 | My little song book : adapted to children and youth |  |
54
Farewell to the Year.
Farewell, thy destiny is done,
Thy ebbing sands we tell,
Blended and set with all that's gone—
Thou dying year, farewell!
Thy ebbing sands we tell,
Blended and set with all that's gone—
Thou dying year, farewell!
Gifts from thy hand—Spring's joyous leaves,
And Summer's breathing flowers,
Autumn's bright fruit and bursting sheaves,—
These blessings have been ours:
And Summer's breathing flowers,
Autumn's bright fruit and bursting sheaves,—
These blessings have been ours:
They pass with thee, and now they seem
Like gifts from fairy spell,
Or like some sweet remembered dream;
We bid those gifts farewell!
Like gifts from fairy spell,
Or like some sweet remembered dream;
We bid those gifts farewell!
Tho' frail the fair, rich things of earth,
Must mind's bright hopes be frail?
And those pure thoughts that owed their birth
To thee—thus with thee fail?
Must mind's bright hopes be frail?
And those pure thoughts that owed their birth
To thee—thus with thee fail?
55
Not if the soul but gird her might,
Her treasures guard with care.—
The storm-swelled stream, that sweeps the height,
But lays the rich mine bare.
Her treasures guard with care.—
The storm-swelled stream, that sweeps the height,
But lays the rich mine bare.
The high resolve, the holy fear,
Waked by thy passing knell,
O, take not these, thou dying year!
We bid not these farewell.
Waked by thy passing knell,
O, take not these, thou dying year!
We bid not these farewell.
| My little song book : adapted to children and youth | |