SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

H. H. M.

LORD! have mercy when we strive To save through Thee, our souls alive! When the pamper'd flesh is strong, When the strife is fierce and long; When our wakening thoughts begin First to loathe their cherish'd sin, And our weary spirits fail, And our aching brows are pale, Oh then have mercy! Lord!

Lord! have mercy when we lie On the restless bed, and sigh, Sigh for Death, yet fear it still, From the thought of former ill; When all other hope is gone; When our course is almost done When the dim advancing gloom Tells us that our hour is come, Oh then have mercy! Lord!

;

Lord! have mercy when we know
First how vain this world below;
When the earliest gleam is given
Of Thy bright but distant Heaven!
When our darker thoughts oppress,
Doubts perplex and fears distress,
And our saddened spirits dwell
On the open gates of Hell,

Oh then have mercy! Lord!

SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

R. H.

WHEN Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing

soil;

When Summer's balmy showers refresh the mower's toil; When Winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the

flood,

In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns his Maker good.

The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade;

The winds that sweep the mountain or lull the drowsy glade,

The Sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way, The Moon and Stars, their Master's name in silent pomp display.

Shall Man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky,
Shall Man, alone unthankful, his little praise deny?

No, let the year forsake his course, the seasons cease to be, Thee, Master, must we always love, and Saviour, honour Thee.

The flowers of Spring may wither, the hope of Summer fade,

The Autumn droop in Winter, the birds forsake the shade; The winds be lull'd—the Sun and Moon forget their old decree,

But we in Nature's latest hour, O Lord! will cling to Thee.

EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

FIRST PSALM, OLD VERSION.

THE man is bless'd that hath not lent

To wicked men his ear,

Nor led his life as sinners do,

Nor sat in scorners' chair.

But in the love of God the Lord
Doth set his whole delight;
And in the same doth exercise
Himself, both day and night.

He shall be like a tree that is
Planted the rivers nigh,
Which in due season bringeth forth
Its fruits abundantly.

Whose fruit shall never fade nor fall,
But flourishing shall stand;
Even so all things shall prosper well
That this man takes in hand.