AT THE VESPERS.

In this was manifested the love of God towards us; because that God sent His only-begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him.-1 JOHN iv.

"Jesu, Redemptor omnium."

JESU, born the world to free,
The incarnate Deity;

Ere the worlds their march begun,

Equal Thou with God, and One ;
Thou our peace and glory art,
Only hope of mortal heart :

Hear our prayers which to the skies
From the heart's low altar rise,

Holy Son, and unto Thee

Sing we everlastingly.

With a free, spontaneous birth,
Thou didst take a form of earth,
Drawing mortal men to Thee
To partake of Deity.

Us Thy brethren Thou dost call,
Our hand holding, lest we fall,
And our life, with deadly stain,
To its vileness turn again.

Holy Spirit, unto Thee
Sing we everlastingly.

This is the glad holiday,

Which in memory holds the

ray,

When from out His shining bed
The true Sun did lift His head,-
And the earth and distant pole
And where ocean's waters roll,—
Each in holy ardor vies.

Breaking forth in jubilees,

Holy Father, unto Thee
Singing everlastingly.

Nor shall we, for whom undone
Comes the everlasting Son,
Let in thankless silence stay
This our first-born holiday!
Praise Him, creatures here below;
Him, where'er His blessings flow;
Him, earth, sea, and heavenly host;
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost:

Dreadful name of Godhead, Thee
Sing we everlastingly.

ST. STEPHEN'S DAY.

AT MIDNIGHT.

Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.-REV. ii.

"O, qui tuo, dux Martyrum."

RIGHTFUL Prince of martyrs thou,

Bind thy crown about thy brow;
Fairer far than fading wreath,

Weave we this thy crown of death.

Like a gem each rugged stone,
Sparkling with thy life-blood, shone;
Nor could stars more brightly shine,
Studded round thy head divine.

From thy forehead's gushing streams
Dart a thousand blending beams,
Till thy glowing countenance
Lightens to an Angel's glance.

Thou the first-slain victim free

To Him, the Victim slain for thee:
Thou the first thy Lord to own,
Sharer of His thorny crown.

First to tread the pointed road
Through the deep Red sea of blood:-

Prince of martyrs, thee behind

What a countless army wind?

Thou of Virgin-mother born,
In this wintry world forlorn;
Jesu, Lord, all praise to Thee.
All glory be to Father, Son,
And Holy Spirit, Three in One,
Unto all eternity.

AT THE MATTINS.

Behold my witness is in Heaven, and my record is on high.— JOB XVI.

"Quid obstinata pectora."

WHY, stern of heart, and dull of ear,

The heaven-born truth defy?

When full of Heaven he bids you hear,
Why doom the saint to die?

Behold him, where each murderous hand

Upheaves the deadly stone;

And Saul hath arm'd his savage band
Around yon guiltless one.

How fruitless all! for lo, on high
Heaven's starry court expands,
And far beyond the opening sky
Th' enthroned Saviour stands.

Thou fail'st not, Lord, Thy liegeman true,
Amidst the struggle hard,

Thou art his might, his umpire Thou,

And Thou his great reward.

Nor recks he aught the 'whelming shower, Full fix'd on Heaven and Thee:

Where Thou art Judge, and Thine the power, To die is victory.

From Thy full fount his raptur'd thought

Drinks in Thy living fires;

And from his mortal coil up-caught,

He joins Thine Angel quires.