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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 passed 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.

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Forth from the dark and stormy sky,
Lord, to thine altar's shade we fly;
Forth from the world, its hope and fear,
Saviour, we seek thy shelter here:
Weary and weak, thy grace we pray;
Turn not, O Lord, thy guests away.

Long have we roamed in want and pain,
Long have we sought thy rest in vain;
Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost,
Long have our souls been tempest-tost:
Low at thy feet our sins we lay;
Turn not, O Lord, thy guests away.

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THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

There was joy in heaven, There was joy in heaven,
When this goodly world to frame
The Lord of might and mercy came:
Shouts of joy were heard on high,
And the stars sang from the sky,
'Glory to God in heaven.'

There was joy in heaven,
There was joy in heaven,
When the billows, heaving dark,
Sank around the stranded ark,
And the rainbow's watery span
Spake of mercy, hope to man, And peace with God in Heaven.

There was joy in heaven,
There was joy in heaven,
When of love the midnight beam
Dawned on the towers of Bethlehem;
And along the echoing hill Angels sang— ' On earth good will, -

And glory in the Heaven.'

There is joy in heaven.
There is joy in heaven,
When the sheep that went astray
Turns again to virtue's way;
When the soul by grace subdued,
Sobs its prayer of gratitude,
Then is there joy in Heaven.

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

I praised the earth, in beauty seen
With garlands gay of various green;
I praised the sea, whose ample field
Shone glorious as a silver shield;
And earth and ocean seemed to say,
'Our beauties are but for a day.'

I praised the sun, whose chariot rolled
On wheels of amber and of gold;
I praised the moon, whose softer eye
Gleamed sweetly through the summer sky:
And moon and sun in answer said,
'Our days of light are numbered.'

O God, O good beyond compare,

If thus thy meaner works are fair,

If thus thy bounties gild the span

Of ruined earth and sinful man,

How glorious must the mansion be

Where thy redeemed shall dwell with Thee.

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