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When God knows I'm toss'd about
Either with despair or doubt,
Yet before the glass be out,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

When the tempter me pursueth
With the sins of all my youth,
And reproves me for untruth,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

When the judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

R. Herrick



Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire,
And lighten with celestial fire;
Thou the Anointing Spirit art,
Who dost Thy sevenfold gifts impart.
Thy blessed unction from above
Is comfort, life, and fire of love.
Enable with perpetual light
The dulness of our blinded sight;
Anoint and cheer our soiled face
With the abundance of Thy grace;
Keep far our foes; give peace at home;
Where Thou art guide, no ill can come.
Teach us to know the Father, Son,
And Thee of both, to be but One:

That, through the ages all along,
This may be our endless song:
"Praise to Thy eternal merit,
"Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!"

Ordination Service



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 shall 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 Thee Perfect in Power, in Love, and Purity!

Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God Almighty!

All Thy works shall praise Thy Name, in earth, and

sky, and sea; Holy! Holy! Holy! Merciful and Mighty, God in Three Persons, Blessed Trinity!

Bishop Reginald Heber



—To our high-raised phantasy present

That undisturbed song of pure consent,

Aye sung before the sapphire-colourti throne

To Him that sits thereon,

With saintly shout and solemn jubilee;

Where the bright seraphim in burning row,

Their loud uplifted angel trumpets blow;

And the cherubic host, in thousand choirs,

Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,

With those just spirits that wear victorious palms,

Hymns devout, and holy psalms,

Singing everlastingly:

That we on earth with undiscording voice,

May rightly answer that melodious noise;

As once we did, till disproportion'd sin

Jarr'd against Nature's chime, and with harsh din

Broke the fair music that all creatures made

To their great Lord, whose love their motion

sway'd In perfect diapason whilst they stood, In first obedience and their state of good. O, may we soon again renew that song And keep in tune with heaven, till God ere long To His celestial concert us unite To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light!

John Milton



But let my due feet never fail

To walk the studious cloisters pale,

And love the high embowed roof

With antique pillars massy proof,

And storied windows richly dight

Casting a dim religious light;

There let the pealing organ blow

To the full-voiced choir below

In service high, and anthem clear,

As may with sweetness, thro' mine ear,

Dissolve me into ecstasies

And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.

John Milton



The roseate hues of early dawn,

The brightness of the day,
The crimson of the sunset sky,

How fast they fade away!
O for the pearly gates of heaven!

O for the golden floor!
O for the Sun of Righteousness

That setteth nevermore!

The highest hopes we cherish here,
How fast they tire and faint!

How many a spot defiles the robe
That wraps an earthly saint!

O for a heart that never sins!

O for a soul wash'd white!
O for a voice to praise our King,

Nor weary day or night!

Here faith is ours, and heavenly hope,

And grace to lead us higher:
But there are perfectness and peace

Beyond our best desire.
O, by Thy love and anguish, Lord!

O, by Thy life laid down!
O, that we fall not from Thy grace,

Nor cast away our crown!

C. F. Alexander



Glory to Thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light;
Keep me, O keep me, King of kings,
Beneath Thine own Almighty wings.

Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son,
The ill that I this day have done;
That with the world, myself, and Thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed;
Teach me to die, that so I may
Rise glorious at the awful day.

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