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The world is grown old, and her pleasures are

past; The world is grown old, and her form may not


The world is grown old, and trembles for fear; For sorrows abound and judgment is near!

'The sun in the heaven is languid and pale ;
And feeble and few are the fruits of the vale ;
And the hearts of the nations fail them for fear,
For the world is grown old, and judgment is


The king on his throne, the bride in her bower,
The children of pleasure all feel the sad hour ;
The roses are faded, and tasteless the cheer,
For the world is grown old, and judgment is near!

The world is grown old !--but should we com

plain, Who have tried her and know that her promise is

vain ? Our heart is in heaven, our home is not here, And we look for our crown when judgment is




OH, Saviour, whom this holy morn

Gave to our world below ; To mortal want and labour born,

And more than mortal wo!

Incarnate Word! by every grief,

By each temptation tried, Who lived to yield our ills relief,

And to redeem us died !

If gaily clothed and proudly fed,

In dangerous wealth we dwell, Remind us of thy manger bed,

And lowly cottage cell !

If prest by poverty severe,

In envious want we pine,
Oh may thy spirit whisper near,

How poor a lot was thine !

Through fickle fortune's various scene

From sin preserve us free! Like us thou hast a mourner been,

May we rejoice with Thee!


The Son of God goes forth to war,

A kingly crown to gain;
His blood-red banner streams afar !

Who follows in his train ?
Who best can drink his cup of wo,

Triumphant over pain,
Who patient bears his cross below,

He follows in his train !

The martyr first, whose eagle eye

Could pierce beyond the grave ;
Who saw his Master in the sky,

And call'd on him to save.
Like Him, with pardon on his tongue

In midst of mortal pain,
He pray'd for them that did the wrong!

Who follows in his train ?

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