THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

THERE was joy in heaven,

There was joy in heaven,

When this goodly world to frame
The Lord of might and mercy came:
Shouts of joy were heard on high,
And the stars sang from the sky,
Glory to God in heaven.'

There was joy in heaven,
There was joy in heaven,
When the billows, heaving dark,
Sank around the stranded ark,
And the rainbow's watery span
Spake of mercy, hope to man,
And peace with God in Heaven.

There was joy in heaven,

There was joy in heaven,

When of love the midnight beam

Dawned on the towers of Bethlehem ;

And along the echoing hill

Angels sang-On earth good will,

And glory in the Heaven.'

There is joy in heaven,
There is joy in heaven,

When the sheep that went astray
Turns again to virtue's way;
When the soul by grace subdued,
Sobs its prayer of gratitude,
Then is there joy in Heaven.

FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

I praised the earth, in beauty seen
With garlands gay of various green;
I praised the sea, whose ample field
Shone glorious as a silver shield;
And earth and ocean seemed to say,
Our beauties are but for a day.'

I praised the sun, whose chariot rolled
On wheels of amber and of gold;
I praised the moon, whose softer eye
Gleamed sweetly through the summer sky:
And moon and sun in answer said,
'Our days of light are numbered.'

O God, O good beyond compare,
If thus thy meaner works are fair,
If thus thy bounties gild the span
Of ruined earth and sinful man,
How glorious must the mansion be

Where thy redeemed shall dwell with Thee.

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

CREATOR of the rolling flood!

On whom thy people hope alone ; Who cam❜st, by water and by blood, For man's offences to atone ;

Who from the labors of the deep

Didst set thy servant Peter free,
To feed on earth thy chosen sheep,
And build an endless church to thee;

Grant us, devoid of worldly care,

And leaning on thy bounteous hand, To seek thy help in humble prayer, And on thy sacred rock to stand:

And when, our livelong toil to crown,
Thy call shall set the spirit free,
To cast with joy our burthen down,
And rise, O Lord, and follow thee.

SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.

WHEN spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil;

When summer's balmy showers refresh the mower's toil;

When winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the flood,

In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns his Maker good.

The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade;

The winds that sweep the mountain or lull the drowsy glade;

The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on

his way,

The moon and stars, their Master's name in silent pomp display.

Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky,

Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise deny?

No, let the year forsake his course, the seasons cease to be,

Thee, Master, must we always love, and, Sa+ viour, honor thee.