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| “PRAISE ye the Lord!” The psalm to-day | |
| Still rises on our ears, | |
| Borne from the hills of Boston Bay | |
| Through five times fifty years, | |
| When Winthrop’s fleet from Yarmouth crept | 5 |
| Out to the open main, | |
| And through the widening waters swept, | |
| In April sun and rain. | |
| “Pray to the Lord with fervent lips,” | |
| The leader shouted, “pray;” | 10 |
| And prayer arose from all the ships | |
| As faded Yarmouth Bay. | |
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| They passed the Scilly Isles that day, | |
| And May-days came, and June, | |
| And thrice upon the ocean lay | 15 |
| The full orb of the moon. | |
| And as that day, on Yarmouth Bay, | |
| Ere England sunk from view, | |
| While yet the rippling Solent lay | |
| In April skies of blue, | 20 |
| “Pray to the Lord with fervent lips,” | |
| Each morn was shouted, “pray;” | |
| And prayer arose from all the ships, | |
| As first in Yarmouth Bay; | |
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| Blew warm the breeze o’er Western seas, | 25 |
| Through Maytime morns, and June, | |
| Till hailed these souls the Isles of Shoals, | |
| Low ’neath the summer moon; | |
| And as Cape Ann arose to view, | |
| And Norman’s Woe they passed, | 30 |
| The wood-doves came the white mists through, | |
| And circled round each mast. | |
| “Pray to the Lord with fervent lips,” | |
| Then called the leader, “pray;” | |
| And prayer arose from all the ships, | 35 |
| As first in Yarmouth Bay. | |
| |
| Above the sea the hill-tops fair— | |
| God’s towers—began to rise, | |
| And odors rare breathe through the air, | |
| Like balms of Paradise. | 40 |
| Through burning skies the ospreys flew, | |
| And near the pine-cooled shores | |
| Danced airy boat and thin canoe, | |
| To flash of sunlit oars. | |
| “Pray to the Lord with fervent lips,” | 45 |
| The leader shouted, “pray!” | |
| Then prayer arose, and all the ships | |
| Sailed into Boston Bay. | |
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| The white wings folded, anchors down, | |
| The sea-worn fleet in line, | 50 |
| Fair rose the hills where Boston town | |
| Should rise from clouds of pine; | |
| Fair was the harbor, summit-walled, | |
| And placid lay the sea. | |
| “Praise ye the Lord,” the leader called; | 55 |
| “Praise ye the Lord,” spake he. | |
| “Give thanks to God with fervent lips, | |
| Give thanks to God to-day,” | |
| The anthem rose from all the ships, | |
| Safe moored in Boston Bay. | 60 |
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| “Praise ye the Lord!” Primeval woods | |
| First heard the ancient song, | |
| And summer hills and solitudes | |
| The echoes rolled along. | |
| The Red Cross flag of England blew | 65 |
| Above the fleet that day, | |
| While Shawmut’s triple peaks in view | |
| In amber hazes lay. | |
| “Praise ye the Lord with fervent lips, | |
| Praise ye the Lord to-day,” | 70 |
| The anthem rose from all the ships | |
| Safe moored in Boston Bay. | |
| |
| The Arabella leads the song— | |
| The Mayflower sings below, | |
| That erst the Pilgrims bore along | 75 |
| The Plymouth reefs of snow. | |
| Oh! never be that psalm forgot | |
| That rose o’er Boston Bay, | |
| When Winthrop sang, and Endicott, | |
| And Saltonstall, that day: | 80 |
| “Praise ye the Lord with fervent lips, | |
| Praise ye the Lord to-day;” | |
| And praise arose from all the ships, | |
| Like prayers in Yarmouth Bay. | |
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| That psalm our fathers sang we sing, | 85 |
| That psalm of peace and wars, | |
| While o’er our heads unfolds its wing | |
| The flag of forty stars. | |
| And while the nation finds a tongue | |
| For nobler gifts to pray, | 90 |
| ’T will ever sing the song they sung | |
| That first Thanksgiving Day: | |
| “Praise ye the Lord with fervent lips, | |
| Praise ye the Lord to-day;” | |
| So rose the song from all the ships, | 95 |
| Safe moored in Boston Bay. | |
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| Our fathers’ prayers have changed to psalms, | |
| As David’s treasures old | |
| Turned, on the Temple’s giant arms, | |
| To lily-work of gold. | 100 |
| Ho! vanished ships from Yarmouth’s tide, | |
| Ho! ships of Boston Bay, | |
| Your prayers have crossed the centuries wide | |
| To this Thanksgiving Day! | |
| We pray to God with fervent lips, | 105 |
| We praise the Lord to-day, | |
| As prayers arose from Yarmouth ships, | |
| But psalms from Boston Bay. | |
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