THANKSGIVING DAY.
The long-anticipated Harvest Home Festival arrived at last. All
Wednesday evening, and far into the night, the boys were busy, under
Etta's directions, in putting up the carefully prepared colored leaf
emblems, and arranging the grasses, fruits, and vegetables. Over every
pointed window was a garland of variously colored grasses, mixed with
bearded golden grain, and between each, one of the leaf emblems was
lightly tacked to the wall. From each gas-burner depended a rustic
basket, made of twisted sticks dipped in a cheap solution of gilt
powder, and filled with purple and white grapes, mixed with scarlet and
golden apples. Bouquets of ferns and grasses graced pulpit and baptismal
font. Against either end of the communion-table leaned a wonderfully
constructed cornucopia, from whose capacious mouth seemed to be pouring
out green squashes, yellow pumpkins, red and white beets, brown
potatoes, cabbages, cauliflowers, parsnips, and golden ears of corn,
packed in with cereals and nuts. On the table itself was a mighty pile
of all the fruits attainable so late in the season, and the decorations
were completed by a cross nearly six feet in height, composed entirely
of white everlasting flowers, placed in the window just above.
It was great fun to arrange all these pretty things, and the fun might
have degenerated into irreverence, but for the presence of Mr. Morven,
who occasionally said a few words concerning the sacredness of the
place, and managed to give the whole affair the appearance of a happy
service of the Lord and his church, so that each boy and girl went away
with a share of the gladness of those who work for God.
The Thanksgiving congregation was an unusually large one. The mills were
closed, of course, and many of the work-people who, perhaps, would have
hesitated at the idea of spending their rare holiday time in a church,
thought better of it when they remembered that doing so would certainly
please their employer. Not a very worthy motive, certainly. But there
are many motives which draw people to the house of God, not all of which
will bear close inspection. None the less, however, are they thus
brought under hallowed influences, and it may be that germinating seed
will be thus sown in their hearts, which the wayside birds will not
quite carry away.
The Methodists, who usually held Sunday services at the school-house,
three miles off, held none on Thanksgiving day, and were glad of a good
opportunity to see and attend the pretty new stone church on the hill.
Many of the neighboring families in the country round had city visitors
come to "spend Thanksgiving." And more than all, the fame of the harvest
decorations had spread far and wide, so that curiosity helped to fill
the church to overflowing. Mr. Morven was glad of the opportunity to
show how religion claims a place even in our festivities and helps to
brighten all our joys. He was especially desirous that the children and
young people should never look upon Christ's service as a thing of
gloom. He dwelt upon Thanksgiving day as an essentially national
festival, reminding his audience how it had originated when the Pilgrim
fathers met at the close of the first year of their hard life among New
England rocks to thank the God, in whose name and by whose power they
had laid the foundations of the new commonwealth on this side of the
sea. Then he told how the observance had gradually spread from State to
State; at first being appointed by the State Governor, on such day as
seemed to him fittest. Till at last, the wise and lamented President
Lincoln sent out a Thanksgiving proclamation, and appointed a uniform
day for the whole, great, reunited people.
"For what we are to give thanks, in addition to our great public
blessings," continued the preacher, "each one of us must look into his
individual life and surroundings to discover. These beautiful
decorations remind us of our indebtedness as a people for an abundant
harvest, not only of the grains and cereals which support our lives, but
also of the delicacies which make that life one of rich enjoyment. But,
my friends, this is Cain's sacrifice. Let us beware lest, as in his
case, it take the place of Abel's, and we learn to care more for the
things of our perishing life than for those eternal glories to which the
great sacrifice of which Abel's was typical is our only title. For
myself, as pastor of this church, I find special occasion for
thanksgiving in the large number who have, during the past year,
publicly given themselves to Christ, nearly all of whom, as I have every
reason to hope, have set out in earnest upon their heavenward
pilgrimage. These souls are a seal to my ministry among you, and for
them I gladly to-day render unto the Lord thanksgiving. An added cause
of thanksgiving to me personally is the able and earnest corps of
assistants who are here holding up my hands. Surrounded by mill-owners
whose first object is not so much money-making as the elevation of the
men, women, and children in their employ; with Eunices and Louises, who
labor with me for the upbuilding of Christ's kingdom in young human
hearts, and with a society of little folks whose purpose is to follow
their Great Master by going about to do good, I feel myself well
sustained in my responsible position; and, as I look forward to the
cares and duties of another year, I 'thank God and take courage.' And no
doubt, as you look down into your own hearts and back on the events of
the past year, you also see much cause for thanksgiving. Some of you
remember how, when you tossed on beds of fever, God's presence rebuked
the death-angel and you came back to a new and, as we trust, a better
life. Many of you know how, while the pestilence raged around you, both
you and your loved ones were safe from his fiery breath. Others of you
can recall how, when the swift punishment that sometimes visits those
who do not like to retain God in their knowledge and seek their own
pleasure rather than his service came among us, it was not your boy,
your brother, your dear one who met with a fearful and sudden death.
