mwfmwd m«5^ffite««5> r%jrm ^J A (./A/A. U A KAj W7* wwrram FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 5) t. "» I ■ / CHRIST AT THE SUSAN HAYES WARD. NEW YORK: ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 770 Broadway, cou. 9th Street. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by Anson D. F. Kantjolph & Co., In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. E.O.JENKINS, ROBERT RUTTE PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, BINDER, 90 N. WILLIAM ST., N. Y. M beekman street, n. TO MY DEAR BROTHER WILSON. INTRODUCTION. WHATEVER tends to make us conscious of the nearness of Christ, cannot be overlooked by His church. If, by dwelling upon any thought, we are led to realize more fully His unwearying patience and matchless love, we cannot afford to pass it lightly by ; on the contrary, we must, perforce, take su^h thoughts home to our inmost heart, and make them the theme of medi- tation till we feel His holy Presence within and around us. With some little appreciation of this fact, the present volume has been prepared. A figure of Holy Writ has been selected, and the attempt made to bririg together whatever of Christian lore could illustrate or develop it. Christus ad portam is our central thought. The metaphor is used by the Revelator when he brings to view the Saviour of men, standing, knock- ing at their closed portals, with exceeding great and precious promises of grace to all who hear and (s) 6 Introduction. open unto Him. In the Song of Songs, which is Solomon's, it is the Heavenly Lover, who stands at the door, calling to His Bride, until His head is filled with dew and His locks with the drops of the night; and when, moved by His pleading voice, she tardily unbars the entrance and finds Him not, her remorseful cries wake an echo in the hearts of many laggard Christians who have all too slowly opened to their beloved — " Oh, that I knew where I might find him !" So, years ago, one of His children* sang : When wilt Thou come unto me, Lord ? For till Thou dost appear I count each moment for a day, Each minute for a year. There 's no such thing as pleasure here, My Jesus is my all : As Thou dost shine or disappear My pleasures rise or fall. Come, spread Thy savour on my.frame, No sweetness is so sweet, Till I get up to sing Thy name Where all Thy singers meet. And Charles Wesley, w r ith that intense fervor which characterizes him, pleads — * Rev. Thomas Shepard. Introduction. J Why not now, my God, my God ? Ready if Thou always art, Make in me Trty mean abode, Take possession of my heart : If Thou canst so greatly bow, Friend of sinners, why not now ? God of love, in this Thy day, For Thyself to Thee I cry, Dying, if Thou still delay Must I not forever die ? Enter now Thy poorest home, Now, my utmost Saviour, come. This subject is here presented under the two divisions of Christ knocking at the door, and Christ, a guest ; and, under the second head, I have taken the liberty to include a few selections which represent the longing of the soul for that communion promised to those who receive the Lord Jesus into their hearts by faith. This topic, which merely touches our own, is a very fruitful one, and it would take many a volume to exhaust its stores of sacred verse, so I have confined myself, carefully, to those prayers for the Divine indwelling which seem to be specially ad- dressed to the Saviour as . a loving companion or longed-for guest, leaving the almost inexhaustible store of hymns which plead for the presence of 8 Introdttction. the Comforter, or for the Saviour's presence under any other figure than that of a benignant Visitor. Thus, such a hymn as Wesley's, " Christ whose glory fills the skies, Christ the true, the only Light," though closing with the lines, " Visit then this soul of mine, Pierce the gloom of sin and grief, Fill me, Radiancy Divine, Scatter all my unbelief, More and more Thyself display Shining to the perfect day," only adopts the figure of the Sun of Righteousness, or the Day Star, whose warmth and light dispel the clouds of sin or sadness from the heart ; and so it is not suitable for our purpose. Then the many Roman Catholic hymns which treat of the presence of Christ in the believer's heart at the Holy Communion (and we find a wealth of such in Latin, French and German hymnals, to say nothing of those on the same sub- ject from Greek sources), though just upon the border-ground, we turn aside from, as hardly in- cluded in our boundaries ; and yet, when we recall the promise made by One knocking, to him who Introduction. 9 opens, " I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me," we must confess that these songs of that sacred mystery, the Holy Supper, seem almost within our limits. Thus, in one of Faber's child-hymns — and what one of the church's song-masters has had more child-like simplicity than he ? — we read : Jesus, gentlest Saviour ! God of might and power ! Thou, Thyself, art dwelling In us, at this hour. Nature cannot hold Thee, Heaven is all too strait For Thine endless glory, And Thy royal state. Out beyond the shining Of the farthest star, Thou art ever stretching Infinitely far ; Yet the hearts of children Hold what worlds can not, And the God of wonders Loves the lowly spot. Jesus, gentlest Saviour ! Thou art in us now ; Fill us full of goodness Till our hearts o'erflow ; Pray the prayer within us, That to heaven shall rise ! Sing the song that angels Sing above the skies. io Introduction. Ah ! when wilt Thou always Make cur hearts Thy home ? We must wait for Heaven, — Then the day will come. Now, at least, we '11 keep Thee All the time we may ; But Thy grace and blessing We will keep alway. < And we feel that the spirit of this and many sim- ilar hymns is one and the same with that of our own chosen theme. It was my desire to make a complete monograph of this figure ; but as I draw my pleasant labor to a close, nearly every new issue of sacred song brings some fresh poem demanding notice. I here acknowledge gratefully my indebtedness to friends who have aided in the selection of these hymns ; and if,, by God's blessing, the work shall result in leading any soul to prepare for his Guest, and to throw open the door, I shall not have labored in vain. Susan Hayes Ward. Knox Seminary, Galesburg, III. PART I. Christ Knocking at the Door. Behold I stand at the door and knock. — Rev. Hi. 20. I sleep, but my heart waketh : it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my unde- fined ; for my head is filled with dew and my locks with the drops of the night.— Solomon's Song, v. 2. CHAPTER I THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. «• I lift my heart and eyes to Thee, Jesus, Thou unextinguished Light, My guardian Stay, and Leader be, My Cloud by day, my Fire by night. Glory of Israel, Thou within, Unshadowed, uneclipsed, appear, With beams of grace exhale my sin, Break forth Thou bright and Morning Star ! — TOPLADT. NEAR by Goupil's old stand on Broadway, a little boy used often to waylay us. Some- times he would make an unexpected attack from the rear; sometimes would dart suddenly from round a corner ; and, often, after a toilsome day, when walking homeward with downcast eye and heavy step we would be tending mechanically down the street, like a flash of light the little fellow would (13) 14 Christies ad Por tarn. spring from the doorway and draw us back into what was his fairy-land, or, rather, a heaven be- low, to him. " Please, stop ! Oh ! do stop ! " he would plead in childish treble. " Come in and see Jesus." We used to think of those early disciples, of Andrew and Philip, of all who, having found their Lord, so gladly urge their dear ones with jubilant haste — " Come and see." Set low upon the floor, just where the child could stand and look his fill, there hung, for many a week, an engraving of W. Holman Hunt's won- derful picture, " The Light of the World." We have all seen it. The original, marvellous in its weird fascination ; the engraving, possessing much of the sacred charm that invests the painting ; or choice photographs, strangely cheap and beauti- ful, have made the picture well nigh as familiar as a Raphael or a Guido. Other artists have repre- sented the Gracious Visitor knocking with wound- ed hand at the fast-shut door, but none, perhaps, have had the gift so to rivet the attention, so to move the heart ; nor do we know a sacred paint- ing which has spoken so directly to the soul ; one Light of the World. 1 5 in which the painter's art has challenged so loudly its sister arts to aid in the outward manifestation of feeling, as in this. Poets have looked and looked again, and then have written as if inspired, and many a hymn whose author acknowledges no indebtedness to the painting, has, nevertheless, evidently drawn its inspiration thence. Of those poems founded directly upon Hunt's picture, we give the precedence to Mrs. H. B. Stowe's, which has grown familiar as household words to hymn-lovers generally, and, in view of the tenderness of feeling which overflows in every line, we cannot look at it critically. The hymn reads as follows : KNOCKING, EVER KNOCKING. Knocking, knocking, ever knocking ! Who is there ? ' Tis a pilgrim, strange and kingly, Never such was seen before ; — Ah, sweet soul, for such a wonder, Undo the door. 1 6 Christies ad Portam. No ! that door is hard to open ; Hinges rusty, latch is broken ; Bid Him go. Wherefore with that knocking dreary Scare the sleep from one so weary ? Say Him " No." Knocking, knocking, ever knocking ? What! Still there? Oh, sweet soul, but once behold him, With the glory-crowned hair, And those eyes, so strange and tender, Waiting there ; Open ! Open # ! Once behold Him — Him so fair ! Ah, that door ! Why wilt Thou vex me, Coming ever to perplex me ? For the key is stiffly rusty, And the bolt is clogged and dusty ; Many-fingered ivy vine Seals it fast with twist and twine ; Weeds of years, and years before,. Choke the passage of that door. Light of the World. 1 7 Knocking, knocking ! What ! Still knock- ing? He still there ? What's the hour ? The night is waning — In my heart a drear complaining, And a chilly, sad unrest ! Ah, this knocking ! It disturbs me ! Scares my sleep with dreams unblest ! Give me rest : Rest ! — ah, rest ! Rest, dear soul, He longs to give thee ; Thou hast only dreamed of pleasure — Dreamed of gifts and golden treasure — Dreamed of jewels in thy keeping, Waked to weariness of weeping ; — Open to thy soul's one Lover, And thy night of dreams is over, — The true gifts He brings, have seeming More than all thy faded dreaming. Did she open ? Doth she ? Will she ? So, as wondering we behold, Grows the picture to a sign, 2* 1 8 CJiristus ad Portam. Pressed upon your soul and mine ; For in every breast that liveth Is that strange, mysterious door ; The forsaken and betangled, Ivy-gnarled and weed-bejangled, Dusty, rusty and forgotten ; — There the pierced hand still knocketh, And with ever-patient watching, With the sad eyes, true and tender, With the glory-crowned hair, Still a God is waiting there. There are two poems of English origin bearing the same title. The first of which, though some- times wanting in rhythm, rivals Mrs. Stowe's in its descriptive power, and has the signature of B. A., Brasenose College, Oxford ; the second, that of W. R. Weale. We give them as re-printed in " The Shadow of the Rock :" The Light of the World. 19 I. THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. PAINTED BY HOLMAN HUNT. In the moonlight, when no murmur from the haunts of men is heard, And the river, in its sleep, flows onward, onward to the sea, And thou sleepest, who art drawing- nearer to Eternity, In the silence and the stillness comes the Word. And He knocketh at thy portal, but thou dreamest in the night That the flitting bat is only striking softly 'gainst the door ; Shall He knock so oft who cometh from the Heaven's eternal shore ? Sleeper in the darkness, rise, behold thy Light! 20 Christus ad Port am. Tis thy Priest and Prophet, clad in jewelled robe and white attire ; 'Tis thy King, and on His brow He wears the thorny coronal, Budding now with amaranthine leaves and flowers ambrosial, In His face is speaking pity, silent ire. For His glowing lamp discloseth, choking up thy dwelling-door, Deadly hemlock, barren darnel, prickly bramble, withered grasses, And the ivy knits it closely to its stanchions and passes Through the crevices, and hinges, and the floor. Let Him in ! for he will sojourn with the lowest and the least, And forget that thou didst keep Him wait- ing in the dews and damp ; And for guerdon in the valley, He will light thee with His lamp, To the happy Shore Eternal and the Mar- riage Feast. The Light of the World. 2 1 II. THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. Lord, Thou hast sought this wayward heart in vain ; Choked by the world's vile weeds its por- tals stand, Closed to the touch of Thy redeeming hand, Which, knocking- gently, would an entrance gain; e\ O Love unspeakable ! that Thou shouldst be Patient amidst the night's chill - falling dews, While I Thy proffered fellowship refuse, Slothful to rise and ope the door to Thee ! 2 Long have I tarried, dreading yet to bear The emblems of Thy suffering, thorns and cross ; Lost in idolatry of Mammon's dross, And lured by pleasure's transitory glare ; 22 Christus ad Port am. Henceforth vouchsafe to shed Thy light within. Illume my soul, and let these contrite tears Blot out all record of my misspent years, Dark with the sad remembrances of sin ; Then, in this purified, repentant breast, Enter, and be forevermore my Guest ! " The People's Magazine," of October ist, i868» contains a longer poem with the same title. Much of the verse would bear pruning ; it is often weak ; e.g., " Rose the ideas of youth again !" and, in one instance, we have presumed (will the author par- don us?) to correct an ungrammatical construc- tion, but the whole poem is worth a patient read- ing when, at last, we find lines of such simple heartfulness as -those beginning " Ah ! I remem- bered not how long." We have not yet learned its authorship, but it seems plainly to bear marks of a woman's hand. i The Light of the World. 23 THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD. The pearly, purple clearness Of heaven's gate at morn, Through closed eyelids interwove With dreamings of the dawn ; And down the gleaming, shadowy ways, In long, low light withdrawn, I saw the young hours brightening back Far off where I was born. All peach and apple blossom, With promise and delight, A heaven of cloudless sun by day, And golden stars by night. Bright lay the way before me, • And brighter to its close ; The farther future ever lit With deeper tints of rose ; Till where, amid the western heaven The glory overflows. Now, standing at that western gate, Looking back whence I came, 24 Christus ad Port am. Those long, gray, desert pathways Could never be the same — Behind me all in shadow, Before me all aflame. Rose the ideas of youth again, With grand and glorious eyes, The visions of immortal things, And works that should arise. Large talents feeling for the air Life bursting into song ; The keen and dauntless spirit In hope and purpose strong, For labour in the vineyard, Or battle against wrong. Deep, 'deep into the morning Dreaming, for life was long. Ah ! full and fair the shoots of spring Waved over all the plain ; Now come the harvest angels — Where is the golden grain ? O Life, of all thy working day Does only this remain ? The Light of the World. 25 Of torn and tangled fragments Not one without a stain ? The Dead stood up before me, Once more as they had been, My own to love and cherish In daily dearness seen ; Sweet faces that all silently With my wild moods had pleaded, Whose unreproachful sadness Fell on me then unheeded ; Who looked to me for sunshine, And found not what they needed. " Come back to me, one little hour, And I will tend you so ; Oh ! if you were but mine again, I would not let you go ; If I had known you would have died !- Too late ! too late, I know !" The cold hand shook not in my tears, No eyelid flushed or fell ; They spake in calm, clear voices, " We rest and we are well ; 3 2 b Christies ad Par tarn. All is forgiven, long ago ; With thee we may not dwell ! They passed away and out of sight Ere I could say " Farewell." And there I saw the neighbor, Uncordial and constrained, Whom I had coldly welcomed, And stiffly entertained ; Absent and fretting all the time To be so long detained. I knew the hidden sorrows now That made her shy and cold, The cares she would so willingly Into my ears have told, The yearning for the sympathy I would not now withhold, But now it was not needed — I guessed it not of old. And ever)' beggar in the street I ever had passed by, — O stay that I may help you now ! But they made no reply. The Light of the World. 