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, Lo! with what scorn his lofty eye 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 Or how shall he for mercy cry, Who show'd 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 mock'd at poverty, And bade intruding conscience fly Far from his palace door!" 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 dismal pageant of the dead,— But, from the much-loved world to part, All nature struggling at the heart, To dream through life a gaudy dream |