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Now empty are the courts of death,
And crushed thy sting, despair:
For Jesus hath been there!
And dragged him through the sky,
He hath bound captivity!
Of saints that sing on high;
He hath won the victory!
SIXTH SUNDAY IN LENT. The Lord of might, from Sinai's brow,
Gave forth his voice of thunder ; And Israel lay on earth below,
Outstretched in fear and wonder. Beneath his feet was pitchy night, And, at his left hand and his right,
The rocks were rent asunder! The Lord of love, on Calvary,
A meek and suffering stranger, Upraised to heaven his languid eye,
In nature's hour of danger.
And met his Father's anger.
The king of all created,
On clouds of glory seated;
O'er Death and Hell defeated !
FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.
Life nor Death shall us dissever
When to him we cry!
Their fangs against us try;
Comfort ere we die !
ASCENSION DAY, AND SUNDAY On more than merciful! whose bounty gave
AFTER. Thy guiltless self to glut the greedy grave! “Sit thou on my right hand, my Son !" saith the Whose heart was rent to pay thy people's price, Lord. The great High-priest at once and sacrifice! “Sit thou on my right hand, my Son! Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain,
Till in the fatal hour Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain !
Of my wrath and my power, When sin with flow'ry garland hides her dart,
Thy foes shall be a footstool to thy throne ! When tyrant force would daunt the sinking heart, “ Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son!" saith When fleshly lust assails, or worldly care,
the Lord. Or the soul flutters in the fowler's snare, “Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son! Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain,
From earth and air and sea, Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain!
And all that in them be, And chiefest then, when nature yields the strife, Which thou for thine heritage hast won !" And mortal darkness wraps the gate of life, Daily be thou praised, my Son !" saith the Lord. When the poor spirit, from the tomb set free, Daily be thou praised, my Son! Sinks at thy feet and lifts its hope to thee
And all that live and move, Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain! Let them bless thy bleeding love, Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain ! And the work which thy worthiness hath done!"
Of saints that sing on high;
He hath won the victory!
To thee for help we cry;
Of dark mortality!
We ask not, Lord! thy cloven flame,
Or tongues of various tone;
With fervour in our own.
Is found on earth no more;
In Scripture's sacred lore.
II demons to control;
Shall chase them from the soul.
No mystic dreams we share; Yet hope to feel thy comfort near,
And bless thee in our prayer. When tongues shall cease,
power decay, And knowledge empty prove, Do tbox thy trembling servants stay
With Faith, with Hope, with Love!
Room for the proud! but slow the feet
Who purple låtely wore!
Who showed it not before !
That shuts to ope no more. "Lo here with us the seat,” they cry, "For him who mocked at poverty, And bade intruding conscience fly
Far from his palace door!”
TRINITY SUNDAY. HOLY, boły, boly, Lord God Almighty,
Farty in the morning our song shall rise to thee; Hxy, boty, boly, merciful and mighty!
God in three persons, blessed Trinity ! Birds, boly, holy! all the saints adore thee, Casting down their golden crowns around the
giassy sea; Cerebim and seraphim falling down before thee,
Which wert and art and evermore shall be ! Bos boly, hoły! though the darkness hide thee, Though the eye of sinful man thy glory may
not se, Oaly the art holy, there is none beside thee,
Perrect in power, in love, and purity! Edy budy, boły, Lord God Almighty! All ly works shall praise thy name in earth
and sky and sea. H# boly, holy, merciful and mighty!
God in three persons, blessed Trinity!
FOR THE SAME. The feeble pulse, the gasping breath,
The clenched teeth, the glazed eye, Are these thy sting, thou dreadful death!
O grave, are these thy victory? The mourners by our parting bed,
The wife, the children, weeping nigh, The dismal pageant of the dead,
These, these are not thy victory! But, from the much-loved world to part,
Our lust untamed, our spirit high, All nature struggling at the heart,
Which, dying, feels it dare not die ! To dream through life a gaudy dream
Of pride and pomp and luxury, Till wakened by the nearer gleam
Of burning, boundless agony; To meet o'er soon our angry king,
Whose love we past unheeded by; Lo this, O Death, thy deadliest sting!
