FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Lo the lilies of the field, How their leaves instruction yield! Hark to Nature's lesson given Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow; Say, with richer crimson glows Yet we carol merrily. Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow! "One there lives whose guardian eye God provideth for the morrow!" SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. WAKE! not, oh mother! sounds of lamentation ! Bear forth the cold corpse, slowly, slowly bear him : Why pause the mourners? Who forbids our weeping? Change then, oh sad one! grief to exultation: NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. OH blest were the accents of early creation, And mighty the tones which the firmament rended, 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 storm. Oh Judge of the world! when, arrayed in Thy glory, When the Heaven shall fly fast from the sound of Thy thunder, And the sun, in Thy lightnings, grow languid and pale, And the sea yield her dead, and the Tomb cleave asunder, In the hour of Thy terrors, let mercy prevail ! TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. THE Sound of war! In earth and air The tyrant's sword, the rack, the flame, Of bitter doubt the barbed aim, All, all conspire his heart to tame : Gods of the world! ye warrior host In vain is all your impious boast, 'Tis past! 'tis o'er! in foul defeat (His live-long work of faith complete, Their conqueror bends his head. "The spoils Thyself hast gained, Lord! I lay before Thy throne: Thou wert my rock, my shield, my sword; My trust was in Thy name and word : 'Twas in Thy strength my heart was strong; Thy spirit went with mine along ; How was I then alone ?" TWENTY-SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. OH GOD! my sins are manifold, against my life they cry, And all my guilty deeds foregone, up to Thy temple fly; Wilt thou release my trembling soul that to despair is driven? "Forgive!" a blessed voice replied, "and thou shalt be forgiven!" Myfoemen, Lord! are fierce and fell, they spurn me in their pride, They render evil for my good, my patience they deride Arise, oh King, and be the proud to righteous ruin driven ! "Forgive!" an awful answer came, "as thou wouldst be forgiven !" Seven times, O Lord! I pardon'd them, seven times they sinn'd again : They practise still to work me woe, they triumph in my pain: But let them dread my vengeance now, to just resentment driven ! "Forgive!" the voice of thunder spake, "or never be forgiven!" TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. FROM foes that would the land devour; From wild sedition's lawless hour; From yoke of slavery: From blinded zeal by faction led; |