txru. A. ik-A. AyJL.X*y~k. <<& 9 *frt* C >M fi vy/ FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY /V33I SONGS: SACRED AND DEVOTIONAL. EDITED AND SELECTED BY J. E. CARPENTER, AUTHOR OF "DEVOTIONAL MELODIES," " SABBATH RECREATIONS,' "WHAT ARE THE WILD WAVES SAYING? ' ETC. LONDON: FREDERICK WARNE & CO, BEDFORD STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1866. m To GLfyz fEetnorg of My Dear Son, Joseph Marshall Carpenter, in the faith that he has realised his dying words, " I believe that there is a tangible heaven" £ Srtfcate the following pages. J. E. CARPENTER. PREFACE. *T*HE Sacred and Devotional Song Book will be found to differ from most other compilations of sacred verse, inasmuch as it will comprise, with but few exceptions, only such pieces as have been set to original music, or are capable of being sung to well-known and approved tunes. Where the airs are original, the names of the composers are given \ in the other instances, the selection of the tune is left to the judgment of the reader — a task of no great difficulty with those who are in the habit of selecting hymn tunes. As a matter of convenience, the work is divided into two parts, — the first is composed of songs of a moral and religious tendency, inculcating some religious truth or illustrating some one of the Christian virtues ; the second, or devotional section, comprises only songs of a strictly religious character, in the popular acceptation of this term \ these are arranged as nearly as possible as their subjects relate to the "rites and ceremonies of the Church," as set forth in the calendar attached to the Book of Common Prayer. The hymns selected repre- sent all the best writers in this class of literature, ancient vi Preface. and modern, and it is confidently hoped that, while the sources from whence they sprung may be many and varied, it will be found that the stream is pure, and the doctrine they inculcate that founded on the broad principles of Christian faith. To those high dignitaries of the Church, those reve- rend divines, and others, as well as to the publishers, owners of the copyright of many of the songs and hymns contained in the following pages, who have so generously granted the compiler permission to include them here, he begs to tender his most grateful acknowledgments, and to express a hope that the good seed he has thus been enabled to scatter may spring up in the hearts of his readers and bear fruit abundantly. Notting Hill, August 1865. LIST OF AUTHORS REFERRED TO IN THE FOLLOWING PAGES. ( The dates in parentheses denote the time of original publication. ) ^utfjors ©eceasefc. Addison, Joseph Akenside, Mark Austin, John, (1668) Austice, Professor Joseph, (1836 Burns, Robert Bathurst, William Hiley, (1831) Bayly, Thomas Haynes . Barbauld, Anna L e titia, Mrs Brooks, Maria, Mrs Bowles, Rev. William Lisle Browne, Rev. Simon Bakewell, John, (1760) . Bowdler, John, (1814) Berridge, John, (1785) . Byron, Lord Bruce, Michael . Beddome, Benjamin, (18 18) Collyer, William Bengo, (181 2) Campbell, Thomas Crashaw, Richard BORN DIED I672 1719 1721 I770 1759 1796 1797 1839 1743 1825 1795 1845 1762 1850 — 1732 1788 1824 1746 1767 1777 1615 1844 1652 Vlll L ist of A uthors. Cotton, Nathaniel, M.D. Covper, William Chatterton, Thomas Coleridge, Samuel Taylor Cunningham, Allan Clubbe,Rev. W. Cotterill, Rev. Thomas, (1S10) Cawood, John, (1816) Dryden, John Doddridge, Rev. Philip, D.D. Elliott, Ebenezer Erskine, Ralph, (1734) . Edmeston, James, (1S20) Gibbons, Thomas, (1784^ Grant, Sir R, (1S06) Gurney, The Rev. John Hampton, (1S51) Hawkesworth, John, LL.D. Herrick, Robert . Hemans, Felicia, Mrs Heber, Bishop Reginald Herbert, George . Hood, Thomas . Hogg, James Hume, A., (16th century) Hammond, William, (1 7-45^ Hill, Rev. Rowland Home, Bishop Hum, Rev. William, (1813) Jefferys, Charles . Jonson, Ben Kennick, John, (1742) Ken, Bishop Thomas Kelly, Thomas, (1804) BORN DIED 1707 I7S8 1731 1S00 I75 2 1770 1772 1834 I7S4 1S42 1S14 1631 1700 1702 1 751 irsi 1637 IS49 1715 1773 1591 1661 1793 1S35 I7S3 1S26 1593 1633 1798 i«45 i83S 1744 1S33 1730 1792 1S0S 1S65 1574 1637 1711 List of Authors. IX Logan, John, (1770) Lyte, Rev. Henry Francis, (1832) Mason, John Moore, Thomas . Moore, Henry, (1806) Marvel, Andrew . More, Hannah, Mrs Mayho, Sarah E., Miss Maclean, Mrs, "L. E. L. Montgomery, James Milton, John Morrison, John, (1770) Medly, Samuel, (1798) Morley, Samuel, (1800) Marriott, John, (18 16) Mason, Rev. William Newton, Rev. John Proctor, Adelaide A., Miss Pope, Alexander . Pearson, Rev. Edward, (1806) Richardson, Charlotte, Mrs, (1806) Richards, Samuel, (1825) Roberts, Rev. R., (1806) Ryland, John Shakespeare, William Shirley, James Sigourney, Mrs L. H. Staite, W. Edwards Southwell, Robert Southey, Caroline, Mrs Scott, Sir Walter . Seagrave. Robert, (1748) Skelton, Rev. Phillip Swain, Joseph, (1792) 1706 1763 1780 1852 1620 1678 1745 1833 1819 1848 1802 1838 1771 1854 1608 1674 1725 1797 1725 1807 1834 1864 1688 1744 1792 1564 1616 1594 1666 1 791 1865 ■ 1852 1560 1595 1787 1854 1771 1832 1707 1787 List of Authors. Thompson, James Tate, Nahum Toplady, Rev. Augustus Montague, Waller, Edmund . Wordsworth, William Wilson, Tohn White, H. Kirke . Wither, George Wotton, Sir Henry Watts, Isaac, D.D. Worthington, Jane T., Mr Wesley, Rev. Charles Williams, William, (1772 Young, Edward BORN DIED I700 I74S I652 I740 1778 I603 1687 I770 I85O 1785 I854 I78S l806 1588 I667 1568 l639 I674 1748 1708 1765 2Libmg 3utlj0ts* Adams, S. F. Alexander, Mrs Cecil Frances, Alford, The Yery Rev. Henry, Dean of Canterbury Baker, Rev. Sir Henry, Bart Banks, George L. Banks, Mrs G. L. Bennett, William C. Bellamy, W. H. Blackwell, Anna Bonar, Rev. Horatius, D.D. Brooks, Mrs Maria Browne, T. B. Bruton, James Carey, Phcebe Carpenter, Joseph Edwards Chandler, Rev. John L ist of A utkorSn xi Cornwall, Barry (W. B. Proctor) Conder, Josiah Cook, Miss Eliza Craig, Miss Isa De Vere, Aubery Dix, William C. Dowton, Henry Duff, John Elliott, Miss Charlotte Embury, Mrs Emma C. Faber, Frederick W. Friswell, J. Hain Gould, Hannah F. Grigg, J- Grinfield, Thomas Hibberd, James Shirley Howitt, Mrs Mary Houghton, Lord Howe, Mrs Julia Ward Howe, William Walsham Hunt, John Keble, Rev. John Kingsley, Rev. Charles Little wood, W. C. Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth Lynch, Miss Ann C. Lowell, J. R. Mant, Bishop Richard Mackay, Charles, LL.D. Massey, Gerald Macarthy, D. F. Mayho, Miss Sarah E. xii L ist of A utliors. Marchmont, Rev. Henry May, Miss Caroline Milman, Very Rev. II. H. ? Dean of St Paul's Mills, Susan L. Monsell, Rev. John S. B., D.D, Neale, Rev. John Mason Noel, Hon. and Rev. Baptist Osgood, Mrs Frances S. Palgrave, Francis Turnei Prince, John Critchley Russell, Rev. Arthur Toser Roberts, Elizabeth P. Sargeant, Anna Maria Stanley, Very Rev. A. P., Dean of Westminster Trench, The Most Rev. R. C, Archbishop of Dublin Tennyson, Alfred, D.C.L., P.L. Watmough, Ernest Whittier, J. G. Willard, Mrs Wilberforce, The Right Rev. Samuel, Bishop of Oxford Williams, Rev. Isaac Worthington, Mrs Jane T. CONTENTS. PUBLISHERS. PAGE Abide with Me, Rivington, 280 A Child's Hymn, Blackie and Son, 128 A Child at Prayer, Purday % IOI A Death Scene, ■ 40 Advent Hymn, Novello, 246 Affliction, _ 1 SS A Hundred Years, J. Chapman, 90 Almighty God, Addison and Co., 121 A Mother's Fears, no A Morning Hymn, . 357 Anticipations of Heaven, F. Warne and Co. , 3S0 Angels' Visits, J. Williams, 120 Angel of Charity, Addison and Co., 47 An Evening Hymn, Rivington, 366 A Prayer in Sickness, Moxon and Co., 106 A Prayer in Prospect of Death, D'A Imaine and Co . , 106 A Sunday Hymn, Novello, 370 As down in the Sunless Retreats, Addison and Co., 9 Awake, arise, thy Light is come, Addison and Co., 159 Baptismal Hymn, Alacmillan, 372 Babylon, . Cramer and Co., 95 Beautiful Cloud, R. Cocks and Co. , 43 Beautiful Dove, J. Blockley, 99 Bearing the Cross, A'ovello, 296 Before Jehovah's awful Throne, Novello, 242 Behold the Sun, Addison and Co., 207 XIV Contents. PUBLISHERS. PAGE Be not Afraid, 'tis I, . R. Cocks and Co., 138 Beneath the Cross, 293 Blessed are the Pure in Spirit, Metzler and Co., 169 Blessed are the Dead, JSIetzler and Co., J 97 Blessed are those who Fear the Lord, Dujff 'a?id Co., 355 Boatman's Hymn, Moxon and Co., 38 Brightest and Best, Jeffays, 220 Bubbles under Ice, Moxon and Co., 36 Burial Anthem, Murray, 210 By the Rivers of Babylon, Lonsdale, 131 Calm, . "Johnstone a?id Co., 273 Calvary, . Novello, 2S9 Christ Crucified, Murray, 288 Christ Risen, Novello, 308 Christ the Lord is Born to-day, Novello, 249 Christ the Lord is Risen to-day, Novello, 310 Christ's Followers, Novello, 35i Christ's Ascension, Christmas, . Christmas Day, 311 88 247 Christmas Hymn, Novello, 252 Christmas Morn, Moxon and Co. , 170 Christian Courage, Rivington, 3i Children Praising Christ, F. Warm and Co. 377 Charity, . Jeferys, i 4 o Church Music, F. Wame and Co., 9 Come, ye Disconsolate, Addison and Co., 14 Come not, O Lord, Addison and Co., 213 Come to Me, . L. Booth, 322 Communion Hymn, . j/ * Consider the Ravens, J. Williams, 5i Cradle Song, Routledge, '35 Death's Final Conquest, Cramer and Co. , 30 Death of a Christian, Longman and Co., 47 Delight in the Lord, . 281 - 4 Different Minds, Parker, 190 Earth and Heaven, Macmillan, «S Contents. xv PUBLISHERS. PAGE Epiphany Hymn, Novello 259 Eternal Source of every Joy, . Novello 345 Evening Prayer, Duff a?id Co., 82 Evening, Parker, 206 Eventide, J. Chapman, 367 Fallen is thy Throne, Addison and Co., 177 Faith, Jefferys, 138 Fear not, but Trust in Providence, Brewer and Co., 32 Forgive, bless'd Shade, D' ' A hi tain e and Co , 27 For Ever, J. Blockley, 105 For the Morning of the Sabbath, F. Warne and Co., 368 Footsteps of Angels, . Brewer and Co., 18 Friend after Friend Departs, . Jefferys, 123 From Greenland's icy Mountains, D ' Almaine and Co ,382 Funeral Hymn, Novello, iG God Incarnate, 300 God the Spirit, F. Warne and Co., 332 God's Acre, F. Warne and Co., 54 Go when the Morning Shineth, Jefferys, 122 Going Out and Coming In, Duff and Co., 161 Good Friday, . Murray, 286 Great God ! what do I See and Hear ] Novello, 290 Gratitude to God, y. Taylor, 285 Guardian Angels, Ollivier, 93 Hallowed be Thy Name, J. Williams, 272 Have Faith in Him, . R, Cocks and Co., 154 Hail to the Lord's Anointed, . Novello, 254 Harvest Hymn, Rivingion, 336 Harvest Hymn, 339 Harvest Home, 33$ Heaven, . . , Hear me, God, Parker, 7i 265 He shall Feed His Flock, Novello, 282 He Changes not, R. Cocks and Co., 20 r His Will be Done, Purday, 142 Ho ! every One that Thirsteth, R, Cocks and Co., 155 XVI Contents. Holy Ground, Holy Matrimony, Hope in Sorrow, Hope and Love, Hope, Hosanna in the Highest, Hymn for a Child, Hymn for Trinity Sunday, Hymn of the Moravian Xuns of Bethlehem, Hymn of the Hebrew Maid, Hymn on the Nativity, Hymn of Praise, Hymn to the Night, . Hymn to the Holy Spirit, Hymn to the Seasons, If that High World, . Invitation to the Sacrament. . In the Prospect of Death, In Thee, O Lord, we put our Trust, . Is this All? .... I Sought the Lord, Is there an Unbeliever ? Jephthah's Daughter, Jerusalem, my Happy Home, Jerusalem, the Go'.den, Jesus ! Hear and Save, Jesus shall Reign, Kind Words, .... Lazarus, .... Lady Man-, .... Leaning on Jesus, Let not the Sun go Down on your Wrath, Let me Rest, .... Little Sins, .... PUBLISHERS. PAGE Routledge, 175 .'on, 375 J. Chapman, 215 53 rys, 139 Novello, 3 r 3 Rivington, 37s Novello, 334 R. Cocks and Co., 223 Caddell, 118 Parker, 251 F. Warne and Co., 33o Jefferys, 5 329 344 Lonsdale, 123 373 me and Co., 7o S. Clarke, 275 Johnstone, 115 J. Williams, 142 Bentlry, 17S Jiff^:-, 156 35° Blockley, 4 - ~!o, 270 . .7(7, 3U Duff ana Co., 60 JMoxon and Co., 221 JMacmillan, 149 Macmillan, 306 R. Cocks and Co., 1S9 L. Booth, 61 Rizingion, 8 Contents. XVll Like Morning, when her early Breeze, Light Eternal, Litany to our Lord, Litany to the Saviour, Litany to the Holy Spirit, Lo, Lie comes with Clouds Descendin Look Up, Look Round, . Longing to be with Christ, Lord of the Harvest, . Lord of the Harvest, . Lord ! unto Thee we Cry, Lord ! who shall bear that Day ? Man Honoured above Angels, . Magdalen's Hymn during the Plague, Mariner's Hymn, Mercy, Meekness, Morn, . Morning Prayer, Moonlight on the Grave, Mountain Prayer, Morning Light, Music, . My Cross, My God and King, My Psalm, Nature and Heaven, Nearer, my God, to Thee, Never hold Malice, New Years-day, Not to Myself Alone, . O Fair, O Purest, Oh ! had I Jubal's Lyre, O happy Saints, Oh, Help us, Lord, PUBLISHERS. Addison and Co., Mac?nilla?i, Murray, Novello, Novell 0) L. Booth, J. Williams, Addison and Co., 7- Taylor, Blackwood, 194 283 304 301 331 260 65 96 356 337 342 264 64 299 *95 214 1 46 145 359 65 103 119 359 204 291 242 73 46 279 29 25S 4 S Addison and Co., 57 D Abnaine and Co., 16 Novel lo, 349 Murray, 272 b Jefferys, y'efferys, Novello, Duff and Co., Moss and Co., Alacmillan, Rivingion, F. Wai-ne and Co., Novello, Brewer and Co., Routledge, y. Taylor, XV111 Contents. O Thou who dry'st the Mourners Tear, Oh, Teach Me to Love Thee, . Oh, Weep for Those, . On Jordan's Bank, On Going to Labour, . PUBLISHERS. Addison and Co., Addison and Co., Lonsdale. PAGE 143 150 170 360 Passing Away, . Peace, .... Pleading for Pardon, . Praise the King of Heaven, Praise the Lord, Praise the Lord of Heaven, Praise, oh, praise our God and King, Prayer, Prayer, Prayer is the Soul's Desire, Prayer at Midnight, Praying Together, Prayer for Children, Psalm of Life, . Psalm cxlviii., . Resignation, Resignation, . Resignation, Rock'd in the Cradle of the Deep, Rock of Ages, Ruth and Naomi, Blockley, Jefferys, Rivington, Rivington, Rivington, Novello, Routledge, Moxon and Co., Novello, J. Taylor, Jefferys, Parker, R. Cocks and Co., Duff and Co., Novello, R. Cocks and Co. , 7 146 271 3i9 35i 241 236 55 108 261 187 267 277 127 245 125 181 190 36 297 166 Sabbath Morn, Sabbath Eve, . Sabbath Bells, Saving Help . Saints in Heaven, Seed-Time and Harvest, Seeds of Light, Since First Thy Word, Sire of the Universe, . Sleep, J. Blockley, J. Blockley, Duff and Co., Macmillan, F. Warne ajid Co., Rivinglon, Addison and Co., Routledge, 198 199 85 45 347 67 3i 98 226 60 Contents, xix Sleep, Baby, Sleep, Sleep, Song of Praise, Songs of Praise, Song after Labour, Sound the Loud Timbrel, Sovereign Ruler, Sorrow, . . Soon and For Ever, Speak Gently, Spring, Star of Morn and Even, Suspiria Strong Faith and Perfect Love, Submission Submission, Sunny Days in Winter, Sunday, Te Deum Laudamus, . Thanks for a Summer's Day, The All-Seeing, The Ascension, The Beatitudes, The Better Land, The Beginning and the End, The Bird Let Loose, . The Bow in the Cloud, The Builders, The Christian Graces, The Charities of the Poor, The Child and the Dew-Drops. The Child and the Stars, The Child's Evening Hymn, The Child's Grave, The Child, The Childhood of Christ, The Christian's Progress, The Cloud-Capp'd Towers, PUBLISHERS. PAGE Parker, 162 176 Brewer and Co. , 1 82 Warne and Co., 320 Moxon and Co., 141 Addison and Co., 383 Novello, 243 Jefferys, 144 Rivington, 1 83 R. Cocks and Co. , 45 41 Macniillan, 358 F. Warne and Co., 14 Brewer and Co., 185 J. Taylor, 267 Rivington, 354 Bouge, 340 F. Wariie and Co., 369 Novello, 235 Novello, 211 234 Macmillan, 323 Jefferys, 144 J. Blockley, 3 238 Addison and Co., 198 S. Clarke, 147 F. Warne and Co., 43 Jefferys, 138 Moxon and Co., 68 Ransford and Son, 205 R. Cocks and Co., 216 Moxon, 1 3 7 200 J. Taylor, 376 Novello, 379 . 