Devotions in the ancient way of offices with psalms, hymns, and prayers for every day in the week and every holiday in the year.

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Title: Devotions in the ancient way of offices with psalms, hymns, and prayers for every day in the week and every holiday in the year.
Author: Birchley, William, 1613-1669.
Publication: Paris :: [s.n.],; 1668.
Rights/Permissions: To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
Subject terms: Catholic Church. -- Breviary.; Church of England. -- Book of common prayer.; Rhymed offices.
Link to this Item: http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A69499.0001.001
Cite this Item: "Devotions in the ancient way of offices with psalms, hymns, and prayers for every day in the week and every holiday in the year." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A69499.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 13, 2024.

Hymn XXV.

LOrd, we again lift up our eys,
And leave our slugish beds:
But why we wake, or why we rise,
Comes seldom in our heads.

Is it to sweat and toyl for welth,
Or sport our time away;
That thou preserv'st us stil in helth,
And giv'st us this new day?

No, no, unskilful soul, not so;
Be not deceiv'd with toys:
Thy Lords commands more wisely go,
And aim at higher joys.

They bid us wake to seek new grace,
And some fresh vertue gain:
They call us up to mend our pace,
Till we the prize attain.

That glorious prize for which all run,
Who wisely spend their breath:

VVho when this weary life is done, Are sure of rest in death.

Not such a rest as here we prove,
Disturb'd with cares and fears:
But endless joy, and peace, and love,
Unmixt with grief and tears.

Glory to Thee, O bounteous Lord!
Who giv'st to all things breath:
Glory to Thee, Eternal VVord!
VVho sav'st us by thy death.

Glory, O blessed Spirit, to Thee,
Who fill'st our souls with love:
Glory to all the mystick Three,
Who reign one God above.

Antiph. This is, alas, the land of the Dying; but we hope to see the glory of God, in the land of the Living.