ANOTHER YEAR
Another year away has flown,
And the spend thrift has no wiser grown,
Though every chance was freely given
To lead him on his way to heaven.
Poor simple soul! He seemed to think
True pleasure’s only found in drink.
Though swift the years are rolling on,
Man shall reap what he has sown.
The good seed scattered all around
Shall at harvest time be found.
The bad seed sown, you may depend,
Shall breed corruption at the end.
