THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRIN ITY. 'Who yonder on the desert heath, Complains in feeble tone?' - 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, 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, But I have scorned his love.' • What if his hand were nigh to save From endless death thy days?' The soul he ransomed from the grave Should live but to his praise.' 'Rise then, O rise, his health embrace, With heavenly strength renewed ; And such as is thy Saviour's grace, Such be thy gratitude.' FIFTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. Lo, the lilies of the field, Hark to nature's lesson given By the blessed birds of Heaven. 'Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow : 'Say, with richer crimson glows Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow, One there lives whose guardian eye SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. WAKE not, O mother, sounds of lamentation; 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. Change, then, O sad one, grief to exultation, 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 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 forgiven,' 'Be whole,' to the sick,—and 'Be still,' to the the storm. |