What marks the dawn­ing of the year
From any oth­er morn?
No fest­al garb doth na­ture wear
Because a year is born.

The sky is not more full of light,
The air more full of song;
And, si­lent from the caves of night,
The gray hours glide along.

And I, to whose awak­ened eyes
So fair this morn ap­pears—
How know I where to­mor­row lies?
God grants not life by years.

Father! to­day up­on my head
Thy hand in bless­ing lay;
Give us this day our dai­ly bread,
Renew our hearts to­day.

Our Lord and Sav­ior! all we ask
Is that, through Thee for­giv’n,
To us each day our dai­ly task,
Our dai­ly strength be giv’n.

And when at last the trump of doom
Its long peal sends abroad,
We, glad with­in Thy hea­v’n­ly home,
May keep the Day of God.