The old year’s long cam­paign is o’er;
Behold a new be­gun;
Not yet is closed the ho­ly war,
Nor yet the tri­umph won:
Out of his still and deep re­pose
We hear the old year say:
Go forth again to meet your foes,
Ye child­ren of the day!

Go forth, firm faith on ev­ery heart,
Bright hope on ev­ery helm;
Through that shall pierce no fie­ry dart,
And this no fear o’er­whelm!
Go in the spir­it and the might
Of Him who led the way;
Close with the le­gions of the night,
Ye child­ren of the day.

So forth we go to meet the strife,
We will not fear or fly!
We love the ho­ly war­ri­or’s life,
His death we hope to die!
We slum­ber not, that charge in view,
Toil on while toil ye may,
Then night shall be no night to you,
Ye child­ren of the day!

Lord God, our glo­ry, Three in One,
Thine own sus­tain, de­fend!
And give, though dim this earth­ly sun,
Thy true light to the end;
Till morn­ing tread the dark­ness down,
And night be swept away,
And in­fi­nite sweet tri­umph crown
The child­ren of the day!