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Thus the type of Him to come,

Restorer of lost Israel,

Moses 'scaped the tyrant fell,
Guarded by the Invisible.

Jesu, born of Virgin's womb,
Father, Spirit, One and Three.

Sing we glory unto Thee,
Sing we everlastingly.


They serve God day and night in His temple: they shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more. The Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall lead them unto living fountains of waters.-REV. Vii.

As the wolf in fierceness sore

Falls on lambs o'er fold and fence,

Thus the tyrant lost to sense

Falls on harmless innocents.

And the cradles flow with goreGod of gods shall he withstand? One he seeks in murder'd band, One escapes his murderous hand.

Mourning mothers, weep no more! Weep no more your pledges torn, Little troop in endless morn They attend the Virgin-born.

Virgin-born whom we adore,]
Father, Spirit, One and Three,
Sing we glory unto Thee,
Sing we everlastingly.

On the Conversion of St. Paul.


Benjamin shall raven as a wolf: in the morning he shall devour the prey, and at night he shall divide the spoil.-GENESIS xlix.

The Shepherd smitten is, and, lo,

His flock the wolf is scattering wide;
For Saul as yet doth little know

He wounds in them a Saviour's side.

Prisons, and chains, and murderous wrath,
He breathes, where stern religion calls,
But one soft word has crossed his path,

And on the ground he stricken falls.


Saul, Saul, whence art thou? whither driven,

To persecute Christ's little band?

This is to wage a war with Heaven,
An arm almighty to withstand.

Lo, forth he spreads beseeching hands,
Prepared beneath Christ's yoke to go,
And, trembling, asks for His commands,-
What wouldst Thou have Thy servant do?

The spoiler fierce is lying low,

The vanquisher lies vanquished,

And he, who wore a threat'ning brow,
He is himself in triumph led.

O Lord it is Thy voice that shakes
Great Lebanon, with matchless ease
It goeth forth from Thee, and breaks
The tall aspiring cedar trees.

Good Shepherd, keep us as of old,

If thou shouldst hurtful ought discern;
And, if we wander from Thy fold,
Again to Thee our bosoms turn.

Glory to God, both One and Three,

Who saw us laid in dead of night,

Glory and praise be unto Thee,

Who call'st us thence to glorious light.


The wild boar out of the wood doth root it up: and the wild beasts of the field devour it. Turn Thee again, Thou God of Hosts, look down from Heaven: behold and visit this vine.-PSALM IXXX.

Whither, Saul, this raging sense
In thy bosom burning,

On defenceless innocence

All thy fury turning?

Other than thou hast in mind

An avenger shalt thou find.

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