How Many Kindred Souls Are Fled

How many kin­dred souls are fled

To the vast re­gions of the dead

Since from this day the chang­ing sun

Through his last year­ly pe­ri­od run!

We yet sur­vive; but who can say

Or through the year

or month or day

I will re­tain this vi­tal breath;

Thus far at least in league with death?

That breath is Thine

eter­nal God

’Tis Thine to fix the soul’s abode;

It holds its life from Thee alone

On earth

or in the world un­known.

To Thee our spir­its we re­sign

Make them and own them

still as Thine;

So shall they smile

se­cure from fear

Though death should blast the ris­ing year.