When a few years are come, then I shall go the way whence I shall not return.@Job 16:22
portrait
John B. Dykes (1823–1876)

Em­ma F. R. Camp­bell, The Hymn Je­sus of Na­za­reth Pass­eth By: Its His­to­ry and Oth­er Vers­es (New York: M. E. Mun­son, 1909), page 95, alt.

Ol­iv­et (Dykes) John B. Dykes, 1870 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Take down the faded wreaths,
Untwine the garlands gay,
Though that glad time we hung them up
Seems but as yesterday.
And from their crumbling leaves
We still can almost hear
The echoes of the carols sweet
And greetings of new year.

But ah! full well we know
The festive season’s o’er;
And treading in life’s dusty ways
We find ourselves once more.
More swift than wheels of steam
The golden hours have rolled;
And while we dreamed the year was young,
We wake to find it old.

Now clear above the din
Of daily toil and care,
We hear again in solemn tones
The Lenten call to prayer:
Now turn from pleasure’s round,
A higher joy to find
In fellowship with Him whose death
Gave life to all mankind.

Thus do the years go on,
And times and seasons glide,
Till soon the story of our life
Is closed and laid aside.
Ah! Life’s a mystic page!
In vain we strive to scan
The hidden thought between the lines—
God’s purposes to man.