27 Then I knew what it was to beg, And no man heed my cry, I wept aloud for anguish, — None stopped to ask me why. And then I saw One standing In the December night, With bare feet on the frozen ground, And in His hand a light ; The wondrous Face was turned this way Full in the lantern shine, Under the thorns, the deep eyes looked Their message into mine. As there He knocked and waited Before a close-shut door, With withered, red-leaved creepers, And tall dry weeds grown o'er ; No stir, no answer from within, Yet knocking evermore. Ah ! I remembered not how long I turned away and slept, While under the cold stars, all night, His patient watch He kept ; 28 Christus ad Portam. Though all the yearning angels Were wearied out and wept. " Here am I, nor will I depart Until thou let me in ; The Heavens are far behind me, One human soul to win ; That thou mayst know My mercy Is greater than thy sin." " Light of the world !" I know thee now, That might have been mine own ; And I have chosen darkness ; Now darkness cometh on. And it is I must call in vain, " The Lord of light is gone ?" Then in despair unto the winds The door I opened wide ; And lo ! the same as ever That Bright One stood beside, With the same smile upon Thy face, O Crowned. Crucified ! As when Thy hand stretched o'er the sea To Peter, who denied. The Light of the World. 29 I sank in bitter weeping Beside the open door — ** O good Lord, give me back one hour, Of all that went before !" £ heard a deep voice tolling, " Never more, never more !" On it went echoing wider Down to the gates of hell, Helpless and broken-hearted Into Christ's arms I fell ; I heard the angels saying, " He doeth all things well." "And a little child shall lead them." And so with reverent gaze we stand once more where we have often loved to linger and watch the small hand tracing out the Scripture, '" Behold I stand at the door and knock," and we thank God, not only for the gracious call, but also for the royal artist gift by which the loving Saviour is made a living presence to one of His little ones. 5* CHAPTER II WARNING AND INVITATION Brawn, rouse thee from thy sleep : Wake, and o'er thy f > >lly weep ; Raise thy spirit dark and dead : Jesus waits His light to shed. Be not blind and foolish still : Called of Jesus, learn His will, Jesus calls from death and night. Wake aud He shall give thee light." THERE are many familiar hymns founded di- rectly upon the message to the Laodicean church which have long been endeared to Chris- tians of our own and other lands, and all thought of their literary merits or demerits is lost in the rich treasures of association that cluster around them. Foremost of them all would we place " The Heavenly Stranger," by the Rev. Joseph Grigg, which bears the date of 1765. This was first pub- (30) Warning and Invitation. 3i lished in a small volume containing a few hymns, some of which were written when the author was a mere child. How many veteran saints have sung that well-known hymn, Ashamed of Jesus," without suspecting that the words of their devo- tion first found voice through a boy of ten years old or under. Thus out of the mouth of babes and sucklings is His praise perfected. Whatever may be the worth of Grigg's poetry in a literary point of view, these two hymns, the only ones by which he is known, have a spiritual value that cannot be estimated, and it will be long be- fore they cease to be a power in the Christian Church. We give the verses as they are found in Sir Roundell Palmer's " Book of Praise." Behold ! a Stranger's at the door! He gently knocks, has knocked before, Has waited long, is waiting still ; You treat no other friend so ill. But will He prove a Friend indeed ? He will! the verv Friend vou need ! 1 32 Chris his ad Portam. The man of Nazareth, 'tis He, With garments dyed at Calvary. 'J- O lovely attitude ! He stands With melting- heart and laden hands ! O matchless kindness ! and He shows This matchless kindness to His foes. (\/^ J Rise, touched with gratitude divine ; Turn out His enemy and thine, Tkat hateful, hell-bor-n-«ioaster, sin, And let the Heavenly Stranger in. If thou art poor, (and poor thou art,) Lo, He has riches to impart ; Not wealth, in which mean avarice rolls; O better far! the wealth of souls! Thou'rt blind ; He'll take the scales away. And let in everlasting day ; Naked thou art; but He shall dress Thy blushing soul in Righteousness. Art thou a weeper? Grief shall fly; For who can weep with Jesus by ? Warning and Invitation. ^ No terror shall thy hopes annoy ; No tear, except the tear of joy. Admit Him, for the human breast Ne'er entertained so kind a Guest ; Admit Him, for you can't expel ; Where'er He comes, He comes to dwell. Admit Him, e'er His anger burn ; His feet departed, ne'er return ! Admit Him, or the hour 's at hand When at His door denied you'll stand. Yet know, (nor of the terms complain,) If Jesus comes, He comes to reign, To reign, and with no partial sway Thoughts must be slain that disobey ! A. (Sovereign of souls ! Thou Prince of Peace ! O may Thy gentle reign increase ! Throw wide the door, each willing mind, And be His empire all mankind. Next to "The Heavenly Stranger" we would 34 Christus ad For tarn. place a well-known hymn by Mrs. Anna Steele. The home of this gifted woman was in Broughton, Hampshire county, England, and her poems were collected and published in 1780, two years after her death, under her fictitious signature, Theo- dosia. The authorship of many of the trust songs that have been special favorites with both Eng- lish and American churches for the last century was at first hidden behind this nom de plume. " He lives, the Great Redeemer lives," " Dear Refuge of my weary soul," " Father, whate'er of earthly bliss," are familiar examples, while the following is not one of her happiest efforts. CHRIST'S CONDESCENSION. And will the Lord thus condescend To visit sinful worms ? Thus at the door shall mercy stand In all her winning" forms ? Surprising grace ! and shall my heart Unmoved and cold remain ? Warning and Invitation, 35 Has this hard rock no tender part? Must mercy plead in vain? Shall Jesus for admission sue, His charming voice unheard ? And this vile heart, His rightful due Remain forever barred ? 'Tis sin, alas ! with tyrant power The lodging has possessed ; And crowds of traitors bar the door Against the Heavenly Guest. Lord, rise in Thy all conquering grace, Thy mighty power display ; One beam of glory from Thy face Can drive my sin away. Ye dangerous inmates, hence depart; Dear Saviour enter in ; And guard the passage to my heart, And keep out every sin. 36 Christus ad Portarn. Many hymns may be found containing this figure of Christ knocking at the bolted door of the heart, which, though they have been copied from one compilation to another, are scarcely worth the preservation. They have been sung in rude assem- blies upon the frontier, or wherever it has been needful to startle and arouse ignorant, sleeping souls. Often they are colloquial' in form, and are distinguished more by strength than by grace of diction ; but whatever of worth may have marked them, originally, has often been obscured or lost through other hands than those of their unknown authors. A few of these hymns, or detached verses, are here inserted, taken from old and dis- carded hymn-books. The first, perhaps the least faulty, is to be ac- credited to the Hymns of Zion. Amazing sight ! the Saviour stands And knocks at every door ! Ten thousand blessings in his hands To satisfy the poor. " Behold," he saith, " I bleed and die To bring you to my rest : Warning and Invitation. 3 7 Hear, sinners, while I'm passing by, And be forever blest. Will you despise my bleeding love, And choose the way to hell ? Or in the glorious realms above, With me forever dwell ? Say, will you hear my gracious voice, And have your sins forgiven ? Or will you make that wretched choice, And bar yourselves from heaven ?" In Hymns and Spiritual Songs, compiled by- Reuben Peaslee (1829), will be found the two hymns, beginning respectively, " Where, saith the mourner, is this Christ ?" and " Come, trembling soul, forget your fear." The latter appears, in the same book, in another form. We quote from the first the following stanzas : I wait, saith Jesus, at your door, With love that knows no bound nor shore, And far more free am I to give Than you are ready to receive. 4 38 Chris tus ad Port am. Truly I die, I mourn, I bleed, I weep, I wait, promise and plead, Laboring for you, all dressed in gore, What can I do or offer more ? There are two similar hymns in the Original and Select Hymns and Spiritual Songs for the use of Christian Societies, John Tiebout, New York, 1807, the first of which, entitled, " The intercession of Christ," (" Now the Saviour stands a pleading,") we shall not quote ; the second is given below : SINNERS INVITED TO CHRIST. Sinners, behold the Saviour stands With pardon in his bleeding hands, To court you from the jaws of hell, That you in perfect bliss may dwell. His spirit with its healing power Stands knocking, pleading at your door, He'll bind the wounds that sin has made, And heal the sick, and raise the dead. O, stifle not the heavenly voice, But hear, and in His name rejoice, Warning and Invitation. 39 Attend the call, His love embrace, And taste the sweetness of His grace. He'll be your Father and your Friend, Your heart shall sing, your sorrows end ; He'll feed you with immortal love, And bring you to his courts above. In Divine Hymns, collected by Joshua Smith and others, with additions by Wm. Northup, Nor- wich, Conn., 181 1, we find the hymn, entitled, "A warning to sinners to flee from the wrath to come," ("When pity prompts, etc.") An extract from the hymn is given in the Village Hymns, beginning, " Now is the time, the accepted hour," and is there accredited to Cowper. The verses are not to be found in the Olney Collection. Now is the time, the accepted hour, O, sinners, come away, The Saviour's knocking at your door, Arise without delay ! O, don't refuse to give Him room, Lest mercy should withdraw : 40 Christus ad Port am. He'll then in robes of vengeance come To execute his law. Then where, poor mortals, will you be, If destitute of grace, When you your injured Judge shall see, And stand before his face ! O ! could you shun that dreadful sight, How would you wish to fly To the dark shades of endless night, From that all-searching eye ! The dead awaked must all appear, And you among them stand, Before the great impartial bar, Arraigned at Christ's left hand. "No yearning bowels ; pity then Shall not affect my heart ; No, I shall surely say, " Amen," When Christ bids you depart. Let not these warnings, be in vain, But lend a listening ear, Lest you should meet them all again When wrapt in keen despair. Warning and Invitation. 41 The same volume contains a longer poem, en- titled " The Heavenly Courtier," and seems to unite some of the figures of the Canticles with those of the Revelation. In the second verse, the construction is somewhat involved ; but, taken as a whole, the quaintness and originality of both thought and expression, render the poem very readable, reminding one a little of Erskine's " Gos- pel Sonnets," though this will be found far pleas- anter than they, from its simplicity of diction, no less than its freedom of motion. THE HEAVENLY COURTIER. Let Christ, the glorious lover, Have everlasting praise, He cometh to discover The riches of His grace ; He comes to wretched sinners, To woo Himself a bride ; Resolving for to win her, And will not be denied. Unwilling she discovers Herself for to deny, 42 Christus ad For tarn. To cast away her pleasures, And lay her honors by ; To part with every notion That puffs her up with pride ; And take Him for her portion, * And be His loving bride. He calls aloud unto her, " Pursue your ways no more ;" She thinks it will undo her, To part with all her store ; She willingly refuses To yield unto His will, And in her heart, she chooses Her former lovers still. She bolts the door upon Him, And bids the Lord depart ; She will not serve His honor, Nor let Him have her heart : Yes, Jesus loves the sinner, And will not leave the door, But cries " Oh, wretched creature- Reject my grace no more. Warning and Invitation. 43 Behold my matchless fulness ! Arise, and let me in ; How can you be so cruel, To bar your heart with sin ? If calls and invitation Will not excite your love, Prepare for condemnation, For I will not remove." He then displays His power, By an Almighty word ; He threatens to devour, And shows a flaming sword ; She now begins to tremble, At what she sees and hears, And fain she would be humble And wash her crimes with tears. She now begins to languish, And none can her relieve, Her heart is full of anguish To find she can't believe. Her hopes are now departed, And left her full of woe, 44 Christus ad Portam. With all the broken hearted She cries, " What shall I do ?" But Jesus has compassion, Still moving in his breast, Intends to give salvation, Unto the souls distressed. One glimpse of love and power, Makes her forget her pain, She cries, " O, happy hour ; Is this the lovely Lamb ? Is He whom I rejected, Stooped down to me so low ? Goodness, but unexpected, It hardly can be true :" And still she cries, now fervent, " Lord, don't thy mercy hide, May I become a servant, And fit to be a bride." The marriage is made ready, The parties are agreed, The holy Son of David, And Adam's wretched seed. Warning and Invitation. 45 The sinner is attired With raiment clean and white ; Her sins are freely pardoned, And she her Lord's delight. They eat and drink together, And mutually embrace ; Both saints and angels wonder At the surprising grace ; This union shall continue, Forevermore the same, And nothing part asunder The Christian and the Lamb. In this connection may be given two more se- lections, both paraphrases of the whole address to the Church of Laodicea.. The first is by the Rev. John Newton, and taken from the Olney Hymns : CHRIST'S ADDRESS TO THE CHURCH OF LAODICEA. Hear, what the Lord, the great Amen, The true and faithful Witness, says ; He formed the vast creation's plan, And searches all our hearts and ways. 4 6 Christies ad Port am,. To some he speaks, as once of old, " I know thee, thy profession's vain, Since thou art neither hot nor cold, I'll spit thee from me, with disdain. Thou boastest, ' I am wise and rich, Increased in goods, and nothing need, And dost not know thou art a wretch, Naked and poor and blind and dead. Yet while I thus rebuke, I love, My message is in mercy sent, That thou may'st my compassion prove, I can forgive, if thou repent. Wouldst thou be truly rich and wise, Come buy my gold in fire well try'd, My ointment, to anoint thine eyes, My robe, thy nakedness to hide. See at thy door I stand and knock, Poor sinner shall I wait in vain ? Quickly thy stubborn heart unlock, That I may enter with my train. Invitation and Warning. 47 Thou canst not entertain a King ; Unworthy thou of such a Guest ! But I my own provision bring, To make thy soul a heavenly feast." The following is from a collection of poems by " Charlotte Elisabeth," (Mrs Tonna,) born in Nor- wich, England, 1790, and better known by her prose than by her poetry : LAODICEA. Cease ye from man's delusive word, Ye fools, return again, And hear the all-creative Lord, Th' Omnipotent, Amen. " The secret sin that taints thy breast, Thine outward deeds reveal, Would thou wert cold, a foe confest, Or hot in loyal zeal. " Thy God rejects the lifeless prayer, And loathes the hollow praise ; And, mid the wealth thy lips declare, Thy naked want surveys. 48 Christus ad Portam. " Thou say'st, ' No higher grace I need ; Behold how rich I am !' Oh, that thy darkened eye could read Thy penury and shame. " Poor wretched soul ! deceived and blind, Beware ! I counsel thee To buy thee gold in fire refined, And raiment pure, of me. " Anoint thine eyes, behold the rod, In chastening mercy sent ; Oh, hear the deep rebuke of God, Be zealous and repent. " Through many a long rebellious year, I at the door have stood, And called the slumbering heart to hear, The Saviour's pleading blood " And yet I wait, and yet, once more, Repeat the gracious cry, Thou loitering soul, unclose the door ; I bring salvation nigh. Invitation and Warning. 