Thy sins, from His own holy place

Are bearing thee away,

But He may touch the bier, His grace
May bid thee rise and pray.

The Church, thy mother, weeps for thee;
Her tearful prayer perchance
May win the word of pardon, He

May break the deadly trance.

Only do thou sit up and speak
Soon as thou hear'st His call,
Him honour with confession meek,
He will forgive thee all!

Gospel.

Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and

Christ shall give thee light.

ЕРН. У. 14.

Endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

EPH. iv. 3.

LORD, in Thy Kingdom there shall be

No aliens from each other,

But even as he loves himself,

Each saint shall love his brother.

When in Thy courts we meet, below,
To mourn our sinful living,
And with one mingling voice repeat,
Confession, Creed, Thanksgiving;

Make us to hear in each sweet word,

Thy Holy Spirit calling

To Oneness with Thy Church and Thee;

That heavenly bond forestalling.

One Baptism, one faith have we,
One Spirit sent to win us;

One Lord, one Father, and one God,
Above, and through, and in us.

Never, by schism or by sin,

May we that union sever,

"Till all, to perfect stature grown,

Are one with Thee for ever.

Epistle.

Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ.

EPн. iv. 13.

Eighteenth

Sunday after Trinity.

For the fashion of this world passeth away.

1 COR. vii. 31.

PRAISE Him, who made us at the first,
And still our life sustains;

For us, He in His treasures nurst
Fresh breezes, genial rains.

But chiefly praise Him, that His love
Created us anew,

And bade His graces from above
Drop soft as evening dew.

Praise Him for all His seasons round,
Turning man's toil to gain;

By each alike with fatness crowned,

Ripe droops the golden grain.

And praise Him, that the seed He forms
In us to fruit He brings,

Alike by sunshine and by storms,
Life's winters and its springs.

Praise Him for yon refreshing light,
Our daily labour's guide;

Praise Him who, having formed our sight,
Scenes meet for sight supplied.

And praise Him that, through Christ, no more
Our spirit's eyes are dim,

That shadowy hopes just glimpsed before
Are now made clear in Him.

Praise Him, that e'en on earth awhile
Some forms of beauty glow;

And praise Him for their short-lived smile,
Less swift to come than go.

They come as types of heavenly bliss,
They fade away and die,

Lest we should rest in them, and miss

The good they typify.