1 Behold, my soul, the narrow bound
Of the revolving year:
How swift the weeks complete their round,
How short the months appear.
2 So fast eternity comes on,
And that important day,
When all that mortal life has done
God's judgment shall survey.
3 Yet, like an idle tale, we spend
The swift-advancing year;
And study artful ways to mend
The speed of its career.
4 Waken, O God! my trifling heart,
Its great concern to see;
That I may act the Christian part,
And give the year to thee.
5 So shall their course more grateful roll,
If future years arise;
Or this shall bear my happy soul
To joy that never dies.
Source: The Voice of Praise: a collection of hymns for the use of the Methodist Church #908