49 " Upon my Father's lofty throne, With victory crowned I shine ; Me for thy Prince and Saviour own, My glory shall be thine." No doubt many more extracts might be made from the various collections of revival hymns and melodies, that would be found to have a bearing upon the subject; but enough have been given to show that it is not to Attic salt, but to the strong savor of piety which pervades them, that they owe their preservation. Even the paraphrases given, by such well-known writers as Newton and Charlotte Elisabeth, sound weak and labored when we turn to our King James's version and read : " And unto the angel of the Church of the Lao- diceans write : These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of the creation of God ; " I know thy works that thou art neither cold nor hot. I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew thee out of my mouth. " Because thou sayest, I am rich and increased 5 5£Lor]Tai oov, Xpiorbg f O Sebg, 'o nav-a^ov rrapcbv Kal rd ndvra TrXrjpcov* IT is a fact worthy of notice, that mediaeval hymns very rarely touch warnings to sinners, and, consequently, mediaeval poets seem to have quite overlooked our subject, Christ at the door; * My soul, my soul arise ! In drunken slumber wherefore lie ? The end draws nigh, And shall it thee surprise ? Awake, then, at the call ; That Christ, the Lord, thy soul may spare, He who is everywhere And filleth all. 9 (97) 98 Christus ad Portam. yet they do, at times, come very near it. But the few Latin hymns which we have found containing even an allusion to this theme, are connected so much more closely with the last clauses of Rev. 3 : 6, that we reserve them, save one, for another chapter. This one exception, found in a Munich manu- script of the XVth century, is taken from Mone's Lateinischen Hymnen (No. 231). We need only to read the hymn to be persuaded that the cowled monk who, centuries ago, first gave to his mon- astery these holy thoughts, and the skillful calli- grapher whose loving touch traced and illuminated the text on the smooth parchment, even in the darkness of their day, had one faith and one Lord with ourselves; and though their good words may have shed but the faintest ray of light in and around the cloister in whose quiet seclu- sion their days slipped by, yet like the beacon lamp whose beam scarce gilds the boat rocking within a stone's throw, but blazes with floods of light to guide and warn the mariner far out at sea, so these pious conventuals, the gleam of whose sanctity only serves to render visible the darkness of their age, shed a marvellous brightness upon Poetry of other Lands. 99 us who are borne farther and farther from them on the ocean of time. In connection with the Latin is placed a very- sweet and successful rendering of the hymn into corresponding English verse, by John David Chambers, M.A., found in Lauda Syon. EXHORTATIO ANIMAE AD SUMENDUM CORPUS CHRISTI. Eia dulcis anima, O soror raea cara, Tuo devotissima Jam sponso lectum para ! Hospitem mitissimum Jam eris susceptura ; Quod in coelis optimum Est, eris acceptura. Cujus est praesentia Tarn caritate plena, Cujus amicitia Tarn nimis est amoena. ioo Christies ad Por tarn. Apud te quiescere Et tecum vult pausare ; Tecum vult discumbere Et tecum vult coenare. Surge, curre obviam Est enim ta'm vicinus : Cordis, per munditiam Paratos habe sinus. Tene cum susceperis ; Hunc ne dimittas victa, Nisi plene fueris Per eum benedicta. Amen. Haste, my soul, thou sister sweet, Who all my being sharest, For thy Spouse a chamber meet Now see that thou preparest ; For a kind and gentle Guest To visit thee intendeth : All that Heaven hath fair and best To greet thee condescendeth. Poetry of other Lands. 101 He whose presence e'er imparts A joy which passeth measure, He, whose friendship on all hearts Bestoweth boundless pleasure, Would possess this breast of thine, With thee His sojourn making, With thee at His board recline, With thee His supper taking. Arise, and run to meet thy Lord ; E'en now His steps are near thee, Thine heart a hallowed shrine afford For Him to dwell and cheer thee ; Oh, hold him fast in thine embrace, Let Him go from thee never, Till with the fulness of His grace He bless thee now and ever. A few selections from German sources are appended, but generally, like the hymns of the Middle Ages, they bear more directly upon the second division of our subject. This first ex- ample is a well-known hymn of Gerhard Ter- steegen, who died 1769. 9* 102 Christus ad For lam. GOTT RUFET NOCH. Gott rufet noch ; sollt' ich nicht endlich horen ? Wie lass' ich mich bezauben und bethoren ? Die kurze Freud', die kurze Zeit v r ergeht, Und meine Seel' noch so gefahrlich steht ! Gott rufet noch; sollt' ich nicht endlich kommen ? Ich hab' so lang' die treue Stimm' vernom- men ! Ich wuszt' es wohl, ich war nicht wie ich sollt'; Er winkte mir, ich habe nicht gewollt. Gott rufet noch ; wie dasz ich mich nicht gebe ! Ich fiircht' sein Joch und doch in Banden lebe ; Ich halte Gott und meine Seele auf ; Er ziehet mich ; mein armes Herze lauf ! Poetry of other Lands \ 103 Gott rufet noch ; ach, dasz ich mich nicht gebe ! Ich fiircht' Sein Joch, und doch in Banden lebe ; Ich halte Gott und meine Seele auf ; Er ziehet mich ; mein armes Herze lauf ! Gott rufet noch ; ob ich mein Ohr ver- stopfet : Er stehet noch au meiner ThuV und klopfet ; Er ist bereit, dasz er mich noch empfang' ; Er wartet noch auf mich ; wer weisz, wie lang'. Gib dich, mein Herz, gib einmal dich ge- fangen ! Wo willst du Trost, wo willst du Run' erlangen ? Lasz los, lasz los ! brich alle Band' enzwei ! Dein Geist wird sonst in Evvigkeit nicht frei. Gott locket mich ; nun langer nicht ver- weilet ! 104 Christtis ad Portam. Gott will mich ganz ; nun langer nicht getheilet ! Fleisch, Welt, Vernunft, sag immer, was du willt, Mir, Gottes Stimme mehr, als deine, gilt. Ich folge Gott ; ich will ihn ganz ver- gnligen, Die Gnade soil in Herzen endlich siegen. Ich gebe mich ; Gott soil hinfort allein Und unbedingt mein Herr und Meistcr sein ! Ach, nimm mich hin, Du Langmuth ohne Masze ? Ergreif mich wohl, dasz ich dich nie ver- lasse ! Herr rede nur ; ich get/ begierig Acht ; Fiihr', wie Du willst ; ich bin in Deiner Macht. Two translations of the above poem are found in our hymnals. The first, by Jane Borthwick, in his Hymns from the La?id of Luther ; the second, Poetry of other Lands. 105 though it has sometimes been accredited to the same translator, is taken from Golden Moments, where no translator's name is attached. The first, though preserving the feminine rhymes, is the more successful in rendering the movement of the original. GOD CALLING YET. God calling yet ! and shall I never hearken, But still earth's witcheries my spirit darken ? This passing life, these passing joys all flying, And still my soul in dreamy slumbers • lying ! God calling yet ! and I not yet arising ; So long His loving, faithful voice despising ; So falsely His unwearied care repaying ; He calls me still, and still I am delaying. God calling yet ! loud at my door is knock- ing* And I my heart, my ear still firmer locking. / io6 Christies ad Portam. He still is ready, willing to receive me, Is waiting now, but oh ! He soon may leave me. God calling yet, and I no answer giving ; I dread His yoke and am in bondage living ; Too long I linger, but not yet forsaken, He calls me still, O, my poor heart, awaken ! Ah ! yield Him all, all to His care confiding, Where but with Him are rest and peace abiding ; Unloose, unloose, break earthly bonds asunder, And let this spirit rise in soaring wonder. God calling yet ! — I can no longer tarry, Nor to my God a heart divided carry ; Now vain and giddy world, your spells are broken ; Sweeter than all the voice of God hath spoken ! God calling yet ! shall I not hear ? Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear ? Poetry of other Lands. 107 Shall life's swift passing years all fly, And still my soul in slumbers lie? *i God calling yet ! shall I not rise ? Can I His loving voice despise, And basely His kind care repay ? He calls me still ; can I delay ? $ God calling yet ! and shall He knock And I my heart the closer lock? He still is waiting to receive, And shall I dare His spirit grieve ? God calling yet ; and shall I give No heed, but still in bondage live ? I wait, but He does not forsake, He calls me still ! My heart, awake ! J0 God calling yet ! I cannot stay ; My heart I yield without delay. Vain world, farewell ! from thee I part ; The voice of God hath reached my heart. In this connection may be given two stanzas, written at about the same period, as Tersteegen's, io8 Christies ad Portam. by Dr. Johann Christian Storr. The complete hymn may be found in the Liederschatz. Schau,' armer Mensch ! zu diesem GlUck Ruft dein Erloser dich zuriick Von jenem Grund verderben, Er kam deszwegen in die Welt, Und gab fur dich das Losegeld Durch Leiden und durch Sterben. Losz dich Willig Doch umarmen ! Sein Erbarmen, Schmach und Leiden Sind ein Meer voll Seligkeiten ! Ach, kannst du den Immanuel So vor der Thiire deiner Seel' Vergeblich klopfen lassen ? Soil seine unzahlbare Pein Gerad' an dir verloren seyn ? Dasz heiszt sein Leben hassen . Arme Seele ! Poetry of other Lands. 109 Komm und wende Dich behende Zu den Wunden, Die dein Hirt' fiir dich empfunden ! Behold, poor man, to what high joys Thy Saviour calls, with tender voice, From ruin near thee lying ! For this into the world He came, And paid the ransom in thy name, Through suffering and through dying ; Embrace His grace Now with gladness ; His great sadness And compassion Are, of bliss, a boundless ocean. Thus shall Immanuel stand before The closed bars of thy spirit's door, Knocking and vainly beating ? Shall His immeasurable woe Straightway be lost on such a foe ? His very life thou'rt hating. 10 HO Chris tits ad Portam. Fear it, Spirit ; Quickly turning, No more spurning Wounds he weareth, Which for thee, the Shepherd beareth. The hymn 561 in the Gesangbuch zum gebrauch der evangelischen Briidergemeinen, Bar by, 1783, also alludes to Christ at the door. In this trans- lation an attempt has been made to preserve the astonishing measure of the original, stepping from anapests to iambics and back again, without the slightest hesitation, because the unknown Ger- man author has led the way. The hymn and its translation are as follows : WIE LAXGE? Wie lange musz Jesus doch bey uns an- klopfen, Eh unsre Herzen offen stehn ! Indem wir so lange die Ohren verstopfen, Dasz er oft musz voriiber gehn ; Poetry of other Lauds. 1 1 1 Allein sein Erbarmen hort doch nicht auf Bis er uns, die Armen mit in den Lauf Der seligen Kinder der Gnade gezogen Und unser verharteles Herz Uberwogen. Herr, der du auch mir hast, nach langem Besinnen Vernunft und Sinnen iibermocht, Das Herz mir genommen (o seligs Begin- nen !) Und an dein Kreuz mich angejocbt: Nun leb' ich in Frieden, nun lasz mich nicht, Bis an mir hienieden ist ansgericht't Warnm du am Stamme des Kreuzes ges- torben Warum du so lang urn mein Herze ge- worben. Die Stimme des Blutes, das von dir ge- flossen, Die schrie mir allenthalben nach ; Die Thranen die du um mein Leben ver- gossen, Die heischten vveder Zorn noch Rach ; 1 1 2 Christ us ad Port am. Nein, GnacT und Erbarmen war jeder Blick Woran ich noch heute mein Herz erquick', Und Kiisse dir glaubig die blutigen Hande Womit du mich triigest sammt meinem Elende. HOW LONG? How long must the Saviour stand knocking and waiting Before ov.r hearts are opened wide ? We turn away deafly, nor hear him entreat- ing* Till grieved and sad, He leaves our side. But great His compassions, and slow is His wrath, Till drawn by His mercy, we find the path Where children of grace run His errands with fleetness, And hearts, hard as ours, are subdued by His sweetness. Poetry of other Lands. i 1 3 O Lord, who hast formed me, and, graciously winning My powers of thought, my powers of will, Hast taken my spirit, oh! blessed begin- ning, And to Thy cross hast bound it still ; Thy peace hast Thou given, remain my Guest Till Thou hast perfected within my breast Thy plan on the cross that lost soul to re- cover For which at my door Thou didst woo like a lover. The voice of Thy blood flowing faster and faster I heard where'er my way might be ; Thy tears for my healing, most merciful Master, Deserved not hate nor scorn from me ; No, pity and pardon alone I saw, Reviving my spirit, till now, with awe, 1 14 Christies ad Portant. Yet trustful, I kiss the hands blood-red and weary Wherewith both myself and my woes Thou dost carry. In Karl Gerok's hymn-book is found another beautiful poem, which we have not been able to obtain. The following translation, however, is taken from Palm Leaves from the German of Karl Gerok, translated by J. E. A. Brown. Strahan &* Co., London : ADVENT. " Behold I stand at the door and knock." Behold, I knock ! At holy Advent, see, Without thy door I stand ; haste and open ! very blest is he Who knows the Shepherd's hand. Lo ! I will enter in and sup with him, 1 will give grace, and light 'mid shadows dim, Will open to him all the heavenly land ! Behold, I knock ! Poetry of other Lands. 1 1 5 Behold, I knock ! Tis piercing cold abroad This bitter winter time ; The ice upon the dark pines has not thawed, The earth is white with rime : O human hearts ! are ye all frozen too, That at closed doors I vainly call to you ? Is there not one will open to his Lord ? Behold, I knock ! Behold, I knock! Methinks if on My face Thou wouldst but rest thine eyes, Wouldst mark the crown of thorns, the sharp nail's trace, Thou couldst not Me despise ! Thee have I yearned for with a love so strong, Have sought for thee so earnestly and long ; My road led from a cross unto this place : Behold, I knock ! Behold, I knock ! The evening shadows lie So peaceful, near and far ; Earth sleepeth — but in yonder cloudless sky Glimmers the evening star ; 1 1 6 Christtts ad Portam. 'Tis in such holy twilight time, that oft Full many a stony heart hath waxed soft, Like Nicodemus, in the dark, drawn night, Behold, I knock ! Behold, I knock ! To thee I would impart Salvation's gift alone, Zaccheus' blessings, Mary's better part, Would gladly make thine own : As unto My disciples, would increase, In the dark night, thy spirit's inner peace ; Thus, didst thou open, would I greet thy heart : Behold, I knock ! Behold, I knock ! O soul, art thou at home, For thy Beloved's here ; Hast thou made ready flowers ere He should come ? Is thy lamp burning clear ? Know'st thou how such a Friend received should be ? Art thou in bridal garments dressed for Me ? Decked with thy jewels as for guest most dear? Behold, I knock! Poetry of other Lands. 1 1 7 Behold I knock ! but doth thine own heart beat With mine in unison ? Does the soft echo of My loving- feet Scare thee like thunder's moan ? List to thine heart which beats so rapidly, It is the voice of God which speaks to thee : Wake up ! Loud crows the cock, the night is gone ; Behold, I knock ! Behold, I knock ! Say not, " 'Tis zephyr mild Which rustles the dead leaf;" It is thy Saviour, 'tis thy God, my child, Let not thine ear be deaf; If I come now in breezes soft and warm, I may return again upon the storm ; 'Tis no light fancy — firm be thy belief: Behold, I knock ! Behold, I knock ! As yet I am thy guest, Waiting without for thee ; The time shall come when, homeless and distressed, Thou, soul, shalt knock for Me ; 1 1 8 CJiristtis ad Port am. To those who heard My voice ere 'twas too late, I open, in that hour, My peaceful gate ; To those who scorned, a closed door will it be : Behold, I knock ! The following sonnet is from the Rimas Sacras De Lope De Vega Carpio. Obras de Lope De Vega. Vol. XIIL. Its author was a Spanish divine and dramatic poet, of great fertility of genius, who died in 1635. SONETI. I Qu£ tengo yo, que mi amistad procuras ? I Que interes se te sigue, Jesus mio, Que a mi puerta cubierto de rozio Passas las noches del hibierno escuras ? j O quanto fueron mis entranas duras ! Pues no te abri, ; que estrano desvario ! Si de mi ingratitud el hielo frio Seco las llagas de tus plantas puras, Poetry of other Lands. 1 19 I Quantas veces el Angel me decia ; Alma asomate ahora a la Ventana, Veras con quanto amor llamas porfia ? I Y quantas, hermosura soberana, Mariana le abriremos respondia, Para lo misme responder mafiana? Mr. Longfellow, with his inimitable skill as translator, has rendered this exquisite poem into as exquisite English verse. In point both of sen- timent and expression, this seems to us the most nearly perfect, the crowning jewel of this collec- tion. TO-MORROW. From the Spanish of Lope de Vega. Lord what am I, that, with unceasing care, Thou didst seek after me, that Thou didst wait, Wet with unhealthy dews, before my gate, And pass the gloomy nights of winter there ? I 20 Christ us ad Port am. O strange delusion ! that I did not greet Thy blest approach, and oh ! to Heaven how lost If my ingratitude's unkindly frost, Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon Thy feet. How oft my guardian angel gently cried, " Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see How He persists to knock and wait for thee !" And oh ! how often to that .voice of sorrow, " To-morrow we will open," I replied, And when the morrow came I answered, still, — " To-morrow." It is thus that the Son of man ever comes, passing by no door that might receive him ; but whether He shall enter as a Guest, depends upon the free-will of those to whom He calls. It is to this effect that tere Hyacinthe writes to a convert : " You have desired, on this day so full of lov- ing and sorrowful memories, to lay your suffering hand in the hand of the crucified Spouse, never Poetry of other Lands. 