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• 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,
Say, with richer crimson glows
SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
WAKE not, O mother, sounds of lainentation ;
Weep not, O widow, weep not hopelessly : Strong is his arm, the bringer of salvation,
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.
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
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 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 at.
tended, 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
given,' Be whole,' to the sick,--and · Be still, to the the storm.
0, Judge of the world, when arrayed in thy glory,
Thy summons again shall be heard from on high, While nature stands trembling and naked before
thee, And waits on thy sentence to live or to die ;
When the heaven shall fly fast from the sound
of thy thunder, And the sun, in thy lightnings, grow languid
and pale, And the sea yield her dead, and the tomb cleave
asunder, In the hour of thy terrors, let mercy prevail.