229 D'Almaine and Co., 26 XX Contents. PUBLISHERS. PAGE The Creator, .... D ^ Almaine and Co. 233 The Day of Rest, Metzler and Co., 371 The Death of a Christian, Longman, 47 The Death-Bed, Blockley, 132 The Destruction of the Assyrians, Jefferys, 225 The Dial of Flowers, . Blackzvood and Co., 218 The Dove's Departure, Murray, 92 The Dumb Creation, . The Dying Christian to his Soul, 179 33i Metzler and Co., The Dying Christian, Metzler and Co., 195 The Easter Hymn, Novello, 307 The Emigrant's Song,. Parker, 37 The Evening Hymn, . Metzler and Co., 3 6 4 The Fashion of this World Passeth Away , Bentley, 186 The Glory of Heaven, Novello, 355 The Happy Life, 263 The Harp the Monarch Minstrel Swept, Lonsdale, 165 TVip "FTffirf"'*; Hnmp 15 172 X lit ileal l 3 llUIllCj • • • The Heart's Longing, . The Home of Rest, Novello, 353 The Holy Trinity, Novello, 327 The Hope Beyond the Grave, S. Clarke, 213 The Humble State, The Incarnation of Christ, 281 Miirray, 35 The Kingliest Kings, . D. Bouge, 52 The Land of Promise, . Duff and Co., 160 The Law of Love, Parker, 219 The Last Trump, Parker, 28 The Lark, .... Brruoer and Co., 207 The Leaf, .... 345 The Lesson of the Cross, J. Taylor, 298 The Light of Stars, F. Warne and Co., 153 The Lighthouse, . . Duff and Co., 113 The Little Evangelist, y. Williams, 86 The Longest Day, . Moxon, 173 The Lord's Prayer, 278 The Lost Day, The Mariner's Evening Hymn, 6 Moss and Co., 25 The Marriage Portion, Metzler and Co., 193 Contents. xxi The Moon upon the Spire, The Mother's Advice, The Morning Hymn, . The Nautilus, The New Year, The Old and New Year, The Orphan, The Orphan's Prayer, . The Parting Spirit, The Pilot, The Pilgrim, The Poor, The Prince of Peace, . The Promised Hour, . The Rainbow, The Reading Girl, The Reaper and the Flowers, The Return of the Dove, The Return of the Spirit, The Resurrection, The Resurrection, The Robin Redbreast, The Sabbath of the Year, The Saints in Heaven, The Singers, The Sinner's Friend, The Sleeper, The Slave Singing at Midnight, The Sower, The Sparrow's Fall, The Spirit's Home, The Spirit's Home, The Spring of Life, The Spring-Tide Hour, The Storm, The Star of Bethlehem, The Supplication, The Three in One, The Treasures of the Deep, PUBLISHERS. PAGE 227 8l Metzler and Co., 361 Duff and Co., 167 Novel lo, 256 Deighton, 257 Longman, 134 R. Cocks and Co., 28 Duff and Co., 91 Duff and Co., 200 Lo7igman, 157 97 250 Snow, 318 Moxon, 1 5 1 R. Cocks and Co. 203 R. Cocks and Co., 107 J. Williams, 58 Moss and Co., 1 1 F. Warne and Co. 312 Novello, 315 12 208 Novello, 348 Blockley, 77 L. Booth, 295 Metzler and Co., 140 F. Warne and Co., 94 J. Taylor, 343 Duff and Co., 113 Campbell, 19 Duff and Co., 185 240 Rivington, 222 Addison and Co. 39 D 'Almaine and Co., 253 Williams, 84 Novello, 328 Chappell and Co., 63 XX11 Contents. PUBLISHERS. PAGE The Turf shall be my Fragrant Shrine, Addison and Co., 102 The Two Crowns, Novello, 316 The Two Angels, F. Warm and Co., 82 T^n^ i^vr» Vnifpc *T\ X liC J. \V vj V UH»COj • • The Two Streams /9 217 25 The Use of the Flowers, The Unbeliever, The Unregarded Poor, l 7 The Vision of Belshazzar, Lonsdale, 116 The Voice of Praise, . Moxon a7id Co.* 263 The Voice of Jesus, Johnstone and Co., 32[ The Way is Long and Dreary, ^ o°3 The Wild Gazelle, Lonsdale, 24 The Wind in an ^Eolian Harp, Routledge, 21 The Wilderness shall Blossom as the Rose, R. Cocks and Co., 192 The Worth of Time, . Brewer and Co., 174 There is a Bleak Desert Addison and Co., 124 There is a Book, Rivington, 22 There's Peace in Heaven, Duff and Co., IOI There is a Fountain Filled with Blood, J. Taylor, 302 Thou art with me, R. Cocks and Co., 288 Thou art, God, Addison and Co., 148 Thou whose Almighty Word, . o5o Thou hast Sworn by Thy God, Blackie and Son, 75 This World is not our Home, J. Williams, 26 Thy Will be Done, Routledge, 87 Thy Kingdom Come, . Routledge, 130 Thy Will be Done, L. Booth, 265 Thy Mercies are Great, J. Willia??is, 269 To God in Sickness, . Parker, 12 To Him sing Hallelujah, Deighton, 317 To a Child, Too Late, 8 8 y. Blockley, Touta Nika, 133 Toil and Rest, . Trust in God, . 236 112 Routledge, Trust in the Lord, Duff and Co., 27 Types of Heaven, 99 Contents. xxm PUBLISHERS. Unrest, Veni Creator Spiritus, Watchman, What of the Night ? Novello, IO Were not the Sinful Mary's Tears, Addison and Co., 168 We Look to Thee, Ollivier, 268 Weep, Children of Israel, Addison and Co., 202 Weeping Mary J. Taylor, 293 What are the Wild Waves Saying ? R. Cocks and Co., 33 Where are the Plains of Zion ? R. Cocks and Co., 76 Where is your Dwelling, ye Sainted ? Addison and Co., 171 What shall I render ? . y. Taylor, 276 Whitsunday, .... F Warm and Co., 3 2 4 Whitsuntide Hymn, Rivington, 3 2 5 Wisdom, .... J. Taylor, 333 W T inter, .... F. Warm and Co., 93 Why do the Flowers Bloom ? . J. Williams, 13 Novello, PAGE 227 330 Youth and Age, Parker, 42 *** Where the Songs are published separately with the Music, it is the name of the Music Publisher that is given ; otherwise the Publisher of the Author's Collected Works. Part JFttst, SACRED SONGS SACRED SONGS. ^tje Better HanD. Mrs HEMANS. — Music by John Blockley. " T HEAR thee speak of the better land, X Thou call' st its children a happy band ; Mother ! oh where is that radiant shore ? Shall we not seek it and weep no more ? Is it where the flower of the orange blows. And the fire- flies glance through the myrtle boughs ?" " Not there, not there, my child ! " " Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange bright birds on their starry wings Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ?" " Not there, not there, my child ! " " Is it far away in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ? Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the sacred mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand ? Is it there, sweet mother ! that better land ?" " Not there, not there, my child ! Sacred Songs. " Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ! Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair ; Sorrow and death may not enter there ; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom ; For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, 'Tis there, 'tis there, my child ! " ^[ZvuHltm tlje (Koltiem John Mason Neale.— Music by John Blockley. ERUSALEM the golden ! With milk and honey blest ; Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice opprest. J I know not, oh ! I know not What joys await us there ; What radiancy of glory, What bliss beyond compare. They stand, those halls of Sion, All jubilant with song, And bright with many an angel, And all the martyr throng : The Prince is ever in them, The daylight is serene ; The pastures of the blessed Are deck'd in glorious sheen. There is the throne of David ; And there, from care released, The shout of them that triumph, The song of them that feast ; Hymn to the Night. And they, who with their Leader Have conquer'd in the fight, For ever and for ever Are clad in robes of white. ^pmn to tfje &\§§u Longfellow. — Music by S. Glover. I HEARD the trailing garments of the night Sweep through the marble halls ! I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light From the celestial walls ! I felt her presence, by its spell of might, Stoop o'er me from above : The calm majestic presence of the night, As of the one I love. I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, The manifold soft chimes, That fill the haunted chambers of the night, Like some old poet's rhymes. From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose ; The fountain of perpetual peace flows there, From those deep cisterns flows. O holy night ! from thee I learn to bear What man has borne before ! Thou lay' st thy finger on the lips of care, And they complain no more. Peace ! peace ! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer ! Descend, with broad-wing'd flight, The welcome, the thrice pray'd for, the most fair. The best beloved ni^rht. Sacred Songs. %\)t 3Logt 2Dap* Mrs L. H. Sigcurney. LOST! lost! lost! A gem of countless price. Cut from the living rock, And graved in Paradise : Set round with three times eight Large diamonds, clear and bright, And each with sixty smaller ones, All changeful as the light. Lost — where the thoughtless throng In Fashion's mazes wind, Where trilleth folly's song, Leaving a sting behind. Yet to my hand 'twas given, A golden harp to buy, Such as the white-robed choir attune To deathless minstrelsy. Lost ! lost ! lost ! I feel all search is vain ; That gem of countless cost Can ne'er be mine again : I offer no reward — For till these heartstrings sever, I know that Heaven's entrusted gift Is reft away for ever. But when the sea and land, Like burning scroll have Red, 1 '11 see it in His hand, Who judgeth quick and dead , Passing Away. And when of scathe and loss That man can ne'er repair, The dread inquiry meets my soul, What shall it answer there ? Mrs HEMANS.— Music by John Bleckley. IT is written on the rose, in its glory's full array, — Read what those buds disclose, — "Passing away!" It is written in the skies of the soft blue summer day; It is traced in sunset dyes, — " Passing away!" It is written on the trees, as their young leaves glittering play, And on brighter things than these, — " Passing away!" It is written on the brow where the spirit's ardent ray Lives, burns, and triumphs now, — " Passing away!" It is written on the heart, — alas ! that there decay- Should claim from love a part, — u Passing away !" Friends — friends ! oh, shall we meet in a land of purer day, Where lovely things and sweet pass not away ? Shall we know each other's eyes, and the thoughts that in them lay, When we mingle sympathies, — u Passing away ?'" Oh, if this may be so, speed, speed their closing day ! How blest from earth's vain show to pass away ! Sacred Songs. ^d a CIjiltL Rev. Charles Kingsley. MY fairest child, I have no song to give you ; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray ; Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever ; Do noble things — not dream them — all day long; And so make life, death, and that vast for ever One grand sweet song. ^od Hate ! Alfred Tennyson. — Music by John Blockley. LATE, late, so late ! and dark the night, and chill : Late, late, so late ! but we can enter still. Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. No light had we, for that we do repent ; And, learning this, the Bridegroom will relent. Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. No light, so late, and dark and chill the night ; Oh, let us in that we may find the light ! Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. Have we not heard the Bridegroom is so sweet ? Oh, let us in, though late, to kiss His feet ! No, no, too late ! ye cannot enter now. Church Music. SLfi HDoton tn tlje feunleg(5 Iftetrcats* T. MpORE. — Air, Haydn. AS down in the sunless retreats of the ocean, Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see ; So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion. Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee, — My God ! silent to Thee ! Pure, warm, silent to Thee ! As still to the star of its worship, though clouded, The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea ; So, dark as I roam in this wintry world shrouded, The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee, My God ! trembling to Thee, — True, fond, trembling to Thee ! Cljurcij fi^usfc* John Milton. BUT let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embowed roof With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight Casting a dim religious light ; There let the pealing organ blow To the full-voiced choir below In service high, and anthem clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all heaven before mine eyes. i o Sacred Songs. afllatcfwtan, toijat of tfje jRiffljt ? Anonymous. SAY, watchman, what of the night ? Do the dews of the morning fall ? Have the orient skies a border of light, Like the fringe of a funeral pall ? u The night is fast waning on high, And soon shall the darkness flee, And the morn shall spread o'er the blushing sky, And bright shall its glories be.' 1 But, watchman, what of the night, When sorrow and pain are mine, And the pleasures of life, so sweet and bright, No longer around me shine ? " That night of sorrow thy soul May surely prepare to meet ; But away shall the clouds of thy heaviness roil, And the morning of joy be sweet." But, watchman, what of the night When the arrow of death is sped, And the grave, which no glimmering star can light, Shall be my sleeping-bed? " That night is near, and the cheerless tomb Shall keep thy body in store, Till the morn of eternity rise on the gloom, And night shall be no more." The Return of the Spirit. 1 1 %\)z Eeturn of ttje feptrit, J. E. Carpenter. — Music by S. Nelson. " And the spirit shall return to the God that made it.' RECITATIVE. TEN thousand thousand years, mankind may sway Nations that rise — and fall, and pass away ; But, as a dream in Time's mysterious span, The temples, thrones, and palaces of man, The world, and all within it, shall decay ! AIR. A moment, and the dream of life That millions of the human race With all its realms of peace and strife, Its phantasies of time and space, Have dreamt for ages, shall dissolve, And, all that seems the brightest now, To utter darkness shall revolve, Like that which fell on Adam's brow. A moment — and that fragile band Creation gave a vital birth, Shall meet corruption's ruthless hand, And wither with the silent earth ; But, though no living shapes remain To mingle with the clay-cold sod, The spirit shall return again Obedient to its maker — God. 1 2 . Sacred Songs. %ty lEtobfn l&eDbreagt, Bishop Doane. SWEET Robin, I have heard them say, That thou wert there upon the day That Christ was crown' d in cruel scorn : And bore away one bleeding thorn, That so, the blush upon thy breast, In shameful sorrow was imprest : And thence thy genial sympathy, With our redeem' d humanity. Sweet Robin, would that I might be Bathed in my Saviour's blood, like thee ; Bear in my breast, whate'er the loss, The bleeding blazon of the cross ; Live ever, with thy loving mindj In fellowship with human kind ; And take my pattern still from thee, In gentleness and constancy. <ong;* Andrew Marvel. WHERE the remote Bermudas ride In ocean's bosom unespied, From a small boat that row'd along, The listening winds received their song. " What should we do but sing His praise That led us through the watery maze, Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own ? " Where He the huge sea-monsters racks, That lift the deep upon their backs ; He lands us on a grassy stage, Safe from the storm's and tyrant's rage. " He gave us this eternal spring Which here enamels everything, And sends the fowls, to us in care, On daily visits through the air. " He hangs in shades the orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night, And in these rocks for us did frame A temple where to sound His name. " Oh, let our voice His praise exalt Till it arrive at heaven's vault, Which then, perhaps, rebounding may Echo beyond the Mexique bay." Thus sang they in the English boat, A holy and a cheerful note, And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept the time. Sacred Songs. For the Boatmen as they approach the Rapids by Heidelberg. W. Wordsworth. JESU ! bless our slender boat, By the current swept along ; Loud its threatenings, — let them not Drown the music of a song Breathed Thy mercy to implore, Where these troubled waters roar. Saviour, for our warning, seen Bleeding on that precious rood ; If, while through the meadows green Gently wound the peaceful flood, We forgot Thee, do not Thou Disregard Thy suppliants now ! Hither, like yon ancient tower Watching o'er the river's bed, Fling the shadow of Thy power, Else we sleep among the dead ; Thou who trod 5 st the billowy sea, Shield us in our jeopardy ! Guide our bark among the waves ; Through the rocks our passage smooth ; Where the whirlpool frets and raves, Let Thy love its anger soothe : All our hope is placed in Thee; Miserere Domine ! The Storm. 