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QUINQUAGESIMA.

No. II.

H. H. M.

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!

Lord! we do not ask to gaze

On our dim and earthly sun ; But the light that still shall blaze

When every star its course hath run: The light that gilds Thy blest abode, The glory of the Lamb of God!

ASH WEDNESDAY;

OR,

FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT.

DRUMMOND.

Which we pour

Oh merciful Creator ! hear
Our prayer, to Thee devoutly bent,

forth with many a tear In this thy holy fast of Lent!

Thou mildest Searcher of the heart,

Who know'st the weakness of our strength, To us forgiving grace impart,

That we may seek Thy face at length.

We all have sinn'd, we own our shame,

But spare us who our sins confess, And for the glory of Thy name

To our sick souls afford redress.

Grant that the flesh may so be pined,

By means of outward abstinence, As that the sober watchful mind

May fast from spots of foul offence !

Grant this, oh Blessed Trinity!

Pure Son of God! to this incline, That of our fast the fruit

may

be A grateful recompense for Thine !

SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT.

H. H. M.

Oh help us Lord ! each hour of need

Thy Heavenly succour give; Help us in thought, and word, and deed,

Each hour on earth we live.

Oh help us, when our spirits bleed

With contrite anguish sore, And when our hearts are cold and dead,

Oh help us Lord, the more.

Oh help us, through the prayer of faith

More firmly to believe;
For still the more the servant hath,

The more shall he receive.

If strangers to Thy fold we call,

Imploring at Thy feet
The crumbs that from Thy table fall,

'Tis all we dare entreat.

But be it Lord of Mercy, all,

So Thou wilt grant but this ;
The crumbs that from Thy table fall

Are light, and life, and bliss.

Oh help us Jesus! from on high,

We know no help but Thee ; Oh! help us so to live and die As thine in Heaven to be.

THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT.

R.H.

VIRGIN-BORN! we bow before Thee !
Blessed was the womb that bore Thee!
Mary, Mother meek and mild,
Blessed was she in her child !

Blessed was the breast that fed Thee!
Blessed was the hand that led Thee !
Blessed was the parent's eye
That watch'd Thy slumbering infancy !

Blessed she by all creation,
Who brought forth the world's Salvation !
And blessed they, for ever blest,
Who love Thee most and serve Thee best !

Virgin-born! we bow before Thee !
Blessed was the womb that bore Thee!
Mary, Mother meek and mild,
Blessed was she in her child !

FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT.

R. H.

Oh King of earth and air and sea !
The hungry ravens cry to thee;
To Thee the scaly tribes that sweep
The bosom of the boundless deep ;

To Thee the lions roaring call,
The common Father, kind to all !
Then grant Thy servants, Lord ! we pray,
Our daily bread from day to day!

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The fishes may for food complain ;
The ravens spread their wings in vain ;
The roaring lions lack and pine;
But, God! Thou carest still for Thine !
Thy bounteous hand with food can bless
The bleak and lonely wilderness ;
And Thou hast taught us, Lord ! to pray
For daily bread from day to day!
And oh, when through the wilds we roam
That part us from our heavenly home ;
When lost in danger, want, and woe,
Our faithless tears begin to flow;

Do Thou Thy gracious comfort give,

which alone the soul may live ; And grant Thy servants, Lord ! we pray, The bread of life from day to day!

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