Devotions in the ancient way of offices. With psalms, hymns, and prayers for every day of the week and every holiday in the year. / Reformed by A person of quality, ; and published by George Hickes, D.D.

About this Item

Title: Devotions in the ancient way of offices. With psalms, hymns, and prayers for every day of the week and every holiday in the year. / Reformed by A person of quality, ; and published by George Hickes, D.D.
Author: Birchley, William, 1613-1669.
Publication: London :: Printed for J. Jones at the Bell, in St.-Paul's Church-Yard,; 1700.
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: Church of England -- Liturgy.; Devotional exercises.
Link to this Item: http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A35816.0001.001
Cite this Item: "Devotions in the ancient way of offices. With psalms, hymns, and prayers for every day of the week and every holiday in the year. / Reformed by A person of quality, ; and published by George Hickes, D.D." In the digital collection Early English Books Online 2. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A35816.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 15, 2025.

Hymn 8.

NOW my Soul the Day is gone,
Which in the Morn was thine;
Now its Glass no more shall run,
Its Sun no longer shine.

True alas! the Day is gone,
O were it only so:
Is't not lost as well as done?
Cast up thy Counts and know.

Are we so much nearer Heaven,
As to the Grave we bow?
Has our Sorrow made all even,
And clear'd the Debts we owe?

From what Vice have we refrain'd,
To break the Course of Sin?
What new Virtue have we gain'd,
To make us rich within?

Time is well bestow'd on those,
Who well their Time bestow;
Whose main Concern still forward goes,
Whose Hopes still riper grow.

Who, whene're the Clocks proclaim
Another Hour is past;
Have an Art to set their Aim,
And Thoughts upon their last;

That their last and happy Hour,
Which brings them to their home;
Where they sing and bless the Power,
That made them thither come.

O my God of Life and Death,
The Ever-living King!
Since thou giv'st to all their Breath,
May all thy Glory sing.

Glory, Honour, Power, and Praise
To the mysterious Three;
As at first beginning was,
May now and ever be.