Ernest Bross,  “A Thanksgiving Psalm”

　　　Give thanks, my heart! Though flame and flood, rude foes and ruder fate, Have stripped thee of thy world's estate, They force not Honor's gate; Thou hast with Pericles a part, 　　　Give thanks, my heart! 　　　Give thanks, my heart! Though friends are flown, hands once outstretched, withheld, Eyes cold where generous tears once welled, By sordid souls impelled; Thy friendship seeks no miser's mart, 　　　Give thanks, my heart! 　　　Give thanks, my heart! Though treasured marble, volume, canvas rare, Be widowed from thy love and care, Beauty shines everywhere; Loud peal the eternal chimes of Art, 　　　Give thanks, my heart! 　　　O heart, rejoice! Though torn with anguish o'er thine earth-love dream, Though Past and Future hopeless seem, Love lives and reigns supreme; To thee still speaks His guardian voice,— 　　　O heart, rejoice!