The year is swift­ly wan­ing,
The sum­mer days are past;
And life, brief life, is speed­ing;
The end is near­ing fast.

The ev­er chang­ing sea­sons
In si­lence come and go;
But Thou, eter­nal Fa­ther,
No time or change canst know.

O, pour Thy grace up­on us,
That we may wor­thi­er be,
Each year that pass­es o’er us,
To dwell in Hea­ven with Thee.

Behold the bend­ing or­chards
With boun­te­ous fruit are crowned;
Lord, in our hearts more rich­ly
Let hea­ven­ly fruits abound.

O, by each mer­cy sent us,
And by each grief and pain,
By bless­ings like the sun­shine,
And sor­rows like the rain.

Our bar­ren hearts make fruit­ful
With ev­ery good­ly grace,
That we Thy name may hal­low,
And see at last Thy face.