THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. THE world is grown old, and her pleasures are past; The world is grown old, and her form may not last; 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; 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 complain, 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 near! H CHRISTMAS DAY. Oн, 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, Who lived to yield our ills relief, 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, Oh may thy spirit whisper near, Through fickle fortune's various scene From sin preserve us free! Like us thou hast a mourner been, May we rejoice with Thee! ST. STEPHEN'S DAY. THE Son of God goes forth to war, His blood-red banner streams afar! Who follows in his train?. Who best can drink his cup of wo, Who patient bears his cross below, The martyr first, whose eagle eye Like Him, with pardon on his tongue He pray'd for them that did the wrong! Who follows in his train? |