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Show Quaint Song BSSg g of Thanks Through tho hard dayo of the World war whllo tho raca were fighting, tho ("w women of Amcr- KajJMgMBk tea wero working, u&SMuLBj watting, ever CiprJnjWBB ceurag aously. iwwMsEwPr yB aro Tor aBd rQrgBJK( the fflcult after-'JtZOHeI? after-'JtZOHeI? raath needs care-XA care-XA fal handling, woman Is still strlriag to add her eerv-Ico eerv-Ico wherever there Is need of femve nna pntlcnt endeavor. Post-war times are always trying ones. Hence It is with a little more sympathetic understanding than usual that we read the lines of a quaint old Thanksgiving hymn, bearing the date of 1783. Its author la unknown, bat Its sentiment holds true today, though we nay wish to change the same of eur first President to that ef some later leader. Th Lord above, fat tenner lore. Hatli anved us front ear fees. Through Washington tke thteg la Oeaet The war la at a eteee. America baa wen the day Through Washlngtea, ear eW Come, ut ua rejoice with heart ana veteo And bid gocd-by to grief. It u agree, atnt e we are free. All needltes thtaga to ahun; And lay aside an pomp and prion, Like oar great Washington. Though we do set proclaim this anonymeus writer as a second Shake-- Shake-- speare, let us follow hto counsel by bidding farewell to grief, hy laying aside pride and pomp, and turning this Thanksgiving season Into oae in which wo remember only our raerdea and blessings, which are many. "Come, let us rejoice wilh heart and voice,' for what wo have; If 'it be but little, helping the less fortunate. If It be an 'lumdnnr |