1 SEE! another year is gone!
Quickly have the seasons past!
This we enter now upon
May to many prove their last.
Mercy hitherto has spar'd:
But have mercies been improv'd?
Let us ask, "Am I prepar'd
Should be I this year remov'd?"
2 Some ye now no longer see,
Who their mortal race have run;
Seem'd as fair for life as we,
When the former year begun.
Some (but who God only knows)
Who are here assembled now,
Ere the present year shall close,
To the stroke of death must bow.
3 If from guilt and sin set free
By the knowledge of thy grace,
Welcome, then, the call will be
To depart and see thy face.
To thy saints, while here below,
With new years, new mercies come;
But the happiest year they know
Is their last which leads them home.
1 TIME by moments steals away-
First the hour, and then the day:
Small the daily loss appears,
Yet it soon amounts to years.
Thus another year has flown.
Now it is no more our own,
If it brought or promis'd good,
Than the years before the flood.
2 But (may none of us forget)
It has left us much in debt:
Favors from the Lord receiv'd,
Sins that have his Spirit griev'd,
Mark'd by an unerring hand,
In his book recorded stand.
Who can tell the vast amount
Plac'd to each of our account?
3 Spar'd to see another year,
Let thy blessing meet us here.
Come, thy dying work revive;
Bid thy drooping garden thrive.
Sun of righteousness, arise!
Warm our hearts, and bless our eyes;
Let our prayer thy bowels move;
Make this year a time of love.
Doddridge. 469, C. M.
Close of the year. Rom. xiii. 11.
1 AWAKE, ye saints, and raise your eyes,
And raise your voices, high;
Awake, and praise that sov'reign love
That shows salvation nigh.
2 On all the wings of time it flies;
Each moment brings it near.
Then welcome each declining day-
Welcome each closing year.
3 Not many years their rounds shall run,
Nor many mornings rise,
Ere all its glories stand reveal'd
To our admiring eyes.
4 Ye wheels of nature, speed your course;
Ye mortal powers, decay.
Fast as ye bring the night of death
Ye bring eternal day.
For tract distributors.
1 LABORERS of Christ, arise,
And gird you for the toil;
The dew of promise from the skies
Already cheers the soil.
2 Go-where the sick recline,
Where mourning hearts deplore,
And where the sons of penury pine,
Dispense your hallow'd lore.
3 Urge with a tender zeal
The erring child along
Where peaceful congregations kneel,
And pious teachers throng.
4 Be faith, which looks above,
With prayer, your constant guest;
And wrap the Saviour's changeless love
A mantle round your breast.
5 So shall you share the wealth
That earth may ne'er despoil,
And the blest gospel's saving health
Repay your arduous toil.
For tract distributors.
1 PHILOSOPHY of old
Her pond'rous tomes display'd,
And summon'd minds of mighty mould
To tread her classic shade.
2 Her myst'ries to explore
In vain the unletter'd tried :
The rich, the noble, learn'd her lore,
And drank her cup of pride.
3 But Mercy's light-wing'd page,
Swift messenger of love,
Comes to the home of lonely age
To guide his thoughts above.
4 The way-side beggar hears
Its ministry divine,
And little children dry their tears
To trace its radiant line.
5 On, on, ye faithful band!
Priceless bounty shed;
With single heart and tireless hand
The joyful tidings spread.
"The Lord our righteousness"
Still on your banner write;
Nor stay your toil until he bless
The world with saving light.
On distributing tracts. Isa. xviii. 2.
1 Go forth on wings of prayer,
Ye messengers of love:
Though mute, the joyful tidings bear-
Salvation from above.
2 Go, tell the careless soul
The warning God has given;
Go, make the wounded spirit whole
With healing balm from heaven.
3 Go to the wretched poor,
The ignorant and rude;
Bid them the pearl of price secure,
Bought with a Saviour's blood.
4 Saviour of dying men!
Thy presence we implore.
Without thy blessing all is vain :
Be with us evermore.
1 ALL hail! ye servants of the Lord,
On mercy's mission bound,
Who, like the sower of the word,
Strew precious gifts around.
2 What though your seed 'mid thorns be sown,
Where tares and brambles thrive?
Still One is able, One alone,
To save its germ alive.
3 Ye fear what falls on stony earth
Will mock your prayerful toil;
But sometimes plants of holiest birth
Bear fruit in sterile soil.
4 The seed that by the way-side fell
Perchance you counted dead;
Yet birds that sing in heaven may tell
They on its sweetness fed.
5 And some a hundred fold shall bear
Unto the harvest's Lord:
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