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1. The God of life, whose constant care
With blessings crowns each opening year.
My scanty span doth still prolong,
And wakes anew mine annual song.
2. How many precious souls are fled
To the vast regions of the dead,
Since to this day the changing sun-
Through his last yearly period run!
3. We yet survive; but who can say,
"Or through this year, or month, or day,
I shall retain this vital breath :
Thus far, at least, in league with death?"
4. That breath is thine, eternal God;
'Tis thine to fix my soul's abode;
It holds its life from thee alone,
On earth, or in the world unknown.
5. To thee, our spirits we resign,
Make them and own them still as thine;
So shall they live secure from fear.
Though death should blast the rising year.
6. Thy children panting to be gone,
May bid the tide of time roll on,
To land them on that happy shore.
Where years and death are known no more.
7. No more fatigue, no more distress.
Nor sin, nor hell, shall reach that place;
No groans, to mingle with the songs
Resounding from immortal tongues:
8. No more alarms from ghostly foes;
No cares to break the long repose;
No midnight shade, no clouded sun,
But sacred, high, eternal noon.
9. O, long expected year! begin;
Dawn on this world of woe and sin;
Fain would we leave this weary road.
To sleep in death, and rest with God.