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390.

C. M.

Gaskell.

A New Year.
306

Our Father! through the coming year

We know not what shall be,

But we would leave without a fear

Its ordering all to Thee.

It may be we shall toil in vain

For what the world holds fair,

And all its good we thought to gain

Deceive, and prove but care.

It may be it shall darkly blend

Our love with anxious fears,

And snatch away the valued friend,

The tried of many years.

It may be it shall bring us days

And nights of lingering pain,

And bid us take our farewell gaze

Of these loved haunts of men.

But calmly, Lord, on Thee we rest;

No fears our trust shall move;

Thou knowest what for each is best,

And Thou art perfect love.

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