39 ^Ije »>torm* Adelaide A. Proctor. — Music by John Hullalu THE tempest rages wild, and high The waves lift up their voice, and cry Fierce answers to the angry sky, — Miserere Domine. Through the black night, and driving rain, A ship is struggling, all in vain, To live upon the stormy main ; — Miserere Domine. The thunders roar, the lightnings glare, Vain is it now to strive or dare ; A cry goes up of great despair, — Miserere Domine. The stormy voices of the main, The moaning wind and melting rain Beat on the nursery window pane: — Miserere Domine. Warm curtain' d was the little bed, Soft pillow'd was the little head, " The storm will wake the child," they said :- Miserere Domine. Cowering among his pillows white, He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright, " Father, save those at sea to-night ! " Miserere Domine. The morning shone, all clear and gay, On a ship at anchor in the bay, And on a little child at play. — Gloria tibi Domine ! 40 Sacred Songs. Si 2Deat|) &tznz. Phcebe Carey. DYING, still slowly dying, As the hours of night rode by, She had lain since the light of sunset Was red on the evening sky : Till after the middle watches, As we softly near her trod, When her soul from its prison fetters Was loosed by the hand of God. One moment her pale lips trembled With the triumph she might not tell, As the sight of the life immortal On her spirit's vision fell ; Then the look of rapture faded, And the beautiful smile was faint, As that, in some convent picture, On the face of a dying saint. And we felt in the lonesome midnight, As we sat by the silent dead, What a light on the path going downward The feet of the righteous shed. Then we thought how, with faith unshrinking She came to the Jordan's tide, And, taking the hand of the Saviour, Went up on the heavenly side. Spring. 41 Spring. A. De Vere. ONCE more, through God's high will and grace, Of hours that each its task fulfils, Heart-healing Spring resumes its place The valley through, and scales the hills. Who knows not Spring ? who doubts when blows Her breath, that Spring is come indeed ? The swallow doubts not ; nor the rose That stirs, but wakes not ; nor the weed. Once more the cuckoo's call I hear ; I know, in many a glen profound, The earliest violets of the year Rise up like water from the ground. The thorn, I know, once more is white ; And far down many a forest dale, The anemones in dubious light Are trembling like a bridal veil. By streams released that surging flow From craggy shelf, through sylvan glades, The pale narcissus, well I know, Smiles hour by hour on greener shades. The honey'd cowslip tufts once more The golden slopes ; — with gradual ray The primrose stars the rock, and o'er The wood-path strews its milky way. 42 Sacred Songs. I see her not — I feel her near, As charioted in mildest airs She sails through yon empyreal sphere, And in her arms and bosom bears That urn of flowers, and lustral dews, Whose sacred balm, on all things shed, Revives the weak, the old renews, And crowns with votive wreaths the dead. goutlj anti SLqz. Edmund Waller. THE seas are quiet when the winds are o'er, So calm are we when passions are no more ! For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal'd that emptiness which age descries ; The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, Lets in new light through chinks that time has made. Stronger by weakness wiser men become. As they draw near to their eternal home ; Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, That stand upon the threshold of the new. The Builders. Beautiful ClouD* J. E. Carpenter. — Music by J. H. Thomas, BEAUTIFUL cloud in purest ether sleeping, Why should we sigh for a cloudless summer day ? But for the tears of heaven that thou art weeping, Should we have flowers to beautify our way ? Earth far beneath, the fadeless blue above thee, Throned 'mid the stars, still lowly was thy birth ; Not for thy beauty only do I love thee, Giver of blessings to the grateful earth. Beautiful cloud, all lovely shapes assuming, In thy embrace the white-wing'd angels sleep ; Why else the silvery light thy form illuming ? Sure there their watch our guardian angels keep. Thine is the land from mortal vision shrouded, Thou, lovely dream, the cloud-wall of the skies, Hidest alone the million spirits crowded Round the bright throne thou shrin'st from human eves. ^Ije ButlDergf* W. H. Longfellow. ALL are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of time ; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low, Each thing in its place is best ; And what seems but idle show, Strengthens and supports the rest. 44 Sacred Songs. For the structure that we raise, Time is with materials fill'd ; Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build. Truly shape and fashion these ; Leave no yawning gaps between ; Think not, because no man sees, Such things will remain unseen. t In the elder days of art, Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, For the gods are everywhere. Let us do our work as well, Both the unseen and the seen : Make the house where gods may dwell Beautiful, entire, and clean. Else our lives are incomplete, Standing in these walls of time ; Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble as they seek to climb. Build to-day, then, strong and sure, With a firm and ample base, And ascending and secure, Shall to-morrow find its place. Thus alone can we attain To those turrets, where the eye Sees the world as one vast plain, And one boundless reach of sky. Saving Help. 45 G. W. LANGFORD.— Music by Miss Lindsay. SPEAK gently ! it is better far To rule by love than fear ; Speak gently ! let not harsh words mar The good we might do here. Speak gently to the little child ; Its love be sure to gain : Teach it in accents soft and mild, It may not long remain. Speak gently to the young, for they Will have enough to bear : Pass through the world as best they may, 'Tis full of anxious care. Speak gently to the aged one, Grieve not a careworn heart ; The sands of life are nearly run, Let such in peace depart. Speak gently ! 'tis a little thing, Dropp'd in the heart's deep well ; The good, the joy that it may bring, Eternity shall tell. bating 3£elp* Mrs Cecil Frances Alexander. WHEN wounded sore the stricken soul Lies bleeding and unbound, One only hand, a pierced hand, Can salve the sinner's wound. 46 Sacred Songs. When sorrow swells the laden breast, And tears of anguish flow, One only heart, a broken heart, Can feel the sinner's woe. When penitence has wept in vain Over some foul dark spot, One only stream, a stream of blood, Can wash away the blot. 'Tis Jesus' blood that washes white, His hand that brings relief, His heart that's touch'd with all our joys And feeleth for our grief. Lift up Thy bleeding hand, O Lord ; Unseal that cleansing tide ; We have no shelter from our sin, But in Thy wounded side. Mature ana ^eatieru Bishop Heber. I PRAISED the earth, in beauty seen With garlands gay of various green ; I praised the sea, whose ample field Shone glorious as a silver shield ; And earth and ocean seem'd to say, " Our beauties are but for a day." I praised the sun, whose chariot roll'd On wheels of amber, and of gold ; A ngel of Charity. 47 I praised the moon, whose softer eye Gleam' d sweetly through the summer sky ; And moon, and sun, in answer said, " Our days of light are numbered." O God ! O good beyond compare ! If thus Thy meaner works are fair, If thus Thy bounties gild the span Of ruin'd earth, and sinful man, How glorious must the mansion be, Where Thy redeem' d shall dwell with Thee 2Deatf) of a Christian. Felicia Hemans. CALM on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit, rest thee now ! E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow. Dust, to its narrow house beneath ! Soul, to its place on high ! They that have seen thy look in death No more may fear to die. #npl of Cljartt^ T. MOORE. — Air % Handel. ANGEL of Charity, who, from above, Comest to dwell a pilgrim here, Thy voice is music, thy smile is love, And Pity's soul is in thy tear. 48 Sacred Songs. When on the shrine of God were laid First-fruits of all most good and fair That ever bloom' d in Eden's shade, Thine was the holiest offering there. Hope and her sister, Faith, were given But as our guides to yonder sky ; Soon as they reach the verge of heaven, There, lost in perfect bliss, they die.* But long as Love, Almighty Love, Shall on His throne of thrones abide. Thou, Charity, shall dwell above, Smiling for ever by His side ! iliot to $$vstlf alone. S. W. Partridge. " 1\T 0T t0 m >' self alone >" -L ^ The little opening flower transported cries,- " Not to myself alone I bud and bloom ; With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume, And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes : The bee comes sipping every eventide His dainty fill ; The butterfly within my cup doth hide From threatening ill." ► " There Faith shall fail, and holy Hope shall die, One lost in certainty, and one in perfect joy." — Prior. Not to Myself A lone. 49 " Not to myself alone," The circling star with honest pride doth boast, — " Not to myself alone I rise and set ; I write upon night's coronal of jet, His power and skill who form'd our myriad host : A friendly beacon at heaven's open gate, I gem the sky, That man might ne'er forget, in every fate, His home on high." " Not to myself alone," The heavy-laden bee doth murmuring hum, — " Not to myself alone from flower to flower I rove the wood, the garden, and the bower, And to the hive at evening weary come : For man, for man the luscious food I pile With busy care, Content if this repay my ceaseless toil — A scanty share." " Not to myself alone," The soaring bird, with lusty pinion, sings, — " Not to myself alone I raise the song : I cheer the drooping with my warbling tongue, And bear the mourner on my viewless wings ; I bid the hymnless churl my anthem learn, And God adore ; I call the worldling from his dross to turn, And sing and soar." " Not to myself alone," The streamlet whispers on its pebbly way, — " Not to myself alone I sparkling glide : I scatter life and health on every side, And strew the fields with herb and floweret gay ; D 50 Sacred Songs. I sing unto the common, bleak and bare. My gladsome tune ; I sweeten and refresh the languid air In droughty June." "Not to myself alone," O man, forget not thou, earth's honoured priest ! Its tongue, its soul, its life, its pulse, its heart, In earth's great chorus to sustain thy part : Chiefest of guests at Love's ungrudging feast, Play not the niggard, spurn thy native clod, And self disown ; Live to thy neighbour, live unto thy God, Not to thvself alone ! James Shirley Hibberd. UPON a leafy mountain height two streams came gushing forth, One bubbled from the sunny south, the other from the north; One leap'd and sparkled joyously as clear as summer sky, The purple flood the other roll'd went slowly creeping by. Beside the one green rushes grew, and blushing buds and flowers, Beside the other, men were chain'd in poison-breathing bowers ; One welcomed sweet wild birds to sing their hymns of praise and joy, The other breathed the breath of sin and tempted to destroy. Consider the Ravens. 5 1 The one went sparkling cheerily beneath the noonday sun, And spread around life, health, and peace, where'er it chanced to run ; The other was the stream of death with sorrow on its tide, And whoso stoop'd to drink therein must Satan's curse abide. The stream which gave such joy to all leap'd from a rocky well ; The vineyard sent the other forth to work a deathlike spell ; They both have flow'd for countless years adown the steeps of time ; One spreading grief and wickedness, the other bliss sublime. Conner tfje Kat>en0* (Luke xii. 27, 28.) DUET. J. E. Carpenter. child. TELL me, O mother ! if I should store This precious piece of the earth's bright ore? Say is it good to hoard and save, And sleep, at last, in a rich man's grave ? MOTHER. Consider the ravens, my gentle boy, They sow not, nor reap, yet they employ The tenderest care of the bounteous hand That scatters their food o'er the barren land. 52 Sacred Songs. BOTH. It is not good to hoard and save ; The covetous man has no honour' d grave. 'Tis better to part with the precious ore, Than cling in pride to a useless store. CHILD. Is it not well to treasure up Gold that will fill the mantling cup ? Wealth that will food and raiment give, And bring the honours for which men live 1 ' MOTHER. Consider the lilies, my darling child, They toil not nor spin in the greenwood wild ; And what is thy glory to one of these, To God who clothes both the fields and trees ? BOTH. Life is more precious than hoarded gold, Or the food and raiment that 's bought and sold, But our lives on earth must so order'd be That they '11 lead to a bright eternity. W$z ISu'itfflfegt itfaffsf* Gerald Massey. HO ! ye who in a noble work Win scorn, as flames draw air. And, in the way where lions lurk, God's image bravely bear, Though trouble-tried and torture-torn, The kindliest Kings are crown'd with thorn. Hope and L ove. 5 3 Life's glory, like the bow in heaven, Still springeth from the cloud ! And soul ne'er soar'd the starry seven But Pain's fire-chariot rode ; They 've battled best who 've boldliest borne : The kingliest Kings are crown' d with thorn. The martyr's fire-crown on the brow Doth into glory burn : And tears that from Love's torn heart flow To pearls of spirit turn ! And dear heart-hopes in pangs are born ; The kingliest Kings are crown'd with thorn. As Beauty in Death's cerement shrouds, And stars bejewel night, God's splendour lives in dim heart-clouds, And suffering nurseth might ; The murkiest hour brings forth the morn : The kinoliest Kin^s are crown'd with thorn. l^ope ana Hotie* Anonymous. HEART ! take courage, upward strive, Higher still, and higher ; Faint not, blanch not, shrink not now, Heaven is ever nigher! Higher aims, and higher hopes, Be our great endeavour. See ! the glorious guerdon's near, Love enduring ever ! 54 Sacred Songs. On ! and reck not of the toil, Nor of burthen mind thee ; Look up ! its shadow let the sun For ever cast behind thee. Angels beckon, saints applaud, N obly have we striven ; Triumph now ! the prize is gain'd Of endless Love in Heaven. H. W. Longfellow. I LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial ground God's- Acre ! It is just ; It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. God's-Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts Comfort to those who in the grave have sown The seed that they have garner'd in their hearts, Their bread of life ; alas, no more their own. Into its furrows shall we all be cast, In the sure faith that we shall rise again, At the great harvest, when the archangel's blast Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, In the fair gardens of that second birth ; And each bright blossom mingle its perfume With that of flowers which never bloom'd on earth. With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, And spread the furrow for the seed we sow ; This is the field and Acre of our God, This is the place where human harvests grow ! Prayer. 5 5 draper* Eliza Cook. HOW purely true, how deeply warm, The inly-breathed appeal may be, Though adoration wears no form, In upraised hand or bended knee ! One Spirit fills all boundless space, No limit to the when or where ; And little recks the time or place That leads the soul to praise and prayer. Father above, Almighty One, Creator, is that worship vain • That hails each mountain as Thy throne. And finds a universal fane ? When shining stars, or spangled sod, Call forth devotion, who shall dare To blame, or tell me that a God Will never deign to hear such prayer ? Oh, prayer is good, when many pour Their voices in one solemn tone ; Conning their sacred lessons o'er, Or yielding thanks for mercies shown. 