearts that overflow
With grace You've freely given,
And favors You bestow,
Our thanks for all that from
You comes, and back to You
Must go -- and on this, and every
Day, Lord we thank You so.
-- Written by Francis McCarthy
and delivered at the Thanksgiving Mass
at St. Mary in Palms Church,
on Thursday, November 22, 2001