With noiseless footstep, like the white-robed snow, The old year with closed record steals away; Record of gladness, suffering, joy, and woe, Of all that goes to make life's little day. ...
By the sad fellowship of human suffering, By the bereavements that are thine and mine, I venture--oh, forgive me!--with this offering, I would it were to thee God's oil and wine ...
On Jordan's banks gathered an eager crowd, The Royal city poured its dwellers out; The vintage was untouched in Ephraim; No fisher's boat from Magdala put out.