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Bebold, Jehovah, think to whom thou e'er hast deal'd From the sea, from the land, from the south and the thus !

north, Have women ever eat their young, babes fondled in The vast generations of men are come forth.

their hands? Have Priest and Prophet e'er been slain in the Lord's The judgment! the judgment! the thrones are all set, Holy place?

Where the Lamb and the white-vested Elders are met!

All flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord, In the streets, upon the ground, lie slain the young And the doom of eternity hangs on His word!

and old ; My virgins and my youth have fallen by the sword ; Oh mercy ! oh mercy! look down from above, In thy wrath thou'st slain them, thou hast had no Creator ! on us thy sad children, with love! mercy.

When beneath to their darkness the wicked are driven,

May our sanctified souls find a mansion in heaven! Thou hast summon'd all my terrors, as to a solemn

feast;

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

None 'scaped, and none was left in Jehovah's day of

wrath ; All that mine arms have borne and nursed, the enemy hath slain.

ii. 20. 1, 2.
Remember, Lord what hath befallen,

Look down on our reproach.
Our heritage is given to stangers,

Our home to foreigners,
Our water have we drank for money,

Our fuel hath its price-v. 1, 2, 3.
We stretch our hands to Egypt,

To Assyria for our bread.
At our life's risk we gain our food,

From the sword of desert robbers.
Our skins are like an oven, parched,

By the fierce heat of famine.
Matrons in Sion have they ravish'd,

Virgins in Judah's cities.
Princes were hung up by the hand,

And age had no respect.
Young men are grinding at the mill,

Boys faint 'neath loads of wood.
The Elders from the gate have ceased,

The young men from their music.
The crown is fallen from her head,

Woe! woe! that we have sinn'd.
"Tis therefore that our hearts are faint,

Therefore our eyes are dim.
For Sion's mountain desolate,

The foxes walk on it.

LORD! Thou didst arise and say

To the troubled waters Peace,"
And the tempest died away,

Down they sank, the foamy seas ;
And a calm and heaving sleep
Spread o'et all the glassy deep,
All the azure lake serene
Like another heaven was seen!
Lord! Thy gracious word repeat

To the billows of the proud!
Quell the tyrant's martial heat,

Quell the fierce and changing crowd!
Then the earth shall find repose
From its restless strife and foes ;
And an imaged Heaven appear
On our world of darkr.ess here!

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

The angel comes, he comes to reap

The harvest of the Lord!
O'er all the earth with fatal sweep

Wide waves his flamy sword. .
And who are they, in sheaves to bide

The fire of Vengeance bound !
The tares, whose rank luxuriant pride

Choked the fair crop around.

And who are they, reserved in store

God's treasure-house to fill?
The wheat a hundred-fold that bore

Amid surrounding ill.

HYMNS FOR CHURCH SERVICE.

SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

The chariot ! the chariot! its wheels roll on fire
As the Lord cometh down in the pomp of his ire:
Self-moving it drives on its pathway of cloud,
And the Heavens with the burthen of Godhead are

bow'd.

O King of Mercy! grant us power

Thy fiery wrath to flee!
In thy destroying angel's hour,

O gather us to Thee!

The glory! the glory! by myriads are pour'd
The host of the Angels to wait on their Lord,
And the glorified saints and the martyrs are there,
And all who the palm-wreath of victory wear.
The trumpet! the trumpet! the dead have all heard :
Lo, the depths of the stone-cover'd charnel are stirr’d:

QUINQUAGESIMA.
Lord! we sit and cry to Thee,

Like the blind beside the way:
Make our darken’d souls to see

The glory of thy perfect day!
Lord! rebuke our sullen night,
And give Thyself unto our sight!

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Bound upon th' accursed tree,
Dread and awful, who is He?
By the prayer for them that slew,

Lord! they know not what they do!”
By the spoild and empty grave,
By the souls He died to save,
By the conquest He hath won,
By the saints before His throne,
By the rainbow round His brow,
Son of God ! 't is Thou! 't is Thou!

SIXTH SUNDAY IN LENT.

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Ride on ! ride on in majesty!
Hark! all the tribes Hosanna cry!
Thine humble beast pursues his road,
With palms and scatter'd garments strow'd !
Ride on! ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die!
Oh Christ! Thy triumphs now begin
O'er captive death and conquer'd Sin!
Ride on! ride on in majesty!
The winged squadrons of the sky
Look down with sad and wondering eyes,
To see the approaching sacrifice!
Ride on! ride on in majesty!
Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh ;
The father on His sapphire throne
Expects llis own anointed Son!
Ride on! ride on in majesty!
In lowly pomp ride on to die!
Bow Thy meek head to mortal pain !
Then take, oh God! Thy power, and reign!

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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 sadden'd spirits dwell
On the open gates of Hell,

Oh then have mercy! Lord!

Great God of Hosts! come down to rule o'er us!

Long have we pray'd for thy peaceful reign: Change this sad earth to an Eden before us ;

Make it the mansion of bliss again! Great God of Hosts! the dreadful, the glorious !

Come and set up thy kingly Throne. Over the legions of Hell victorious,

Rule in the world of thy saints alone!

EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

When our heads are bow'd with wọe,
When our bitter tears o'erflow;
When we mourn the lost, the dear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou our throbbing flesh hast worn, Thou our mortal griefs hast borne, Thou hast shed the human tear : Gracious Son of Mary, bear!

When God came down from Heav'n— the living

GodWhat signs and wonders mark'd his stately way? Brake out the winds in music where He trode?

Shone o'er the heav'ns a brighter, softer day? The dumb began to speak, the blind to see,

And the lame leap'd, and pain and paleness fled; The mourner's sunken eye grew bright with glee,

And from the tomb awoke the wondering dead ! When God went back to heav'n—the living God

Rode He the heavens upon a fiery car? Waved seraph-wings along his glorious road?

Stood still to wonder each bright wandering star? Upon the cross He hung, and bow'd the head, And pray'd for them that smote, and them that

curst; And, drop by drop, his slow life-blood was shed,

And his last hour of suffering was his worst!

When the sullen death-bell tolls For our own departed souls ; When our final doom is near, Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

Thou hast bow'd the dying head;
Thou the blood of life hast shed;
Thou hast fill'd a mortal bier:
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!
When the heart is sad within
With the thought of all its sin;
When the spirit shrinks with fear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!
Thou the shame, the grief hast known,
Though the sins were not thine own,
Thou hast deign'd their load to bear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

LORD, have mercy, and remove us

Early to thy place of rest, Where the heavens are calm above us,

And as calm each sainted breast!

Holiest, hear us! by the anguish

On the cross Thou didst endure, Let no more our sad hearts languish

In this weary world obscure ! Gracious! - yet if our repentance

Be not perfect and sincere, Lord, suspend thy fatal sentence,

Leave us still in sadness here!
Leave us, Saviour! till our spirit

From each earthly taint is free,
Fit thy kingdom to inherit,
Fit to take its rest with Thee!

457

SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

GREAT God of Hosts! come down in thy glory!

Shake earth and heaven with thine awful tread : Seal Thou the book of our world's dark story: Summon to judgment the quick and the dead!

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THE

POETICAL WORKS

OF

JOHN KEATS.

68

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