'Tis good to see the quiet train Forget their worldly joy and care, While loud response and choral strain Re-echo in the house of prayer. But often have I stood to mark The setting sun and closing flower ; When silence and the gathering dark Shed holy calmness o'er the hour. 56 Sacred Songs. Lone on the hills, my soul confess'd More rapt and burning homage there, And served the Maker it address'd With stronger zeal and closer prayer. When watching those we love and prize ■ Till all of life and hope be fled ; When we have gazed on sightless eyes, And gently stay'd the falling head ; Then what can soothe the stricken heart, What solace overcome despair ; What earthly breathing can impart Such healing balm as lonely prayer ? When fears and perils thicken fast, And many dangers gather round ; When human aid is vain and past. No mortal refuge to be found ; Then can we firmly lean on Heaven, And gather strength to meet and bear ; No matter where the storm has driven, A saving anchor lives in prayer. O God ! how beautiful the thought, How merciful the bless'd decree, That Grace can e'er be found when sought, And naught shut out the soul from Thee. The cell may cramp, the fetters gall, The flame may scorch, the rack may tear, But torture-stake, or prison-wall, Can be endured with Faith and Prayer. In desert wilds, in midnight gloom ; In grateful joy, in trying pain ; In laughing youth, or nigh the tomb ; Oh, when is prayer unheard or vain ? O Fair! O Purest! The Infinite, the King of kings, Will never heed the when or where ; He'll ne'er reject the heart that brings The offering of fervent prayer. flD if aft: ! flD purest! SAINT AUGUSTINE TO HIS SISTER. T. Moore. — Air, Moore. OF AlR ! O purest ! be thou the dove That flies alone to some sunny grove, And lives unseen, and bathes her wing, All vestal white, in the limpid spring. There if the hovering hawk be near, That limpid spring in its mirror clear Reflects him ere he reach his prey, And warns the timorous bird away. Be thou this dove ; Fairest, purest, be thou this dove. The sacred pages of God's own book Shall be the spring, the eternal brook, In whose holy mirror, night and day, Thou 'It study Heaven's reflected ray; And should the foes of virtue dare, With gloomy wing to seek thee there, Thou wilt see how dark their shadows lie Between Heaven and thee, and trembling fly, Be thou that dove ; Fairest, purest, be thou that dove. 58 Sacred So7igs. €Ije Eetttrn of tlje SDotit. Genesis viii. 8-12.) DUET. J. E. Carpenter. BOTH VOICES. FORTH from the ark the sacred dove Flew o'er the deep profound, The vast expanse of sky above, The watery waste around ! FIRST VOICE. Did it return, that bird of peace ? Tell me, my mother dear ; Or, panting for its own release, Sought it another sphere ? SECOND VOICE. No, no, my child ! the dove came back, It had not where to rest ; The waters wild had left no track O'er all the earth's wide breast. BOTH VOICES. Poor bird! it flew with weary wing To seek its own fair bowers, But sought in vain a leaf to bring Of one of earth's sweet flowers. FIRST VOICE. Did it go forth again, set free By the dear patriarch's hand, And then for ever, ever flee To its loved native land ? The Return of the Dove. 59 SECOND VOICE. No, no, my child ! the God above, Who could the flowers restore, Sent back a token by the dove That they should bloom once more. BOTH VOICES. Sweet bird! it came on joyous wing, To tell of fruits and flowers, A harbinger of coming spring, And joys that since are ours. FIRST VOICE. Went it not forth yet once again To woo the sun and breeze, To nestle in some woodland glen, Hid by the summer trees ? SECOND VOICE. Yes, yes, my child ! th' imprison'd dove, — Again it was set free. And earth has since been crown'd with love, And peace and liberty. BOTH VOICES. Sweet dove ! with peace upon its wing It sought the earth's green bowers, And ever since the blessed spring Makes glad this world of ours. 6o Sacred Songs. F. G. Lee. K Kind words are like the blessings spread by every summer shower ; They light the heart with sunny beams — they shed a fulgent ray, And cheer the weary pilgrim, as he wanders on his way. IXD words are like the morning sun, that gilds the opening flower ; If you have naught to give the poor when winter's snow- clouds loom, Oh, ne'er forget that one sweet smile may chase away their gloom ! Remember, too, that one kind word may blunt Affliction's dart, And softly fall, like healing balm, upon the wounded heart. Let us hear none but gentle words — no tales of dismal strife, But only kind things whisper, as you tread this vale of life; Then try, by every word and glance, the suff ring to beguile, And watch them, when you speak kind words, how happily thev smile ! Eliza Cook. I'VE mourn'd the dark long night away With bitter tears and vain regret, Till, grief-sick, at the break of day I 've left a pillow cold and wet. Let Me Rest 61 1 've risen from a restless bed, Sad, trembling, spiritless, and weak, With all my brow's young freshness fled, With pallid lips and bloodless cheek. Hard was the task for aching eyes So long to wait, so long to weep ; But well it taught me how to prize That precious matchless blessing, sleep. I 've counted every chiming hour, While languishing 'neath ceaseless pain ; While fever raged with demon power, To drink my breath and scorch my brain. And oh ! what earnest words were given ! What wild imploring prayers arose ! How eagerly I ask'd of Heaven A few brief moments of repose ! Oh ! ye who drown each passing night In peaceful slumber, calm and deep, Fail not to kneel at morning's light And thank your God for health and sleep. Ebenezer Elliott. HE does well who does his best : Is he weary? let him rest: Brothers ! I have done my best. I am weary — let me rest. Sacred Songs. After toiling oft in vain, Baffled, yet to struggle fain ; After toiling long, to gain Little good with mickle pain ; Let me rest — but lay me low, Where the hedgeside roses blow ; Where the little daisies grow, When the winds a-maying go ; Where the footpath rustics plod; Where the breeze-bow' d poplars nod ; Where the old woods worship God ; Where His pencil paints the sod ; Where the wedded throstle sings ; W T here the young bird tries his wings ; Where the wailing plover swings Near the runlet's rushy springs; Where, at times, the tempest's roar, Shaking distant sea and shore, Still will rave old Barnesdale o'er To be heard by me no more ! There, beneath the breezy west, Tired and thankful, let me rest, Like a child, that sleepeth best On its gentle mother's breast. The Treasures of the Deep. 63 Ctje ^teasfureg of x\t 2Deep. Mrs HEMANS.— Music by Mrs Owen. WHAT hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells, Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main ? Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-colour'd shells, Bright things which gleam unreck'd of, and in vain. Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea, We ask not such from thee. Yet more, the billows and the depths have more ! High hearts and brave are gather'd to thy breast, They hear not now the booming waters roar ; The battle's thunders will not break their rest : Keep thy red gold, and gems, thou stormy grave ! Give back, give back the true and brave. Give back the lost and lovely — those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long ; The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the * ain yearning woke 'midst festal song ; Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'er thrown, But all, but all is not thine own. To thee the love of woman hath gone down, Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown , Yet must thou hear a voice — restore the dead ! Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee, — Restore, restore the dead, thou sea ! 64 Sacred Songs. HorD, toijo 0ijall bear ttjat 2Dap? T. Moore.— Air, Dr Boyce. LORD, who shall bear day so dread, so splendid, When we shall see Thy angel, hovering o'er This sinful world, with hand to heaven extended, And hear him swear by Thee that Time's no more ?* When earth shall feel Thy fast consuming ray — Who, Mighty God, oh, who shall bear that day ? When through the world Thy awful call hath sounded, — " Wake, all ye dead, to judgment wake, ye dead !" f And from the clouds, by seraph eyes surrounded, The Saviour shall put forth His radiant head ; X While earth and heaven before Him pass away,§ Who, mighty God, oh, who shall bear that day ? When, with a glance, the Eternal Judge shall sever Earth's evil spirits from the pure and bright, And say to those, u Depart from me for ever ;" To these, " Come dwell with me in endless light !"|| When each and all in silence take their way — Who, mighty God, oh, who shall bear that day ? * Rev. x. 5, 6. f "Awake, ye dead, and come to judgment." X Matt. xxiv. 50, and xxv, 31. § Rev. xx. 11. || Matt. xxv. 32 et seq. Look Up! 65 Scorning; draper. John Duff. — Music by E. L. Hime. WHEN we awake at early morn, And see the sun in glory rise, Earth seems to us a scene of joy, We smile on all beneath the skies ; But peace in heaven alone is found, On earth our lives are mix'd with care ; — Then let us breathe in holy love To Him on high our morning prayer. However bright this world may be, Our days of joy soon pass away ; Man only soars to wealth and power, To find his fondest hopes decay ; But everlasting bliss above Awaits the truly righteous there ; — Then let us breathe in holy love To Him on high our morning prayer. Hook en* Mrs C. F. Alexander. THE roseate hues of early dawn, The brightness of the day, The crimson of the sunset sky, How fast they fade away ! 86 Sacred Songs. Oh for the pearly gates of heaven ! Oh for the golden floor ! Oh for the Sun of Righteousness, That setteth nevermore ! The highest hopes we cherish here, How fast they tire and faint ; How many a spot defiles the robe That wraps an earthly saint ! Oh for a heart that never sins ! Oh for a soul wash'd white ! Oh for a voice to praise our King, Nor weary day nor night. Here faith is ours, and heavenly hope, And grace to lead us higher ; But there are perfectness, and peace, Beyond our best desire. Oh, by Thy love, and anguish, LORD, And by Thy life laid down, Grant that we fall not from Thy grace, Nor cast awav our crown. <&lje Hfttle CttanffelfjSU J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Henry Farmer. The scene on which this song is founded is comprised in the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth chapters of ''Uncle Tom's Cabin" — the length of which precludes extract, but which will be familiar to every reader of Mrs Stowe's admirable work. LET them bring them to my chamber, Let them bring those flowers to me, For the sunny spots they grew in I never more may see ; " Thy Will be Doner 8y They know how well I love them, And what have they to give, Save those sweet flowers that, like your child, Have little time to live ! For my sake do not blame them, Do not chide them, mother dear ; If my life would buy their freedom I 'd not wish to linger here. But I pray my fleeting senses Yet a little time may hold, That I may bring this stricken flock Within the Shepherd's fold. 'Tis vain — my time is coming, Bid them stand before me now, And, mother, take these shining locks, And cut them from my brow ; I '11 give a parting tress to each, That when my soul shall flee, They'll think of little Eva's words, And still remember me. " {Clip aoiiil be HDone." Eliza Cook. ET the scholar and divine -* — ' Tell us how to pray aright ; Let the truths of Gospel shine With their precious hallow' d light; But the prayer a mother taught Is to me a matchless one ; Eloquent and spirit-fraught Are the words — <( Thy will be done." 88 Sacred Songs. Though not fairly understood, Still those words, at evening hour, Imply some Being great and good, Of mercy, majesty, and power. Bending low on infant knee, And gazing on the setting sun, I thought that orb His home must be, To whom I said — " Thy will be done." I have search'd the sacred page, I have heard the godly speech, But the lore of saint or sage Nothing holier can teach. Pain has wrung my spirit sore, But my soul the triumph won, When the anguish that I bore Only breathed — " Thy will be done.'' They have served in pressing need, Have nerved my heart in every task, And howsoe'er my breast may bleed, No other balm of prayer I ask. When my whiten'd lips declare Life's last sands have almost run, May the dying breath they bear Murmur forth—" Thy will be done." Cfjrftftmagf* John Critchley Prince. ONE cannot choose but love the bells, With their harmonious din — Those speaking bells, whose falls and swells Ring merry Christmas in : Christmas. 89 They sound like angel voices sent From some serener sphere, Singing from out the firmament — " The Prince of Peace is here." " Geod-will fulfil, fulfil good-will," Their glad lips seem to say — " The best ye can for brother man," Goes on the peaceful lay ; And shall we scorn such fancy-songs, If fancy songs they be — Which lift us up from woes and wrongs, And bid our hearts be free ? No ! rouse to life the laughing blaze, Draw round it every one ; Away, sad thoughts of former days, Cares of to-day, begone ; Ah, now ye wear a cheerful look, A bright and earnest grace, Even the old clock in the nook Trims up its burnish' d face. Now for an anthem, such as rung In halls and homes of old, Let every soul to joy be strung, Each voice flow free and bold ; Lo ! as ye sing, each gentle thing Stirs at the tuneful call, For the berries that blush 'mid the holly bush Are trembling upon the wall. Dear Christmas days, how fair ye seem, Calm, holy, and sublime ! Footprints of angels, how ye gleam Along the path of Time ! 90 Sacred Songs. Footprints whereon sweet heart-flowers blow, By worldly storms unriven, That we may mark them as we go, And find our way to Heaven. Anna Blackwell. A HUNDRED years, and still and low Will lie my sleeping head ; A hundred years, and grass will grow Above my dreamless bed. The grass will grow ; the brook will run ; Life still as fresh and fair Will spring in beauty 'neath the sun ; Where will my place be ? where ? A hundred years ! some briefer space My life perchance had spann'd ; But ere they lapse my feet must pass Within the silent land. While on the plains, the lasting hills, In shadow and in shine, Still dial Time's slow chronicles ; What record will be jnine ? A hundred years ! O yearning heart ! O spirit true and brave ! With Doubt and Death thou hast no part, No kindred with the grave ! For we shall last as lasts the Earth, And live as lives the Sun ; And we shall know that Death is Birth Ere a hundred years have run ! The Parting Spirit. 9 1 flDf), ^Eeaclj Q$z to llotie %\)tt. T. Moore. — Air, Haydn. OH, teach me to love Thee, to feel what Thou art, Till, flll'd with the one sacred image, my heart Shall all other passions disown ; Like some pure temple that shines apart, Reserved for Thy worship alone. In joy and sorrow, through praise and through blame, Thus still let me, living or dying the same, In Thy service bloom and decay, Like some lone altar, whose votive flame In holiness wasteth away. Though born in this desert, and doom'd by my birth To pain and affliction, to darkness and death, On Thee let my spirit rely — Like some rude dial, that fix'd on earth Still looks for its light from the sky. %\z parting Spirit. W. E. Staite.