III.— THANKSGIVING

By Robert Nichols

Amazement fills my heart to-night,

Amaze and awful fears;

I am a ship that sees no light,

But blindly onward steers.

Flung toward heaven's toppling rage,

Sunk between steep and steep,

A lost and wondrous fight I wage

With the embattled deep.

I neither know nor care at length

Where drives the storm about;

Only I summon all my strength

And swear to ride it out.

Yet give I thanks; despite these wars,

My ship — though blindly blown,

Long lost to sun or moon or stars —

Still stands up alone.

I need no trust in borrowed spars;

My strength is yet my own.