The Year Begins with Thee

The year be­gins with Thee

And Thou be­ginn’st with woe

To let the world of sin­ners see

That blood for sin must flow.

Thine in­fant cries

O Lord

Thy tears up­on the breast

Are not enough—the le­gal sword

Must do its stern be­hest.

Like sac­ri­fi­cial wine

Poured on a vic­tim’s head

Are those few pre­cious drops of Thine

Now first to of­fer­ing led.

They are the pledge and seal

Of Christ’s un­swerv­ing faith

Giv’n to His Sire

our souls to heal

Although it cost His death.

They to His Church of old

To each true Jew­ish heart

In Gos­pel grac­es ma­ni­fold

Communion blest im­part.

Now of Thy love we deem

As of an ocean vast

Mounting in tides against the stream

Of ag­es gone and past.

Both theirs and ours Thou art

As we and they are Thine;

Kings

pro­phets

pa­tri­archs—all have part

Along the sac­red line.

By blood and wa­ter

too

God’s mark is set on Thee

That in Thee ev­ery faith­ful view

Both co­venants might see.

O bond of un­ion

dear

And strong as is Thy grace!

Saints

part­ed by a thou­sand years

May thus in heart em­brace.

Is there a mourn­er true

Who

fallen on faith­less days

Sighs for the heart-con­sol­ing view

Of those Heav’n deigned to praise?

In spirit may’st thou meet

With faith­ful Ab­ra­ham here

Whom soon in Ed­en thou shalt greet

A nurs­ing fa­ther dear.

Would’st thou a po­et be?

And would thy dull heart fain

Borrow of Is­rael’s min­strel­sy

One high en­rap­tured strain?

Come here thy soul to tune

Here set thy fee­ble chant

Here

if at all be­neath the moon

Is ho­ly Da­vid’s haunt.

Art thou a child of tears

Cradled in care and woe?

And seems it hard

thy ver­nal years

Few ver­nal joys can show?

And fall the sounds of mirth

Sad on thy lone­ly heart

From all the hopes and charms of earth

Untimely called to part?

Look here

and hold thy peace:

The Giver of all good

E’en from the womb takes no re­lease

From suf­fer­ing

tears

and blood.

If thou would’st reap in love

First sow in ho­ly fear:

So life a win­ter’s morn may prove

To a bright end­less year.