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THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRIN-
'Who yonder on the desert heath,
'How cam'st thou to this dismal strand
'What ruffian hand hath stript thee bare?
'Can art no medicine for thy wound,
Nor nature strength supply?'
'But, sufferer, is no comfort near
'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,
FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
Lo, the lilies of the field,
How their leaves instruction yield!
Hark to nature's lesson given
By the blessed birds of Heaven.
Every bush and tufted tree
Warbles sweet philosophy;
'Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow:
God provideth for the morrow.
'Say, with richer crimson glows
'One there lives whose guardian eye
SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
Wake not, O mother, sounds of lamentation;
Weep not, O widow, weep not hopelessly: Strong is his arm, the bringer of salvation,
Strong is the word of God to succor thee.
Bear forth the cold corpse slowly,slowly bear him: Hide his pale features with the sable pall:
Chide not the sad one wildly weeping near him: Widowed and childless, she has lost her all.
Why pause the mourners? Who forbids our
Change, then, O sad one, grief to exultation,
Strong was his arm, the bringer of salvation,
NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER
O blest were the accents of early creation,
In the clods of the earth to infuse animation,
And mighty the tones which the firmament
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.