Adversity and Prosperity: Hearse-like Airs and Carols

Steadiness of Trouble and Sorrow

Chequered Shade

Weakness Teaches Fortitude

Passing under the Rod.

We must Travel in Rough Weather.

The Good Goad-Adversity

Submission and Resolution.

The Habit of Submission

Humility Taught by Uncertainty

Resurgam!

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Thoughts for Different Seasons.

HYMNS FOR THE WEEK.

Sunday.

O blest Creator of the light,

Who bringing forth the light of days, With the first work of splendour bright The world didst to beginning raise;

Who morn with evening join'd in one,
Commandedst should be call'd the day;
The foul confusion now is gone;

O hear us when with tears we pray:

Lest that the mind, with fears full fraught,
Should lose best life's eternal gains,

While it hath no immortal thought,
But is enwrapt in sinful chains.

O may it heat the inmost sky,

And the reward of life possess! May we from hurtful actions fly, And purge away all wickedness.

Dear Father, grant what we entreat,
And only Son, who like power hast,
Together with the Paraclete,

Reigning whilst times and ages last.

Monday.

Great Maker of the heavens wide,

Who, lest things mix'd should all confound, The floods and waters didst divide,

And didst appoint the heavens their bound;

Ordering where heavenly things shall stay,
Where streams shall run on earthly soil,
That waters may the frames allay,

Lest they the globe of earth should spoil;

Sweet Lord, into our minds infuse
The gift of everlasting grace,

That no old faults which we did use
May with new frauds our souls deface.

May our true faith obtain the light,

And such clear beams our hearts possess, That it vain things may banish quite, And that no falsehood it oppress.

Dear Father, grant what we entreat,
And only Son, who like power hast,
Together with the Paraclete,

Reigning whilst times and ages last.

Tuesday.

Great Maker of man's earthly realm,

Who didst the ground from waters take
Which did the troubled land o'erwhelm,
And it immov able cidst make;

That there young plants might fitly spring,
While it with golden flowers attired
Might forth ripe fruit in plenty bring,
And yield sweet fruit by all desired;

With fragrant greenness of thy grace,

Our blasted souls of wounds release,
That tears foul sins away may chase,
And in the mind bad notions cease.

May it obey thy heavenly voice,
And never drawing near to ill,
T' abound in goodness may rejoice,
And may no mortal sin fulfil.

Dear Father, grant what we entreat,
And only Son, who like power hast,
Together with the Paraclete,

Reigning whilst times and ages last.

Wednesday.

O holy God of heavenly frame,

Who mak'st the pole's wide centre bright, And paint'st the same with shining flame, Adorning it with beauteous light;