— Music by W. M. Rooke. FAREWELL! oh, farewell ! Though in secret ye weep Dark tears o'er the grave Where in silence I sleep. The night breeze that murmurs My soul's parting knell, Shall waft me from sorrow — Farewell ! oh, farewell J 9 2 Sacred Songs. I go to the isles Where the golden light gleams ; I go the land Ye have pictured in dreams ; I soar to the realms Where the bright spirits dwell, Where hearts know no sorrow — Farewell ! oh, farewell ! %\)z 2Dot>e'jjf ^Departure. Rev. William Lisle Bowles. GO, beautiful and gentle dove, And greet the morning ray ; For lo ! the sun shines bright above, And night and storm are pass'd away ; No longer drooping, here confined, In this cold prison dwell ; Go, free to sunshine and to wind, Sweet bird, go forth, and fare thee well. O beautiful and gentle dove, Thy welcome sad will be, When thou shalt hear no voice of love In murmurs from the leafy tree : Yet freedom, freedom shalt thou find, From this cold prison's cell : Go, then, to sunshine and the wind, Sweet bird, go forth, and fare thee well. Winter. 93 (BuarMan anplgf, J. E. Carpenter. GUARDIAN angels ! do we doubt them ? Night by night, and day by day, Could we guide our steps without them, Where would wavering fancy stray ? Every noble thought that's spoken, Every smile, and every sigh, Are they not a sign — a token That some guardian angel's by? Guardian angels, hovering o'er us, Keep the soul, in mercy, pure ; Had we not bright hope before us, Could we this frail world endure ? Then, be sure, that ever near us Voices come from forms unseen, Breathed by angels sent to cheer us — Watching earth and heaven between ! Wlinm. Robert Burns. THE wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw ; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw : While tumbling brown, the burn comes down And roars frae bank to brae ; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. 94 Sacred Songs. " The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast," The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May : The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join : The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine. Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here, firm, I rest, they must be best, Because they are Thy Will ! Then all I want, (oh, do Thou grant This one request of mine !) Since to enjoy Thou must deny, Assist me to resign. %%t viatic Staffing; at &?it>nig;I)t- H. W. Longfellow. OUD he sang the Psalm of David ! He, a negro and enslaved, Sang of Israel's victory, Sang of Zion, bright and free. L< In that hour when night is calmest, Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist, In a voice so sweet and clear, That I could not choose but hear, Songs of triumph, and ascriptions, Such as reach' d the swart Egyptians, When upon the Red Sea coast Perish'd Pharaoh and his host. Babylon. 95 And the voice of his devotion Fill'd my soul with strange emotion ; For its tones by turns were glad, Sweetly solemn, wildly sad. Paul and Silas, in their prison, Sang of Christ the Lord arisen, And an earthquake's arm of might Broke their dungeon-gates at night. But, alas ! what holy angel Brings the slave this glad evangel ? And what earthquake's arm of might Breaks his dungeon-grates at night ? Barry Cornwall.— Music by Henry Phillips. {Recitative^) PAUSE in this desert ! Here, men say, of old Belshazzar reign' d, and drank from cups of gold; Here, to his hideous idols, bow'd the slave, And here — God struck him dead ! Where lies his grave ? 'Tis lost ! — His brazen gates ? His soaring towers, From whose dark tops men watch'd the starry hours ? All to the dust gone down ! The desert bare Scarce yields an echo when we question Where? The lonely herdsman seeks in vain the spot ; And the black wandering Arab knows it not. No brick, nor fragment now remains, to tell Where Babylon, mighty city, rose — and fell ! 96 Sacred Songs. {Air) O City, vast and old ! Where, where is thy grandeur fled ? The stream that round thee roll'd, Still rolls in its ancient bed ! But where, oh, where art Thou gone? O Babylon / Babylon ! The giant, when he dies, Still leaveth his bones behind, To shrink in the winter skies, And whiten beneath the wind ! But where, oh, where, &c. Thou livst ! — for thy name still glows, A light in the desert skies ; As the fame of the hero grows Thrice trebled because he dies ! Babylon ! Babylon / L< Anna Maria Sargeaxt. 00 K round ! look round ! Within the precincts of thy native land ; See, there are many drooping ones who stand In need of a kind word — a helping hand. Look round ! look round ! Look back ! look back ! For surely it is wise for us to cast At times a thoughtful glance upon the past — ■ Each bygone action has a moral vast : Look back ! look back ! The Poor. 97 Look in ! look in ! Thy heart requires a keen and earnest gaze, For 'tis deceitful. Search its hidden ways — Such scrutiny the labour well repays. Look in ! look in ! Look on ! look on ! Yes, though thy future may be dim or dark, A light may kindle from a tiny spark : Then trust and fear not — press on toward the mark, Look on ! look on ! Look up ! look up ! A Father's loving eye o'erlooketh all ; Nay, more — He all upholds, however small, Unknown to Him a sparrow cannot fall. Look up ! look up ! Cije poor. Mrs Jane T. Worthington. HAVE pity on them ! for their life Is full of grief and care ; You do not know one half the woe The very poor must bear ; You do not see the silent tears By many a mother shed, As childhood offers up the prayer, " Give us our daily bread." Their lot is made of misery More hopeless day by day, And through the long cold winter nights Nor light nor fire have they ; G 98 Sacred Songs. But little children, shivering, crouch Around the cheerless hearth, Their young hearts weary with the want That drags the soul to earth. Deal gently with these wretched ones, Whatever wrought their woe ; The poor have much to tempt and test That you can never know ; Then judge them not, for hard indeed Is their dark lot of care ; Let Heaven condemn, but human hearts With human faults should bear. »>tttce firgft W$j> ft&lortu T. Moore. — Ai?, Nicholas Freeman. SINCE first Thy Word awaked my heart, Like new life dawning o'er me, Where'er I turn mine eyes Thou art, All light and love before me. Naught else I feel, or hear, or see, — All bonds of earth I sever, Thee, O God, and only Thee, I live for now and ever. Like him whose fetters dropp'd away When light shone o'er his prison,* My spirit, touch' d by mercy's ray, Hath from her chains arisen. And shall a soul Thou bidd'st be free Return to bondage ? — never ! Thee, O God, and only Thee, I live for now and ever. * Acts xii. 7. Types of Heaven. 99 Beautiful SDotie* Charles Mackay, LL.D.— Music by Henry West. THERE was Hope in the ark at the dawn of the day, When o'er the wide waters the dove flew away ; But when, ere the night, she came wearily back With the leaf she had pluck'd on her desolate track, The children of Noah knelt down and adored, And utter d in anthems their praise to the Lord — " O bird of glad tidings ! O joy in our pain ! Beautiful dove ! thou art welcome again !" When peace has departed the care-stricken breast, And the feet of the weary one languish for rest ; When the world is a wide-spreading ocean of grief, How blest the return of the bird and the leaf! Reliance on God is the dove to our ark, And peace is the olive she plucks in the dark. The deluge abates, there is sun after rain — Beautiful dove ! thou art welcome again ! '(Xpes of l^eatiem Miss Sarah E. Mayo. WHY love I the lily bell Swinging in the scented dell ? Why love I the woodnotes wild, Where the sun hath faintly smiled ? Daisies, in their beds secure, Gazing out so meek and pure ? ioo Sacred Songs. Why love I the evening dew In the violet's bell of blue ? Why love I the vesper star, Trembling in its shrine afar ? Why love I the summer night Softly weeping drops of light ? Why to me do woodland springs Whisper sweet and holy things ? Why does every bed of moss Tell me of my Saviour's cross ? Why in every dimpled wave Smiles the light from o'er the grave ? Why do rainbows, seen at even, Seem the glorious paths to heaven ? Why are gushing streamlets fraught With the notes from angels caught ? Can ye tell me why the wind Bringeth seraphs to my mind ? Is it not that faith hath bound Beauties of all form and sound To the dreams that have been given Of the holy things in heaven ? Are they not bright links that bind Sinful souls to sinless mind ? From the lowly violet sod, Links are lengthen'd unto God. All are holy — stainless — sweet — That on earth we hear or meet, Are but types of that pure love Brightly realised above ! O' There's Peace in Heaven. 101 a CtjilD at ^rager. James Bruton. — Music by Dr Rimbault. |H ! is it not a holy sight To see a fair child kneel, Lift up his little hands, and make His innocent appeal ? To watch his tiny pleading eyes Shed tears like blessed rain ? — Tears that above, for human love, Were never -shed in vain ! And is it not a holy sound To hear a fair child pray ? To mark his little rosebud lips The lisping blessings say ? Oh, may those prayers in heaven be Put by, like hoarded gold ; And pardon win for after-sin, When he is gray and old ! t!E!)ere'0 i&eace m ^eatiem W. E. Staite.— Music by C. E. Horn. SAY, where may Peace be found ; I would the secret know. Tell me, ye winds of heaven, That round my pathway blow ; Ye winged clouds, ye clouds of rain, And thou eternal sea, Tell me, thou solid land, If Peace be found in thee. But winds, and clouds, and stormy sea, And earth, all answer, " Not in me !" 102 Sacred Songs. Tell me, ye birds that soar To heaven on sparkling wing, Ye golden flowers that shed New glories on the spring ; Tell me, thou glittering arch, Thou bow of mighty span, If Peace, sweet Peace, on earth May e'er be found by man. But bird, and flower, and bow can say No more than this — " We pass away ! " Tell me, ye mystic lights That glance along the sky, Ye lightnings as ye flash, Ye meteors as ye fly, Ye stars that blaze and burn In ether's purple plains ; Thou moon, the secret tell Ere yet thy lustre wanes. Hark ! hark ! the sweet response is given, " There 's Peace, there 's Peace in heaven/' ^ije ^Luvt 0ljall be mp jfrapant feljrme* T. Moore. — Air, Stevenson. THE turf shall be my fragrant shrine, My temple, Lord, that arch of Thine, My censer's breath the mountain airs, And silent thoughts my only prayers. My choir shall be the moonlight waves, When murmuring homewards to their caves, Or where the stillness of the sea, Even more than music, breathes of Thee ! Moonlight on the Grave. 103 I '11 seek, by day, some glade unknown, All light and silence, like Thy throne ; And the pale stars shall be, at night, The only eyes that watch my rite. Thy heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look, Shall be my pure and shining book, Where I shall read, in words of flame, The glories of Thy wondrous name. I '11 read Thy anger in the rack That clouds a while the daybeams' track, Thy mercy in the azure hue Of sunny brightness, breaking through. There 's nothing bright, above, below, From flowers that bloom to stars that glow, But in its light my soul can see Some feature of Thy deity. There 's nothing dark, below, above, But in its gloom I trace Thy love, And meekly wait that moment, when Thy touch shall turn all bright again. fl^Donlfffjjt on tlje dPratje. Mrs Jane T. Worthington. T T shineth on the quiet graves J- Where weary ones have gone, It watcheth with angelic gaze Where the dead are left alone ; 1 04 Sacred Sojigs. And not a sound of busy life To the still graveyard comes, But peacefully the sleepers lie Down in their silent homes. All silently and solemnly It throweth shadows round, And every gravestone hath a trace In darkness on the ground; It looketh on the tiny mound Where a little child is laid, And it lighteth up the marble pile Which human pride hath made. It falleth with unalter d ray On the simple and the stern, And it showeth with a solemn light The sorrows we must learn ; It telleth of divided ties On which its beam hath shone, It whispereth of heavy hearts Which, brokenly, live on. It gleameth where devoted ones Are sleeping side by side, It looketh where the maiden rests Who in her beauty died. There is no grave in all the earth That moonlight hath not seen ; It gazeth on the passionless, Where agony hath been. Yet it is well : that changeless ray A deeper thought should throw, When mortal love pours forth the tide Of unavailing woe ; For Ever. iCrt It teacheth us no shade of grief Can touch the starry sky, That all our sorrow liveth here — The glory is on high ! J. E. Carpenter. — Music by John Blocklry. FOR ever ! it is written on The soft blue skies above, 'Tis read in all the silent stars That shine in peace and love ; 'Tis whisper' d by the mountain wind, 'Tis murmur'd by the sea, By all earth's brightest, fairest things, The stream, the flower, the tree. For ever ! 'tis a lovely dream, That haunts me like a spell, That tells of that bright happy land Where angels love to dwell ! For ever ! and for ever ! For ever ! — 'tis the sweetest sound That memory oft recalls ; For ever ! — 'tis the saddest tone That o'er the spirit falls : Sad, when it tells some cherish 1 d one From time has pass'd away ; Sweet, that it lives for ever, where The soul knows no decay. For ever ! 'tis a lovely dream, &c 1 06 Sacred Songs. £ draper in fefrimeggJ. Barry Cornwall. SEND down Thy winged angel, God ! Amidst this night so wild ; And bid him come where now we watch, And breathe upon our child ! She lies upon her pillow, pale, And moans within her sleep, Or wakeneth with a patient smile, And striveth not to weep ! How gentle and how good a child She is, we know too well, And dearer to her parents' hearts Than our weak words can tell. We love — we watch throughout the night, To aid, when need may be, We hope — and have despair'd, at times ; But now we turn to Thee ! Send down Thy sweet-soul'd angel, God ! Amidst the darkness wild, And bid him soothe our souls to-night, And heal our gentle child ! 8L draper IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. Robert Burns. — Music by T. Purday. OTHOU unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear, In whose dread presence, ere an hour, Perhaps I must appear ! The Reaper and the Flowers. icy If I have wander 1 d in those paths Of life I ought to shun ; As something loudly in my breast Remonstrates I have done, Thou know 1 st that Thou hast formed me With passions wild and strong ; And listening to their witching voice Has often led me wrong. Where human weakness has come short, Ox frailty stept aside, Do Thou, All-Good, for such Thou art, In shades of darkness hide. Where with intention I have err'd, No other plea I have, But — Thou art good ; and goodness still Delighteth to forgive. ^tje Eeapec anti tfje jflotoerg. W. H. Longfellow.— Music by J. W. Hobbs. THERE is a reaper whose name is Death, And, with his sickle keen, He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, And the flowers that grow between. " Shall I have nought that is fair ? " saith he — " Have nought but the bearded grain ? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me I will orive them all back a^ain." io8 Sacred Songs. He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kiss'd their drooping leaves; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. " My Lord hath need of these flowerets gay," The reaper said, and smiled ; " Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where He was once a child. u They shall all bloom in fields of light, Transplanted by His care, And saints, upon their garments white, These sacred blossoms wear." And the mother gave, in tears and pain, The flowers she most did love ; She knew she should find them all again In the fields of light above. Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath, The reaper came that day ; 'Twas an angel visited the green earth, And took the flowers away. Reaper. J. Hain Friswell. I PRAY at morning ere the sun's awake, Or when the morn 's beginning, — Under Thy wings, O gracious Lord, me take. And keep my soul from sinning. Prayer. 1 09 I pray at noon, or ere a task's begun, With prompt ejaculation, Keep me, O Father, Holy Spirit, Son, From evil perturbation. When on my board is spread a frugal store, Thankful I bow my head ; Thou feed'st me, Lord, oh, gracious evermore, While some for want lie dead. What difference, Lord, seest Thou 'twixt them and me ? I 'm fed while they 're denied ; Not more from sin than they am I, Lord, free : Let this abate my pride. When soars the lark into the summer sky, Pouring full-throated praise, I sing like him, and, Lord, like him I try Towards Thee my soul to raise. When golden fires are twinkling in the sky, And birds their even song Begin, while nature's hush'd, in praise do I Seek, too, to add my song. Not only on Thy sacred day of rest, Within our church's portals, Seek I in prayer my full thoughts to invest For self and other mortals : But every day and hour to Thee I tend, Or seek to, Lord, in earnest : Raise Thou my thoughts, my inclinations bend ; He's stable whom Thou turnest. I io Sacred Sonsrs. I pray, for some, dear to me, very dear, Oh, bless them, Lord, and save ; And shouldst Thou take them, be to me, Lord, near, Kneeling beside their grave. I pray for all who, living, daily tread Upon this land of graves ; Or who upon the sea are onwards sped, Driven by wind and waves. Nor men alone : let all Thy creatures share Their fellows' benediction : Since Thou hast made them, they to me are dear, Without one faint restriction. And prayer is mighty, comforting and sweet, And strengthens day by day ; It shields us in each danger that we meet : Lord ! teach us how to pray. I Mrs Julia Ward Howe. I AM one who holds a treasure, A gem of wondrous cost ; But I mar my heart's deep pleasure With the fear it may be lost. God gives not many mothers So fair a child as thou, And those He gives to others In death are oft laid low. A Mother 9 s Fears. 1 1 1 I, too, might know that sorrow, To stand by thy dying bed, And wish each weary morrow Only that I were dead. Oh ! would that I could bear thee, As I bore thee 'neath my heart, And every sorrow spare thee, And bid each pain depart ! Tell me some act of merit By which I may deserve To hold the angel spirit, And its sweet life preserve. When I watch the little creature, If tears of rapture flow — If 1 worship each fair feature — All mothers would do so. And if I fain would shield her From suffering, on my bruast, Strive every joy to yield her, 'Tis thus that I am blest. Oh for some heavenly token By which I may be sure The vase shall not be broken — Dispersed the essence pure ! Then spake the angel of mothers To me, in gentle tone, — " Be kind to the children of others. And thus deserve thine own." 112 Sacred Songs. <2Tru0t in (Eon. Eliza Cook. THEY tell us that the deep sea hath More dangers than the shore ; They whisper tales of ocean wrath, And breakers' deadly roar. How oft the ruddy cheek will pale To leave the earth behind ! How oft the glowing heart will quail Before the tempest wind ! We fear the billows' dash, but why ? There 's One to guard and save ; There 's One whose wide and watchful eye Sleeps not above the wave. Why should the soul withdraw its trust Upon the foamy track ? He who gave life, all wise and just, Knows when to ask it back. Though death were nigh, I would not shrink My faith, my hope, should rest Upon a Maker's will, and think Whate'er He will'd the best. I 'd ever trust the ruling hand, Howe'er the storm might rave, For He who watches o'er the land Sleeps not above the wave. The L ighthouse. 1 1 3 W. E. STAiTR— Music by J. P. Knight. THE turf may be my lowly bed, Heaven's arch the roof that decks my head, God's stars the only eyes that keep Their night watch o'er me while I sleep ; Yet He who hears the raven's cry Will ne'er forsake me where I lie ; He '11 guard me still, He'll hear my call, Who marks the poorest sparrow's fall. What though " the erase''' and " meal" be low, His hand will all good things bestow ; The bounteous hand which feeds and fills The cattle on a thousand hills ; And when on death's cold pillow cast, I '11 lay me down in peace at last ; For well I know He'll hear my call, Who marks the poorest sparrow's fall. Cfje Xi£ljtljoti;3e. W. H. BELLAMY.— Music by J. L. Hation. A MAX once built a lighthouse, And he built it on a rock, And he boasted it should bear unscathed The storm's severest shock. " Of engineers I '11 be," quoth he, " The proudest and the first ; There stands my work, and it shall stand,- The waves may do their worst." H 1 14 Sacred Songs. And stand it did, amid the sea, Amid the shifting sand, A fairer work to look upon Ne'er came from mortal hand. Forth went the word ! the winds arose, The waves came thundering en, At sundown it was standing, The day broke — it was gone. Another engineer then came, A wiser, humbler man, One who revered his Maker's word, And loved His works to scan ; He stood before a forest oak, And mark'd its structure well, He saw its slowly tapering height, Its bold descending swell. He gave it thought, he gather d hope. And like a brave man there, Felt it no shame to bow his heart In thankfulness and prayer. To work he went, and this he graved Upon the first laid stone, " Man may build up, the strength to stand Must come from God alone." Slow rose the work, but safely slow, Firm as the rooted oak ; Day after day, storm after storm, Above that lighthouse broke ; At last came one, and seamen said, While yet they saw it loom, " If it stand this, why, it will stand Until the day of doom."' Is this all ? 1 1 : The storm pass'd on, long years are gone, The engineer sleeps well, And still around that lighthouse towers, The eddying billows swell ; And many a tar, from many a land, Through many a stormy night, Still breathes a prayer for him that rear'd That heaven-protected light. 3)0 tljfc all? Rev. Horatius Bonar, D.D. SOMETIMES I catch sweet glimpses of His face, But that is all. Sometimes He looks on me, and seems to smile, But that is all. Sometimes He speaks a passing word of peace, But that is all. Sometimes I think I hear His loving voice Upon me call. And is this all He meant when thus He spoke — " Come unto me ?" Is there no deeper, more enduring rest, In Him for thee?" Is there no steadier light for thee in Him ? Oh, come and see ! Oh, come and see ! oh, look, and look again ; All shall be right ; Oh, taste His love, and see that it is good, Thou child of night. Oh, trust Him, trust Him in His grace and power, Then all is bright. 1 1 6 Sacred Songs. Nay, do not wrong Him by thy heavy thoughts, But love His love. Do thou fall justice to His tenderness, His mercy prove ; Take Him for what He is ; oh, take Him all, And look above ! Then shall thy tossing soul find anchorage, And stedfast peace ; Thy love shall rest on His ; thy weary doubts For ever cease. Thy heart shall find in Him, and in His grace. Its rest and bliss. Christ and His love shall be thy blessed all For evermore ! Christ and His light shall shine on all thy ways For evermore ! Christ and His peace shall keep thy troubled soul For evermore ! ^cElje Fidlon of Belsfyajjar* Lord Byrox. — Music by J. Nathan. THE king was on his throne, The satraps throng'd the hall ; A thousand bright lamps shone O'er that hijh festival. A thousand cups of gold — In Judah deenVd divine, Jehovah's vessels — hold The godless heathen's wine. The Vision of BelsJiazzar. 117 In that same hour and hall, The finger of a hand Came forth against the wall And wrote as if on sand : The finger of a man ; A solitary hand Along the letters ran, And traced them like a wand. The monarch saw, and shook, And bade no more rejoice ; All bloodless wax'd his look, And tremulous his voice. " Let the men of lore appear, The wisest of the earth, And expound the words of fear Which mar our royal mirth/ 7 Chaldea's seers are good, But here they had no skill ; And the unknown letters stood Untold and awful still. And Babel's men of age Are wise and deep in lore ; But now they were not sage, They saw — but knew no more. A captive in the land, A stranger and a youth, He heard the king's command. He saw the writing's truth. The lamps around were bright, The prophecy in view ; He read it on that night, — The morrow proved it true. Ill Sacred Songs. " Belshazzar's grave is made, His kingdom pass'd away, He, in the balance weigh'd, Is light and worthless clay. The shroud his robe of state, His canopy the stone : The Mede is at his gate ! The Persian on his throne ! " ^mn of tlje l^cfartto 9$aftu Sir Walter Scott. WHEN Israel, of the Lord beloved, Out of the land of bondage came, Her father's God before her moved, An awful guide in smoke and flame. By day, along the astonished lands The cloudy pillar glided slow ; By night, Arabia's crimson' d sands Return'd the fiery column's glow. There rose the choral hymn of praise, And trump and timbrel answer'd keen ; And Zion's daughters pour'd their lays, With priest and warrior's voice between. No portents now our foes amaze, Forsaken Israel wanders lone ; Our fathers would not know Thy ways, And Thou hast left them to their own. Bat present still, though now unseen ! When brightly shines the prosp'reus day, Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen To temper the deceitful ray. Mountain Prayer. 1 19 And oh, when stoops on Judah's paths, In shade and storm, the frequent night, Be Thou long-suff'ring, slow to wrath, A burning and a shining light. Our harps we left by Babel's streams, The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn ; No censer round our altar beams, And mute are timbrel, harp, and horn ; But Thou hast said, — u The blood of goat, The flesh of rams I will not prize ; A contrite heart, a humble thought, Are mine accepted sacrifice." S^ountafn grayer* J. E. Carpenter. — Music by S. Nelson. " He went up into a mountain apart, to pray.'' AMIDST the ancient mountains, where the eagle made his nest, An aged man went up to pray, to bare his wearied breast ; For the spirit of the solitude reign'd solemnly on high, And there, unmark'd, his soul could hold communion witL the sky. Apart from all of human kind, where stillness ever dwells, The pure and holy fount of prayer sheds forth its holy spells ; 'Twas there He went, the blessed one, in the vast and silent day — Oh, shun ye not the mountain path, but seek it — there to pray ! 1 20 Sacred Songs. And thus, amid the mountains, where the Son of Man hath trod, The patriarch went up to pray — to commune with his God ; He breathed his fervent plaint alone amid the upper air, Then sought the lesser world, but left his calm, pure spirit there ! J. E. Carpenter.— Music by N. J. Sporle. " A NGELS ' visits" may, they tell us, ^"*- Seldom here on earth be seen, E'er since sin and doubt befell us, " Few" they are u and far between ;" Yet we have a shadowy gleaming Of their forms so pure and bright. Round our pillows softly beaming, In the silent hours of night ! Angels' visits ! would we see them, We must not expect them here ; Doubters ! Angels always flee them, They are not of this dull sphere : But, if faith to us be given Not God's wisdom to forego, In the starry realms of heaven Angels' visits we may know ! Almighty God! 121 jaimffffjtp (BoH! Chorus of Priests. T. Moore. — Air, Mozart ALMIGHTY God ! when round Thy shrine The palm-tree's heavenly branch we twine,* (Emblem of Life's eternal ray, And Love that " fadeth not away,") We bless the flowers, expanded all ; t We bless the leaves that never fall, And trembling say, — " In Eden thus The Tree of Life may flower for us." When round Thy cherubs, smiling calm, — Without their flames, — we wreathe the palm, O God ! we feel the emblem true : Thy mercy is eternal too. Those cherubs, with their smiling eyes, That crown of palm, which never dies, Are but the types of Thee above, — Eternal Life, and Peace, and Love ! * " The Scriptures having declared that the temple of Jerusalem was a type of the Messiah, it is natural to conclude that the palms, which were made so conspicuous a figure in that structure, represented that life and immortality which were brought to light by the gospel." — Observations on the Palm as a Sacred Emblem, by IV. Tigke. f 1 Kings vi. 29. -♦ 122 Sacred Songs. d&o toljca tlje Scorning; feljfnetlj. Anonymous. — Mttsic by Stephen Glover. GO when the morning shineth, Go when the moon is bright, Go when the day declineth, Go in the hush of night ; Go with pure mind and feeling. Fling earthly thoughts away, And in thy chamber kneeling, Do thou in secret pray. Remember all who love thee, All who are loved by thee ; Pray, too, for those who hate thee, If any such there be ; Then for thyself, in meekness, A blessing humbly claim, And link with each petition Thy great Redeemer's name. Or if 'tis e'er denied thee In solitude to pray, Should holy thoughts come o'er thee When friends are round thy way ; Even then the silent breathing Of thy spirit raised above, Will reach His throne of glory Who is mercy, truth, and love ! Oh ! not a joy or blessing With this we can compare, The power that He hath given us To pour our souls in prayer ! Friend after Friend Departs. 123 Whene'er thou pinest in sadness, Before His footstool fall, And remember, in thy gladness, His crrace who gives thee all. 31 f tljat i?ifflj OQIorto. Lord Byrox. — Music by J. Nathan. IF that high world, which lies beyond Our own, surviving love endears ; If there the cherish' d heart be fond, The eye the same, except in tears — How welcome those untrodden spheres ! How sweet this very hour to die ! To soar from earth, and find all fears Lost in thy light — eternity ! It must be so ; 'tis not for self That we so tremble at the brink, And striving to o'erleap the gulf Yet cling to Being's severing link. Oh ! in that future let us think To hold each heart the heart that shares ; With them the immortal waters drink, And soul in soul grow deathless theirs ! jFrienU after jfrienD Departs James MONTGOMERY. — Music by Stephen Glover. FRIEND after friend departs ; Who has not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts. That finds not here an end : 124 Sacred Songs. Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest. Beyond the flight of time, Beyond this vale of death, There surely is some blessed clime, Where life is not a breath, Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upwards to expire. There is a world above, Where parting is unknown ; A whole eternity of love, Form'd for the good alone : And faith beholds the dying here Translated to that happier sphere. Thus star by star declines Till all are pass'd away, As morning high and higher shines To pure and perfect day ; Nor sink those stars in empty night ; They hide themselves in heaven's own light. Ojcrc is a Bleak 2Detfert> T. Moore. — Air, Crescent int. THERE is a bleak desert, where daylight grows weary Of wasting its smile on a region so dreary — What may that desert be ? 'Tis life, cheerless life, where the few joys that come Are lost, like that daylight, for 'tis not their home. Resignation. 125 There is a lone pilgrim before whose faint eyes The water he pants for but sparkles and flies — Who may that pilgrim be ? 'Tis man, hapless man, through this life tempted on By fair shining hopes, that in shining are gone. There is a bright fountain through that desert stealing, To pure bliss alone its refreshment revealing — What may that fountain be ? 'Tis truth, holy truth, that, like springs under ground, By the gifted of heaven alone can be found/ There is a fair spirit, whose wand hath the spell To point where those waters in secrecy dwell — Who may that spirit be ? 