Page images



The last and greatest herald of Heaven's King,
Clad in rough skins, fled to the forest wild,
Amid that savage brood the woods forth bring,
Which he than man more harmless found and mild.
His food was locusts, and what there doth spring,
With honey which from virgin hives distilld.

Then burst he forth—"All ye whose hearts rely
On God, with me amid these deserts mourn!
Repent, repent, and from old errors turn !"
The nations trembled at his warning cry;
And the rude echoes, which he made relent,
Rang from their flinty caves—" Repent! repent !"

[For St. Peter's day, see the fifth Sunday after Trinity.]

[For all other Saints' days, see St. Stephen's day.]

[For November 5, January 30, King's Accession, f.c. see

twenty-third Sunday after Trinity.]


No. 1.


To Thee oh Christ! Thy Father's light,

Life, virtue which our heart inspires ; In presence of Thine angels bright,

We sing with voice and with desires ; Ourselves we mutually invite

To melody with answering quires !

With reverence we Thy soldiers praise,

Who near the Heavenly throne abide ; But chiefly him whom God doth raise

The strong celestial host to guide ; Michael, who by his power dismays

And beateth down th' apostate's pride!

[ocr errors]


No. II.

R. H.

Oh! captain of God's host, whose dreadful might Led forth to war the armed seraphim,

And from the starry height,

Subdued in burning fight,
Cast down that ancient Dragon, dark and grim!

Thine angels, Christ! we laud in solemn lays, Our elder brethren of the crystal sky,

Who, 'mid Thy glory's blaze,

The ceaseless anthem raise,
And gird Thy throne in faithful ministry!

We celebrate their love, whose viewless wing Hath left for us so oft their mansion high,

The mercies of their King

To mortal saints to bring,
Or guard the couch of slumbering infancy.

But Thee, the First and Last, we glorify, Who, when Thy world was sunk in death and sin,

Not with Thine hierarchy,

The armies of the sky,
But didst with Thine own arm the battle win.

Alone didst


the dark and dismal shore, Alone didst tread the wine-press, and alone,

All glorious in Thy gore,

Didst light and life restore,
To us who lay in darkness and undone!

Therefore, with angels and archangels, we To Thy dear love our thankful chorus raise,

And tune our songs to Thee

Who art, and art to be, And, endless as Thy mercies, sound Thy praise !



BEFORE JEHOVAH's aweful throne,

Ye nations bow with sacred joy; Know that the Lord is God alone ;

He can create, and He destroy!

His sovereign power without our aid

Made us of clay and form'd us men;
And when like wandering sheep we stray'd,

He brought us to His fold again.

We'll crowd Thy gates with thankful songs,

High as the Heavens our voices raise ; And earth, with her ten thousand tongues,

Shall fill Thy courts with sounding praise !

Wide as the world is Thy command,

Vast as eternity Thy love;
Firm as Thyself Thy truth shall stand,

When rolling years have ceased to move!

« PreviousContinue »