O Grave, and this thy victory! O Searcher of the secret heart,
Who deigned for sinful man to die ! Restore us ere the spirit part,
Nor give to hell the victory!
FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
Room for the proud! Ye sons of clay,
His chariot wheels before !
Far from his palace door!
SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
Long have we roamed in want and pain, If thus thy bounties gild the span
Of ruined earth and sinful man,
How glorious must the mansion be Long have our souls been tempest-tost; Where thy redeemed shall dwell with Thee! Low at thy feet our sins we lay; Turn not, O Lord! thy guests away!
FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
CREATOR of the rolling flood! THERE was joy in heaven!
On whom thy people hope alone; There was joy in heaven!
Who cam’st, by water and by blood, When this goodly world to frame
For man's offences to atone; The Lord of might and mercy came:
Who from the labours of the deep Shouts of joy were heard on high,
Didst set thy servant Peter free, And the stars sang from the sky,
To feed on earth thy chosen sheep, "Glory to God in heaven!"
And build an endless church to thee. There was joy in heaven!
devoid of worldly care, There was joy in heaven! When the billows, heaving dark,
And leaning on thy bounteous hand Sank around the stranded ark,
To seek thy help in humble prayer, And the rainbow's watery span
And on thy sacred rock to stand:
And when, our livelong toil to crown,
Thy call shall set the spirit free,
To cast with joy our burthen down,
And rise, O Lord! and follow thee!
SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
When spring unlocks the flowers to paint the
laughing soil; There is joy in heaven!
When summer's balmy showers refresh the mowThere is joy in heaven!
er's toil; When the sheep that went astray
When winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and Turns again to virtue's way;
the flood, When the soul, by grace subdued, In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns his Sobs it prayer of gratitude,
The birds that wake the morning, and those that
love the shade; FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
The winds that sweep the mountain' or lull the
drowsy glade; I PRAISED the earth, in beauty seen
The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on With garlands gay of various green; I praised the sea, whose ample field
The moon and stars, their Master's name in silent Shone glorious as a silver shield ;
pomp display. And earth and ocean seemed to say, “ Our beauties are but for a day !"
Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky,
Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise deny? I praised the sun, whose chariot rolled No, let the year forsake his course, the seasons On wheels of amber and of gold;
cease to be, I praised the moon, whose softer eye
Thee, Master, must we always love, and, Saviour, Gleamed sweetly through the summer sky!
honour thee. And moon and sun in answer said, “Our days of light are numbered!"
The flowers of spring may wither, the hope of
summer fade, O God! O good beyond compare!
The autumn droop in winter, the birds forsake If thus thy meaner works are fair!
the shade ;
The winds be lulled—the sun and moon forget
their old decree, But we in nature's latest hour, O Lord! will cling
TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. JERUSALEM, Jerusalem! enthroned once on high, Thou favoured home of God on earth, thou heaven
below the sky! Now brought to bondage with thy sons, a curse
and grief to see, Jerusalem, Jerusalem! our tears shall flow for thee. Oh! hadst thou known thy day of grace, and
flocked beneath the wing Of him who called thee lovingly, thine own anoint
ed King, Then had the tribes of all the world gone up thy
pomp to see, And glory dwelt within thy gates, and all thy sons
" What ruffian hand hath stript thee bare?
Whose fury laid thee low ?" “Sin for my footsteps twined her snare,
And death has dealt the blow!" "Can art no medicine for thy wound,
Nor nature strength supply ?" _" They saw me bleeding on the ground,
And passed in silence by!" “But, sufferer! is no comfort near
Thy terrors to remove ?" -“There is to whom my soul was dear,
But I have scorned his love." “What if his hand were nigh to save
From endless death thy days ?” _" The soul he ransomed from the grave
Should live but to his praise !" "Rise then, O rise ! his health embrace,
With heavenly strength renewed; And such as is thy Saviour's grace,
Such be thy gratitude!"
