A New Year's Breathing

Another year comes tottering to its close,
War-worn, war-weary, ravaged, ruined, cursed,
Bemauled, beweltered, weighted down with woes,
Its hoary head in seas of blood immersed.
O God, Thy rod is on the nations laid,
And on Thy creature in Thy likeness made.
Oh, that Thy grace would to the princes grant
Return of reason, that their trust might be,
Not in battalions proud, impuissant,
But, Righteous Ruler of mankind, in Thee,
And that they might this welter of distress
Charge to their guilty God-forgetfulness.
Call back to Thee the hearts of men, begin
With potentates, with peers of royal blood,
Thy ransomed saints awake, that for our sin
Salt tears may ceaseless flow in mighty flood,
And from Thy presence may be sent relief,
For we have been rebellious past belief.