The Clock

The clock strikes one, a new day has begun

The clock strikes two—the Lord watches over you.

It strikes three and it strikes four.

And soon our sleeping hours are o’er.

We hear strikes five and six and seven,

The prayers of the saints rise up to heaven.

Yet ere the clock has dared strike eight

Our sins have increased at a rapid rate.

While the clock strikes nine and on to ten

The hours are marking the works of men.

The hour of eleven strikes boldly and long

“The last before noonday” seems to be its song.

Both hand on twelve seem to say,

Do your duty, Christian, also today.

For an hour past is an hour spent

And of each minute we must repent.