Memory Monday: The New Year Poem

My grandfather during the Civil War

THE NEW YEAR

As some of you know, I “reprint” a historical magazine dated 1865. It is filled with chapters of books, articles, and recipes from that time period.

Last month while I was researching for my magazine, I found a poem in The Family Christian Almanac from 1864. My grandfather was a soldier during the Civil War (1862-65), and I wonder if his first wife (my grandmother was his second wife—she was born in 1862) sent him this poem while he as far away from her. Maybe she read this poem to their children.

I would like to share it with you as the New Year begins.

THE NEW YEAR

I know not what shall befall me,

God hangs a mist o'er my eyes;

For each step in my onward path

He makes new scenes to rise,
And every joy he sends me

Comes as a sweet surprise.

I see not a step before me,

As I tread on another year,

But the past is still in God's keeping,

The future his mercy shall clear,
And what looks dark in the distance

May brighten as I draw near.

For perhaps the dreaded future

Has less bitter than I think;
The Lord may sweeten the waters

Before I stoop to drink;

Or if Marah must be Marah,

He will stand beside its brink.

It may be he has, waiting

For the coming of my feet,

Some gift of such rare value,

Some joy so strangely sweet,

That my lips shall only tremble

With the thanks they cannot speak.

Oh, restful, blissful ignorance!

'T is blessed not to know;

It keeps me still in those arms

Which will not let me go,

And hushes my soul to rest

In the bosom that loved me so!

So I go on—not knowing;

I would not, if I might,

Rather walking with God in the dark

Than going alone in the light;
Rather walking with Christ by faith

Than walking alone by sight.

My heart shrinks back from trials

Which the future may disclose,

Yet I never had a sorrow

But what the dear Lord chose;

So I send the coming tears back

With the whispered word—"He knows."

I don’t know who wrote this poem, but I really like it. I hope you will also.