By Richard Huie, Esq., M.D.

Hark! how the sullen midnight bell,
From yonder turret lone,
Proclaims, with loud and startling knell,
Another year is gone!

And shall we drain the wassail-cup,
Or raise the song of glee,
As swiftly, surely winding up
Our thread of life we see?

No! If in youth’s unthinking day,
Ere care had mark’d the brow,
We trifled months and years away,
Let us be wiser now:
And, conscious of the mighty debt
We to our Maker owe,
No longer struggle to forget
We reap but what we sow!

No! Let us seek with holy dread,
Through his exalted Son,
A pardon for the year that’s fled,
And grace for that begun:
Grace, to improve the little hour
For peace and safety given;
Grace, to resist temptation’s power,
And tread the path to heaven!

O! think that, if an opening year
A lengthen’d period seem,
It will but at its close appear
A short, a troubled dream!
Approaching, Time ne’er travels fast;
To scythe and crutch he clings:
And ’tis not till for ever past,
That we perceive his wings!

Notes by Andrew Guild:
This poem by Richard Huie, was published in The Scottish Christian Herald, 5 January 1839, pp. 34.