CHUBBYNOMORE3 There's not a day in all the year But holds some hidden pleasure, And looking back, joys oft appear To brim the past's wide measure. But blessings are like friends, I hold, Who love and labor near us. We ought to raise our notes of praise While living hearts can hear us.
One verse from the poem "Thanksgiving," by Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Let us be glad for those who have blessed us at this time and thank them. Thank you, my friend, for the blessing you have been to me.
May God Bless your Thanksgiving and give you peace.
CLIONAAISLING
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599 days ago