The loved, whose toil is o’er,
And plant with joy our bounding feet
On Canaan’s radiant shore;
Where, free from all earth’s cares and fears,
We’ll part no more through endless years.
The New Year, 1871.
Why hail we thus each new-born year,
With voice of joy and scenes of mirth?
What room for gay and festive cheer,
While woe and darkness span the earth?