OUR BIRTHDAYS.
Our birthdays! solemn birthdays,
Time's sentinels they stand,
While each from out his watch-tower cries
The foe is close at hand;
These mentors mark Death's onward march,
Monition kindly given,
Life's mile-stones—may they record bear,
We're one year nearer heaven.
Time's sentinels they stand,
While each from out his watch-tower cries
The foe is close at hand;
These mentors mark Death's onward march,
Monition kindly given,
Life's mile-stones—may they record bear,
We're one year nearer heaven.
What, though across our pilgrim-path,
Dark clouds and shadows steal?
To Faith's keen eye these phantoms grim
Bright angel forms reveal;
Care, pain, and grief, they Heaven-sent come,
On faded brows to bind,
Celestial flowers of love and trust
With Hope's sweet buds entwined.
Dark clouds and shadows steal?
To Faith's keen eye these phantoms grim
Bright angel forms reveal;
Care, pain, and grief, they Heaven-sent come,
On faded brows to bind,
Celestial flowers of love and trust
With Hope's sweet buds entwined.
Then sorrow not to see the years
Go speeding on their way;
Ask not to check them in their flight,
Nor bid a moment stay;
Our birthdays benedictions are,
A consecrated boon;
Thrice welcome, like the mellow light
Of Autumn's harvest-moon.
Go speeding on their way;
Ask not to check them in their flight,
Nor bid a moment stay;
Our birthdays benedictions are,
A consecrated boon;
Thrice welcome, like the mellow light
Of Autumn's harvest-moon.
Our birthdays! happy birthdays,
They friendly beacons prove
To cheer the world-worn traveller,
And chide him should he rove;
They speak, as did the burning bush,
To listening prophet's car;
And wise are they who reverent turn
As well to heed as hear.
They friendly beacons prove
To cheer the world-worn traveller,
And chide him should he rove;
They speak, as did the burning bush,
To listening prophet's car;
And wise are they who reverent turn
As well to heed as hear.
Our birthdays! solemn birthdays,
Time's sentinels they stand,
While each from out his watch-tower cries
The foe is close at hand;
These mentors mark Death's onward march,
Monition kindly given;
Life's mile-stones—may they record bear
We're one year nearer heaven.
Time's sentinels they stand,
While each from out his watch-tower cries
The foe is close at hand;
These mentors mark Death's onward march,
Monition kindly given;
Life's mile-stones—may they record bear
We're one year nearer heaven.