Break, new­born year, on glad eyes break,
Melodious voic­es move;
On, roll­ing time; thou canst not make
The Fath­er cease to love.

The part­ed year had wing­èd feet;
The Sav­ior still doth stay;
The new year comes; but Spir­it sweet,
Thou go­est not away.

Our hearts in tears may oft run o’er;
But Lord, Thy smile still beams;
Our sins are swell­ing ev­er­more,
But par­don­ing grace still streams.

Lord, from this year more ser­vice win,
More glo­ry, more de­light:
O make its hours less sad with sin,
Its days with Thee more bright.

Then we may bless its pre­cious things
If earth­ly cheer should come,
Or glad­some mount on an­gel wings
If Thou wouldst take us home.

O gold­en then the hours must be;
The year must needs be sweet;
Yes, Lord, with hap­py me­lo­dy
Thine op­en­ing grace we greet.