LORD of mercy and of might, Jesus, hear and save! Who, when sin's primæval doom Jesus, hear and save! Strong, Creator, Saviour mild, Jesus, hear and save! Throned above celestial things, Borne aloft on angels' wings, Lord of lords, and King of kings, Jesus, hear and save! 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. Blessed was the breast that fed thee! Blessed was the parent's eye Who brought forth the world's salvation! Virgin-born! we bow before thee! FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT. OH, King of earth and air and sea! To thee the lions roaring call, Then grant thy servants, Lord! we pray, The fishes may for food complain; Thy bounteous hand with food can bless And oh, when through the wilds we roam Do thou thy gracious comfort give, FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT. OH 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! Great First and Last! thy blessing give! 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, 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! Now empty are the courts of death, And he hath tamed the strength of hell, 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! FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. LIFE nor Death shall us dissever Sin may seek to snare us, Their fangs against us try; But his might shall still defend us, Comfort ere we die! GOOD FRIDAY. ASCENSION DAY, AND SUNDAY AFTER. "SIT thou on my right hand, my Son!" saith the Lord. "Sit thou on my right hand, my Son! Till in the fatal hour Of my wrath and my power, Thy foes shall be a footstool to thy throne! Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son!" saith the Lord. OH more than merciful! whose bounty gave 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! "Prayer shall be made to thee, my Son! Which thou for thine heritage hast won!" And all that live and move, Let them bless thy bleeding love, And the work which thy worthiness hath done!" 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, We mourn not that prophetic skill We neither have nor seek the power No heavenly harpings sooth our ear, With Faith, with Hope, with Love! TRINITY SUNDAY. HOLY, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, 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 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! FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 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! Room for the proud! but slow the feet Ah! where must now his spirit fly 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!" 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 wife, the children, weeping nigh, The dismal pageant of the dead,— These, these are not thy victory! But, from the much-loved world to part, 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! SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. FORTH from the dark and stormy sky, Long have we roamed in want and pain, Long have we sought thy rest in vain; Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost, Long have our souls been tempest-tost; Low at thy feet our sins we lay; Turn not, O Lord! thy guests away! THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. THERE was joy in heaven! There was joy in heaven! And peace with God in Heaven! There was joy in heaven! When of love the midnight beam Angels sang-" On earth good will, And glory in the Heaven!" There is joy in heaven! Then is there joy in Heaven! FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. I PRAISED the earth, in beauty seen I praised the sun, whose chariot rolled O God! O good beyond compare! If thus thy bounties gild the span FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. CREATOR of the rolling flood! On whom thy people hope alone; Who cam'st, by water and by blood, For man's offences to atone ; Who from the labours of the deep Didst set thy servant Peter free, And leaning on thy bounteous hand And when, our livelong toil to crown, SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. WHEN spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil; When summer's balmy showers refresh the mower's toil; When winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the flood, In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns his Maker good. The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade; The winds that sweep the mountain or lull the drowsy glade; The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way, The moon and stars, their Master's name in silent pomp display. Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky, Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise deny? No, let the year forsake his course, the seasons cease to be, Thee, Master, must we always love, and, Saviour, honour thee. The flowers of spring may wither, the hope of summer fade, The autumn droop in winter, the birds forsake the shade; 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 anointed 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! "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 accepted time! So, Gentile, may Jerusalem a lesson prove to thee, And in the new Jerusalem thy home for ever be!" THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. "Who yonder on the desert heath, A pilgrim in the vale of death, "How cam'st thou to this dismal strand "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!" FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRI NITY. Lo! the lilies of the field, How their leaves instruction yield! Say, with richer crimson glows Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow! SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. 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! |