Thanksgiving, by Lancelot Andrewes



Blessed art thou, O Lord, who has created and brought me forth into this life, and hast ordered that I should be a living soul and not senseless matter; a man, not a brute; civilized, not savage; free, not a slave; legitimate, nor spurious; of good parentage, not of vile extraction and as vile myself; endued with sense, not an idiot; sound in sense, not blind or deaf; sound in limbs, not halt nor maimed; educated, not neglected; a Christian, not a pagan; preserved from dangers and infamy, not overwhelmed thereby in the days of peace, not tossed in tempestuous struggles; of competent fortune, so that I need neither to flatter nor to borrow; set free from many sins; endued with the gifts of grace, in redemption and calling; with the gifts of nature and fortune, who according to think abundant mercy hath begotten us again into a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away, reserved in Heaven for us; who hast blessed me with all spiritual blessings in Heavenly things in Christ; who comfortest me in all my tribulation, that, as the sufferings of Christ abound in me, so my consolation also aboundeth in Christ.  To thee, O God of my fathers, I give thanks; thee I praise, who hast in some measure endued me with wisdom and might, and hast made known unto me that which I desired of thee, and hast made known to me the King’s matter; who hast made me the work of thine hands, the price of thy blood, the image of thy countenance, the servant of thy purchase, the seal of thy name, the child of thy adoption, a temple of thy spirit, a member of thy church.

Amen.

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