'Tis faith, humble faith, who hath learn' d that where'er Her wand bends to worship, the truth must be there. Thomas Chatterton. OGOD, whose thunder shakes the sky, Whose eye this atom globe surveys ; To Thee, my only Rock, I fly, Thy mercy and Thy justice praise. The mystic mazes of Thy will, The shadows of celestial light, Are past the power of human skill — But what th' Eternal acts is right. * In singing, the following line had better be adopted : — •* Can but by the gifted of heaven be found. " 126 Sacred Songs. Oh ! teach me in the trying hour, When anguish swells the dewy tear, To still my sorrows, own Thy power, Thy goodness love, Thy justice fear. If in this bosom aught but Thee, Encroaching, sought a boundless sway, Omniscience could the danger see, And mercy look the cause away. Then why, my soul, dost thou complain ? Why drooping seek the dark recess ? Shake off the melancholy chain, For God created all to bless. But ah ! my breast is human still ; The rising sigh, the falling tear, My languid vitals' feeble rill The sickness of my soul declare. But yet, with fortitude resign'd, I '11 thank th' inflictor of the blow, Forbid the sigh, compose my mind, Nor let the gush of misery flow. The gloomy mantle of the night, Which on my sinking spirit steals, Will vanish at the morning light Which God, my East, my Sun, reveals. Psaim of Life. 127 $$alm of %itz. H. W. Longfellow.— Music by S. Glover. TELL me not in mournful numbers u Life is but an empty dream !" For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal : "Dust thou art, to dust returncst," Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Finds us further than to-day. Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of life, Be not like dumb driven cattle — Be- a hero in the strife ! Trust no future, howe'er pleasant ; Let the dead past buiy its dead ; Act, act in the living present, Heart within, and God o'erhead ! 128 Sacred Songs. Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time. Footprints that, perhaps, another Sailing o'er life's solemn main, Some forlorn and shipwreck' d brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait. James Hogg. {For the close of the week.) BEFORE Thy footstool, God of truth, A humble child bows down, To thank Thee for the joys of earth, And errors all to own. I know Thou art the fountain-head Whence all my blessings flow ; But all Thy glory and Thy good I dare not seek to know : Whether Thy way is on the wind, Thy pathway on the storm ; Or on the waste of waters wide, Which rolling waves deform ; A Child's Hymn. 129 But this I know, by flood or wild, Thou seest me night and day, And grievest o'er the wayward child That goes from Thee astray. Through all this week Thy kindly sway Has round me been for good, — At task or play, by night or day. In wilderness or wood. And when I lay me down to sleep, Thy guardian shield be spread ; And angels of Thy presence keep A watch around my bed. Oh, teach me to adore Thy name, For all Thy love to me ; Thy guardian goodness to proclaim, Thy truth and verity. And through the darkness of the night Watch o'er my thoughts that stray, And lift mine eyes upon the light Of a new Sabbath-day. And in a holy frame employ Thy day, new praise to give To Him who wept that I might joy, And died that I might live : Who rose again and went above, That sinful ones like me Might glory in redeeming love, To all eternity. 1 30 Sacred Songs. For all Thy blessings showered around My kindred and my race, I bless Thee, Lord, but most of all, For riches of Thy grace. For peace of mind, for health of frame, And joys— a mighty store, Accept my thanks, and to Thy name Be glory evermore. u %ty I&tng&om Corned Eliza Cook. ? HPIS human lot to meet and bear J- The common ills of human life ; There's not a breast but hath its share Of bitter pain and vexing strife. The peasant in his lowly shed, The noble 'neath a gilded dome, Each will at some time bow his head, And ask and hope, " Thy kingdom come ! " When some deep sorrow, surely slow, Despoils the cheek and eats the heart, Laying our busy projects low, And bidding all earth's dreams depart — Do we not smile, and calmly turn From the wide world's tumultuous hum, And feel the immortal essence yearn, Rich with the thought, " Thy kingdom come ? " By the Rivers of Babylon. 131 The waves of Care may darkly bound And buffet, till, our strength outworn, We stagger as they gather round, All shattered, weak, and tempest-torn : But there's a lighthouse for the soul, That beacons to a stormless home ; It safely guides through roughest tides — It shines, it saves ! " Thy kingdom come ! " To gaze upon the loved in death, To mark the closing beamless eye, To press dear lips, and find no breath — This, this is life's worst agony ! But God, too merciful, too wise To leave the lorn one in despair, Whispers, while snatching those we prize, " My kingdom come ! — Ye '11 meet them there ! " Bp tlje l&faers of Babylon* Lord Byron. — Music by J. Nathan. WE sate down and wept by the waters Of Babel, and thought of the day When our foe, in the love of his slaughters, Made Salem's high places his prey ; And ye, oh, her desolate daughters ! Were scatter d, all weeping, away. While sadly we gazed on the river Which roll'd on in freedom below, They demanded the song ; but, oh, never That triumph the stranger shall know ! May this right hand be wither'd for ever Ere it string our high harp for the foe. 132 Sacred Songs. On the willow that harp is suspended, O Salem ! its sound should be free ; And the hour when thy glories were ended But left me that token of thee : And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended With the voice of the spoiler by me ! Thomas Hood. — Music by John Blockley. WE watch'd her breathing through the night. Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seem'd to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied ; We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. For when the morn came dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed, — she had Another morn than ours. Totita Nika. 133 Mrs G. Linnaeus Banks. WE read on the historic page, The monarch Constantine, Whilst marching 'gainst a Pagan foe, Invoked the Power Divine, In choice of a religious creed To lead his steps aright, To grant him knowledge of the truth, And aid him in the fight. When in the dusky evening sky Appear'd the Christian's sign : The Cross, in unimagined light, And bore these words divine, — "In this overcome." The startled monarch stood amazed, Own'd the God-given guide, Uprear'd the standard of the Cross, And fought, faith-fortified. For, trusting not in human strength, He sought help from on high, And, ever in the cause of truth, March' d but to victory. Still far and wide his conquests spread In temple, council, field ; And wheresoe'er the Cross was rear'd, And God in Christ reveal'd, "In this overcome." And so the Christian, whensoe'er Assail' d by doubts or fears, Should turn the inner eye above, And, lo ! the Cross appears ! 134 Sacred Songs. A promise to the fainting heart, A guide in doubt's thick shade, A refuge to the penitent, In cheering light array'd. Or if his soul is e'er assail'd By foes without, within, Raise but the standard of the Cross, And quell the hosts of sin, — "In this overcome." W$t flDrpfjaru Mrs Maclean — Letitia Elizabeth Landon. ALONE, alone !— No other face Wears kindred smile, or kindred line ; And yet they say my mother's eyes — They say my father's brow — is mine ; And either had rejoiced to see The other's likeness in my face ; But now it is a stranger's eye That finds some long-forgotten trace. I heard them name my father's death, His home and tomb alike the wave ; And I was early taught to weep Beside my youthful mother's grave. I wish I could recall one look, — But only one familiar tone ; If I had aught of memory, I should not feel so all alone. Cradle Song. 135 My heart is gone beyond the grave In search of love I cannot find, Till I could fancy soothing words Are whisper'd by the evening wind. I gaze upon the watching stars, So clear, so beautiful above, Till I could dream they look at me With something of an answering love. My mother ! does thy gentle eye Look from those distant stars on me ? Or does the wind at evening bear A message to thy child from thee ? Dost thou pine for me as I pine Again a parent's love to share ? I often kneel beside thy grave, And pray to be a sleeper there. The vesper-bell ! — 'Tis eventide, I will not weep, but I will pray : God of the fatherless, 'tis Thou Alone canst be the orphan's stay ! Earth's meanest flower, heaven's mightiest star, Are equal to their Maker's love; And I can say, " Thy will be done," With eyes that fix their hopes above. CraUle ^>ong;. William C. Bennett. LULLABY, lullaby, baby dear ! Take thy rest without a fear : Quiet sleep, for mother is here, Ever wakeful, ever near. Lullaby ! 136 Sacred Songs. Lullaby, lullaby ! gone is the light, Yet let not darkness my baby fright ; Mother is with her amid the night, Then softly sleep, my heart's delight. Lullaby ! May thy small dreams no ill things see. Kind Heaven keep watch, my baby, o'er thee, Kind angels bright thy guardians be, And give thee smiling to-day and me. Lullaby ! Sleep on, sleep on ! thy rest is deep ; But, ah ! what wild thoughts on rne creep, — As by thy side my watch I keep, — To think how like to death is sleep Lullaby ! But God, our Father, will hear my prayer, And have thee, dear one, in His care ; Thee, little one, soft breathing there, To me the Lord's dear love will spare, Lullaby \ Sleep on ! sleep on ! till glad day break. And with the sunshine gladly wake, Thy mother's day, how blest to make ! Her life, what joy ! through thy dear sake, Lullaby ! The Child's Evening Hymn. 137 %\)Z CIjflD'0 CE&enirtp; ^pn. Samuel Taylor Coleridge.— A ir, Evening Hymn. ERE on my bed my limbs I lay, God grant me grace my prayers to say ! O God, preserve my mother dear In health and strength for many a year. And, oh ! preserve my father too, And may I pay him reverence due ; And may I my best thoughts employ To be my parents' hope and joy. My sisters and my brothers both From evil guard, and save from sloth, And may we always love each other, Our friends, our father, and our mother. [For that dear brother gone from earth, Who soothed my woe, who shared my mirth, Oh, teach me, Father, Thee to love, That we may meet in realms above.] * And still, O Lord, to me impart A contrite, pure, and grateful heart, That after my last sleep I may Awake to Thy eternal day. Amen. * The fourth verse is introduced by the Editor. i ^8 Sacred Songs. "Be not afraiHj *%l* 3." Matt. xiv. G. LlNNiEUS BANKS. — Music by Edwin Flood, "DE not afraid ; 'tis I " -L* Who walk the mighty deep ; Who bid the storm pass by, Or rock the waves to sleep : Though mountain billows swell, And thunders shake the sky, A breath of mine can quell — u Be not afraid ; 'tis I." " Be not afraid ; 'tis I:" But have ye ought to fear ? Can danger e'er be nigh, And God. too, not be near ? " Oh, ye of little faith," Who raise the feeble cry To Him who ever saith — " Be not afraid ; 'tis I." ^TIjc Christian (Braces. No. i.— FAITH. Rev. J. R. Wreford.— Music by Stephen Glover. LORD, I believe : Thy power I own, Thy word I would obey ; I wander comfortless and lone, When from Thy truth I stray. TJie Christian Graces. 139 Lord, I believe : but gloomy fears Sometimes bedim my sight ; I look to Thee with prayers and tears, And cry for strength and light. Lord, I believe : but Thou dost know My faith is cold and weak ; Pity my frailty, and bestow The confidence I seek. Yes ! I believe ; and only Thou Canst give my soul relief; Lord ! to Thy truth my spirit bow ; Help Thou my unbelief. No. 2.— HOPE. Charles Jefferys.— Music by Stephen Glover. MOURNER, why this fruitless sorrow? Let me soothe thee with my lay, Darkest night hath brightest morrow, So shall sadness pass away. Heavy is thy heart with anguish, Sorely are thy thoughts oppress'd, Mourner, wherefore dost thou languish ? I am here to give thee rest. My blest mission is from heaven, Thither let thy thoughts ascend ; Free thy heart from earthly leaven ; Thou shalt know me as thy friend : Be thy prayers and adorations Made unto that bright abode, I will lead thy aspirations To the temple of thy God ! 140 Sacred Songs. No. 3.— CHARITY. Charles Jefferys.— Music by Stephen Glover. MEEK and lowly, pure and holy, Chief among the " blessed three," Turning sadness into gladness, Heaven-born art thou, Charity ! Pity dwelleth in thy bosom ; Kindness reigneth o'er thy heart, Gentle thoughts alone can sway thee, Judgment hath in thee no part- Hoping ever, failing never, Though deceived, believing still ; Long abiding, all confiding, In thy heavenly Father's will. Never weary of well-doing, Never fearful of the end : Claiming all mankind as brothers, Thou dost all alike befriend. <€& Sleeper. J. E. Carpenter. — Muszc by F. Wallerstein. I HAD a vision in the night ; — An infant tired with play, While o'er it bent two angels bright, As there it sleeping lay : I knew that they were Death and Sleep, But which I could not name, Nor why that both should vigil keep, Why pictured both the same. Song after L abour. 1 4 1 Since then I 've seen life's last light fade, And pass its latest breath ; Then knew I why my vision made Sleep so akin to Death. Between the white-wing'd angels stood A form,— " 'twas Time,' 1 I said ; My vision, in a happy mood, Thus hope and comfort shed : For sleep knows two awakings, — one Where sweet bells gaily chime, And one, life's pilgrimage begun, That's only known to Time. And well it is for our repose, When bound in slumber deep, That Time alone the future knows, The hour for Death or Sleep. fe>onff after 3Labour* Barry Cornwall. LABOUR'S strong and merry children, Comrades of the rising sun, Let us sing some songs together, Now our toil is done. No desponding, no repining ! Leisure must by toil be bought. Never yet was good accomplished, Without hand and thought. Even God's all holy labour Framed the air, the stars, the sun ; Built our earth on deep foundations ; And — the World was won ! 142 Sacred Songs. % gougljt tlje 3Lor&. J. E. Carpenter.— Music by N. J. Sporle. I SOUGHT the Lord — He heard my voice, The hour of sorrow pass'd away ; He bade my trembling soul rejoice, And smooth'd the paths where now I stray : I look back to the past where never My footsteps shall return again, For, in His path I '11 walk for ever, And steadfast in my faith remain ! I sought the Lord — and me He heard, He let my prayers to heaven ascend ; And, trusting in His holy word, I knew no other hope or friend ; And now with meek and chasten'd spirit I pray my sins may be forgiven, That I, hereafter, may inherit A rest above — a home in heaven. ^tg Clflliil be SDone! JAMES Bruton.— Music by Dr Rimbault O MOTHER! it is hard to die When all is glad around ; When smiling stars light up the sky, And flowers begem the ground ! When bee and bird abroad are heard, And summer just begun : But, mother ! I will not complain — For let His will be done ! O Thou who Dryst the Mourner's Tear. 143 mother ! it is hard to die, When e'en but yesternight, My cheek was red, and in my eyes Hope lit its cheating light ! 1 hear the noise of playmate boys In search of pleasure run : But, mother ! I will not complain — For let His will be done ! O mother ! it is hard to die, And leave you here to weep, With none to dry your tears when I Shall sleep the long deep sleep ! My pillow raise, and let me gaze On yonder setting sun, Which I may never see again — But let His will be done ! flD tEfiou toljo SDcp'gt ttje 9t£ourneu'0 ^ear* Psalm cxlvii. 