Say with richer crimson glows, Barns nor hoarded grain have we, Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow, One there lives, whose guardian eye One there lives, who Lord of all, Pass we blithely then the time, BISHOP HEBER. THE WIDOW'S SON. ST. LUKE, CHAP. VII. WAKE not, oh mother! sounds of lamentation; Bear forth the cold corpse, slowly, slowly bear him; Why pause the mourners; who forbids our weeping? Who the dark pomp of sorrow has delay'd? "Set down the bier-he is not dead, but sleeping! Young man, arise!" He spake, and was obey'd. Change then, oh sad one, grief to exultation! BISHOP HEBER. THE CRUCIFIXION. ST. JOHN, CHAP. XIX. BOUND upon the accursed tree, By the side so deeply pierc'd, By the baffled burning thirst, By the drooping death-dew'd browSon of Man, 'tis thou, 'tis thou. Bound upon the accursed tree, Lord, our suppliant knees we bow; Bound upon the accursed tree, In the chambers of the dead: Bound upon the accursed tree, By the prayer for them that slew, 66 Lord, they know not what they do;" BISHOP HEBER. HYMN FOR PALM SUNDAY. RIDE on! ride on in majesty! Hark, all the tribes Hosanna cry! Thy humble beast pursues his road, With palms and scatter'd garments strew'd. Ride on! ride on in majesty! In lowly pomp ride on to die! Oh Christ! thy triumphs now begin O'er captive death and conquer'd sin. Ride on! ride on in majesty! The winged squadrons of the sky Look down with sad and wondering eyes, To see the approaching sacrifice! Ride on! ride on in majesty! Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh. Ride on! ride on in majesty! In lowly pomp ride on to die! Bow thy meek head to mortal pain, Then take, oh God! thy power, and reign! MILMAN. HYMN OF THE HEBREW MAID. WHEN Israel, of the Lord beloved, There rose the choral hymn of praise, |