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EASTER DAY.

God is gone up with a merry noise
Of saints that sing on high:

With his own right hand and his holy arm
He hath won the victory.

Now empty are the courts of death,
And crushed thy sting, despair:

And roses bloom in the desert tomb,
For Jesus hath been there. .*

And he hath tamed the strength of hell,
And dragged him through the sky,

And captive behind his chariot wheel,
He hath bound captivity.

God is gone up with a merry noise
Of saints that sing on high;

With his own right hand and his holy arm
He hath won the victory.

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.

LIFE nor Death shall us dissever

From his love who reigns for ever.

Will he fail us? Never, never,
When to him we cry.

Sin may seek to snare us,

Fiery passion tear us,

Doubt and fear and grim despair,
Their fangs against us try:

But his might shall still defend us,

And his blessed Son befriend us,

And his Holy Spirit send us
Comfort ere we die,

ASCENSION DAY, AND SUNDAY AFTER.

‘SIT thou on my right hand, my Son!” saith the Lord.

“Sit thou on my right hand, my Son,
Till in the fatal hour
Of my wrath, and my power,

Thy foes shall be a footstool to thy throne.

• Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son,” saith the Lord.

‘Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son,
From earth and air and sea,
And all that in them be,

Which thou for thine heritage hast won.”

‘Daily be thou praised, my Son,” saith the Lord.

‘Daily be thou praised, my Son.
And all that live and move,
Let them bless thy bleeding love,

And the work which thy worthiness hath done.”

WHITSUNDAY.

SPIRIT of Truth, on this thy day
To thee for help we cry;

To guide us through the dreary way
Of dark mortality.

We ask not, Lord, thy cloven flame,
Or tongues of various tone;
But long thy praises to proclaim
With fervor in our own.
We mourn not that prophetic skill
Is found on earth no more ;
Enough for us to trace thy will
In Scripture’s sacred lore.

We neither have nor seek the power
Ill demons to control ;

But thou in dark temptation's hour,
Shalt chase them from the soul.

No heavenly harpings soothe our ear,
No mystic dreams we share;

Yet hope to feel thy comfort near,
And bless thee in our prayer.

When tongues shall cease and power decay,

And knowledge empty prove,
Do thou thy trembling servants stay
With faith, with hope, with love.

TRINITY SUNDAY.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty,
Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee :

Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty!
God in three persons, blessed Trinity.

Holy, holy, holy, all the saints adore thee,
Casting down their golden crowns around the
glassy sea;
Cherubim and seraphim falling down before thee,
Which wert and art and evermore shalt be.

Holy, holy, holy, though the darkness hide thee,
Though the eye of sinful man thy glory may
not see,
Only thou art holy, there is none beside thee,
Perfect in power, in love, and purity.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty,
All thy works shall praise thy name in earth and
sky and sea.
Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty,
God in three persons, blessed Trinity.

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