The year is past, our task is done, 
Full swift the joyous hours hâve flown. 
Oh ! may those days, with gladness rife, 
An image prove of future life ! 
As in the Spring the hardened land 
Is broken by the plougher’s hand ; 
So may the gospel plough préparé 
Our rebel hearts —that, when with care 
Abroad the seed of life is cast, 
Forth it may spring and flourish fast! 
And then, should Summer days be ours, 
Blithely shall speed the passing hours. 
If on us with a light divine 
The Sun of Righteousness shall shine. 
And should Autumnal hours appear, 
Foretelling of the closing year, 
We shall not fear life’s parting day, 
Nor start at its expiring ray! 
And, when the Wintry hand of death 
Arrests the puise, and stops the breath, 
Christ shall our passing spirits cheer. 
And chase away o’erwhelming fear: 
A moment—and we reach the shore, 
Our resting place for evermore ! 
t 3 
