Wtio wil] erre, in tlie coming year, Whetlier you stood in yonr prtde, a man, . Crowned with a uation's honor here, ür driven to crime by a soci;] ban? Our lives are mingled as Btreains that ruu In a ceaseless tide to an unkuowu jea, On the crest, the foam and the sliiiiintr sim, In tlie depths, and in darkness, what is to be. Wlm will care the coming year, Whether we rest, or toil and spin? We inay not know, in oir naintly sphere, Wo may not care, in our palli of sin. But I have a fancy that wben the Clouda Sliall lie rolled away froni the city fair, And -we go to join the sliiniuj; crowds, That eojue one will care for us over there !