Youth dead to sorrow, age to coming night.

Look up, forget thine evil, drink new faith

From this glad parable of the awakening year.

The church’s arms are round thee, build new hope

In this poor Kingdom as the quickening year

Hath made this wrinkled earth forget old sorrows;

Be this but thine to do, and thou art pardoned.

Arthur. Oh! blessed be thy counsel, even now

I feel new joys run riot in my heart.

Old hopes long faded built on my high dreams!

The old dread sorrow lightens, it is gone,

And I go forth a shrived soul even now.

Yea, hear me Father, now I consecrate

This my poor life to this great kingdom’s weal,

And be my God but with me, I will raise

[Pg 5]

[Pg 5]

This head of sorrows out of clouds of ill,

And build a splendor of my chastened will.

Thy blessing Father!

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