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Sunday Vespers.
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42

Sunday Vespers.

Hymn III.

[Why do we seek felicity]

Why do we seek felicity,
Where 'tis not to be found;
And not, dear Lord, look up to Thee,
Where all delights abound?
Why do we seek for treasure here,
On this false barren sand:
Where nought but empty shels appear,
And marks of Shipwrack stand?
O world, how litle do thy joys
Concern a soul that knows
It self not made for such low toys,
As thy poor hand bestows!
How cross art thou to that design
For which we had our birth!
Us, who were made in heav'n to shine,
Thou bow'st down to thy earth.

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Nay, to thy hell; for thither sink
All that to thee submit:
Thou strew'st some flowers on the brink,
To drown us in the pit.
World, take away thy tinsel wares,
That dazle here our eys:
Let us go up above the Stars,
Where all our treasure lys.
The way we know; our dearest Lord
Himself is gone before:
And has ingag'd his faithful word
To open us the door.
But, O my God! reach down thy hand,
And take us up to Thee:
That we about thy Throne may stand;
And all thy glories see.
All glory to the sacred Three,
One everliving Lord:
As at the first, still may He be
Belov'd, obey'd, ador'd.