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FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Lo, the lilies of the field,
How their leaves instruction yield!
Hark to nature's lesson given
By the blessed birds of Heaven.
Every bush and tusted tree
Warbles sweet philosophy ;
• Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow :
God provideth for the morrow.
“Say, with richer crimson glows
The kingly mantle than the rose ?
Say, have kings more wholesome fare
Than we poor citizens of air ?
Barns nor hoarded grain have we,
Yet we carol merrily.
Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow,
God provideth for the morrow.

One there lives whose guardian eye
Guides our humble destiny:
One there lives, who Lord of all,
Keeps our feathers lest they fall :
Pass we blithely, then, the time,
Fearless of the snare and lime,
Free from doubt and faithless corrow ;
God provideth for the morrow.'

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SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

WAKE not, O mother, sounds of lamentation;

Weep not, O widow, weep not hopelessly : Strong is his arm, the bringer of salvation,

Strong is the word of God to succor thee.

Bear forth the cold corpse slowly,slowly bear him:

Hide his pale features with the sable pall: Chide not the sad one wildly weeping near him :

Widowed and childless, she has lost her all.

Why pause the mourners? Who forbids our

weeping ? Who the dark pomp of sorrow has delayed ? Set down the bier-he is not dead, but sleeping. • Young man, arise !'-He spake, and was

obeyed.

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Change, then, O sad one, grief to exultation,

Worship and fall before Messiah's knee. Strong was his arm, the bringer of salvation,

Strong was the word of God to succor thee.

NINETEENTH SUNDAY AFTER

TRININY.

O blest were the accents of early creation,
When the Word of Jehovah came down from

above :
In the clods of the earth to infuse animation,

And wake their cold atoms to life and to love.

And mighty the tones which the firmament

rended, When on wheels of the thunder, and wings of

the wind, By lightning, and hail, and thick darkness at.

tended, He uttered on Sinai his laws to mankind.

And sweet was the voice of the First-born of

heaven, (Though poor his apparel, though earthly his

form,) Who said to the mourner, · Thy sins are for.

given,' •Be whole,' to the sick,—and · Be still,' to the

the storm.

0, Judge of the world, when arrayed in thy glory,

Thy summons again shall be heard from on high, While nature stands trembling and naked before

thee, And waits on thy sentence to live or to die ;

When the heaven shall fiy fast from the sound

of thy thunder, And the sun, in thy lightnings, grow languid

and pale, And the sea yield her dead, and the tomb cleave

asunder, In the hour of thy terrors, let mercy prevail.

TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER

TRINITY.

The sound of war ! In earth and air

The volleying thunders roll:
Their fiery darts the fiends prepare,
And dig the pit, and spread the snare,

Against the Christian's soul.
The tyrant's sword, the rack, the flame,

The scorner's serpent tone,
Of bitter doubt the barbed aim,
All, all conspire his heart to tame :
Force, fraud, and hellish fires assail
The rivets of his heavenly mail,

Amidst his foes alone.

Gods of the world, ye warrior host

of darkness and of air,
In vain is all your impious boast,
In vain each missile lightning tost,

In vain the tempter's snare.
Though fast and far your arrows fly,

Though mortal nerve and bone
Shrink in convulsive agony,
The Christian can your rage defy;
Towers o'er his head salvation's crest,
Faith like a buckler, guards his breast,

Undaunted, though alone.

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