1 The year begins with Thee,
And Thou begin'st with woe,
To let the world of sinners see
That blood for sin must flow.
2 Thine infant cries, O Lord,
Thy tears upon the breast,
Are not enough,--the legal sword
Must do its stern behest.
3 Am I a child of tears,
Cradled in care and woe?
And seems it hard my vernal years
Few vernal joys can show?
4 Seemeth it strange to me
My own will to deny?
Seemeth it sad, my soul, to thee,
Under the yoke to lie?
5 I look, and hold my peace:
The Giver of all good
E'en from the womb takes no release
From suffering, tears, and blood.
6 That I may reap in love,
Help me to sow in fear:
So life a winter's morn may prove
To a bright, endless year.
|First Line:||The year begins with Thee|
|Topic:||The Church Year: New Year|
|Notes:||Author from Index: J. Keble|