1 2 1 again to be withdrawn. How beautiful appears that Spouse of Calvary, in his blood and through your tears, and how truly is he made for you, my daughter ! It is not only ' Pa- tience smiling at grief,' it is love transported with sorrow, and reposing in death. Ah ! blessed art thou, to have been led to the nuptial chamber of the Lamb ! " And yet, my daughter, if Christ has enticed your heart, (it is the prophet's own word, ' O Lord, thou hast enticed me and I was enticed ; thou art stronger than I and hast prevailed,') he has respected all the rights of your reason and 'free-will. " It is thus that Jesus has sought you for himself. Spouse of souls, he is, at the same time the Spouse of truth and freedom ; and this is why, when he draws souls to himself, he never beguiles nor compels them. He is the Eternal Word begotten of the reason of the Father, born in the outflow of his infinite splendor ; he remembers his origin, and when he comes to us, it is not under cover of our darkness, but in the sincerity of his light. And because he is Truth, he is Liberty ; he bows with respect before the liberty of the soul, his ii 12 2 Christus ad Portam. image and offspring, and unlearns the language of command, to employ none but that of prayer. 1 Open to me, my sister, my love, my undefiled,' he says in the sacred song, ' for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.' ' Behold,' he says in the Revelation, ' I stand at the door and knock ; if any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him and will sup with him and he with me.' He does not force an entrance into the heart, but he enters if it is opened to him. O rapturous words, which show that with God, love has the same delicacy as with man ! True love respects as well as loves, and will accept its triumph only at the hands of our free choice." PART II. Christ a Guest If any man hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me. — Rev. 3 : 20. I rose up to open to my Beloved ; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock. I opened to my Beloved.— Solomon's Song 5 : 5. CHAPTER I SONGS OF OUR OWN TONGUE. Thy God was making haste into thy roof, Thy hnmhle faith and fear keeps Him aloof. He '11 he thy Guest ; because He may not he He '11 come into thy house ? No, into thee. CRASHAW. OF the four lines with which this chapter opens and of his readers' acquaintance with them, George Macdonald writes, They are " dear to me, but probably unknown to most of them, written I must tell them, for the sake of their loving Catholicity, by an English Jesuit of the 17th century. They touch the very heart of the relation between Jesus and the centurion." " I am not worthy that Thou shouldest come under my roof;" such was the humble confession of the Roman soldier, and it has been the cry forced from the Christian heart wherever the 11* (125) 126 Ch ristus ad Porta m. Lord has revealed Himself, from the earliest days of His ministry to the present. "Whose shoe latchet I am not worthy to unloose," acknowledges that rigid moralist, the ascetic Baptist. " De- part from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord," is the involuntary prayer of impetuous Peter. " The least of all — who am not meet," are the self ac- cusing words of him who had been the proud persecutor of the disciples, making havoc of the church ; and, to-day, when the voice of the Lord is heard without, " Open to me my beloved ;" the penitent soul responds as it unbars the door, " I am not worthy." But Jesus bestowed upon the self-abased centurion a higher honor than His mere bodily presence in an earthly home, better than the gift of renewed life to his servant, when He stooped to enter that heart full of faith the like of which had not been found in Israel. So now, He is better to us than our hopes. He not only deigns to enter as a Guest, but He, Himself, heaps the board, and serves the repast. Humility in His presence, and shame at the long delay in answering His call, together with a joyful recog- nition of the soul's duty to her Heavenly Spouse and of His infinite condescension in choosing her, Songs of our own Tongue, 127 are the characteristic emotions represented in the selections which we have made for this part of our subject. We quote first from the Holy Sonnets of Dr. John Donne, leader of the English metaphysical poets, who wrote in the first part of the 17 th century. In the character of him drawn by Mr. Isaac Wal- ton, we find earnest commendations of his bodily presence, his intellect and his heart. We there read — " The melancholy and pleasant humour were in him so contempered that each gave ad- vantage to the other, and made his company one of the delights of mankind. " His fancy was inimitably high, equalled only by his great wit ; both being made useful by a com- manding judgment. He did much contemplate (especially after he had entered his sacred call- ing) the mercies of Almighty God, the immortali- ty of the soul, and the joys of heaven; and would often say, in a kind of sacred ecstasy, 1 Blessed be God, that He is God only, and divine- ly like Himself.' He was earnest and unwearied in the search of knowledge, with which his vig- orous soul is now satisfied, and employed in a continual praise of that God that first breathed it 128 Christ us ad Port am. into his active body ; that body which once was a temple of the Holy Ghost, and is now become a small quantity of Christian dust. " But I shall see it reanimated." The sonnet, though showing the faults of the age, is yet not without its merits. HOLY SONNET. Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ; That I may rise and stand ; o'erthrovv me, and bend Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new, 1 like a usurpt town to another due, Labour to admit you, but oh ! to no end ; Reason, your victory in me, me should de- fend, But is captived and proves weak or untrue ; Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain, Songs of our own Tongue. 129 But am betrothed unto jour enemy ; Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again, Take me to you, imprison me, for I, Except you enthral me, never shall be free ; Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me. Passing now over two centuries, we draw from modern English collections two anonymous poems, the first taken from Kennedy's Hymnologia Chris- tiana. Behold thy King cometh to thee.— Zech. ix. Unfold your gates, and open The door of every heart ; Their tokens of rejoicing, Let field and wood impart ; The path with branches strewing, Adorn the sacred way ; Throw wide the gates of glory ; The King must pass, to-day. O mighty King, O Jesu, My heart shall welcome Thee, 1 30 Ch ristus ad Portam. My heart too little worthy The Saviour's home to be. Yet will I not, distrustful, Refuse the royal Guest ; The publican and sinner Received Him, and were blest. O Lord, in faith and meekness, My heart would Thee retain, And yield Thee love unfeigned, Whom none have loved in vain, For all who bid Thee welcome While passing on Thy way, A home Thou hast prepared In everlasting day. The second is from the Lyra Eucharista, and deserves a more complete acknowledgment at its author's hands, than the mere initials, " E. L. L." "He came unto His own aod His own received Him not." Out on the world unheeded came there One at midnight hour, A lowly maid His mother and manger stall His bed ; So7igs of our own Tojigue. 131 Out on the cold, cold winter, when the snow lay on the ground, He came a tender infant to Bethlehem's humble shed. Out on the world unheeded — for none knew that He was God, Save His parents, and the Shepherds and the strangers from afar ; These were His sole adorers, these the courtiers of the King ; The world saw not the rising of the bright and morning star. Out on the world, forsaken, poor, He comes to sinners, still, When storms are raging fiercely, and 'tis night because of sin ; Out on the cold, cold winter, to their thank- less hearts He comes, And they turn their faces from Him, and will not take Him in. 132 Christus ad Portam. Out on the world, neglected, careless Chris- tians love Him not, While on our altars dwelling, veiled in mystery most high ; Unbelieving they reject Him — they will not own their Lord, Out on the cold, cold winter — for they pass unmindful by. Out on the world forsaken — but the faithful take Him in, As to her breast did Mary, on that first glad Christmas night ; And where'er the consecration tells of the Hidden God, They bend the knee and worship Him who is the Light of light. And every lowly bosom which receives Him tenderly He strengthens with His presence, and His blessing comfort brings ; Songs of our own Tongue. 133 What joy to that poor dwelling when the Lord of glory comes, Another Bethlehem's manger to enthrone the King of kings. Such be my heart, Lord Jesus, this blessed Christmas morn ; Cold, cold, the world unheeding, but my Guest vouchsafe to be ; Though mean and poor the dwelling, true my heart's glad welcome is, And this my prayer increasing — Stay Thou evermore with me. Out on the world forsaken, oh ! regard Thy children's love — Our tears be reparation for the slights upon Thee thrown ; May the Church's great thanksgiving, this Holy Sacrifice, Avail for all the thankless, and for all our sins atone. 12 134 Christus ad Portam, Alleluia ! Alleluia ! sing every tongue with joy! He comes to dwell amongst us, our sweet sacramental King ; Raise up to heaven your anthems, let them join the angel songs, Telling out to every people this great and wondrous thing. Alleluia ! Alleluia ! till death our voices Jiush, Till we join the Church Triumphant and reach the fount of grace, Then no more the hidden Presence nor eucharistic rite, But the Bridegroom's marriage supper, and to see Him face to face. In Hymns Ancient and Modern may be found the following hymn by Rev. W. Walsham How : O Jesu, Thou art standing, Outside the fast-closed door, Songs of our own Tongue. 135 In lowly patience waiting To pass the threshold o'er : Shame on us, Christian brethren. His Name and Sign who bear, O shame, thrice shame upon us, To keep Him standing there. O Jesu, Thou art knocking: And lo ! that hand is scarred, And thorns Thy brow encircle, And tears Thy face have marred ; O Love that passeth knowledge, So patiently to wait ! O sin that hath no equal So fast to bar the gate ! O Jesu, Thou art pleading In accents meek and low, " I died for you, My children, And will ye treat Me so ?" O Lord, with shame and sorrow We open now the door ; Dear Saviour enter, enter, And leave us never more. Amen. 136 Christies ad Portam. One of the most valued hymnists of our day is Miss Anna L. Waring, of Neath, Wales, some of whose Christian lyrics have attained great popu- larity ; but probably no one of her poems has so taken the Christian world by storm as the touch- ingly beautiful hymn — " Father, I know that all my life Is portioned out to me." If our memory serves us, when that devout prayer first went the rounds of the American press, each line had a Bible reference annexed, thus show- ing how thoroughly the verses were imbued with the Scripture spirit. In the heart of the church this hymn is honored, standing beside the master- pieces of that favored trio — Dr. Ray Palmer, Miss Phoebe Cary and Mrs. Sarah Flower Adams. Howbeit, in the " service of song in the house of the Lord," it has not attained to the first three. The sweet expression of faith which we give be- low, is copied from her Hymns and Meditations. If any man hear my voice and open the door, etc. — Rev. iii 30. Son of Man, my heart within, Pouring light on all I see, So Jigs of our own Tongue. 137 Even through my very sin Holding fellowship with me ! Not with stern upbraiding word Didst Thou wake my slumbering ear: Winning were the tones I heard When the Judge of man drew near. He in whom the righteous shine Came His own condemned to bless ; And this guilty soul of mine Knew Him by His gentleness. When He entered, what was I ? That which He w T as sent to save ; That for which He chose to die, Rising glorious from the grave. Victory in His hand He bore ; Courage with His Presence came ; I was but a prey before, — Then He called me by His Name. And Avith freely offered heart On his sacrifice I fed ; 12* 138 Christus ad For tarn. He, my being's vital part, — He the lifter of my head. Sin, that once I would not own, Then His searching love confessed ; Shame, that else I had not known, Found me leaning on his breast. He can touch the spirit there With a grief it never brings ; Veiled no more His sacred share In our base and bitter things. That which feared Him, hiding deep, Springs to His consuming sight: He is all I wish to keep In this fellowship of light. And the glory who can show, When, with Him upon the throne, We, for whom He stooped so low, Joy to live by God alone ? Son of Man, at meat with Thee Be Thy happy servant found, Songs of our own Tongue* 139 Strong for blessed ministry In the hungry darkness round. From American sources may be gathered a few poems. The first is found in The Changed Cross. MY GUEST. I have a wonderful Guest, Who speeds my feet, who moves my hands, Who strengthens, comforts, guides, com- mands, Whose presence gives me rest. He dwells within my soul : He swept away the filth and gloom, He garnished fair the empty room, And now pervades the whole. For aye, by day and night, He keeps the portal — suffers naught Defile the temple He has bought, And filled with joy and light. Once ' twas a cavern dim ; The home of evil thoughts, desires, 140 Christies ad Por tarn. Enkindled by infernal fires Without one thought of Him. Regenerated by His grace, Still 'tis a meagre inn, at best, Wherein the King's to make His rest And show His glorious face. Yet, Saviour, ne'er depart From this poor earthly cottage home, Until the Father bid me come, Whispering within my heart : " I shake these cottage walls ; Fear not ! at My command they bow ; My heavenly mansions open now, As this poor dwelling falls." Then my dear wondrous Guest Shall bear me on His own right hand Unto that fair and Promised Land Where I in Him shall rest. The second of .these American poems is copied Songs of our own Tongue. 1 4 1 from the manuscript of the author, Rev. J. Wilson Ward, Jr. The verses quoted are the closing stanzas of a longer poem, and seem to us full of that sweet and humble Christian spirit which have been noticed as characterizing the hymns of our second class. THE HOMELESS WAYFARER. King of Glory ! looking love and meek- ness, While the proud world scoffs and scorns, Still Thou waitest, O, unequalled patience ! On Thy head a crown of thorns. In Thy Father's house are many mansions, Pleasant mansions, bright and fair, Yet Thy patient feet still wander earthward, All to win and lead us there. Though the heart was made a home for Jesus, Y r et it knows no guest but sin ; Though He stand and knock, no cheerful welcome Bids the blest Wayfarer in. 142 Ck ristus ad Porta m . At my door the wayworn Wanderer knocketh, Wandering where fond friends are few ; And He waiteth till His locks are dripping, Cold and wet with midnight dew. I behold Thee, O Thou Man of sorrows, Faint and footsore, all for me ; Let my dwelling, mean, and small, and wretched, Open wide, dear Lord to Thee. Come ! O come ! Thou meek and lowly Jesus ! Dwell with me and be my Guest ; Come Thou Christ of God, sweet Elder Brother ! Cross my threshold ; bring me rest. From Rev. A. C. Thompson's Christus Conso- latory we quote, in closing this chapter, the follow- ing exquisite verses by Miss Harriet McEwen Kimball. We would love to see the poem, which is rarely suited for illustration, well represented Songs of our own Tongue. 