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THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRIN
'Who yonder on the desert heath,
—A pilgrim in the vale of death,
'How cam'st thou to this dismal strand
'What ruffian hand hath stript thee bare?
-Sin for my footsteps twined her snare,
'Can art no medicine for thy wound, Nor nature strength supply?'
They saw me bleeding on the ground,
'But, sufferer, is no comfort near
Thy terrors to remove?"
There is to whom my soul was dear,
• What if his hand were nigh to save
'Rise then, O rise, his health embrace,
FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
Lo, the lilies of the field,
'Say, with richer crimson glows
One there lives whose guardian eye
SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
WAKE not, O mother, sounds of lamentation;
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.
Who forbids our
Why pause the mourners?
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.
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
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 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 attended,
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
'Be whole,' to the sick,-and Be still,' to the the storm.