SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.
Oн hand of bounty, largely spread,
By whom our every want is fed,
Whate'er we touch, or taste, or see,
We owe them all, oh Lord! to Thee;
The corn, the oil, the purple wine,
Are all Thy gifts, and only Thine!
The stream Thy word to nectar dyed,
The bread Thy blessing multiplied,
The stormy wind, the whelming flood,
That silent at Thy mandate stood,
How well they knew Thy voice Divine,
Whose works they were, and only Thine!
Though now no more on earth we trace
Thy footsteps of celestial grace,
Obedient to Thy word and will
We seek Thy daily mercy still;
Its blessed beams around us shine,
And Thine we are, and only Thine!
SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.
INCARNATE Word, who, wont to dwell
In lowly shape and cottage cell,
Didst not refuse a guest to be,
At Cana's poor festivity:
Oh, when our soul from care is free,
Then, Saviour, may we think on Thee,
And, seated at the festal board,
In Fancy's eye behold the Lord.
Then may we seem, in Fancy's ear,
Thy manna-dropping tongue to hear,
And think,- —even now, Thy searching gaze
Each secret of our soul surveys !
So may such joy, chastised and pure,
Beyond the bounds of earth endure;
Nor pleasure in the wounded mind
Shall leave a rankling sting behind!
SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.
WHEN on her Maker's bosom
The new-born earth was laid,
And Nature's opening blossom
Its fairest bloom display'd;
When all with fruit and flowers
The laughing soil was drest,
And Eden's fragrant bowers
Receiv'd their human guest;
No sin his face defiling
The Heir of Nature stood,
And God, benignly smiling,
Beheld that all was good!
Yet, in that hour of blessing,
A single want was known;
A wish the heart distressing;
For Adam was alone!
Oh God of pure affection!
By men and saints adored,
Who gavest Thy protection
To Cana's nuptial board;
May such Thy bounties ever
To wedded love be shown,
And no rude hand dissever
Whom Thou hast link'd in one
THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.
LORD! whose love, in power excelling,
Wash'd the leper's stain away,
Jesus! from Thy heavenly dwelling,
Hear us, help us, when we pray!
From the filth of vice and folly,
From infuriate passion's rage,
Evil thoughts and hopes unholy,
Heedless youth and selfish age;
From the lusts whose deep pollutions
Adam's ancient taint disclose,
From the Tempter's dark intrusions,
Restless doubt and blind repose;
From the miser's cursed treasure,
From the drunkard's jest obscene,
From the world, its pomp and pleasure,
Jesus! Master! make us clean!
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