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O come; for Thou dost know the way!

Or, if to me thou wilt not move,
Remove me, where I need not say,
“Drop from above!

George Herbert.



UR Father

By right of creation,
By bountiful provision,
By gracious adoption ;

Who art in Heaven

The throne of thy glory,
The portion of thy children,
The temple of thy angels;

Hallowed be thy name

By the thoughts of our hearts,
By the words of our lips,
By the works of our hands ;

Thy kingdom come

Of Providence to defend us,
Of grace to refine us,
Of glory to crown us ;

Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven

Toward us without resistance,
By us without compulsion,
Universally without exception,
Eternally without declension;

Give us this day our daily bread —

Of necessity for our bodies,
Of eternal life for our souls ;

And forgive us our trespasses –

Against the commands of thy law,
Against the grace of thy gospel ;

As we forgive them that trespass against us

By defaming our characters,
By embezzling our property,
By abusing our persons ;

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from


Of overwhelming afflictions,
Of worldly enticements,
Of Satan's devices,
Of errors' seductions,
Of finful affections ;

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory


Thy kingdom governs all,

Thy power subdues all,
Thy glory is above all.


As it is in thy purposes,
So it is in thy promises,
So be it in our prayers,
So it shall be to thy praise.

Pierre Bernard.


THIS is the Sabbath day!

In the wide field I am alone.
Hark! now one morning-bell's sweet tone:

Now it has died away.


Kneeling I worship Thee;
Sweet dread doth o'er my spirit steal
From whispering sounds of those who kneel

Unseen to pray with me.

Around and far away
So clear and solemn is the sky,
It seems all opening to my eye ;

This is the Sabbath day!

From the German of Uhland, by Mrs. Follen.




OW that the sun is gleaming bright

Implore we, bending low, That 'Thou, the Uncreated Light Wouldst guide us as we go.


Nor finful word, nor deed of wrong,
Nor thoughts that idly rove,
But simple truth be on our tongue
And in our hearts be love.

And as the hours in order flow -
O Christ ! securely fence
Our gates, beleaguered by the foe,


every sense.

The gate


And grant, that to thine honor, Lord !
Our daily toil may tend,
That we begin it at thy word,
And in thy favor end.


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SILENCE deep and strange!

The earth doth yet in quiet slumber lie, No stir of life, save on yon woodland range, The tall trees bow as if their Lord passed by.

Like to one new-create,
I have no memory of grief and care ;
Of all the things which vexed my soul of late
I am afhamed in this calm morning air.

This world, with all its band
Of clamorous joys and griefs, shall be to me
A bridge whereon, iny pilgrim-staff in hand,
I cross the stream of Time, O Lord, to thee.

From the German of J. F. Eichendorf.

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