I am unused, unspotted, without blemish.
I stretch before you three hundred sixty-five days long. I will present each day in its turn, a new leaf in the Book of Life for you to place upon it your imprint.
It remains for you to make me what you will; if you write with firm, steady strokes, my pages will be a joy to look upon when the next New Year comes. If the pen falters, if uncertainty, doubt or sin mars the page, it will become a day to remember with pain.
I am the New Year. During each hour of the three hundred sixty- five days, I will give you sixty minutes that have never known the use of man. White and pure, I present them; it remains for you to fill them with sixty jeweled seconds of love, hope, endeavor, patience and trust in God.
I am the New Year; I am here, but once past, I can never be recalled.
Make me your best!