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NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER
TRIN INY.

O blest were the accents of early creation,
When the Word of Jehovah came down from
above :
In the clods of the earth to infuse animation,
And wake their cold atoms to life and to love.

And mighty the tones which the firmament rended, When on wheels of the thunder, and wings of the wind, By lightning, and hail, and thick darkness attended, He uttered on Sinai his laws to mankind.

And sweet was the voice of the First-born of heaven, (Though poor his apparel, though earthly his form,) Who said to the mourner, “Thy sins are forgiven,” “Be whole,” to the sick,-and ‘Be still,” to the the storm.

O, Judge of the world, when arrayed in thy glory,
Thy summons again shall be heard from on high,
While nature stands trembling and naked before
thee,
And waits on thy sentence to live or to die;

When the heaven shall fly fast from the sound of thy thunder, And the sun, in thy lightnings, grow languid and pale, And the sea yield her dead, and the tomb cleave asunder, In the hour of thy terrors, let mercy prevail,

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TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER

TRINITY.
H

THE sound of war ! In earth and air (.

The volleying thunders roll:
Their fiery darts the fiends prepare,
And dig the pit, and spread the snare,

Against the Christian’s soul. T The tyrant's sword, the rack, the flame, M

The scorner’s serpent tone, T Of bitter doubt the barbed aim, T

All, all conspire his heart to tame:

Force, fraud, and hellish fires assail

The rivets of his heavenly mail,
Amidst his foes alone.

Gods of the world, ye warrior host
Of darkness and of air,
In vain is all your impious boast,
In vain each missile lightning tost,
In vain the tempter's snare.
Though fast and far your arrows fly,
Though mortal nerve and bone
Shrink in convulsive agony,
The Christian can your rage defy;
Towers o'er his head salvation’s crest,
Faith like a buckler, guards his breast,
Undaunted, though alone.

'T is past, *t is o'er! in foul defeat
The demon host are fled,
Before the Saviour’s mercy-seat,
(His live-long work of faith complete,)
Their conqueror bends his head.
“The spoils thyself hast gained, Lord:
I lay before thy throne:
Thou wert my rock, my shield, my sword;
My trust was in thy name and word :
*T was in thy strength my heart was strong;
Thy spirit went with mine along;
How was I then alone *

TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER
TRINITY.

O God, my sins are manifold, against my life they cry,

And all my guilty deeds foregone, up to thy temple fly;

Wilt thou release my trembling soul, that to despair is driven

“Forgive 1° a blessed voice replied, ‘and thou shalt be forgiven.”

My foemen, Lord, are fierce and fell, they spurn
me in their pride,
They render evil for my good, my patience they
deride ;
Arise, O King, and be the proud to righteous
ruin driven.
“Forgive!’ an awful answer came, “as thou
would'st be forgiven.”
Seven times, O Lord, I pardoned them, seven
times they sinned again:
They practise still to work me wo, they triumph
in my pain;
Butlet them dread my vengeance now, to just re-
sentment driven.
“Forgive l’ the voice of thunder spake, “ or never
be forgiven.”

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