New Year’s Day. Psa. 65. 11; Eph. 5. 16

J. Hart   148th

Once more the constant sun,
Revolving round his sphere,
His steady course has run,
And brings another year.
He rises, sets, but goes not back,
Nor ever quits his destined track.

What now should be our task?
Or rather, what our prayer?
What good thing shall we ask,
To prosper this new year?
With one accord our hearts we’d lift,
And ask our Lord some new year’s gift.

No trifling gift or small,
Should friends of Christ desire.
Rich Lord, bestow on all
Pure gold, well tried by fire.
Faith that stands fast when devils roar,
And love that lasts for evermore.