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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

111 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 theer Perfect in power, in love, and purity.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty,
All thy works shall praise thy name in earlii and;
sky and sea.

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

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Room for the proud! Ye sons of clay,
From far his sweeping pomp survey,
Nor, rashly curious, clog the way

His chariot wheels before.
Lo, with what scorn his lofty eye
Glances o'er age and poverty,
And bids intruding conscience fly

Far from his palace door.
Room for the proud! but slow the feet
That bear his coffin down the street:
And dismal seems his winding-sheet

Who purple lately wore.
Ah, where must now his spirit fly
In naked, trembling agony?
Or how shall he for mercy cry,

Who showed it not before.
Room for the proud ! in ghastly state
The lords of hell his coming wait,
And flinging wide the dreadful gate.

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.' 6*

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