Thanksgiving
By
Fred W. Workman

My thanks to Thee,
For all the good that life
Has given me.
Not always what I would,
Not always understood;
Yet mine alone, not rife,
Enough for me.

My thanks to Thee,
For loving tender care
Bestowed on me.
For blessings day by day,
For guidance on my way
When life seemed hard to bear,
Nor sunshine see.

My thanks to Thee,
For doubts dissolved in trust
And surety.
For shadows, but a name,
For fears that never came;
For peace at night, I must
Give thanks to Thee.


This poem was
published in the Syracuse NY
Post-Standard about 1939.
A copy was pasted in Clara Quesnell's
scrapbook in Bristol, England.
Clara was Fred's niece.
Eventually, Clara's grandson
inherited the scrapbook.  He
didn't know who "F.W." Workman
might have been, or
where the Post Standard was.
But he saved the scrapbook.

In 1999 thanks to internet
genealogy, he and his third
cousin, Linda W. Hansen,
met -- and this copy of Fred's 
poem came home to America by
photocopy.