For Summer's bloom and Autumn's blight, For bending wheat and blasted maize, For health and sickness, Lord of light, And Lord of darkness, hear our praise! We trace to Thee our joys and woes-- To Thee of causes still the cause,-- We thank Thee that Thy hand bestows; We bless Thee that Thy love withdraws. We bring no sorrows to Thy throne; We come to Thee with no complaint; In Providence Thy will is done, And that is sacred to the saint Here on this blest Thanksgiving Night; We raise to Thee our grateful voice; For what Thou doest, Lord, is right; And thus believing, we rejoice. _Grace_. A good old tune, indeed, and strongly sung; But, in my mind, the man who wrote the hymn Had seemed more modest, had he paused a while. Ere by a trick he furnished other tongues With words he only has the heart to sing. _David_. Oh, Grace! Dear Grace! _Ruth_. You may well cry for grace, If that's the company you have to keep. _Grace_. I thought you convert to his sophistry. It makes no difference to him, you know, Whether I plague or please. _Ruth_. It does to you. _Israel_. There, children! No more bitter words like those! I do not understand them; they awake A sad uneasiness within my heart. I found but Christian meaning in the hymn; Aye, I could say _amen_ to every line, As to the breathings of my own poor prayer. But let us talk no more. I'll to my bed. Good-night, my children! Happy thoughts be yours Till sleep arrive--then happy dreams till dawn! _All_. Father, good-night! [ISRAEL _retires_.] _Ruth_. There, little boys and girls-- Off to the kitchen! Now there's fun for you. Play blind-man's-buff until you break your heads; And then sit down beside the roaring fire, And with wild stories scare yourselves to death. We'll all be out there, by and by. Meanwhile, I'll try the cellar; and if David, here, Will promise good behavior, he shall be My candle-bearer, basket-bearer, and-- But no! The pitcher I will bear myself. I'll never trust a pitcher to a man Under this house, and--seventy years of age. [_The children rush out of the room with a shout, which wakes the baby_.] That noisy little youngster on the floor Slept through theology but wakes with mirth-- Precocious little creature! He must go Up to his chamber. Come, Grace, take him off-- Basket and all. Mary will lend a hand, And keep you company until he sleeps. [GRACE _and_ MARY _remove the cradle to the chamber, and_ DAVID _and_ RUTH retire to the cellar_.] _John_. [_Rising and yawning_] Isn't she the strangest girl you ever saw? _Prudence_.