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Oh Thoa, by all thy works adored,
To whom the sinner's soul is dear,
Recall us to thy vineyard, Lord !
And grant us grace to please thee here !

Blessed was the parent's eye
That watched thy slumbering infancy!
Blessed she by all creation,
Who brought forth the world's salvation !
And blessed they, for ever blest,
Who love thee most and serve thee best !
Virgin-born! we bow before thee!
Blessed was the womb that bore thee !
Mary, mother meek and mild,
Blessed was she in her child !

SEXAGESIMA SUNDAY.

FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT.

Oh, God! by whom the seed is given;
By whom the harvest blest;
Whose word like manna showered from heaven,
Is planted in our breast;
Preserve it from the passing feet,
And plunderers of the air;
The sultry sun's intenser heat,
And weeds of worldly care;
Though buried deep or thinly strewn,
Do thou thy grace supply ;
The hope in earthly furrows sown
Shall ripen in the sky!

Oh, King of earth and air and sea!
The hungry ravens cry to thee;
To thee the scaly tribes that sweep
The bosom of the boundless deep;
To thee the lions roaring call,
The common Father, kind to all!
Then grant thy servants, Lord! we pray,
Our daily bread from day to day!
The fishes may for food complain;
The ravens spread their wings in vain;
The roaring lions lack and pine;
But God! thou carest still fo. thine!

QUINQUAGESIMA.

LORD of mercy and of might,
Of mankind the life and light,
Maker, teacher, infinite,

Jesus, hear and save!
Who, when sin's primæval doom
Gave creation to the tomb,
Didst not scorn a Virgin's womb,

Jesus, hear and save! Strong, Creator, Saviour mild, Humbled to a mortal child, Captive, beaten, bound, reviled,

Jesus, hear and save! Throned above celestial things, Borne aloft on angels' wings, Lord of lords, and King of kings,

Jesus, hear and save!

Thy bounteous hand with food can bless
The bleak and lonely wilderness;
And thou hast taught us, Lord! to pray
For daily bread from day to day!
And oh, when through the wilds we roam
That part us from our heavenly home;
When, lost in danger, want, and wo,
Our faithless tears begin to flow;
Do thou thy gracious comfort give,
By which alone the soul may live;
And grant thy servants, Lord! we pray,
The bread of life from day to day!

Soon to come to earth again, Judge of angels and of men, Hear us now, and hear us then,

Jesus, hear and save!

THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT. VIRGIx-born! we bow before thee! Blessed was the womb that bore thee! Mary, mother meek and mild, Blessed was she in her child !

FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. Ou Thou, whom neither time nor space

Can circle in, unseen, unknown, Nor faith in boldest flight can trace,

Save through thy Spirit and thy Son! 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

By comfort, light, and love is known! Who, with the parent Deity,

Dread Spirit! art for ever one!

Blessed was the breast that fed thee! Blessed was the hand that led thee!

Great First and Last! thy blessing give !

And grant us faith, thy gift alone, To love and praise thee while we live,

And do whate'er thou would'st have done!

Now empty are the courts of death,

And crushed thy sting, despair :
And roses bloom in the desert tomb,

For Jesus hath been there!
And he hath tamed the strength of hell,

And dragged him through the sky,
And captive behind his chariot wheel,

He hath bound captivity!
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!

SIXTH SUNDAY IN LENT. The Lord of might, from Sinai's brow,

Gave forth his voice of thunder ; And Israel lay on earth below,

Outstretched in fear and wonder. Beneath his feet was pitchy night, And, at his left hand and his right,

The rocks were rent asunder! The Lord of love, on Calvary,

A meek and suffering stranger, Upraised to heaven his languid eye,

In nature's hour of danger.
For us he bore the weight of wo,
For us he gave his blood to flow,

And met his Father's anger.
The Lord of love, the Lord of might,

The king of all created,
Shall back return to claim his right,

On clouds of glory seated;
With trumpet-sound and angel-song,
And hallelujahs loud and long

O'er Death and Hell defeated !

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.

Life nor Death shall us dissever
From his love who reigns for ever!
Will he fail us? Never! never!

When to him we cry!
Sin may seek to snare us,
Fury passion tear us !
Doubt and fear, and grim despair,

Their fangs against us try;
But his might shall still defend us,
And his blessed Son befriend us,
And his Holy Spirit send us

Comfort ere we die!

