Can a Little Child, Like Me? (Father, We Thank Thee)

Here is the second song that illustrates a child-like faith, written by others and sung often as a solo by Frank's daughter, Joyce, at a young age. 

Words by Mary Mapes Dodge, Music by W.K. Bassford

Can a little child like me thank the Father fittingly?
Yes, oh, yes, be good and true, patient, kind, in all you do;
love the Lord and do your part; learn to say with all your heart:
Father we thank Thee, Father we thank thee,
Father in heaven, we thank Thee!

For the fruit upon the tree, for the birds that sing of Thee,
for the earth in beauty dressed, father, mother, and the rest.
For Thy precious loving care, for Thy bounty everywhere
Father we thank Thee, Father we thank thee,
Father in heaven, we thank Thee!

For our comrades and our plays and our happy holidays;
for the joyful work and true that a little child may do.
For our lives but just begun, for the great gift of Thy Son
Father we thank Thee, Father we thank thee,
Father in heaven, we thank Thee! Amen.

From Salvation Songs for Children: Number One, p. 37
©1939, compiled by Ruth P. Overholtzer, Child Evangelism Fellowship
Recorded by permission on LP 467: A Joyful Christian, side two



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Thank You, Lord, for Loving Me

Thank you, Lord, for loving me—
watching o’er me constantly;
for the many things you give
as from day to day I live.

In this world of much abuse,
sin is rampant; Satan’s loose;
but you give me victory!
Oh, thank you, Lord, for loving me!

fpn/undated



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Genuine Thanksgiving, True Freedom

There’s more to being thankful
than promptly saying so;
though this is quite important, 
far more than most folks know.
To show appreciation 
for benefit and gift,
we need to do some thinking
before our voice we lift.

This blessing we call freedom
has really cost a price;
to others we’re indebted,
who made the sacrifice.
But there’s no way to tell them;
they’ve long passed off the scene.
How can we show we’re grateful—
two centuries lie between?

It’s wonderful to ponder
that we can show our thanks
by passing on to others.
who follow in our ranks,
bequests of noble living
and sacrifices too;
to win the lost for Jesus;
no greater thing we’ll do.

Our wars have been most costly—
the losses have been great;
and sadly, after victory,
oft’ there has smoldered hate.
But those who’ve borne the Gospel
of love to distant lands
have turned the tide of history;
herein true freedom stands.

That nation but is blessed,
which owns Jehovah God;
to live for selfish pleasure
will surely curse the sod.
What glory then to follow
in paths the saints have trod,
and publish wide the message
of Christ, the Son of God.

Thus, do we truly worship
with heart and soul and mind?
Then too, are we committed,
our hearts fully resigned—
to pass along to others
the grace bestowed on us
and carry high with honor
the banner of the Cross?

Can gratitude be real,
and genuine our love,
unless the Holy Spirit
controls us from above?
This world vies for affection,
distracts us—is the word;
unless we firmly purpose
to make Christ Jesus Lord.

Our Captain of Salvation
gave all—kept nothing back;
let us as faithful soldiers
in loyalty not lack.
Of course, our means and money,
and certainly much time,
must be upon the altar,
to make our thanks sublime.

And then, our sons and daughters—
pray that they heed the call;
are they too good to offer,
to Him who gave his all?
Often Uncle Sam demands them,
of course, they have to go;
careers with greater honors,
God offers, would you know?

The Bible strongly warns us,
we dare not settle down
to soft, indulgent living,
if we would win a crown. 
Rise up then, fellow comrade,
let’s go at Christ’s command,
clad in the Gospel armor,
in His great might we’ll stand!

America’s survival
depends on us, full well,
enlisting in the conflict, 
against the powers of hell.
God has no other recourse,
to win this world from sin;
to show we’re truly grateful
let’s all, give all, for Him.

The glories now awaiting 
the faithful ones and true,
and fellowship untainted,
where everything is new.
The honor of His “Well done,”
our souls shall then enthrall;
and sorrow all forgotten,
Heaven will be worth it all.

fpn / undated



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Dying Prematurely

Lord, don’t let me die till the day I expire;
this life is for living, as voltage in wire.
It’s tragic to see some exist, but not live,
while on earth must be served—no longer can give.

The heart may be strong, while the brain is now dead;
such a one, to be sure, spends the whole day in bed.
Another may walk, he may talk, he may eat;
but he doesn’t make sense, how sad such to meet.

But the saddest of all, though conscious and able,
whose life has gone sour—has on hope turned the table.
He no longer can smile or speak kind, cheery words—
never sees the blue sky, hears no songs of the birds.

Deliver me, Lord, from a premature “death”
while my lungs keep on taking in natural breath;
oh, let me rejoice and give thanks constantly
till the day I expire and You call me away!

fpn/1986




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Thank You

We thank you for your gracious hospitality.
We found your home* a very pleasant place to be.
The fellowship and food has certainly been good!
How dear are Christian friends like you
who serve so royally!
We surely hope that we have been a blessing, too.
We know we can’t repay you for your kindness true,
but as we go our way, we hope and also pray
that God will grant you many joys
your whole life through!


*substitute appropriate word: church, school, camp, table, etc.

fpn / 1967
This poem is set to music,
published as song #37 in "Sing and Give Thanks."
To obtain a copy, contact Joyce.



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My Thanks

How can I show the many friends
who bless my path each day,
that I am mindful of their deeds
and kindly words they say?
How much they mean!
How much they give—
ah, could I but repay
their thoughtfulness and acts of love
that cheer me on life’s way!

Although they ask for naught from me,
I would not use my friends
as means of reaching for those things
that serve my selfish ends.
Lord, let me seek for ways to bless
a stranger bending low,
while asking nothing in return,
by this, my thanks to show.

fpn / undated
Published in Contemporary Psalms, p. 57

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