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!

SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

WHEN our heads are bow'd with woe,
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, hear!

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

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!

EIGHTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

WHEN God came down from Heav'n-the living God

What 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 GodRode 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