GOOD FRIDAY.

ASCENSION DAY, AND SUNDAY Oh more than merciful! whose bounty gave

AFTER. Thy guiltless self to glut the greedy grave! “Sır thou on my right hand, my Son !" saith the Whose heart was rent to pay thy people's price, Lord. The great High-priest at once and sacrifice! “Sit thou on my right hand, my Son! Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain,

Till in the fatal hour Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain !

Of my wrath and my power, When sin with flow'ry garland hides her dart,

Thy foes shall be a footstool to thy throne ! When tyrant force would daunt the sinking heart," Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son!” saith When fleshly lust assails, or worldly care,

the Lord. Or the soul flutters in the fowler's snare, “ Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son! Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain,

From earth and air and sea, Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain!

And all that in them be, And chiefest then, when nature yields the strife, Which thou for thine heritage hast won !" And mortal darkness wraps the gate of life, “ Daily be thou praised, my Son !" saith the Lord. When the poor spirit, from the tomb set free, “ Daily be thou praised, my Son! Sinks at thy feet and lifts its hope to thee

And all that live and move, Help, Saviour, by thy cross and crimson stain! Let them bless thy bleeding love, Nor let thy glorious blood be spilt in vain! And the work which thy worthiness hath done!"

EASTER DAY.
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!

WHITSUNDAY.
Spirit of Truth! on this thy day

To thee for help we cry;
To guide us through the dreary way

Of dark mortality!

We ask not, Lord! thy cloven flame,

Or tongues of various tone;
But long thy praises to proclaim

With fervour in our own.
We mourn not that prophetic skill

Is found on earth no more ;
Enough for us to trace thy will

In Scripture's sacred lore.
We neither have nor seek the power

Ill demons to control;
But thou in dark temptation's hour,

Shall chase them from the sou).
No heavenly harpings sooth our ear,

No mystic dreams we share;
Yet hope to feel thy comfort near,

And bless thee in our prayer.
When tongues shall cease, and power decay,

And knowledge empty prove,
Do thou thy trembling servants stay

With Faith, with Hope, with Love!

Room for the proud! but slow the feet
That bear his coffin down the street:
And dismal seems his winding sheet

Who purple lately wore!
Ah! where must now his spirit fly
In naked, trembling agony ?
Or how shall he for mercy cry

Who showed it not before !
Room for the proud! in ghastly state,
The lords of hell his coming wait,
And flinging wide the dreadful gate,

That shuts to ope no more. “Lo here with us the seat,” they cry, "For him who mocked at poverty, And bade intruding conscience fly

Far from his palace door!".

TRINITY SUNDAY. 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

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 wise, 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 past 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!

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!

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Room for the proud! Ye sons of clay,
From far his eweeping pomp survey,
Nor, rashly curious, clog the way

His chariot wheels before !
Lo! with what scorn his lofty eye
Glances o'er age and poverty,
And bids intruding conscience fly

Far from his palace door!

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, If thus thy bounties gild the span
Long have we sought thy rest in vain;

Of ruined earth and sinful man,
Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost,

How glorious must the mansion be Long have our souls been tempest-tost ;

Where thy redeemed shall dwell with Thee! Low at thy feet our sins we lay; Turn not, O Lord! thy guests away!

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

CREATOR of the rolling flood!
THERE was joy in heaven!

On whom thy people hope alone;
There was joy in heaven!

Who cam'st, by water and by blood,
When this goodly world to frame

For man's offences to atone;
The Lord of might and mercy came:

Who from the labours of the deep
Shouts of joy were heard on high,

Didst set thy servant Peter free, And the stars sang from the sky,

To feed on earth thy chosen sheep,
“Glory to God in heaven!”

And build an endless church to thee.
There was joy in heaven!
There was joy in heaven!

Grant us, devoid of worldly care,
When the billows, heaving dark,

And leaning on thy bounteous hand Sank around the stranded ark,

To seek thy help in humble prayer, And the rainbow's watery span

And on thy sacred rock to stand:
Spake of mercy, hope to man,

And when, our livelong toil to crown,
And peace with God in Heaven!

Thy call shall set the spirit free,
There was joy in heaven!

To cast with joy our burthen down,
There was joy in heaven!

