"There is to whom my soul was dear, But I have scorn'd His love."

"What if His hand were nigh to save From endless death thy days?"

"The soul He ransom'd from the grave Should live but to His praise!"

"Rise then, oh rise! His health embrace,
With heavenly strength renew'd;
And, such as is thy Saviour's grace,
Such be thy gratitude!"

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 tufted 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 sorrow:
God provideth for the morrow!"

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!

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:
Widow'd and childless, she has lost her all!

Why pause the mourners? Who forbids our weeping? Who the dark pomp of sorrow has delay'd?

"Set down the bier, he is not dead but sleeping! Young man, arise;"-He spake and was obey'd!