Leave thou the past to thy Redeemer, entrust the future to thy Friend;
But for To-day, child of man, tend thou charily the minutes,
The harvest of thy yesterday, the seed-corn of thy morrow.
Last night died its day; and the deeds thereof were judged:
Thou didst lay thee down as in a shroud, in darkness and death-like slumber:
But at the trumpet of this morn, waking the world to resurrection,
Thou didst arise, like others, to live a new day's life:
Fear, lest folly give thee cause to mourn its passing presence,
Fear, that to-morrow's sigh be not, would God it had not dawned!