A New Year's poem

This was on the back of our church bulletin yesterday, and I thought it was worth sharing.

My Year Book

The Master gave a "book" to me,
With pages pure and white;
And then He said, "Most carefully
Upon it you must write.
No blot shall mar a single page
Of such a volume fair;
Each word you write will always stay
Forever entered there."
For 12 brief months the "book" was mine.
And then He came once more;
To give a new one all unsoiled,
As He had done before.

He took the "book" away from me,
Although I begged of Him
For just a moment more of time-
I'd fill it to the brim.
With effort to correct a page,
To cancel each bad spot;
But opportunity was gone,
Old years cannot be bought,
A New Year lies before me now,
Its pages clean and white;
"Dear Lord," I cry, "Oh, take my hand
And guide me as I write."

-Author unknown

(I tried to find the name on the Web but nothing came up. If anyone knows the author's name, please let me know so I can post it.)