NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. On blest were the accents of early creation, When the Word of Jehovah came down from above; In the clods of the earth to infuse animation, And wake their cold atoms to life and to love! And mighty the tones which the firmament rended, When on wheels of the thunder, and wings of the wind, By light'ning, and hail, and thick darkness attended, He utter'd on Sinai his laws to mankind. 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, array'd in thy glory, Thy summons again shall be heard from on high, While nature stands trembling and naked before thee, And waits on thy sentence to live or to die ; When the heav'n 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! N TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. THE Sound of war! In earth and air The volleying thunders roll : Their fiery darts the fiends prepare, 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, Though fast and far your arrows fly, The Christian can your rage defy ; 'Tis past! 'tis o'er ! in foul defeat (His live-long work of faith complete,) 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 !" My foemen, 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 66 ruin driven ! Forgive!" an awful answer came, would'st be forgiven!" |