"And who art thou that mournest me?" replied
the ruin gray, "And fear'st not rather that thyself may prove a
castaway? I am a dried and abject branch, my place is given
to thee; Bat wo to every barren graft of thy wild olive-tree ! "Our day of grace is sunk in night, our time of
mercy spent, For heavy was my children's crime, and strange
their punishment; Yet gaze not idly on our fall, but, sinner, warned
be, Who spared not his chosen seed may send his
wrath on thee! "Our day of grace is sunk in night, thy noon is
in its prime; Oh! turn and seek thy Saviour's face in this ac
cepted time! So, Gentile, may Jerusalem a lesson prove to thee, And in the new Jerusalem thy home for ever be!"
FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRE
THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRI
NITY. " Who yonder on the desert heath,
Complains in feeble tone ?" -"A pilgrim in the vale of death,
Faint, bleeding, and alone!"
Of danger, grief, and shame ?”
SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRI
NITY. Wake not, oh mother! sounds of lamentation!
Weep not, oh widow! weep not hopelessly! Strong is his arm, the bringer of salvation,
Strong is the word of God to succour thee!
Bear forth the cold corpse, slowly, slowly bear him:
TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER Hide his pale features with the sable pall:
TRINITY Chide not the sad one wildly weeping near him:
The sound of war! In earth and air Widowed and childless, she has lost her all!
The volleying thunders roll:
Their fiery darts the fiends prepare, Why pause the mourners? Who forbids our
And dig the pit, and spread the snare, weeping ?
Against the Christian's soul Who the dark pomp of sorrow has delayed ?
The tyrant's sword, the rack, the flame, " Set down the bier-he is not dead but sleeping !
The scorner's serpent tone, “Young man, arise !"-He spake, and was
Of bitter doubt, the barbed aim, obeyed!
All, all conspire his heart to tame:
Force, fraud, and hellish fires assail Change, then, oh sad one! grief to exultation,
The rivets of his heavenly mail,
Amidst his foes alone.
Of darkness and of air,
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, When the word of Jehovah came down from
The Christian can your rage defy;
Towers o'er his head salvation's crest,
Faith, like a buckler, guards his breast,
Undaunted, though alone. And mighty the tones which the firmament rended,
'T is past! 't is o'er! in foul defeat When on wheels of the thunder, and wings of
The demon host are fled! the wind,
Before the Saviour's mercy-seat, By lightning, and hail, and thick darkness at
(His live-long work of faith complete,) tended,
Their conqueror bends his head. He uttered on Sinai his laws to mankind.
“The spoils thyself hast gained, Lord! And sweet was the voice of the First-born of
I lay before thy throne: heaven,
Thou wert my rock, my shield, my sword; (Though poor his apparel, though earthly his
My trust was in thy name and word:
'T was in thy strength my heart was strong; form,) Who said to the mourner, “Thy sins are for
Thy spirit went with mine along;
How was I then alone ?" given!" “Be whole!" to the sick,-and "Be still!” to the storm.
TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER Oh, Judge of the world! when, arrayed in thy
TRINITY glory, Thy summons again shall be heard from on Ou God! my sins are manifold, against my life high,
they cry, While nature stands trembling and naked before and all my guilty deeds foregone, up to thy temthee,
ple fly; And waits on thy sentence to live or to die; Wilt thou release my trembling soul, that to de
spair is driven? When the heaven shall fly fast from the sound of "Forgive!” a blessed voice replied, “and thou thy thunder,
shalt be forgiven!" And the sun, in thy lightnings, grow languid and pale,
My foemen, Lord! are fierce and fell, they spurn And the sea yield her dead, and the tomb cleave me in their pride, asunder,
They render evil for my good, my patience they In the hour of thy terrors, let mercy prevail ! deride;