7s.D.
1
See, another year is gone;
Quickly have the seasons passed;
This we enter now upon
Will to many prove their last;
Mercy hitherto has spared,
But have mercies been improved?
Let us ask, Am I prepared,
Should I be this year removed?
2
Some we now no longer see,
Who their mortal race have run,
Seemed 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 may bow.
3
Life a field of battle is,
Thousands fall within our view;
And the next death-bolt that flies,
May be sent to me or you;
While we read, and while we hear,
May we each in earnest think,
Vast eternity is near,
I am standing on the brink.
4
If from guilt and sin set free,
By the knowledge of God’s grace,
Welcome, then, the call will be
To depart and see His face:
To the saints while here below
With new years, new mercies come;
But the happiest year they know,
Is the last which leads them home.
