THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW.
By T. H. Starbuck
THE old year now is gone forever—
Slipped away from our embrace;
Its joys and cares, returning never,
Memory alone can trace. One year ago it came to meet us,
Born on Time's resistless wing—
A precious gift, which, sent to greet us,
Came from whence life's treasures spring. Have we improved this blessing rightly,
As the Giver meant we should?
Or have we spent its moments lightly,
Wasting time for doing good? How oft found we our ourselves essaying
Some unpleasant task to shun,
And in forbidden pathways straying,
With our duty left undone! Have we, in loving sinful pleasures,
Centered all on things of earth,
And, letting go the heav'nly treasures,
Brought our souls to moral dearth? Or have we wisely sought improvement
Of the mind and of the heart,
And in some self-denying movement
Have we born a noble part? The happy New Year just beginning
Brings fresh tokens of God's love;
And may we spend its days in winning
Laurels for the home above, That, when the Master comes, descending
From the starry vaulted dome,
With all the angel throng attending,
To escort his people home, We may begin the life eternal
On the radiant, sinless strand,
No more to roam from realms supernal,
Pilgrims in a stranger's land.
Salem, Oregon.