Even such of you as have been called to suffer during the year that is
gone by, to resist temptation, to conquer sin, to mourn over loved ones,
or to meet poverty and distress, know that, having received help of the
Lord, you continue unto this day. His strength has assured the hard-won
victory, his presence has lightened the gloom, his hand wiped away the
tear, his bounty fed the hungry. In all things he has more than kept his
promises, and I call upon you this day to
"'Render unto the Lord thanksgiving.'"
The afternoon was devoted to the Harvest Home Festival, and a very
pretty and successful service it was.
Long before three o'clock the main body of the church was filled with
parents, friends, and anxious spectators, many of whom had never been
inside of a church before. The front seats had been reserved for the
Sunday-school, whose members marched in singing as a processional:--
"Come, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of Harvest Home,"
at the close of which the whole congregation rose and sang:--
"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow."
A brief opening service followed, the infant class chanting the Lord's
prayer, the verses of Psalm lxv being read alternately by boys and
girls, after which Psalm cxxi--
"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills"--
was sung by the whole school.
The infant class then came forward, and standing in a group before the
desk recited each a text, which the superintendent called:--
"Autumn Leaves from the Tree of Life."
The verses were selected with great taste and care, and the little ones
did their part well. The following are some of those selected:--
Exodus xxvi, 16.
Leviticus xxii, 10.
Psalms l, 19; cxlv, 14; cxxxvi, 1, 25.
Isaiah lv, 10.
1 Corinthians x, 26.
Hebrews xiii, 2.
Revelations xix, 5.
The very little folks here closed their part of the performance with a
"Harvest Song," in which they had been well drilled.
Then the older classes arose and recited selected portions of Scripture
in unison, class by class.
Eunice Mountjoy's class gave "The harvest feast." Deut. xvi, 13-15.
Etta Mountjoy's class: "The harvest fruits are the gift of God." Psalms
cxv, 10-15.
James Mountjoy's boys: "Trust in the giver of the harvest." Luke xii,
22-28.
Another boys' class: "The harvest of the world." Rev. xiv, 13-17.
Still another: "The harvest of the tares." Matthew xiii, 37-43.
And then the whole school sang:--
"What shall the harvest be?"
Then the recitations commenced again.
First class: "Men compared to fruit-trees." Matt, vii, 16-20.
Second class: "Different kinds of fruit." Gal. vi, 1-10.
Third class: "The curse of unfruitfulness." Matt, xxi, 18-20.
Fourth class: "Danger of setting the heart upon earthly fruits."
Luke xii, 15-21.
Fifth class: "Necessity of labor in harvesting." Prov. x, 3-5.
Sixth class: "Now, the harvest time." John iv, 35-38.
Whole school in unison: Psalm cl, entire.
The festival was closed by the singing of the hymn:--
"Praise to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days,"
as the children marched back to the schoolroom.[4]
The whole performance was considered a great success. The superintendent
and his young assistants received many congratulations, and the parents
carried their little ones home well satisfied with their share in the
exercises.
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[Footnote 4: The above programme was actually carried out in a country
school of the writer's acquaintance, and is given in full for the
benefit of others who may be inclined to try a similar festival.
It may bevaried and prolonged by the introduction of poetical passages
concerning autumn, etc.]