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November 21, 2007 | 7 Comments

Post to the Host:
Can you recommend a good prayer for grace before the Thanksgiving Meal?

Nathan L.
Keene, NH

A sung grace, Nathan — you just print up copies and pass them around and you hold hands and sing. If you're Jewish, you can leave off the last verse.

O Lord we thank Thee for this food
For every blessing, every good
For earthly sustenance and love
Bestowed on us from heaven above

Be present at our table, Lord
Be here and everywhere adored
Thy children bless and grant that we
May feast in paradise with thee

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow
Praise Him all creatures here below
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen.


Great prayer--we use just the second verse most nights for dinner, but we have a different last line. Ours is "May live in peace and harmony".

There's something calming about singing grace.

Have a happy thanksgiving.

Many thanks for choosing the Doxology for part of the Thanksgiving Blessing. It is so appropriate and beautiful, too. A very Happy Thanksgiving to all......

Let us pray for peace.

I remember from my grade school days in Indianapolis (I'm also a 1942 kid) a version in which the last verse was:

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow
Praise Him all creatures here below
Praise Him ye heavenly host above
Praise Him my soul for all His love. Amen.

I hope that Nathan L. took your suggestion concerning Thanksgiving sung grace. I thought it was a wonderful idea and presented copies of the hymn to our hostess,(my sister) who was just as enthusiastic. Copies were carefully balanced on wine or water glasses while we stood, held hands, found a comfortable pitch and sang our grace to the tune of "Old Hundreth". Eight voices raised in song and thanks around the table! The copies were carefully gathered and stored for next year and a new tradition has begun for our family and friends. We thank YOU!

I always feel the most thankful for food after the fact and a satisfied "Thank you Goddess'" usually issues forth from my vacinity after any pleasurable partaking. After exeptional pleasurable partaking this year I indeed have an urge to sing out- "Wild thing------ You make my heart sing------ You make, everything, grooovy; Wild thing. Come on, come on, come on, come on, Wild thing------ Wild thing, I think I love you---- But I want to kno-ow for sure----Come onn---Hold me tight- You move me..."

I prefer "Uncle Dave's Grace," by Lou and Peter Berryman.

Thanksgiving day Uncle Dave was our guest,
Who reads the Progressive which makes him depressed
We asked Uncle Dave if he'd like to say grace;
A dark desolation crept over his face

"Thanks," he began as he gazed at his knife
"To poor Mr. Turkey for living his life
All crowded and cramped in a great metal shed,
Where life was a drag then they cut off his head.

"Thanks," he went on "For the grapes in my wine,
Picked by sick women of seventy nine
Scrambling all morning for bunch after bunch,
Then brushing the pesticides off of their lunch.

"Thanks for the stuffing all heaped on my fork,
Shiny with sausage descended from pork.
I think of the trucks full of pigs that I see
And can't help imagine what they think of me.

"Continuing I'd like to thank, if you please,
Our salad bowl hacked out of tropical trees
And for this mahogany table and chair
I thank all the jungles that used be there.

"For cream in our coffee and milk in our mugs
We thank all the cows full of hormones and drugs
Whose calves are removed at a very young age
And forced fed as veal in a minuscule cage.

"Oh, thanks for the furnace that heats up these rooms
And thanks for the rich fossil fuel it consumes
Corrupting the atmosphere ounce after ounce,
But we're warm and toasty and that is what counts.

"I'm grateful," he said "For these clothes on my back,
Lovely and comfy and cheap off the rack
Fashioned in warehouses noisy and cold
In China by seamstresses seven years old.

"And thanks for my silverware setting that shines
In memory of miners who died in the mines,
Worn down by the shoveling of tailings in piles
Whose runoff destroys all the rivers for miles.

"We thank the reactors for our chandelier
Whose deadly plutonium won't disappear.
For hundreds of decades it still will be there
But a few more Chernobyls and who's gonna care?"

Sighed Uncle Dave, "Though there's more to be told,
The wine's getting warm and the bird's getting cold."

And with that he sat down as he mumbled again
"Thank you for everything, amen."

We felt so guilty when he was all through
It seemed there was one of two things we could do:
Live without food in the nude in a cave,

Or next year have someone say grace besides Dave.

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