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FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

No. IV.

R. H.

When through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming,
When o'er the dark wave the red lightening is gleaming,
Nor hope lends a ray the poor seaman to cherish,
We fly to our Maker—“ Help, Lord ! or we perish!”

Oh Jesus! once toss'd on the breast of the billow,
Arous'd by the shriek of despair from Thy pillow,
Now, seated in glory, the mariner cherish,
Who cries in his danger—“ Help, Lord ! or we perish !"

And oh, when the whirlwind of passion is raging,
When hell in our heart his wild warfare is waging,
Arise in Thy strength Thy redeemed to cherish,
Rebuke the destroyer_“ Help, Lord ! or we perish !"

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

No. V.

R. H.

The winds were howling o'er the deep,

Each wave a wat’ry hill,
The Saviour waken'd from His sleep,

He spake and all was still.

The madman in a tomb had made

His mansion of despair;
Woe to the traveller who strayed

With heedless footstep there!

The chains hung broken from his arm,

Such strength can hell supply; And fiendish hate, and fierce alarm

Flash'd from his hollow eye.

He met that glance so thrilling sweet,

He heard those accents mild, And, melting at Messiah's feet,

Wept like a weaned child.

Oh madder than the raving man!

Oh deafer than the sea !
How long the time since Christ began

To call in vain on me?

He called me when my thoughtless prime

Was early ripe to ill;
I pass'd from folly on to crime,

And yet He called me still.

He called me in the time of dread,

When death was full in view, I trembled on my feverish bed,

And rose to sin anew.

Yet could I hear Him once again,

As I have heard of old,
Methinks He should not call in vain

His wanderer to the fold.

O Thou, that every thought canst know,

And answer every prayer ;
Oh give me sickness, want, or woe,

But snatch me from despair !

My struggling will by grace control,
Renew

my

broken vow! What blessed light breaks on my soul ?

Oh God! I hear Thee now.

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

H. H. M.

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

Chok'd 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.

O King of Mercy! grant us power

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

O gather us to Thee !

SIXTH SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

No. 1.

Lo, He comes, in clouds descending,

Once for favour'd sinners slain, Thousand thousand saints attending Swell the triumph of His train!

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Christ is come to earth again!

Every eye shall now behold Him

Robed in dreadful majesty!
They who set at nought and sold Him,
Pierced and nail'd Him to the tree,

Deeply wailing, deeply wailing,
Shall the true Messiah see !

Every island, sea, and mountain,

Heaven and earth shall flee away, All who hate Him must, confounded, Hear the trump proclaim the day;

Come to judgement ! come to judgement ! Come to judgement ! come away!

Now Salvation, long expected,

See in solemn pomp appear!
All His saints, by man rejected,
Rise and meet Him in the air !

Hallelujah I Hallelujah!
See the day of God appear!

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