VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS.

(Hymn for Whitsunday.)

Music by Garland, of Norwich.

Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire,
And lighten with celestial fire:

Thou the anointing Spirit art,
Who dost Thy sevenfold gifts impart :

Thy blessed unction from above
Is comfort, life and fire of love:
Illumine with perpetual light
The dulness of our blinded sight:

Anoint and cheer our soiled face
With the abundance of Thy grace:

Keep far our foes; give peace at home;
Where Thou art guide, no ill can come.

Teach us to know the Father, Son,
And Thee of both, to be but One;

That, through the ages all along,
This may be our endless song;

Praise to Thy eternal merit,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

WHITSUNDAY.

Spirit of truth! on this Thy day,
To Thee for help we cry,

To guide us through the dreary way
Of dark mortality.

We ask not, Lord, the cloven flame,
Or tongues of various tone;
But long Thy praises to proclaim
With fervour in our own.

No new prophetic voice we hear,
No wondrous powers we share;
Yet hope to feel Thy comfort near,
And bless Thee in our pray'r.
When tongues shall cease, and pow'r decay,
And knowledge empty prove,

Do Thou thy trembling servants stay,

With faith, and hope, and love.

O GOD, MY STRENGTH AND

FORTITUDE.

(Psalm xviii., O. V.)

O God, my strength and fortitude,
Of force I must love thee;

Thou art my castle and defence
In my necessity.

Dr. Croft.

My God, my rock in whom I trust,
The worker of my health;
My refuge, buckler, and my shield,
The horn of all my wealth.

When I sing laud unto the Lord,
Most worthy to be serv'd,
Then from my foes I am right sure
That I shall be preserv❜d.

The pangs of death did compass me,
And bound me ev'rywhere,
The flowing waves of wickedness
Did put me in great fear.

The Lord descended from above,
And bow'd the heav'ns most high,
And underneath His feet He cast

The darkness of the sky.

On Cherub and on Seraphin

Full royally He rode;

And on the wings of mighty winds
Came flying all abroad.

PSALM XXIV. (Merrick's Version.)

Spencer.

Lift, lift your heads, each hallow'd gate,
Aloft with sudden spring your weight,
Ye everlasting portals rear,

Behold the King of Glory near,
And yield to Him that homage due.

And who this King of Glory? say,
The God whom heaven's high hosts obey;
In Him the King of Glory view,
And yield to Him that homage due.

HUNDREDTH PSALM. (O. V.)

All people that on earth do dwell,
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;
Him serve with fear, His praise forth tell,
Come ye before Him and rejoice.

The Lord, ye know, is God indeed ;
Without our aid He did us make;
We are His flock, He doth us feed,
And for His sheep He doth us take.

O enter then His gates with praise, Approach with joy His courts unto; Praise, laud, and bless His Name always, For it is seemly so to do.

For why? the Lord our God is good;
His mercy is for ever sure;

His truth at all times firmly stood,

And shall from age

to age

endure.