Time, the mundane sphere revolving,
Brings another New Year's Day;
Orb of light, 'mid lengthened shadows,
Glance one soft and lingering ray,
As we muse on
Days receding fast away.
Pledge of joys that may await us
In our future pilgrimage,
Or of heavenly consolation
That may coming griefs assuage,
To believers
Promised in the sacred page.
Many trials now are ended;
Many painful conflicts o'er;
Chequered scenes withdrawn for ever
That can please nor vex us more;
Memory only
Can the faded past restore.
Many dearest forms are sleeping
In the lone forsaken grave;
How we wept when them consigning
To the hand outstretched to save,
As they struggled
Through death's dark and gelid wave!
Many days of grace are ended,
How improved has been the past?
Time's rich grains are softly falling,
Soon may drop for us the last.
Changing seasons
Warn us that we change as fast.
O for happy preparation
For the joys that never fade!
For the everlasting mansion
Death and sin can ne'er invade!
In the likeness
Of our Lord we would be made.
As each new successive period
Hastes that last mysterious one,
Do we shudder, so much dreading
Things invisible, unknown?
Faith reposes
On the Saviour's cross alone.
Sweet to meet our friends in glory,
Tears for ever wiped away
By the guardian hand that leads us
Up the steep and narrow way,
Time's short circles
Lost in one eternal day!