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The martyr first, whose eagle eye
Could pierce beyond the grave;
Who saw his Master in the sky,
And called on Him to save.

Like Him, with pardon on his tongue
In midst of mortal pain,

He pray'd for them that did the wrong!
Who follows in his train?

A glorious band, the chosen few
On whom the Spirit came;

Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
And mock'd the cross and flame.

They met the tyrant's brandish'd steel,

The lion's gory mane;

They bow'd their necks the death to feel! Who follows in their train?

A noble army-men and boys,
The matron and the maid,
Around the Saviour's throne rejoice,
In robes of light array'd.

They climb'd the steep ascent of Heaven,
Through peril, toil and pain!

Oh God! to us may grace be given

To follow in their train!

ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST'S DAY.

OH God! who gav'st Thy servant grace,

Amid the storms of life distrest,

To look on Thine incarnate face,
And lean on Thy protecting breast:

To see the light that dimly shone,
Eclipsed for us in sorrow pale,
Pure Image of the Eternal One!
Through shadows of Thy mortal veil !

Be ours, O King of Mercy! still
To feel Thy presence from above,

And in Thy word, and in Thy will,

To hear Thy voice and know Thy love:

And when the toils of life are done,
And nature waits Thy dread decree,
To find our rest beneath Thy throne,
And look, in humble hope, to Thee.

INNOCENTS' DAY.

OH weep not o'er thy children's tomb!
O Rachel, weep not so;

The bud is cropt by martyrdom,

The flower in heaven shall blow !

E

Firstlings of faith! the murderer's knife
Has miss'd its deadliest aim:

The God for whom they gave their life,
For them to suffer came!

Though feeble were their days and few,
Baptized in blood and pain,

He knows them, whom they never knew,
And they shall live again.

Then weep not o'er thy children's tomb ;
O Rachel, weep not so!

The bud is cropt by martyrdom,
The flower in heaven shall blow!

EPIPHANY.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid;

Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on His cradle the dew-drops are shining, Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;

Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,

Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all!

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom and offerings divine?
Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest or gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation :

Vainly with gifts would His favour secure : Richer by far is the heart's adoration ;

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid; Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

NO. I.

ABASH'D be all the boast of age!

Be hoary learning dumb!
Expounder of the mystic page,
Behold an Infant come!

Oh Wisdom, whose unfading power
Beside the Eternal stood,

To frame, in nature's earliest hour,

The land, the sky, the flood:

Yet didst not Thou disdain awhile

An infant form to wear;

To bless Thy mother with a smile,
And lisp Thy falter'd prayer.

But in Thy Father's own abode,
With Israel's elders round,
Conversing high with Israel's God,
Thy chiefest joy was found.

So may our youth adore Thy name!
And, Saviour, deign to bless
With fostering grace the timid flame
Of early holiness!

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

NO. II.

By cool Siloam's shady rill

How sweet the lily grows!

How sweet the breath beneath the hill

Of Sharon's dewy rose!

Lo! such the child whose early feet
The paths of peace have trod;
Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,

Is upward drawn to God!

By cool Siloam's shady rill

The lily must decay;

The rose that blooms beneath the hill

Must shortly fade away.

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