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THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.
LORD! whose love, in power excelling,
Wash'd the leper's stain away,
Hear us, tlp us, when we pray!
From the filth of vice and folly,
From infuriate passion's rage,
Heedless youth and selfish age ;
From the lusts whose deep pollutions
Adam's ancient taint disclose,
Restless doubt and blind repose ;
From the miser's cursed treasure,
From the drunkard's jest obscene,
Jesus ! Master ! make us clean!
FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.
WHEN through the torn sail the wild tempest is
streaming, When o’er the dark wave the red lightning is
gleaming, Nor hope lends a ray the poor seamen to cherish, We fly to our Maker~" Help, Lord! or we
Oh, Jesus! once toss'd on the breast of the billow,
And oh, when the whirlwind of passion is raging, When hell in our heart his wild warfare is waging, Arise in thy strength thy redeemed to cherish, Rebuke the destroyer“ Help, Lord! or we
The God of glory walks his round,
• Ye whose young cheeks are rosy bright,
- Oh, as the griefs ye would assuage
“ And ye, whose locks of scanty gray Foretell
latest travail near, How swiftly fades your worthless day! And stand ye yet so idle here?
“One hour remains, there is but one !
Oh Thou, by all thy works adored,
Oh, God! by whom the seed is given ;
Preserve it from the passing feet,
Though buried deep or thinly strewn,