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FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT.
Oн Thou, whom neither time nor space
And Thou that from thy bright abode,
To us in mortal weakness shown, Didst graft the manhood into God, Eternal, co-eternal Son!
And Thou whose unction from on high
Dread Spirit! art for ever one!
Great First and Last! thy blessing give!
To love and praise thee while we live,
SIXTH SUNDAY IN LENT.
THE Lord of might, from Sinai's brow,
Outstretch'd in fear and wonder.
The Lord of love, on Calvary,
A meek and suffering stranger,
The Lord of love, the Lord of might,
Shall back return to claim his right,
O'er Death and Hell defeated!
Oн more than merciful! whose bounty gave Thy guiltless self to glut the greedy grave! Whose heart was rent to pay thy people's price, The great High-priest at once and sacrifice! Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain, Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain!
When sin with flow'ry garland hides her dart,
And, chiefest then, when nature yields the strife,
GOD is gone up with a merry noise
Of saints that sing on high;
With his own right hand and his holy arm He hath won the victory!
Now empty are the courts of death,
And he hath tamed the strength of hell, And dragg'd him through the sky, And captive behind his chariot wheel, He hath bound captivity!
God is gone up with a merry noise