143 by a skillful artist. It must have been ai one who well knew what earthly woe means, that the poet gave " Speechless Sorrow" a place within her house ; and still we read, that though the dumb attendant was bidden to trim the lamp and light the fire, it was in blinding darkness that the soul groped to find the lock and turn the key. Thus should our artist paint the picture. Into the darkness which Sorrow only makes more dark the light should stream, as the Master enters, glorifying even the sombre garments of that silent guest. " They shall obtain joy and gladness," foretold the gospel prophet, " and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." "SUPS WITH ME." Speechless Sorrow sat with me, I was sighing wearily ! Lamp and fire were out ; the rain Wildly beat the window-pane. In the dark we heard a knock ; And a hand was on the lock ; 144 Christus ad Portam. One in waiting spake to me, Saying sweetly, " I am come to sup with thee." All my room was dark and damp ; " Sorrow," said I, " trim the lamp ; Light the fire, and cheer thy face ; Set the guest-chair in its place." And again I heard the knock ; In the dark I found the lock — " Enter ! I have turned the key — Enter, stranger, Who art come to sup with me !" Opening wide the door He came ; But I could not speak His name, In the guest-chair took His place, But I could not see His face. When my cheerful fire was beaming, When my little lamp was gleaming, And the feast was spread for three, Lo ! my Master, Was the Guest that supped with me ! CHAPTER II. SONGS OF OTHER TONGUES OR TIMES. " Now see ye qui and for qnas sake Crist come til us our kind to take ; His fust corn was bodilye, Bot an other est gastilye, That es quen Crist gif es us wille, His commandment to fulfille ; For son quen we haf wil to do, Al that the preachour says us to — And feles our harte in charite, In sothe ful siker may we he — That Crist is comen in til our hertes Gastli, that us til goodnesse ertes, Of us self haf we noht hot sin, Bot quen Crist wirkes us wit in, Than at the fust beginne we God cresten men for to he." SO -ran the Old English homily, versified, that thus the preacher might catch the ear, and so win the heart of his rude audience. That was the age of Chaucer. It was a century later — a full hundred years 13 (i45) 146 CJiristus ad Portam. before Luther; but the Christian Church, like a strong man tossed in troubled dreams before awaking, gave many a sign that she was soon to arise and cast off her heavy slumber. Wicliffe in England, Huss in Bohemia, Savonarola in Florence, had already disturbed her rest, and the Munich manuscript of the XVth century, from which the following Latin hymn is quoted, leads to the belief that even Bavaria was not without its witnesses for the indwelling Christ, and for the salvation that comes through faith in His name. The beautiful hymn speaks for itself, as does also Mr. Chambers ' exquisite English translation which is subjoined, taken from his Lauda Syon. ORATIO PR^EPARATORIA AD SACRAM COMMUNIONEM. Salve Sal uberrima Tu salus infirm orum, Salve Lux pulcherrima, In tenebris caecorum. Salve desiderium Tu patrum antiquorum, Songs of other Tongues, etc, 147 Salve O amantium Amator amicorum. Salve candidissime Tu panis angelorum, Salve sapor optime In corde beatorum. Tu es quern veraciter Desiderat cor meum ; Confiteor tenaciter Te hominem et Deum. Mea conscientia Quaecumque fert obscura, Tua de praesentia Propellat fides pura. Mecum nil permaneat Quo miser sum offensus ; Totus in me ardeat Amoris tui sensus. Mentem meam dulciter Divinitus accende ; 148 Christus ad Portam. Te invisibiliter Praesentem hie ostende. Cordis mei nebulam Per tuos nunc fulgores Omnem fuga maculam, Et ejice languores. Veni, Christe optime, Rex veni, Jesu care ; Et in sinu animae Gratanter hospitare. Caritas quae aureo Sic te transfixit telo, Ut nos ab aethereo Tu visitares coelo, Vulneret te hodie Ut nunc ad me venire Rex digneris gloriae Nullius memor irae. Tibi fac hospitium, Per gratiam dulcoris.. Songs of other Tongues ; etc. 149 Sedem et triclinium In corde peccatoris. Deus amantissime, Nunc mihi conjungaris, Peccatrici animae Nequaquam irascaris. O benigne domine, Hoc unum precor a te, Fac in tuo nomine Pro ea caritate, Qua in carnem fragilem Dignatus es venire Ad me despicabilem Digneris introire, Totus mihi jungere Salutis meae deus, Cor meura complectere Fidelis hospes meus. Quis sim ne consideres — Peccator sum et reus, 13* 150 Christies ad Port am. Tu cur homo ficres, Memento, pie deus. Caritate nimia, Qua crucem ascendisti, Cui amabilia Tu membra conjunxisti, Nunc amoris brachia Tu super me extende, Abundanti gratia Quod praesens sis, ostende. Propera, ingredere Et veni festinanter, Peccatori jungere Te rogo nunc amanter. Amen. SALVE, SALUBERRIMA. Hail ! Thou, who from heaven on high, Health to all sickness bearest ; Hail! Unto the darkened eye, Thou of all the light the fairest ; Songs of other Tongues, etc, 151 Hail ! Desire which life transcends, Of all Thy saints departed ; Hail ! Who to Thy loving friends, Art e'er the Loving-Hearted. Hail ! Thou bread of angels blest, Most sweet and ever precious ; Hail ! Who with divinest taste Dost in Thy paths refresh us ; Thou in very truth art He Whom my soul desireth ; God and man I worship Thee, To Thee my faith aspireth. When in conscience or in thought Guilt or dark error dwelleth, Faith by Thy dear presence brought All gloom and woe dispelleth ; Make me all the fervor feel Of that Thy fire divinest ; Now Thyself unseen reveal, Who e'er in secret shinest. Let the clouds which dim my soul, Before Thy genial splendor, 152 CJiristus ad Portam. Hence, away, far distant roll, And leave it pure and tender. Come ! O Christ, King ever blest, Come ! Thou one consolation, In my heart a welcome Guest, Fix Thy glad habitation. May that golden shaft of love, Which once so deeply smote Thee, And from Heaven, Thy throne above, Into this sad world brought Thee, Wound anew Thy tender heart, That Thou, in glory reigning, May'st to me Thyself impart, From all Thy wrath upraising. Here Thy blessed sojourn make, Fragrance and joy diffusing ; Rest in my sad bosom take, Therein Thy mansion choosing. God of love and clemency, Now to Thyself unite me ; And, transgressor though I be, Ne'er in displeasure slight me. Songs of other Tongues, etc. 153 Lord, of Thee this gift I claim, For this one mercy pleading ; For thine ever-blessed Name, For that, Thy Love exceeding, Which erst made Thee deign to be Of our frail flesh partaker ; With grace and kindness visit me, Thy servant, O my Maker. Choose me for Thy dwelling-place, O God of my salvation ; Fold my heart in thine embrace, Sweet Guest, take here Thy station ! Think not how I am with Thee, A vile and weak transgressor ; Rather how, made Man, for me Thou art an Intercessor. By that mighty Love which moved Thee on that cross ascending, When thereon Thy limbs beloved Thou wast meekly bending ; So with loving, kind embrace, Cast, now, Thine arms around me : 154 Christies ad Por tarn. And by the bounties of Thy grace Give proof that I have found Thee. Two centuries later when the " Great Elector " governed Prussia, Gerhardt was singing his sweet songs for the Lutheran Church, and not for his own Church alone, but for the Church Universal. We quote from him several verses taken from Knapp's Liederschatz, No 302, translated by Miss Winkworth ; the remainder of the hymn has no connection with our subject. WIE SOLL ICH DICH EMPFANGEN ? Wie soil ich dich empfangen ? Und wie begegnen dir, O aller Welt Verlangen O meine Seele Zier? O Jesu, Jesu, setze Mir selbst die Leuchte bei, Damit was dich ergotze, Mir kund und wissend sey ! Songs of other Tongues^ etc, 155 Dein Zion streut dir Palmen Und grline Zweige bin ; Und ich will dir in Psalmen Ermuntern meinen Sinn. Mein Herze soil dir griinen In stetem Lob und Preis, Und deinem Namen dienen So gut es kann und weisz. Ich lag in schweren Banden : Du kommst und machst mich los. Ich stund in Spott und Schanden : Du kommst und machst mich grosz, Und hebst mich hoch zen Ehren, Und schenkst mir groszes Gut, Das sich nicht loszt verzehren, Wie eitler Reichthum thut. Nichts, nichts hat dich getrieben Zu mir vom, Himmelszelt, Als dein getreues Lieben, Damit du alle Welt 156 Christies ad Por tarn. In lhren tausend Plagen Und groszer Jammerlast. Die kein Mund kann ausagen, So fest umfangen hast. Das schreib ' in deine Herzen, Du hoch betriibtcs Heer, Bei welchem Gram und Schmerzen Sich haufen mehr und mehr. Seyd unverzagt ! ihr habet Die Hiilfe vor der Thiir : Der eure Herzen labet Und trostet, stent all hier. Ihr diirft euch nicht bemlihen, Noch fragen, Tag und Nacht Wie ihr ihn wollet ziehen Mit eures Armes Macht, Er kommt, er kommt, mit Willen, 1st voller Lieb' und Lust, All ' Angst und Noth zu stillen, Die ihm an euch bewuszt. Auch diirft ihr nicht ershrecken Vor eurer Siindenschuld ; Songs of other Tongttes, etc, 157 Nein, Jesus will sie decken Mit seiner Lieb ' und Huld. Er kommt, er kommt den Siindern Zum Trost und wahren Heil, Schafft, dasz bei Gottes Kindern Verbleib ihr Erb ' und Theil. / r ( How shall I meet Thee ? How my heart "^ Receive her Lord aright ? Desire of all the earth Thou art ; ^ My hope, my sole delight ! . Kindle the lamp. Thou Lord, alone, Half dying in my breast, And make Thy gracious pleasure known How I may greet Thee best. Her budding boughs and fairest palms Thy Zion strews around ; And songs of praise and sweetest psalms From my glad heart shall sound. My desert soul breaks forth in flowers, Rejoicing in Thy fame ; 1 5 8 Ch ristus ad Port am. And puts forth all her sleeping powers To honor Jesus' name. t w In heavy bonds ^languished long, > Thou com'st to set me free ; The scorn of every mocking tongue — \ Thou com'st to honor me. i heavenly crown Thou dost bestow And gifts of priceless worth, That vanish not, as here below The riches of the earth. ri Naught, naught, dear Lord, had power to move Thee from Thy rightful place, Save that almighty, wondrous love Wherewith Thou dost embrace This weary world and all her woe, Her load of grief and ill And sorrow, more than man can know : Thy love is deeper still. O write this promise in your heart, Ye sad at heart, with whom Songs of other. Tongues, etc. 159 Sorrows fall thick, and joys depart, And darker grows your gloom. Despair not, for your help is near, He standeth at the door, Who best can comfort you and cheer, He comes, nor stayeth more. Si Vex not your souls with care, nor grieve And labour longer thus, As though your arm could aught achieve, And bring Him down to us. He comes, He comes with ready will, By pity moved alone ; All pain to soothe, all tears to still, To Him they all are known. / Vc Ye shall not shrinkmor turn aside, Fearing to see His face, So deep $our sins, forjie will hide The darkest with His grace ; He comes, He comes to save from sin, All sinners to release. For all the sons of God to win v The heritage of peace.y . 160 Christies ad Portam. Among the many who made melody with Ger- hardt in the German tongue, though in songs of lower key, we first notice George Weiszil of Konigsberg. His beautiful hymn " Macht hoch die Thiir, die Thor ' macht weit,"was harmonized by Johann Criiger, the famed composer of chorals. From Miss Winkworth's translation we quote only a few verses. O BLEST the land, the city blest, Where Christ the Ruler is confest ! O happy hearts and happy homes To whom this King in triumph comes ! The cloudless Sun of joy He is, Who bringeth pure delight and bliss ! O Comforter Divine, What boundless grace is Thine ! Fling wide the portals of your heart, Make it a temple set apart From earthly use, for Heaven's employ, Adorned with prayer and love and joy. Songs of other Tongues, etc. 161 So shall your Sovereign enter in, And new and nobler life begin. To Thee, O God, be praise For word and deed and grace. Redeemer, come ! I open wide My heart to Thee : here, Lord, abide ! Let me Thy inner presence feel ; Thy grace and love in me reveal ; Thy Holy Spirit guide me on Until our glorious goal be won ! Eternal praise and fame Be offered, Saviour to Thy name. In the original this reads : O, wohl dem Land, o wohl der Stadt So diesen Konig bei sich hat ; Wohl alien Herzen insgemein, Da dieser Konig ziehet ein ! Er ist die rechte Seelen sonn', Bringt mit sich lauter Freud' und Wonn' : Gelobet sei mein Gott Mein T roster friih und spat ! 14* 1 62 Christies ad Portam. Macht hoch die Thiir, die Thore weit Eu'r Herz zum Tempel zubereit't; Die zweiglein der Gottseligkeit Steckt auf mit Andacht, Lust und Freud'; So kommt der Konig auch zu euch, Ja Heil und Leben mit zugleich. Gelobet sei mein Gott, Voll Rath, voll That, voll Grad'. Komm, o mein Heiland, Jesu Christ, Mein's Herzen's Thur dir often ist: Ach zeuch mit deiner Gnade ein ; Dein Freundlichkeit auch uns erschein'; Dein heil'ger Geist uns fiihr und leit' Den Weg zur ew'gen Seligkeit Dem Namen dein, O Herr. Sei ewig Preis und ehr' ! And the wife of the Great Elector herself, Louisa Henrietta, of Brandenburg, noble and graceful, fair and good, sweet Christian woman and loving wife, skillful in state affairs and wise Songs sfother Tongues, etc. 163 in counsel, was also one of the Church's sweet singers, and her hymns are counted as priceless and imperishable as is her own most blessed memory. We quote from the beloved Electress a few verses, giving, as before, Miss Winkworth's translation : I WILL return unto the Lord From all my evil ways ; O God, do Thou Thy help afford, Teach me to seek Thy face ; Thy holy Spirit's strength impart, Who can anew create my heart ; Deny me not this grace. For man sees not his wretched plight Till Thy touch make him see ; Without Thy Spirit's inner light All blind and dead is he, Biased in sense and will and deed ; O Father, let me now be freed From this great misery ! Lord, knock in mercy at my door, And all that I have done 164 Christus ad Portarn. Against Thee, do Thou set before This heart, till it is won To mourn that it was e'er so weak, And in my grief adown this cheek Hot tears of sorrow run. Then with Thy Father intercede, That He no more should think Of all my sins, each evil deed That makes me quail and shrink ! Ah ! let the burden of my guilt, For which such precious blood was spilt, Beneath the ocean sink ! And henceforth will I, day by day, With strenuous, ceaseless care, From all false pleasures turn away And rather all things bear Than willingly to sin give place : Dear Lord, give Thou Thy strength and grace To do as I declare ! Songs of other Tongues, etc. 165 To the same period belongs Joharm Frank, of Saxony, a Christian poet of rare fervor and indi- viduality. The hymn of his, which is given below, " Das Salbungsvollste aller Abendsmahls- lieder," was also harmonized by J. Criiger. We have found several renderings of the poem, but cannot tell which is the original form, though, probably, the one annexed is the first. Schmucke dich, o Hebe Seele, Lasz die dunkle Slindenhohle, Komm aus helle Licht gegangen, Fange herrlich an zu prangen ! Denn der Herr voll Heil and Gnaden Will dich jetzt zu Gaste laden, Der den Himmel kann verwalten, Will jetzt Herberg' in dir halten. Eile wie Verlobte pflegen, Deinem Brautigam entgegen, Der da mit dem Gnadenhammer Klopft an deine Herzenskammer. 1 66 Christus ad Poi'tam. Offn' ihm bald des Geistes Pforten Red' ihm an mit schonen worten Herr dich glaiibig zu genieszen Lasz mich deiner nicht mehr missen. Zwar in Kaufung theurer Waaren Pflegt man sonst kein Geld zu sparen Ober du willst fur die Gaben Deine Huld kein Gelt nicht haben, Weil in alien Berg werksgrlinden Kein solch Kleinod ist zu finden — Das die blut gefiillten Schaalen Und dies Manna kann bezahlen. Ach, wie hungert mein Gemiithe, Menschenfreund, nach Deiner Gute; Ach, wie pfleg' ich oft mit Thranen Mich nach dieser Kost zu sehnen; Ach, wie pfleget mich zu diirsten Nach dem Trank des Lebensfiirsten ; Wiinschte stets, dasz mein Gebeine Sich durch Gott mit Gott vereine ! Beides Freude und auch zettern Lasset sich in mir jetzt wettern ; So7igs of other Tongues, etc, 167 Das Geheimnisz diesen Speise Und die unerforschte Wcise Machen dasz ich friih vermerke Herr ! die Grosze deiner Werke. 1st auch wohl ein Mensch zu finden Du dein Allmacht kaun ergrunden? Nein, Vernunft, hier muszt du weichen, Kannst das Wunder nicht erreichen : Dasz diesz Brod nie wird verzehret ; Ob es gleich viel Tausend nahret ; Und dasz mit dem Saft der Reben Uns wird Christi Blut gegeben O der groszen Heimlichkeiten, Die nur Gottes Geist kann deuten ! Jesu, meine Lebenssonne, Jesu, meine Frend' und Wonne, Jesu, Du mein ganz Beginnen, Lebensquell und Licht der Sinnen ! Hier fall ich zu Deinen Fiissen, Laz mich wurdiglich geniessen Diese Deine Himmelsspeise, Mir zum Heil und Dir z..^ Preise. 1 68 Christus ad Portam. Herr, es hat Dein treues Lieben Dich von HimmeJ hergetrieben, Dasz Du willig hast Dein Leben In den Tod fur uns gegeben, Und dazu ganz unverdrossen Herr, Dein Blut fur uns vergossen, Das uns jetz kann kraftig tranken, Deiner Liebe zu gedenken. Jesu, wahres Brod des Lebens, Hilf, dasz ich doch nicht vergebens, Oder mir vielleicht zum Schaden, Sei zu Deinem Tisch geladen. Lasz mich deuch diesz Seelen-essen Deine Liebe recht ermessen, Dasz ich einst, wic jetzt auf erden Mog Dein Gast in Himmel werden. In another version the second verse reads Eile wie Verlobte pflegen, Deinem Brautigam entgegen, Der mit slissen Gnaden worten Klopft an deines Herzens Pforten ! So Jigs of other Tongues, etc. 169 Eile sie Ihm auf zuschliessen, Wirf dich hin zu Seinen Fiissen, Sprich : O Herr, lasz Dich umfassen Von Dir will ich nimmer lassen ! And the fifth is Herr ! ich freue mich mit Beben Dasz Du mir Dich selbst willst geben. Mir Dein Leben zu gewahren Und mich mich Dir selbst zu nahren. Unerforschlich heil'ge Weise ! Wunderbare Seelen Speise ! O wer darf sich unterwinden Diesz Geheimnisz zu ergninden ? The translation (Miss Winkworth's) we copy from an English Choral Book. Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness, Leave the gloomy haunts of sadness, Come into the daylight's splendor, There with joy thy praises render 15 1 70 Christ us ad Port am. Unto Him whose grace unbounded Hath this wondrous banquet founded ; High o'er all the heavens He reigneth, Yet to dwell with thee He deigneth. Hasten as a bride to meet Him, And with loving reverence greet Him. For with words of life immortal Now He knocketh at thy portal ; Haste to ope the gates before Him, Saying, while thou dost adore Him, " Suffer Lord, that I receive Thee, And I never more will leave Thee." Ah ! how hungers all my spirit For the love I do not merit ; Oft have I with sighs fast thronging Thought upon this food with longing ; In the battle well nigh worsted, For this cup of life have thirsted ; For the Friend who here invites us, And to God Himself unites us. Now I sink before Thee lowly, Filled with joy most deep and holy, Songs of other Tongues, etc. 1 7 1 As with trembling awe and wonder On Thy mighty works I ponder ; How, by mystery surrounded, Depths no man hath ever sounded, None may dare to pierce unbidden, Secrets that with Thee are hidden. Sun, who all my life dost brighten, Light, who dost my soul enlighten, Joy, the sweetest man e'er knoweth, Fount, whence all my being floweth, At Thy feet I cry, my Maker, Let me be a fit partaker Of this blessed food from heaven, For our good, Thy glory, given. Jesus, Bread of Life, I pray Thee, Let me gladly here obey Thee. Never to my hurt invited, Be Thy love with love requited ; From this banquet let me measure, Lord, how vast and deep its treasure, Through the gifts Thou here dost give me As Thy guest in heaven receive me. 172 Christ us ad Port am. From Vol. III. of Rambach's Anthologie Christlichen Gesange, we copy the following poem, entitled " Liebe zu Jesu," written by Mar- tin Jahn, another writer of the XVIIth century. The author is betrayed into the errors of the or- dinary German hymn writer, sameness and repeti- tion, but, for all that, the thought is very sweet. "We have failed in our translation to preserve throughout the hymn, the same closing line for each stanza. It will be seen that in the original this is done with but little variation after the first three verses, " Meinen Jesum lasz ich nicht," or " Lasz ich meinen Jesum nicht," being the usual form ; but, so far as possible, we have preserved the feeling of the German. LIEBE ZU JESU. Jesu, meiner Seelen-Wonne, Jesu, meine beste Lust, Jesu, meine Freudensonne, Jesu, dir ist ja bewuszt, Wie ich dich so herzlich liebe Und mich ohne dich betriibe. Drum, O Jesu, komm zu mir, Und bleib bey mir fur und fiir. Songs of other Tongues, etc. i J 3 Kommst du ? Ja, du kommst gegangen, Jesu du bist schon allhier, Klopfest stark und mit Verlangen An' an meine Herzensthiir, Bleib doch nicht, so draussen stehen ! Willst du wieder von mir gehen ? Ach ! ich lasse dich durchaus Nicht weggehn von meinem Haus. Ach ! nun hab ich endlich funden Den, den meine Seele liebt; Der sich mit mir hat verbunden Und sich selbstfur mich hingiebt. Den will ich nun vest umfassen Und durchaus nicht von mir lassen, Bis er mir den Seven spricht ; Meiner Jesum lasz ich nicht. Wohl mir dasz ich Jesum habe ! O wie veste halt' ich ihn, Dasz er mir mein Herze labe, Wenn ich krank und traurig bin ! Jesum hab' ich, der mich liebet Und sein Leben fur mich giebet. is* 1 74 Christus ad Portam. Ach ! drum lasz ich Jesum nicht Wenn mir gleich das Herze bricht. Musz ich alles gleich verlassen, Was ich hab in dieser Welt, Will ich doch im Herzen fassen Meinem Jesum ; der gef allt Mir vor alien andern Schatzen, An dem ich mich kann ergatzen, Er ist meine zuversicht ; Meinen Jesum lasz ich nicht. Ach ! wer wollte Jesum lassen ? Jesum lasz ich nimmermehr. Andre mogen Jesum hassen : Jesum ich allein begehr. In den gut und bosen Tagen, Dasz er mir mein Kreuz hief tragen, Weil er ist der Weg und Licht, Lasz ich meinen Jesum nicht. Wenn ich nur kann Jesum haben, Nach dem Andren frag ich nicht, Er kann meine Seele laben, Und ist meine zuversicht. Songs of other Tongues, etc. 175 In den letzten Todesziigen, Wenn ich hlilflos da miisz liegen, Und mir bricht der Augen Licht, Lasz ich meinen Jesum nicht. Jesus bleibet meine Freude, Meines Herzens Trost und Saft ; Jesus steuret allem Leide ; Er ist meines Lebens Kraft ; Meiner Augen Lust and Sonne, Meiner Seelen Schatz und Wonne, O drum lasz ich Jesum nicht Aus dem Herzen und Gesicht ! I HAVE JESUS. Jesu, Thou my soul's best pleasure ! Jesu, Thou my heart's delight ! Jesu, sunshine without measure, Banishing the darksome night ! Thou dost know how much I. love Thee, How I grieve if Thou remove Thee ; Therefore enter Thou the door, Enter and depart no more. 1 76 Christus ad Portam. Com'st Thou? Yea, the Lord draws nigh, And already, lo ! He knocks ; Knocking loud with strong desire Whilst my soul draws back the locks. Stand not thus without, my Saviour, Wilt Thou rob me of Thy favor ? Thou shalt never turn aside From the house where I abide. Now, at last, my soul hath found Him, Whom alone she joys to see ; Unto me His love hath bound Him, He hath given Himself for me. Never her embrace releasing, Pleads my soul with cries unceasing, Will not let her Jesus go, Till the blessing He bestow. Well for me that I have Jesus ! O how fast to Him I hold ! Well that He my heart refreshes When it weary is and cold. I have Jesus ! Me He loveth, And Himself for me He giveth ; Songs of other Tongues, etc. 177 Ah ! I cannot Christ forsake Even though my heart should break. Called to part with every pleasure Which on earth my soul holds dear, Still I keep my truest treasure ; Jesus whom I love is here. Jesus' love by far exceedeth All for which my weak heart pleadeth ; I rely upon His Word, — Never will I leave my Lord. Ah ! who would from Jesus wander ? I will leave Him never more ; Others hate Him, I grow fonder, Him alone would I adore. In the days of joy or sorrow Strength to bear my cross I borrow From Thy strength, my Light, my Way ; I will never from Thee stray. If I only can possess Thee I will ask for naught beside ; Look, my soul ; one glance can bless thee From Thy Love, the Crucified. 1 78 Christies ad Portam. In Death's bitter hour of anguish, When all helplessly I languish, And Earth's sunlight grovveth dim, I will fix my eyes on Him. Jesus still remains my Gladness, He my Life, my heart's Delight, Jesus banishes all sadness, Is my very being's Might ; Of my eyes the Joy and Brightness, Of my soul the Bliss and Lightness, Therefore shall He ever shine In this heart and face of mine. To this simple expression of child-like love and trust may be added another extract from the Ger- man. Hymn 957, in Knapp's Geistlicher Lieder- schatz, 1865, from the pen of Christoph Karl Lud- wig V.Pfeil, is plain and homely in diction, but very heartful. It is hoped that in its English dress it will not be found that the choicest German char- acteristics of the hymn have disappeared. Auf ! mein Herz, dein Heil ist nahe ; Thu' die Thiir auf, und empfahe Songs of other Tongues, etc. 1 79 Den, der anklopft ; wer ihn horet Und den Eingang ihm gewahret, Zu dem will er sich in Gnaden, Und ihn mit zum Nachtmahl laden. Was hast du ihm vorzusetzen, Ihm sein Herze zu ergotzen? Womit soil er seinen Willen Als dein Gast vergniiglich stillen ? Kannst du Jesum Christum sehen Ungesattigt vor dir gehen ? Fiihr' ihn in des Herzens Kammer, Zeig' ihm deinen ganzen Jammer, Armuth, Elend, Noth und Blosse, Siinden — Meng' und ihre Grosse ? Sage : " Von des Falles wegen 1st dies Alles mein Vermogen. Was ich ausser Diesem habe, 1st, O Herr nur deine Gabe ; Nimm furlieb mit meinem Sehnen, Glaubens — HofFnungs— Liebes — Thranen, Mit dem innigsten Verlangen Deine Gnade zu empfangen ! 1 80 Ch ristus ad Porta in . Nimm forlieb mit deiner Friichten ! Lasz mit eigenen Gerichten, Mir geschenkt durch dein Versiihnen, Dich bevvirthen und bedienen ! Hatt' ich mehr von dir genommen, Konntest du jetzt mehr bekommen. Ober eben, Herr deszwegen, Weil so diirftig mein Vermogen, Gonne mir an deinem Tische, Dasz sich meine Kraft erfrische, Dasz mein Herz schon hier auf Erden Moge ganz dein Schatzhaus werden. Lasz mit dir mich Nachtmahl halten, Dasz die Triebe nicht erkalten, Die aus dir in mir noch leben : Dein Leib, der fur mich gegeben, Und dein Blut, fiir mich vergossen, Mache mich zum Reichs genossen." Rise my heart, the Lord immortal Standeth knocking at thy portal : Songs of other Tongites, etc. 181 Haste to open and receive Him ! Welcome entrance if thou give Him, Heavenly food will He provide thee, And at supper sit beside thee. What hast thou to set before Him ? What libation wilt thou pour Him ? What is there to thee belonging That can satisfy His longing ? Canst thou see the Saviour turning From thy door with hopeless yearning ? To thine inner chamber take Him ; There a full confession make Him. Show thy woe, thy want, thy blindness, Countless sins against His kindness, Say, " Through Adam's sad transgression These, alone, are my possession. All I have beside, dear Saviour, Holding only through Thy favour, Take again ; Thy soul contenting With my sighing and repenting, Tears of faith, and strong endeavor For Thy grace, that faileth never. 16 1 8 2 Christies ad Porta m. Take Thy fruit, content in spirit, . And, through Thine atonement's merit, Of my heart's free choice, O let me Be Thy host, a table set Thee. Had I stored what Thou didst proffer, Now, to Thee, I more could offer. Yet, because of this my fortune, Poor and scanty, set a portion For me at Thy board of blessing, Thus my feeble strength increasing, That my heart, though small of measure, May be store-house for Thy treasure. Supping thus with me, Thy servant, Keep the aspirations fervent, Kindled by Thy love within me. May Thy blood, that flowed to win me, And Thy body, bleeding, broken, Make me heir to joys unspoken." Also from Schmolke's more than eleven hun- dred hymns and sacred poems, we select a few- verses, verses that have a ring to them which our Songs of other Tongues, etc. 183 translation very faintly echoes. This hymn was probably written toward the first of the eighteenth century. Hosianna, David's Sohn Kommt in Zion eingezogen : Auf, bereitet ihm den Thron, Sitzt ihm tausend Ehrenbogen : Streuet Palmen, machet Bahn, Dasz Er Einzug halten kann. Hosianna, sey gegaiiszt, Komm wir gehen dir entgegen ; Unser Herz ist schon geriist't, Will sich dir zu Fiissen legen ; Zeuch zu unsern Thoren ein, Du sollst uns willkommen sein. Hosianna Friedefiirst, Ehrenkonig, Held im Streite ! Alles, was du schaffen wirst, Das ist unsre Siegesbeute : Deine Rechte bleibt erhoht, Und dein Reich allein besteht. 184 Christus ad Portam, Hosianna lieber Gast, Wir sind deine Reichsgenossen, Die du dir erwahlet hast ; Ach, so lasz uns unverdrossen Deinem Scepter dienstbar sein, Herrsche du in uns allein. Hosianna, Komme bald, Lasz uns deine Sauftmuth klissen Wollte gleich die Knechtsgestalt, Deine Majestat verschliessen ; O so kennet Zion schon Gottes und auch David's Sohn. Hosianna nah und fern ! Eile bei uns einzugehen ; Du gesegneter des Herrn, Warum willst du draussen stehen? Hosianna, bist du da ? Ja, du kommst, Halleluja ! Shout hosanna ! David's Son, Now, into His Zion marches ! Songs of other Tongzies, etc. 185 Up, prepare for Him the throne, Wreath for Him triumphal arches ! Strew Him palms, a pathway make, That His entrance He may take ! Shout hosanna ! Thee we greet, Run to meet Thee,. O most Holy, And, made ready at Thy feet, See, our hearts are lying lowly ; Enter Thou our door within, Joyous welcome Thou shalt win. Shout hosanna ! Prince of peace ! Battle hero ! King of glory ! Spoils of victory increase, Won for us, through conflicts gory ; Thine the right we would extol, Thine the kingdom over all. Shout hosanna ! Dearest Guest, We inherit with Thee, reigning. Thou hast loved us, loved us best ; Then, ah ! let us, uncomplaining, Service to Thy sceptre pay ; Rule Thou in our hearts for aye. 16* 1 86 Christus ad Portam. Shout hosanna ! Quickly come ; Let us now adorn Thy meekness. Can Thy Majesty find room In a servant's form of weakness ? Thus to Zion art Thou known, God's, but also David's, Son. Loud hosannas let us shout ! Enter in us, blessed Master. Wherefore dost Thou stand without? Sound hosannas, louder, faster ! Wilt Thou make in us Thy home ? Hallelujah ! Thou art come. From the Gesangbuch zum Geb7'auch Evangel- ischen Briider-gemeinen, Bar by, 1783, we take yet another unpretending, simple welcome to the heart's Guest. The authorship is unknown to us. Its translation is given below : Ach komm, du siisser Herzensgast Du Labsal meiner Seele ! Songs of other Tongues, etc, 187 Bey der du deine Wohnung hast In dieser Jammerhohle. Reut aus, du theures Glaubenspfand ! Was nicht dein eigen heisset ; Ach ! beut dem Willen doch die Hand, Der sich der Welt entreisset. Es schaut dein holder Gnadenblick Die Siindergrust im Herzen, Und zieht sich dennoch nicht zurlick Er sieht auf Christi Schmerzen. Ich offne dir Herz, Seel und Sinn, Mit brunstigem Verlangen, Dich O mein Jesu ! mein Gewinn, Recht freudig zu umfangen. Komm, komm und halt dein Abendmahl Mit deinem schwachem Kind.e ; Dasz deiner siissen Liebe Strahl Mich inniglich entziinde. O da verbindt sich Seel und Gott In recht vertrauter Liebe t 88 Christ us ad Portam. Was ihm zuwider musz in Tod Vor diesem Himmelstriebe. Da liegt des Teufels macht zerstreut, Die Welt ist iiberwunden ; Da fiihrt des Geistes Freudigkeit Die Siindenlust gebunden. Wie leicht ist dann des Heilands Joch, Wie sanft ist seine Blirde ! Ach ! spricht die Seele ; dasz ich doch Ihm ganz zur Freude wiirde ! Du Geist der Gnade ! steh mir bey, Und lasz mich ja nicht fallen ! Mach meinen ganz gewisz und frey, Und leite mich in alien. Ach nim mein Herz, dir ganzlich ein, Und stark es aus der Hohe ! Dann werd ich vblieg selig seyn, Wenn ich einst Jesum sehe. O come, sweet Inmate of my breast, My soul's refreshing gladness, Songs of other Tongues, etc. 189 Thou who dost deign to take Thy rest Even in this cave of sadness. From all that is not truly Thine, Dear Pledge of faith, deliver ; And welcome Thou this will of mine, Which from the world would sever. Thy kindly glance, the sinner's plea For welcome to Thy favor ; Who, if he turn not back, may see The Passion of his Saviour. My heart and soul and mind I ope, With longings there to hold Thee : O Jesus, Thou my Prize, my Hope, Right jo}^ous I enfold Thee. Come, come, and hold Thy evening meal With me, Thy weakest creature ; Thy sweet love's rays, O let me feel, Enkindling all my nature. Ah ! thus the soul to God is chained, To God its love is given. 190 Ch ristus ad Port an 1. Death to whatever would withstand Its upward course to heaven ! The power of Satan scattered lies ; Vanquished the world, so winning ; And now the Spirit's gladsomeness Leads bound all wish for sinning. The Saviour's yoke now groweth light, His burden light of bearing ; Ah ! says the soul, if that I might Please Jesus by the wearing. Spirit of Grace, remain with me, And let me stumble never ; Make my step light, and firm, and free, And guide me on forever. Oh ! bind my heart alone to Thee, And in Thy strength enfold me ; Then will my bliss perfected be, When once mine eyes behold Thee. We cannot close this chapter without adding a Songs of other Tongues, etc. 191 few lines from the Confessions of St. Augustine, taken from Prof. Shedd's edition. The first ex- tract is from II. 2, the second, V. 6. They need no comment. " And how will I call upon my God, my God and Lord, since when I call for Him I shall be calling Him into myself? and what room is there within me whither my God can come into me ? Whither can God come into me, God who made heaven and earth ? Is there, indeed, O Lord my God, aught in me that can contain Thee ? Do then heaven and earth, which Thou hast made, and wherein Thou hast made me, contain Thee ? Or, because nothing which exists could exist without Thee, doth, therefore, whatever exists, contain Thee ? Since then, I, too, exist, why do I seek that Thou shouldest enter into me, who were not, wert Thou not in me ? " The house of my soul is too strait for Thee to come into, but let it, O Lord, be enlarged, that Thou mayst enter in. It is ruinous ; repair Thou it. It has that within, which must offend thine eyes; I confess and know it. But who shall cleanse it ? or to whom should I cry out save Thee ?" CHAPTER III. ASPIRATIONS. Come, dearest Lord, descend and dwell By faith and love in every breast ; Then shall we know, and taste, and feel, The joys that cannot be expressed. Come, fill our hearts with inward strength ; Make our enlarged souls possess, And learn the height and breadth and length Of Thine immeasurable grace. — Watts. IT would be well-nigh impossible to open a collection of hymns in use in Christian churches without finding there, in rhythmic form, many prayers and longings of the soul for Christ's presence in the heart. The fervid Wes- ley sings : Love Divine, all loves excelling ! Joy of heaven, to earth come down ; Fix in us Thy humble dwelling, All Thy faithful mercies crown : (192) i A spirations. 