And rise, O Lord! and follow thee!
When of love the midnight beam
Dawned on the towers of Bethlehem;
And along the echoing hill

SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
Angels sang—"On earth good will,
And glory in the Heaven !"

When spring unlocks the flowers to paint the

laughing soil; There is joy in heaven!

When summer's balmy showers refresh the mowThere is joy in heaven!

er's toil ; When the sheep that went astray

When winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and Turns again to virtue's way;

the flood, When the soul, by grace subdued,

In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns his Sobs it prayer of gratitude,

Maker good.
Then is there joy in Heaven !

The birds that wake the morning, and those that

love the shade;

The winds that sweep the mountain or lull the FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

drowsy glade; I PRAISED the earth, in beauty seen

The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on With garlands gay of varicus green; I praised the sea, whose ample field

The moon and stars, their Master's name in silent Shone glorious as a silver shield;

pomp display. And earth and ocean seemed to say, “Our beauties are but for a day !"

Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky,

Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise deny? I praised the sun, whose chariot rolled No, let the year forsake his course, the seasons On wheels of amber and of gold;

cease to be, I praised the moon, whose softer eye Thee, Master, must we always love, and, Saviour, Gleamed sweetly through the summer sky!

honour thee. And moon and sun in answer said, “Our days of light are numbered!"

The flowers of spring may wither, the hope of

summer fade, O God! O good beyond compare!

The autumn droop in winter, the birds forsake If thus thy meaner works are fair!

the shade ;

his way,

The winds be lulled—the sun and moon forget

their old decree, But we in nature's latest hour, O Lord! will cling

to thee,

TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. JERUSALEM, Jerusalem! enthroned once on high, Thou favoured home of God on earth, thou heaven

below the sky! Now brought to bondage with thy sons, a curse

and grief to see, Jerusalem, Jerusalem! our tears shall flow for thee. Oh! hadst thou known thy day of grace, and

flocked beneath the wing Of him who called thee lovingly, thine own anoint

ed King, Then had the tribes of all the world gone up thy

pomp to see, And glory dwelt within thy gates, and all thy sons

been free!

" What ruffian hand hath stript thee bare ?

Whose fury laid thee low ?" -“Sin for my footsteps twined her snare,

And death has dealt the blow!" “Can art no medicine for thy wound,

Nor nature strength supply ?" -" They saw me bleeding on the ground,

And passed in silence by!" "But, sufferer! is no comfort near

Thy terrors to remove ?" _“There is to whom my soul was dear,

But I have scorned his love." “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,

Such be thy gratitude!”

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"And who art thou that mournest me?" replied

the ruin gray, “And fear’st not rather that thyself may prove a

castaway? I am a dried and abject branch, my place is given

to thee; But wo to every barren graft of thy wild olive-tree! “Our day of grace is sunk in night, our time of

mercy spent, For heavy was my children's crime, and strange

their punishment; Yet gaze not idly on our fall, but, sinner, warned

be, Who spared not his chosen seed may send his

wrath on thee! "Our day of grace is sunk in night, thy noon is

in its prime; Oh! turn and seek thy Saviour's face in this ac

cepted time! So, Gentile, may Jerusalem a lesson prove to thee, And in the new Jerusalem thy home for ever be!"

FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRI

NITY.
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
The kingly mantle than the rose ?
Say, have kings more wholesome fare
That we, poor citizens of air?
Barns nor boarded grain have we,
Yet we carol merrily.
Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow!
God provideth for the morrow!
" One there lives whose guardian eye
Guides our humble destiny;
One there lives who, Lord of all,
Keeps our feathers lest they fall:
Pass we blithely, then, the time,
Fearless of the snare and line,
Free from doubt and faithless sorrow;
God provideth for the morrow!"

THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRI

NITY.

“Who yonder on the desert heath, Complains in feeble tone ?" 'A pilgrim in the vale of death, Faint, bleeding, and alone !" " How cam'st thou to this dismal strand

Of danger, grief, and shame ?" ." From blessed Sion's holy land, By folly led, I came !"

SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRI

NITY.
WAKE not, oh mother! sounds of lamentation!

Weep not, oh widow! weep not hopelessly!
Strong is his arm, the bringer of salvation,

Strong is the word of God to succour thee!

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