Sing, O ye heav'ns; in joy sing on for aye!
71. NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1859.
Hail to the day I am allow'd to see,
Though helpless on the bed of sickness laid,—
Another year's return! All undismay'd,
I've daily thought, to me it might not be.
It has not been to millions now set free,
And this year millions more, to death betray'd,
Will reach their doom. For them I've earnest pray'd,