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Hymn for Septuagesima.

Past are the days of Festival,

And days of Fast draw nigh,

When with due abstinence we seek,
Our souls to purify.

To our Confessions and our Hymns,
Our Judge shall turn His face;
Nor pardon shall withhold from us,
Whose penance sues for grace.

Freed from world-Egypt's servile yoke,

And Babel's misery,

Eager our destined home we seek,

Jerusalem on High.

We flee our exile here below,
To dwell with Christ adored;
And claim the gift He giveth us,
Co-heirship with our Lord.

Be thou O Christ the life-long guide,

Of all Thy scattered flocks,

For whom the iron Thy soul did pierce,
And bruised Thy feet the stocks.

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
The GOD whom we adore,
Be glory as it was, is now,
And shall be evermore.

Hymns for Lent.


Hear, gracious Lord! Thy suppliants hear, Nor scorn their prayers to own,

Through these long days, for Thee so dear, Poured forth with sigh and groan,

Dear searcher of man's inmost heart,
Who know'st how weak are we,
Forgive the sin, and heal the smart,
Of souls that turn to Thee.

Unnumbered sins our memories trace,
Yet spare when we confess;

And for the glory of Thy grace,

With strength Thy weak ones bless.

Grant us through grace the power to tame, Those lusts so wide that roam;

So sin shall no food, nor shame

Make in our hearts her home.

Thy mourning suppliants deign to hear,
O Thou the One and Trine;

Within our souls let fasting bear

Its flowers and fruit divine.


Salvation's Sun! within our souls,
Shed down Thy heavenly light;
And while Thy day-spring onward rolls,
Dispel their mournful night.

Accepted times, Thy grace imparts;
Give with them streaming tears,

To lave those offerings of our hearts,
Which love to Thee upbears.

From those dark founts whence sin did flow,

Let tears of anguish start;

Give scourge of penitential woe,

To furrow each hard heart.

So when in Thine own glorious day,
All freshly blooms in Thee,
Shall we won back from error's way,

Placed on Thy right hand be.

Earth bending down adoreth Thee,
Most gracious, holy Trinity!

And man reborn in new framed lays,

Chaunts evermore Thine endless praise.

Hymns on the Passion.


Forth flames the standard of our King,
Bright gleams the mystic sign,

When life bore death of suffering,

And death wrought life divine.

The stabs of the accursed spear,
Brought forth the healing flood,

To cleanse sin's stains so dark and drear,
With water and with bleod.

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