Classic Poem

What marks the dawning of the year
From any other morn?
No festal garb doth Nature wear
Because a Year is born.

The sky is not more full of light,
The air more full of song,
And silent from the caves of night
Glide the gray hours along.

And I, to whose awakened eyes
So fair this morn appears,—
How know I where to-morrow lies?
God grants not life by years.

Father! to-day upon my head
Thy hand in blessing lay;
Give us this day our daily bread,
Renew our hearts to-day.

Our Lord and Saviour! all we ask
Is that, through Thee, forgiven,
To us each day our daily task,
Our daily strength be given:

That when at last the Trump of Doom
Sends its long peal abroad,
We, glad within Thy heavenly home,
May keep the Day of God.