Who hear the rhythm of her strong, young feet—
The fair New Year, advancing swift this way.
Jesus, most patient, does thy morning break?
Shall she we wait for, with thy Spirit’s breath
Stir to new life a world that slumbereth?
Shall last year’s thorns to fleecy blossom wake?
Cometh thy kingdom? Shall thy will be done,
And Calvary’s shade be lost in Thabor’s sun?
III.
To thee we look, O Jesus, our true light!