1 9 5 Here, could I say, (And point the spot whereon I stood,) Here I enjoyed a visit half the day From my descending God ; I was regaled with heavenly fare, With fruit and manna from above, Divinely sweet the blessings were While mine Emmanuel was there, And o'er my head The Conqueror spread The banner of His love. And the loving, hopeless, broken-hearted Cow- per complains : Thy mansion is the Christian's heart, O Lord, Thy dwelling place secure ! Bid the unruly throng depart And leave the consecrated door. Devoted as it is to Thee, A thievish swarm frequents the place ; They steal away my joys from me, And rob my Saviour of His praise. 196 Christus ad Portam. There, too, a sharp designing trade Sin, Satan and the world maintain, Nor cease to press me and persuade To part with ease and purchase pain. I know them and I hate their din, Am weary of the bustling crowd ; But while their voice is heard within, I cannot serve Thee as I would. O for the joy Thy presence gives ! What peace shall reign when Thou art here ! Thy presence makes this den of thieves A calm delightful house of prayer. And if Thou make the temple shine, Yet self-abased will I adore ; The gold and silver are not mine, I give Thee what was Thine before. And nearly every hymn-lover can recall, from anonymous sources, lines similar in spirit to the A spiv at ions. 193 Jesus ! Thou art all compassion — Pure, unbounded love Thou art ; Visit us with Thy salvation, Enter every trembling heart. Come, Almighty to deliver, Let us all Thy life receive ; Suddenly return and never, Never more Thy temples leave ! Thee we would be always blessing, Serve Thee as Thy host above, Pray and praise Thee without ceasing, Glory in Thy perfect love. While the sainted Doddridge pleads: Enter our hearts, Redeemer blest ! Enter, Thou ever honoured Guest, Not for one transient hour alone, But there to fix Thy lasting throne. Own this mean dwelling as Thy home, And, when our life's last hour is come, 17 1 94 Christus ad Portarn. Let us but die as in Thy sight, And death shall vanish in delight. All of our best known hymnists have uttered, in different keys, the self-same cry. Watts, in his Lyric Poems, with a few touches of great beauty treats of the indwelling Christ. The whole poem is not to our purpose, but such a stanza as the following, by dwelling upon what has been, feeling- ly implies the longings of the soul for its absent Lord. Happy the times ; but oh ! the times are gone, When wondrous power and radiant grace, Round the tall arches of the temple shone, And mingled their victorious rays. Sin with all its ghastly train Fled to the deeps of death again, And smiling triumph sat on every face. Our spirits, raptured with the sight, Were all devotion, all delight, And loud hosannas sounded the Redeemer's praise. yW/^v Wnx (r^w- , A spiral tons. 199 for all the brotherhood who were his beloved chil- dren, " whose love," he assured them, in dying, " urged him to remain below," he thus lived, and preached, and sang, and died ; " the best monk," says Dr. Martin Luther, " that ever lived." We cannot attempt to give the many English render- ings of this choice hymn of praise. We quote but fifteen of the fifty original Latin quatrains. The selection, we believe, is Trench's. Our first translation, by E. Caswell, is taken from the Lyra Catholica, it being a translation of the abridged form as given, in three parts, in the Roman Bre- viary. In Hymns Ancient and Modern, Mr. Cas- well's verses show some variations from this ver- sion, being there better adapted for music. Jesu ! dulcis memoria ! Dans vera cordi gandia, Sed super mel et omnia Ejus dulcis praesentia. Nil canitur suavius, Nil auditur jucundius, Nil cogitatur dulcius Quam Jesus Dei Filius. /V*v 200 Christus ad Port am. Jesus, spes poenitentibus, Quam pius es petentibus ! Quam bonus te quaerentibus Sed quid invenientibus ? Nee lingua valet dicere, Nee litera exprimere, Expertus potest credere Quid sit Jesum diligere. Jesu, Rex admirabilis, Et Triumphator nobilis, Dulcedo ineffabilis, Toties desiderabilis. Mane nobiscum, Domine, Et nos illustra Lumine ; Pulsa mentis caligine, Mundum replens Dulcedine. Quando cor nostrum visitas Tunc lucet ei Veritas, Mundi silescit vanitas Et intus fervet charitas. A spirations. 197 following, though not always possessing their grace of sweetness. Come, my Redeemer come, And deign to dwell with me ; Come, and Thy right assume, And bid Thy rivals flee : Come, my Redeemer, quickly come, And make my heart Thy lasting home. Exert Thy mighty power And banish all my sin ; In this auspicious hour Bring all Thy graces in : Come, my Redeemer, quickly come, And make my heart Thy lasting home. Rule Thou in every thought And passion of my soul, Till all my powers are brought Beneath Thy full control : Come, my Redeemer, quickly come, And make my heart Thy lasting home. 17* 198 Christies ad Por tarn. Then shall my days be thine, And all my heart be love, And joy and peace be mine, Such as are known above : Come, my Redeemer, quickly come, And make my heart Thy lasting home. The time would fail us were we to tell of the many who have* thus prayed and sung. The tide of such prayer and such singing has rolled and swelled along the ages till the sound is like that of a mighty multitude whom no man can number. Occasionally we catch sweet strains from single voices, as from the " Doctor mellifluus," who sang, says Dr. S chaff, in his Christ i?i Song, " the sweetest and most evangelical hymn of the Mid- dle Ages" — St. Bernard, abbot of Clairvaux, in Champagne. Born of a knightly family in Bur- gundy, reared gently by a noble mother, making, as many a modern saint has done, the groves his temples for God's praise, and " a woodland bower, his oratory," binding his five brothers to him under one monastic roof, and making his monas- tery a dearly loved home, not for them alone, but Aspirations. 203 A sweeter sound than Thy blest name, O Saviour of mankind ! O Hope of every contrite heart ! O Joy of all the meek ! To those who fall, how kind Thou art ! How good to those who seek ! But what to those who find ? Ah ! this Nor tongue nor pen can show ; The love of Jesus, what it is, None but His loved ones know. Jesu ! our only joy be Thou, As Thou our prize shalt be ; Jesu ! be Thou our glory now, And through eternity. II. O Jesu ! King most wonderful ! Thou Conqueror renowned ! Thou Sweetness most ineffable, In whom all joys are found ! 204 Christies ad Po7 r tam. When once Thou visitest the heart, *Then truth begins to shine ; Then earthly vanities depart ; Then kindles love divine. O Jesu ! Light of all below ! Thou Fount of life and fire ! Surpassing all the joys we know, All that we can desire : May every heart confess Thy name, And ever Thee adore ; And seeking Thee, itself inflame To seek Thee more and more. Thee may our tongues forever bless ; Thee may we love alone ; And ever in our lives express The image of Thine own. III. O Jesu ! Thou the beauty art Of angel worlds above ; Aspirations. 201 Jesu, Dulcedo cordium ! Fons vivus, Lumen meritium, Excedens omne gaudium, Et omme desiderium ! Jesum omnes agnoscite, Amorem ejus poscite, Jesum ardenter quaerite, Quaerendo inardescite. (Te nostra, Jesu, vox sonet Nostri Te mores exprimant, Te corda nostra diligant Et nunc et in perpetuum.) Jesu Decus Angelicum, In aure dulce canticum, In ore mel mirificum In corde nectar coelicum. Qui Te gustant esuriunt, Qui bibunt adhuc sitiunt ; Desiderare nesciunt Nisi Jesum Quern diligunt. 202 CJiristus ad Portam. O Jesu, mi dulcissime Spes et spirantis animae, Te quaerunt piae lacrymae, Te clamor mentis intimae. Mane nobiscum Domine Et nos illustra Lumine, Pulsa mentes caligine, Mundum replens dulcedine. Jesus ! Flos Matris Virginis, Amor nostrae dulcedinis, Tibi laus, honor Numinis, Regnum beatitudinis. Jesu ! the very thought of Thee With sweetness fills my breast ; But sweeter far Thy face to see And in Thy presence rest. Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame, Nor can the memory find Aspirations. 207 He only who has proved it knows What bliss from love of Jesus flows. O Jesu, King of wondrous might ! O Victor, glorious from the fight ! Sweetness that may not be expressed, And altogether loveliest ! Abide with us, O Lord, to-day, Fulfill us with Thy grace, we pray ; And with Thine own true sweetness feed Our souls, from sin and darkness freed. And so we might continue, multiplying transla- tions of this precious song, but we turn now to a later singer, Johann Schefner, who wrote in the seventeenth century, and is better known under his adopted name, Angelus Silesius. Born in the Lutheran Church, and then, through the dogma- tism of the surrounding Lutheran clergy driven to Roman Catholicism, his hymns are neither Ro- man nor Lutheran, but purely Christian, and they have spoken comfort to Christians of every name. 208 Christus ad Portam. The translation here given is taken from the Sacrifice of Praise, and is the work of R. P. Dunn. The hymn breathes " the most ardent longing for entire self-surrender" to Christ, which is, writes Miss Winkworth, a characteristic of most of his devotional poems. JESU, JESU, KOMM' ZU MIR. Jesu, Jesu, komm' zu mir ! O wie sehn' ich mich nach dir! Komm', du bester Seelenfreund ! Wann werd' ich mit dir vereint ? Tausendmal begehr' ich dein ; Ohne dich ist Alles Pein ; Tausendmal ruf ich zu dir: Jesu, Jesu, komm' zu mir ! Keine Lust ist in der Welt, Die mein Herz zufrieden stellt. Jesu, deine Lieb' allein Kann mein armes Herz erfreu'n! Aspirations. 205 Thy name is music to the heart, Enchanting it with love. Celestial sweetness unalloyed ! Who eat Thee hunger still ; Who drink of Thee still feel a void Which nought but Thou can fill. O my sweet Jesu ! hear the sighs Which unto Thee I send ; To Thee my inmost spirit cries, My being's hope and end ! Stay with us, Lord, and with Thy light, Illume the soul's abyss ; Scatter the darkness of our night, And fill the world with bliss. O Jesu ! spotless virgin-flower ! Our love and joy ! to Thee Be praise, beatitude, and power, Through all eternity. In Hymnal Noted, is an English version of the 18 206 Christus ad Portam. first portion of this hymn, from the pen of one of the happiest of translators, the late Dr. Neale, and which is copied below : UNTO YOU WHICH BELIEVE HE IS PRECIOUS. Jesu ! the very thought is sweet ! In that dear name all heart joys meet : But oh ! than honey, sweeter far, The glimpses of His presence are. No word is sung more sweet than this; No sound is heard more full of bliss ; No thought brings sweeter comfort nigh Than Jesus, Son of God, Most High. Jesu, the hope of souls forlorn, How good to them for sin that mourn ! To them that seek Thee, oh, how kind ! But what art Thou to them that find ? No tongue of mortal can express, No tongue can write the blessedness ; Aspirations. 209 Herr, du best des Himmels Sicht ! Warest du im Himmel nicht, H'att' er fur mich keinen Schein, Mocht ich nicht darinnen seyn. Nimm nur Alles von mir hin, Was dir gegen deinen Sinn ; Herrsche ganz allein in mir ! Mach' mich ganz zur Freude dir ! Keinem Andern sag' ich zu, ■ Dasz ich ihm mein Herz aufthu' ; Dich alleine lasz ich ein, Dich allefne neun' ich mein. Du allein,, o Gottes Sohn, Bfct mein Schild und grosser Lohn ; Dir, o mein Versohner du, Dir allein gehor ich zu ! O so komm denn in mein Herz, Heile mich von Siind' und Schmerz ; Sieh', ich rufe fiir und fur ; Jesu, Jesu, komm zu mir ! 18* 210 Christies ad Portarn. Nun ich warte, mit geduld, Bitte nur um diese Huld, Dasz du auch in Todespein Wollst mein Licht und Leben seyn. Jesus, Jesus, visit me ! How my soul longs after Thee ! When, my best, my dearest friend, Shall our separation end ? Lord, my longings never cease, Without Thee I find no peace, 'Tis my constant cry to Thee, Jesus, Jesus, visit me. Mean the joys of earth appear, All below is dark and drear, Naught but Thy beloved voice Can my wretched heart rejoice. Thou, alone, my gracious Lord, Art my shield and great reward ; Art my hope, my Saviour Thou, To Thy Sovereign will I bow. Aspirations. 211 Come, inhabit Thou my heart, Purge its sin and heal its smart ; See, I ever cry to Thee, Jesus, Jesus, visit me. Patiently I wait Thy day, For this gift alone I pray, That when death shall visit me, Thou my Light and Life shall be. From a hymn of the noble Count Zinzendorf, who wrote yet later, we quote a stanza or two, breathing the same self-consecration. Da ist mein Herz, du Herz der Seele ! Erwahl' es dir zum Konigssaal ! Er ist zwar eine enge Hohle, Und deiner Full' ist Keine Zahl ! Doch deine Liebe, die dich nieder In mein verlor'nes Wesen zog Und deine Gottheit uberwog, Die ziehe dich auch jetzo wieder. * 2 1 2 Christus ad Portam. Hier ist der Ort, hier sollst du wohnen ; Hier soil die hochste Majestat Als auf dem Stuhl der ehre thronen ; Dein Friedens grusz sey mein Gebet, Dein Scepter sey mein ganzer Wille, Dein Reich sey Leib und Seel' und Geist, Darin sich deine Macht erwei-st, Dein Ruh' bett meine Seelenstille ! Which translated might read something as fol- lows : Heart of my soul, my heart I proffer, Thy royal palace let it be ; A dismal, narrow cave I offer To hold Thy boundless majesty. But yet the love, all condescending, Unto my utter weakness shown, Which laid Thy mighty Godhead down, Will make Thy work of grace unending. This be Thy place of habitation, The highest majesty shall here Aspirations. 213 As on a throne, assume its station ; Thy peaceful greeting be my prayer ; As scepter take my will, made holy ; Body and soul, Thy kingdom blest, Wherein Thy power is manifest ; My soul's hush, be thy couch full lowly. • John Byrom, too, a gentleman of Manchester, England, told in the last century, in words which the church delights to make her own, of fervent longings for his Lord. This hymn is found in nearly every modern collection for Sabbath ser- vice in the Lord's house. LONGING FOR CHRIST. My spirit longs for Thee Within my troubled breast, Although I be unworthy Of so Divine a Guest. Of so Divine a Guest Unworthy though I be, 2 1 4 Christies ad Portam. Yet has my heart no rest Unless it come from Thee. Unless it come from thee, In vain I look around ; In all that I can see No rest is to be found. No rest is to be found But in Thy blessed love ; O let my wish be crowned, And send it from above. Coming down to our times, we find a " Supplica- tion " of Jean Ingelow's, in the little volume of Hymns for all C/iristians, compiled by Charles F. Deems and that earnest hymn lover, Phoebe Cary. The prayer is one in spirit with" those of earlier times which we have quoted. O God, O Kinsman, loved, but not enough ; O man, with eyes majestic after death, Whose feet have toiled along our pathways rough, Whose lips, drawn human breath ! Aspirations. 215 By that one likeness which is ours and Thine ; By that one nature which doth hold us kin ; By that high heaven where sinless Thou dost shine, To draw us sinners in ; By Thy last silence in the judgment-hall ; By long foreknowledge of the deadly tree ; By darkness, by the wormwood and the gall, I pray Thee, visit me. Come, lest this heart should, cold and cast- away, Die ere the Guest adored she entertain — Lest eyes which never saw Thine earthly day Should miss Thy heavenly reign. And deign, O watcher, with the sleepless brow, Pathetic in its yearning, — deign reply : 2 1 6 Christ us ad Portam. Is there, oh ! is there aught that such as Thou — Wouldst take from such as I ? And two of the sweetest hymnists of modern times, Bonar and Lyte, have each uttered their prayer — echoed back from the evening when He drew near Emmaus — "Abide with me." That of Lyte we all remember, remembering, too, it was his Swan Song, so we keep it for our last. Bonar's, taken from the 2d series of his Hymns of Faith and Hope, may be less familiar. ABIDE WITH US. Luke xxiv. 29. ' TlS evening now ! O Saviour wilt not Thou Enter my home and heart, Nor ever hence depart, Even when the morning breaks, And e^rth again awakes. Thou wilt abide with me, And I with Thee. A spirations. 21 J The world is old ! Its air grows dull and cold ; Upon its aged face The wrinkles come apace ; Its western sky is wan, Its youth and joy are gone. O Master, be our light, When o'er us falls the night. Evil is round ! Iniquities abound ; Our cottage* will be lone When the great Sun is gone ; O Saviour, come and bless, Come share our loneliness ; We need a comforter, Take up Thy dwelling here. In the quiet parish of Brixham, admonished by his failing health, Lyte bade a farewell to his people. On that last Sabbath he preached of the Holy Communion, and then once more adminis- tered it to his loving flock. On that same even- 19 2 1 8 Christus ad Port a in. ing he gave into the hands of a dear friend this his last hymn, and then, living only until he reached Nice, he entered into that closer com- munion of which Jesus spake to His own when He promised to drink of the fruit of the vine with them in His Father's kingdom. For this disciple there was not long to wait ; but almost as if, on the instant of his prayer, the angel had been caused to fly swiftly to bear him answer from the King, because he was greatly beloved, he saw at once — "Heaven's morning break, and earth's vain shadows flee ;" and now he abideth with his Lord. ABIDE WITH ME. Abide with me ! Fast falls the even-tide ! The darkness deepens : Lord, with me abide ! When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me ! Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; Earth's joys grow dim ; its glories pass away ; A spirations. 219 Change and decay in all around T see ; Thou who changest not,, abide with me ! Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word ; But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord, Familiar, condescending, patient, free, Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me ! Come not in terrors, as the King of kings ; But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings ; Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea* ; Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide with me. Thou on my head in early youth didst smile, And though rebellious and perverse mean- while, Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee : On to the close, O Lord, abide with me ! 1 need Thy presence every passing hour. What but Thy grace can foil the Tempter's power? 2 2o Christies ad For tarn. Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me ! I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless : Ills have no weight, and tear's no bitterness. Where is Death's sting ? where, Grave, thy victory ? I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies : Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee. In life and death, O Lord, abide with me ! Berryhead, September, 1847. So have the many who have led the church in psalms, and hymns, and spiritual songs, prayed and sung ; and if we cannot^ like them, voice Aspirations. 221 forth our prayers and longings, yet He who know- eth the heart seeth whether we are making ready for His approach, and sighing for the hour when He shall come. If thus (though all silently), we are seeking Him whom our soul loveth, His quick ear catches the melody in our hearts which He loves best to hear, better than all tuneful measures of sweet instruments, better than pleasant words of rhythmic sound. If now we stand thus, voiceless but praiseful, whilst a godly priest ut- tereth his prayer; if our hearts respond to each petition and our voices join in the grand " amen " sounding from century to century, on Christian tongues, since Jeremy Taylor, devout as he was eloquent, first put this craving of the heart into words, doubt not that He will hear in heaven His dwelling place and send to our yearning hearts His answer of peace. Let us pray : — " Lord, Thou shalt 'find my heart full of cares and worldly desires, cheated with love of riches, and neglect of holy things, proud, and unmorti- fied, false and crafty to deceive itself, intricated and entangled with difficult cases of conscience, with knots which my own wildness, and inconsid- eration, and impatience, have tied and shuff^d 19* . 222 Christus ad Portam . together. my dearest Lord, if Thou canst be- hold such an impure seat, behold, the place, to which Thou art invited, is full of passion and prejudice, evil principles and evil habits, peevish and disobedi- ent, lustful and intemperate, and full of sad remem- brances, that I have often provoked to jealousy and to anger Thee, my God, my dearest Saviour, Him that died for me, Him that suffered torments for me, that is infinitely good to me, and infinitely good and perfect in Himself. This, dearest Saviour, is a sad truth, and I am heartily ashamed, and truly sorrowful for it, and do deeply hate all my sins, and am full of indignation against myself for so unworthy, so careless, so continued, so great a folly ; and humbly beg of Thee to increase my sorrow, and my care, and my hatred, against sin ; and make my love to Thee swell up to a great grace, and then to glory and immensity. Therefore, O blessed Jesus, who art my Saviour and my God, whose body is my food, and Thy righteousness is my robe, thou art the Priest and the Sacrifice, the Master of the feast and the feast itself, the Phy- sician of my soul, the Light of mine eyes, the Puri- fier of my stains : enter into my heart, and cast out fro^xi thence all impurities, all the remains of the old A spirations. 223 man. O now come, Lord Jesus, come quickly : my heart is desirous of Thy presence and thirsty of Thy grace, and would fain entertain Thee, not as a guest, but as an inhabitant, as the Lord of my faculties. Enter in and take possession, and dwell with me forever ; that I also may dwell in the heart of my dearest Lord, which was opened for me with a spear and love." Amen. INDEX TO FIRST LESTES. PAGB • Abide with me, fast falls the evening tide H. F. Lyte. 218 Ach, komm, du siisser Herzengast Anon. 186 Amazing sight I the Saviour stands Anon. 36 And a soft, fluttering stir passed over all J. Ingelow. 71 And how will I call upon my God ? St. Augustine. 191 And will the Lord thus condescend ? Mrs. Steele. 34 A stranger in the pale moonlight H.N. Oxenham. 59 Auf ! mein Herz, dein Heil ist nahe Ludwig v. Pfeil. 178 A wounded hand doth knock upon thy door Grace Wehster Hinsdale. 65 Batter my heart, three-personed God, for you . .Dr. John Donne. 128 Behold, a Stranger 's at the door Joseph Grigg. 31 Behold, I knock, at holy Advent, see . . . Tr. from German hy J. E. A..Brown. 114 Behold, I stand at the door and knock G. Moultrie, M. A. 53 Behold, poor man, to what high joys Tr. from German. 109 Cease ye from man's delusive word Charlotte Elizabeth. 47 Christ, He requires still wheresoe'er He comes Herrick. 51 Come, dearest Lord, descend and dwell "Watts. 192 -. Come, my Redeemer, come Anon. 197 Da ist mein Herz, du Herz der Seele ! Count Zinzendorf 211 Deck thyself, my soul, with gladness Tr. from German by Miss Winkworth. 169 Doth He who came the lost to seek ? » J. L. 60 Eia dulcis anima Munich MS. XV. Century. 99 Enter our hearts, Redeemer blest Doddridge. 193 God calling yet. and shall I never hearken Tr. from German by J. Borthwick. 105 » God calling yet, shall I not hear Tr. from German. 106 Gott rufet noch Tersteegen. 102 (225) 226 Index to First Lines. Hail, Thou who from heaven on high . . . .Tr. from Latin by J. D. Chambers. 150 Happy the times, but ah ! the times are gone Watts. 194 Haste, my soul, thou sister sweet — Tr. from Latin by J. D. Chambers. 100 Hear what the Lord, the great Amen John Newton. 45 Heart of my soul, my heart I proffer Tr. 212 Hosianna David's Sohn .' B. Schmolke. 183 How long must the Saviour stand knocking and waiting ? Tr. from German. 112 How shall I meet Thee, how my heart Tr. from German by Miss Winkworth. 157 I have a wonderful Guest Anon. 139 I lift my heart and eyes to Thee Toplady. 13 In the moonlight, when no murmur from the haunts of men is heard.... B. A. 19 In the silent midnight watches Rev. A. C. Coxe. 64 I wait, saith Jesus, at your door Anon. 37 I will return unto the Lord ...Tr. from German by Miss C. Winkworth. 163 Jesu, dulcis memoria St. Bernard of Clairvaux. 199 Jesus, gentlest Saviour F. W. Faber. Introduction, ix Jesu, Jesu, komm' zu mir Angelus Silesius. 208 Jesus, Jesus, visit me Tr. by R. P. Dunn. 210 Jesu, meiner Seelen-wonne Martin Jahn. 172 Jesu, the very thought of Thee Tr. from Latin by E. Caswell. 202 Jesu. the very thought is sweet. Tr. from Latin by J. M. Neale. 206 Jesu, Thou my souPs best pleasure Tr. from German. 175 King of glory, looking love and meekness. . . J .Wilson Ward, Jr. 141 Knocking, knocking, ever knocking Mrs. H. E. B. Stowe. 15 Let Christ, the glorious Lover Anon. 41 Lord, Thou hast sought this wayward heart in vain... W. R. Weale. 21 Lord, Thou shalt find my heart, etc Jeremy Taylor. 221 Lord, what am I, that with unceasing care — Tr. from Spanish by H. W. Longfellow. 119 Love Divine, all loves excelling C Wesley. 192 My soul, my soul arise Tr. from Greek. 97 My spirit longs for Thee J. Byrom. 213 Index to First Lines. 227 Now is the time, the accepted hour Cowper 39 Now see ye qui and for quas sake Old English. 145 O hlest the land, the city blest Tr. from German by Miss Winkworth. 160 O, come, sweet inmate of my breast Tr. from German. 188 O God, O Kinsman, loved, but not enough Jean Ingelow. 214 O Jesu, Thou art standing Eev. W. Walsham How. 134 Open to me, my sister A. K. C. 57 Out on the world unheeded came there One at midnight hour. E. L. L. 130 O, wohl dem Land, o wohl dem Stadt Geo. Weiszel. 160 Que tengo yo, que mi amistad procuras ? Lope de Vega. 118 Eise, my heart, the Lord immortal . . .Tr. from German of Lud- wig v. Pfeil. 180 Salve Saluberrima Munich MS. XV. Century. 146 Schau'. armer Mensch ! zu diesem Gliick J C. Storr. 108 Schmiicke dich, O liebe Seele J. Frank. 165 Shout hosanna ! David's son. . .Tr. from German of B. Schmolke. 184 Sinners, behold the Saviour stands Anon. 38 Sinner, careless, proud, and cold Phoebe Cary. 67 Sinner, rouse thee from thy sleep Anon. 30 Son of Man, my heart within A. L. Waring. 136 Speechless Sorrow sat with me H. McE. Kimball. 143 The night is far spent and the day is at hand. . Herbert Kynaston. 62 The pearly, purple clearness Anon. 23 Thy God was making haste into thy roof Crashaw. 125 Thy mansion is the Christian's heart Cowper. 195 'T is evening now H. Bonar. 216 Unfold your gates and open • Anon. 129 Visit, then, this soul of mine C. Wesley. Introduction, viii Wie lange musz Jesus doch bey uns anklopfen Anon. 110 Wie soil ich dich empfangen ? 154 When wilt Thou come unto me, Lord?... Rev. Thos. Shepard. Introduction, vi Why not now, my God, my God? C. Wesley. Introduction, vii You have denired o.i this day, etc Pere Hyacinthe. 120 ESTDEX OF AUTHORS AND SOURCES QUOTED IN THIS COLLECTION. Abide with Me. Rev. H. F. Lyte. Miscellaneous Poems, by Henry Francis Lyte, M. A., Late Incumbent of Lower Brixham, Devon. Pub. by A. D. F. Randolph, New York. Abide with Us. Rev. H. Bonar. Hymns of Faith and Hope, 2d series. By Horatius Bonar. D.D., Kelso. Robert Carter & Brothers, New York. Ach komm, du susser Herzengast. Anon. Gesangbuch zum gebrauch der evangelischen Bruder-gemeinen. Barby, 1783. Advent. Tr. from German of K. Gerok, by J. E. A. Brown. From Palm Leaves, tr. from the German of Karl Gerok, by J. E. A. Brown. Strahan & Co., London. Amazinar Sight ! The Saviour Stands. Anon. The Psalmist. Auf, mein Herz. Cbristoph Karl Ludwig v. Pfeil. Knapp's Geist- licher Liederschatz, 1865. Hymn 957. Behold, poor man. Tr. from German of Dr. Johann C. Storr. Behold, thy King Cometh to Thee. Anon. Kennedy's Hymnologia Christiana. Brothers and a Sermon. Jean Ingelow. From Poems by Jean In- gelow. Roberts Brothers, Boston. Christ's Address to the Church of Laodicea. Rev. John Newton. Olney Hymns. Christ's Condescension. Mrs. Anna Steele. From Theodosia. Christ Knocking at the Heart. Grace Webster Hinsdale. New York Independent. Come, my Redeemer, come. Anon. (228) ' Index of A uthors. 229 Da ist Mein Herz. Part of a hymn, by Count Zinzendorf. beginning, " Mein Freund, wie dank' ich's deiner Liebe ? Knapp's Lieder- scbatz. No. 1809. Deck Thyself, My Soul, with Gladness. From German of Johann Frank, by Miss C. Winkworth. The Choral Book. Enter our Hearts. Part of hymn beginning, " Come, our Indulgent Saviour, come," by Dr. Philip Doddridge. From Hymns founded on various tests in the Holy Scriptures. Pub. from the Author's manuscript by Job Orton. 1755. Exhortatio animae ad sumendum Corpus Christi. Munich MS., XV. Century. Mone's Lateinischen Hymnen. No. 231. God calling yet, and shall, etc. Tr. from Tersteegen, by Jane Borth- wick. Hymns from the Land of Luther. God calling yet, shall I not hear? Tr. from Tersteegen. Golden Moments. Gott rufet doch. Gerhard Tersteegen. Knapp's Liederschatz, No. 1317. Happy the Times. From a lyric beginning, "Dear Sovereign, hear Thy servant pray, by Dr. I. Watts. Lyric Poems, by Dr. Isaac Watts. 1694. Haste, My Soul. Tr. from a Munich MS. of XV. Century, by John David Chambers, M.A. From Lauda Syon. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not. E. L. L. From Lyra Eucharista. Ld. by Rev. Orby Shipley, M. A. 1869. London. Heart of my Soul, my Heart I proffer. Tr. from German of Count Zinzendorf. Herein is Love. J. L. 1837. Hymns for Divine Worship, compiled for the New Methodist Connection. John Cooke, London. Holy Sonnet. Batter my Heart. Dr. John Donne. Holy Sonnets, XXL The British Poets. Hosianna, David's Sohn. B. Schmolke. How Long? Tr. from German by S. H. W. How shall I meet Thee? Tr. from Gerhardt, by Miss Winkworth. I wait, saith Jesus. Part of an anonymous hymn beginning, " Where, saith the mourner." Hymns and Spiritual Songs, compiled by Eeuben Peaslee, 1829. 20 230 Index of Authors. If any Man hear My Voice, etc. Mrs. Anna L. Waring. Hymns and Meditations, by Anna L. Waring. Strahan & Co., London. I will return. Tr. from Electress Louisa Henrietta, by Miss C. Wink- worth. From Christian Singers of Germany, by C. Winkworth. MacMillan & Co., Philadelphia. Jesu, dulcis memoria. St. Bernard of Clairvanx. Jesu, Jesu, Komm zu mir. Angelus Silesius. Knapp's Lieder- schatz, No. 18-24. Jesus. Jesus, visit me. Tr. from Angelus Silesius, by R. P. Dunn. The Sacrifice of Praise. Jesu, the very thought of Thee. Tr. by E. Caswell, from the Latin of St. Bernard. Lyra Catholica. Jesu, Thou my SouPs best Pleasure. Tr. from German of Martin Jahn, by S. H. W. Knocking, ever Knocking. Mrs. Harriet E. B. Stowe. Shadow of the Rock, compiled and pub. by Anson D. F. Randolph, 1867. Laodicea, Mrs. Tonna. Poems by Charlotte Elizabeth. Liebe zu Jesu. Martin Jahn. Rambach's Anthologie Christlichen Gesange. Vol. HI. Longing for Christ. John Byrom. Plymouth Collection. Love Divine, all loves excelling. Chas. Wesley. Hymns for Meth. Epis. Ch. My Guest. Anon. The Changed Cross. Compiled and pub. by A. D. F. Randolph, New York. Now is the Time. From A Warning to Sinners to Floe, etc. Divine Hymns, collected by Joshua Smith and others, with additions by Wm. Northrup. Norwich, Conn., 1811. O blest the Land, etc. From a hymn beginning, " Lift up your heads, ye mighty gates." Tr. by Miss C. Winkworth, from the German of George Weiszel. Lyra Germanica. O, come, Sweet Inmate of my breast. Tr. from German by S. H. W. O Jesu. Thou art Standing. Rev. W. Walsham How. Hymns An- cient and Modern. O wohl dem Land, O wohl der Stadt. George Weiszel. Oratio Praparatoria ad sacram Communionem. Munich MS., XV. Century. From Mone's Lateinischen Hymnen, No. -233. Index of A uthors. 2 3 1 Rise, my Heart. Tr. from German of C. K. Lud wig v. Pfeil, by S. H.W. Salve Saluberrima. Tr. from Latin of Munich MS. XV. Century, by John David Chambers, M. A. Lauda Syon. Scbau, armer Mensch ! Dr. Johann Christian Storr, from Knapp's Liederschatz. No. 1479. Schmiicke dich. Johann Frank. Shout Hosanna ! Tr. from German Hymn of B. Schmolke, by S. H. W. Sinners invited to Christ. Anon. Original and. Select Hymns and. Spiritual Songs for the use of Christian Societies. John Tiebout. New York, 1807. Soneti XVIH. Lope de Vega Carpio. From Obras de Lope de Vega, Vol. XIII. Supplication. Jean Ingelow. Hymns for all Christians, compiled by Charles F. Deems and Phcebe Cary. New York. 1869. Sups with Me. Miss Harriet McEwen Kimball. Christus Consolator, compiled by Rev. A. C. Thompson, 1869. The Heart's Song. Rev. Arthur Cleveland Coxe, D.D. Christian Ballads. The Heavenly Courtier. Anon. Divine Hymns, collected by Joshua Smith and others, with additions by Wm. Northrup. Norwich, Conn, 1811. The Heavenly Stranger. A Stranger, etc. H. N. Oxenham. The Sentence of Kaines. Shrimpton, 1854. The Heavenly Stranger. Behold, a Stranger, etc. Joseph Grigg. From Sir Roundell Palmer's Book of Praise. The Homeless Wayfarer. Rev. J. Wilson Ward, Jr. The Light of the World. In the moonlight, etc. B. A. Brasenose Col., England. From the Shadow of the Rock, compiled and pub. by A. D. F. Pandolph, New York, 1867. The Light of the World. Lord, Thou hast sought. W. R. Weale. From The Shadow of the Rock, compiled and pub. by A. D. F. Randolph, New York, 1867. The Light of the World. The pearly, purple clearness, etc. Anon. The People's Magazine. The Man of Sorrows. Rev. Gerald Moultrie, M.A. Hymns and Lyrics for the Seasons and Saints, 1862. Days of the Church. London. Joseph Masters. The Morning Watch. Rev. Herbert Kynaston, D.D. Occasional Hymns. The Night Song. A. R. C. Lyra Consolationis, ed. by Rev. H. Bonar. -o- Ifidcx of Authors. Thy Mansion i> the Christian Heart. Wm. Cowper. Olney Hymns. To-morrow. From Spanish of Lope de Vega, by H. W. Longfellow. Poems by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Ticknor & Fields, Boston. Unto You which Believe. Tr. from the Latin of St. Bernard of Clairvaux. by Dr. J. M. Neale. Hymnal Noted. Wie soil ich dich empfangen. Paul Gerhardt. Knapp's Liederschatz, No. 302. Wie lange? Anon. Gesangbuch zum Gebrauch der evangelischen Brader-gemeinen. Barby, 1783. Ye did it unto Me. Phoebe Cary. New York Independent. I ■ s m I ^H ■ ■ I I ■ ■ ■ .*il / g3*£*&&»