As on a hill-top gained at last,
By ma­ny a step, we stand to­day,
To look be­hind us on the past,
Before us on o’er our fu­ture way.

A year of Sab­baths come and gone,
Months bright with mer­cies meet our gaze;
Thy hand, O God, hath led us on,
Thy good­ness claims our song of praise.

Within Thy house can we for­get
Our Fa­ther’s love, so rich and free?
Can we for­get the migh­ty debt,
Our Sav­ior, that we owe to Thee?

Oh may the year that now be­gins,
Behold us choose the hea­ven­ward way,
Redeem the time, for­sake our sins,
And fol­low Thee, Lord, day by day.

Today to each the choice is giv’n,
How long it may be, who can tell—
On this side lies the bliss of Heav’n,
On that the aw­ful gloom of hell.

Jesus, Thy plead­ing look we see,
Thy wound­ed hands, Thy thorn-wreath­ed brow—
Help us to yield our hearts to Thee—
To yield them all, and yield them now.