“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and let all that is within me bless His holy name. Bless the Lord, O my soul, and never forget all He hath done for thee.... Who satisfieth thy desire with good things.... The Lord is compassionate and merciful.... He hath not dealt with us according to our sins.... The mercy of the Lord is from eternity and unto eternity upon them that fear Him.”[60] “Give glory to the Lord, for He is good: for His mercy endureth for ever. Let them say so that have been redeemed by the Lord, whom He hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy.... They cried to the Lord in their tribulation, and He delivered them out of their distresses.... Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to Him and His wonderful works to the children of men. For He hath satisfied the empty soul, and hath filled the hungry soul with good things.”[61] “Praise ye the Lord, for the Lord is good; sing ye to His name, for it is sweet.”[62] “Who healeth the broken of heart, and bindeth up their bruises.”[63] “The Lord hath granted me my petition which I asked of Him.”[64] “Blessed be God, Who hath not turned away my prayer, nor His mercy from me.”[65] “O Lord our God, all this store ... is from Thy hand.”[66] “O Lord, there is none like Thee.”[67] * * * * * _He fell on his face before His feet giving thanks._ The right place, the right posture for thanksgiving. My whole self, body and soul, seeks to pour itself out in praise. And yet, my God, when do we feel ourselves more helpless, more bound in by our narrowness than when we come to thanksgiving! Our heart is freer on the path of sorrow than on that of joy. It knows its way better. It can go further. There are novenas of Ten Fridays, Masses and Communions, year after year of persistent prayer. But when the answer comes at last; when suddenly the burden is lifted; when the thrill of gladness and the stillness of peace succeed one another in sweet alternations within the soul--how poor, how soon ended is our _Te Deum_! A rush to Your feet--a few tears perhaps--a few broken words of gratitude, and--our heart fails us. In vain do we lift it up in David’s heart, that censor of glorious praise. There weighs upon it still the stifling sense of oppression. We can but sink back in our helplessness and long for the full freedom of all our powers that is to come. Oh yes, the soul never feels so powerless, so imprisoned as when the call upon it is for thanksgiving. It is a caged bird always, but it never beats more hopelessly against the bars than when it would soar upward in the free flight of praise. It is then we turn to our God with us on the altar, to the Victim of infinite worth placed at our disposal to be offered to God as a full, worthy, adequate return for all His goodness to us. “What shall I render to the Lord for all He hath rendered unto me?” I will come to the altar of God to unite my thanksgiving and my praise with the divine gratitude of the God-Man.