3. T. Moore. — Air, Haydn. OThou who dry'st the mourner's tear, How dark this world would be, If, when deceived and wounded here, We could not fly to thee. The friends who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown ; And he who has but tears to give, Must weep those tears alone. 144 Sacred Songs. But Thou wilt heal that broken heart, Which, like the plants that throw Their fragrance from the wounded part, Breathes sweetness out of woe. When joy no longer soothes or cheers, And even the hope that threw A moment's sparkle o'er our tears Is dimm'd and vanish'd too, Oh, who would bear life's stormy doom, Did not Thy Wing of Love Come, brightly wafting through the gloom Our peace-branch from above ! Then sorrow, touch'd by Thee, grows bright With more than rapture's ray ; As darkness shows us worlds of light We never saw by day ! %$t BeatitutiesL No. i.— SORROW. "B'essed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted."— Matt. v. 4 Charles Jefferys.— Music by Stephen Glover. IN this world abideth sorrow ; Rich and poor, and high and low. Wearied age and early childhood Must the pangs of sorrow know r But when earthly griefs are keenest, Hark what cheering words are said : They that mourn are blessed ; — blessed, For they shall be comforted. The Beatitudes. 145 If we seek our only solace In the one pure source above, Happy is the heart that 's chasten'd By the Father's hand of love. He who is the Lord of Glory, Had not where to lay His head — Thus He sorrow'd, thus He suffer' d, That we might be comforted. No. 2.— MEEKNESS. ' Blessed are the meek : for they shall inherit the earth." — Matt. v. 6. Charles Jefferys. — Music by Stephen Glover. BE meek, be patient : oh, how blest is he Whose heart is ever ready to forgive ; Who knows, 'mid unresented injury, That unresisted anger cannot live. A little spark may rouse a raging fire, The more opposed, the more will anger burn ; But feed it not, the spark will soon expire ; So Strife, provoked not, will to Peace return. Of Adam born, there never lived but One Who needed not forgiveness, and yet He Was scorn'd, despised, rejected, left alone To bear the burden of His misery. By man betray'd, how tender was the prayer, In dying whispers, breathed by lips divine : May we such Patience learn ; like Him forbear, Confide in promised joys, and ne'er repine. 146 Sacred Songs. No. 3.— MERCY. " Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy." — Matt. v. 7.. Charles Jefferys. — Music by Stephen Glover. BE merciful, for they are blessed Who the gifts of Mercy show ; In their need, they shall find that mercy Which on others they bestow. To help the friendless, save the erring, Raise the fallen, cheer the lone, To win the wayward back to duty, This, sweet Mercy, is thine own. Le ever merciful in judging ; Be not cold to Want's appeal — 'Tis better we should err in kindness, Than let Pity's fount congeal. If here on earth thou wouldst be happy, Know that man is nearest heaven When he freely grants forgiveness, As he hopes to be forgiven. No. 4.— PEACE. u Elessed are the peacemakers : for they shall be ca.led the children of God."— Matt. v. 9. Charles Jefferys. — Music by Stephen Glover. " HPO God be glory in the highest, J- Peace on earth, good-will to man" — Thus sang on high the Herald Angels When Redemption's work began : — The Bow in the Cloud. 147 Go forth, proclaim it to the nations, Hence let strife and warfare cease ; ' For best of all the Earth's oblations Are the offerings of Peace. Peacemakers, ye on earth are blessed, Children of the Holy One : — That ye the kingdom shall inherit, Was the promise of the Son. Then go, proclaim it to the nations, Hence let strife and warfare cease ; For purest of all Earth's oblations, Are the offerings of Peace. C&e Boto in tlje ciouo; 4 1 do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth." — Gen. ix. 13. J. E. CARPENTER.—- Music by Stephen Glover. NEVER complain, though thy sorrows be many ; Child of affliction, thy lot is to bear ! What are thy sufferings, mortal, to any He who died for us consented to share ? He whom He loveth He chasteneth, and sorrow May, for the moment, thy pathway o'ershroud ! Trembler ! look up — there is hope for thy morrow, For has not the Lord set His bow in the dozed? Sign of His goodness and type of His glory. Token and promise of peace upon earth, — Covenant, giving the young and the hoary, Hope of, hereafter, a holier birth ; 148 Sacred Songs. Blessed on earth be His name who from heaven Has, in the fulness of goodness, allow'd Hope for the past — for the future has given The token of promise — the bow in the cloud V ^Lfjou act, flD C5oti ! Psalm Ixxiv, 16, 17. T. Moore, — Air, unknown. THOU art, O God, the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see, Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from Thee. Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are Thine ! When day, with farewell beams, delays Among the opening clouds of even, And we can almost think we gaze Through golden vistas into heaven — Those hues, that make the sun's decline So soft, so radiant, Lord ! are Thine. When night, with wings of starry gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes — That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, Lord ! are Thine. Lady Mary. 149 When youthful Spring around us breathes, Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh ; And every flower the Summer wreathes Is born beneath that kindling eye. Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are Thine. Rev. H. Alford, D.D., Dean of Canterbury. THOU wert fair, Lady Mary, As the lily in the sun ; And fairer yet thou mightest be, Thy youth was but begun : Thine eye was soft and glancing, Of the deep bright blue ; And on the heart thy gentle words Fell lighter than the dew. They found thee, Lady Mary, With thy palms upon thy breast, Even as thou hadst been praying At thy hour of rest : The cold pale moon was shining On thy cold pale cheek ; And the morn of the Nativity- Had just begun to break. They carved thee, Lady Mary, All of pure white stone, With thy palms upon thy breast, In the chancel all alone : 150 Sacred Songs. And I saw thee when the winter moon Shone on thy marble cheek, When the morn of the Nativity Had just begun to break. But thou kneelest, Lady Mary, With thy palms upon thy breast, Among the perfect spirits In the land of rest : Thou art even as they took thee At thine hour of prayer, Save the glory that is on thee From the Sun that shineth there. We shall see thee, Lady Mary, On that shore unknown, A pure and happy angel In the presence of the Throne ; We shall see thee when the light divine Plays freshly on thy cheek, And the Resurrection morning Hath just begun to break. CIj ! £&lecp for ^fjogfe. Lord Byron.— Music by Stephen Glover. OH ! weep for those that wept by Babul's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land 's a dream ; W T eep for the harp of Judah's broken shell ; Mourn — where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell. And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet ? And when shall Zions songs again seem sweet ? The Rainbow, 1 5 1 And Judah's melody once more rejoice The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly voice ? Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, How shall ye flee away and be at rest ! The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, Mankind their country — Israel but the grave ! %\)z IBUittboto* Thomas Campbell. TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud philosophy To teach me what thou art. Still seem as to my childhood's sight, A midway station given, For happy spirits to alight Betwixt the earth and heaven. Can all that optics teach, unfold Thy form to please me so As when I dreamt of gems and geld Hid in thy radiant bow ? When Science from Creation's face Enchantment's veil withdraws, What lovely visions yield their place To cold material laws ! And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, But words of the Most High, Have told why first thy robe of beams W T as woven in the sky. Sacred Songs. When o'er the green undeluged earth Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, How came the world's gray fathers forth To watch thy sacred sign ! And when its yellow lustre smiled On mountains yet untrod, Each mother held aloft her child, To bless the bow of God. Methinks thy jubilee to keep The first-made anthem rang On earth deliver' d from the deep, And the first poet sang. Nor ever shall the Muse's eye Unraptured greet thy beam ; Theme of primeval prophecy, Be still the poet's theme. The earth to thee its incense yields, The lark thy welcome sings, When glittering in the freshen'd fields The snowy mushroom springs. How glorious is thy girdle cast O'er mountain, tower, and town, Or mirror'd in the ocean vast, A thousand fathoms down. As fresh in yon horizon dark, As young thy beauties seem, As when the eagle from the ark First sported in thy beam. TJie L igJit of Stars. I 5 3 For faithful to its sacred page, Heaven still rebuilds thy span, Nor lets the type grow pale with age That first spoke peace to man. %\)z Hiijfjt of ^tans, W. H. Longfellow. THE night is come, but not too- soon And sinking silently, All silently, the little moon Drops down behiod the sky. There is no light in earth or heaven, But the cold light of stars ; And the first watch of night is given To the red planet Mars : Is it the tender star of love ? The star of love and dreams ? Oh no ! from that blue tent above, A hero's armour gleams. And earnest thoughts within me rise, When I behold afar, Suspended in the evening skies, The shield of that red star. O star of strength ! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain ; Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, And I am strong a^ain. 1 54 Sacred Songs. Within my breast there is no light, But the cold light of stars ; I give the first watch of the night To the red planet Mars. The star of the imconquerM will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possess' d. A.id thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, That readest this brief psalm, As one by one thy hopes depart, Be resolute and calm. Oh, fear not, in a world like this, And thou shalt know, ere long. Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer, and be strong. J. E. Carpenter. — Music by J. W. Cherry. HAVE faith in Him who rules the deep And stills the angry wave, At whose dread word the surges sweep O'er many an ocean grave ; Whose hand is in the storm and calm To succour or destroy : He is thy shield 'gainst every harm, — To Him sing songs of joy ! Have faith in Him ; 'tis not for man To judge His wond'rous ways, He can thy every action scan, — To Him sing songs of praise ! Ho! Every One that Thirstetli. 155 Have faith in Him who rules the world, Whose eye can compass all ; The rocks from their foundation hurFd, And marks the sparrow's fall : Whose voice is in the evening breeze, And in the tempest's roar ; Who rules the heaven, the earth, the sea, And can the dead restore. Have faith in Him ; be not afraid To walk within His ways ; Think in His image ye are made, — To Him sing songs of praise ! ^0! (Cterp SDm tljat TOwtetfi* DUET. J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. ' O ! every one that thirsteth, Drink at the living well, Within whose source the streams of life And joy eternal dwell ; Come ye, the poor, no worldly gift The sacred draught can buy ; Pure, deep, and sweet, and without price, The sacred waters lie. H' Come ye in faith, incline your ear, And so your soul shall live, Strengthen'd for ever by the draught The well of truth can give : And God, yea, even God, whose words Alone are just and true, Will hear and make an everlasting Covenant with you. 156 Sacred Songs. Come ye in faith, and ye shall then Go out with joy — be led forth free As the high mountains and the hills, That seem to sing in glee ! And that shall be a sign to thee That Ke hath heard thy voice ; And ye who walk within His ways May evermore rejoice ! Icpfjtfja'sf 2Datttt!jtet\ LORD Byrox.— Music by Stephe7i Glover. SINCE our country, our God, O my sire ! Demand that thy daughter expire ; Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow — Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now. And the voice of my mourning is o'er, And the mountains behold me no more : If the hand that I love lay me low, There cannot be pain in the blow. And of this, O my fnther ! be sure — That the blood of thy child is as pure As the blessing I beg ere it flow, And the last thought that soothes me below. Though the virgins of Salem lament, Be the judge and the hero unbent ! I have won the great battle for thee, And my father and country are free. The Pilgrim. 1 5 7 When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd, When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd, Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died ! W$t pilgrim, Mrs Maclean, " L. E. L." VAIN folly of another age, His wandering over earth, To find the peace by some dark sin Banish'd our household hearth. On Lebanon the dark green pines Wave over sacred ground ; And Carmel's consecrated rose Springs from a hallow'd mound. Glorious the truth they testify, And blessed is their name ; But even in such a sacred spot Are sin and woe the same. O pilgrim ! vain each toilsome step, Vain every weary day ; There is no charm in toil or shrine To wash thy guilt away. Return, with prayer and tear, return To those who weep at home ; To dry their tears will more avail Than o'er a world to roam. 1 5 S Sacred Songs. There's hope for one who leaves with shame The guilt that lured before ; Remember, He who said, " Repent," Said also, " Sin no more." Return, and in thy daily round Of duty and of love, Thou best will find that patient faith Which lifts the soul above. In every innocent prayer each child Lisps at his father's knee, If thine has been to teach that prayer, There will be hope for thee. There is a small white church which stands Beside thy father's grave, There kneel and pour those earnest prayers That sanctify and save. Around thee draw thine own home ties, And, with a chasten' d mind, In meek well-doing seek that peace No wandering will find. In charity and penitence Thy sin will be forgiven ; Pilgrim, the heart is the true shrine Whence prayers ascend to heaven. Awake, Arise, thy Light is Come. 159 #toafce, #ri0e, tljp Htgijt i& Come. Isaiah lx T. Moore — Air, Stevenson. AWAKE, arise, thy light is come ; The nations that before outshone thee, Now at thy feet lie dark and dumb — The glory of the Lord is on thee I Arise — the Gentiles to thy ray, From every nook of earth shall cluster ; And kings and princes haste to pay Their homage to thy rising lustre. Lift up thine eyes around, and see, O'er foreign fields, o'er farthest waters, Thy exiled sons return to thee, To thee return thy home-sick daughters. And camels rich, from Midian's tents, Shall lay their treasures down before thee ; And Saba bring her gold and scents, To fill thy air, and sparkle o'er thee. See, who are these that, like a cloud. Are gathering from all earth's dominions, Like doves, long absent, when allow 1 d Homeward to shoot their trembling pinions ? Surely the isles shall wait for me, The ships of Tarshish round will hover, To bring thy sons across the sea, And waft their gold and silver over. 160 Sacred Songs. And Lebanon thy pomp shall grace — The fir, the pine, the palm victorious, Shall beautify our holy place, And make the ground I tread on glorious. No more shall Discord haunt thy ways, Nor ruin waste thy cheerless nation ; But thou shalt call thy portals Praise, And thou shalt name thy walls Salvation. The sun no more shall make thee bright, No more shall lend her lustre to thee ; But God himself shall be thy light, And flash eternal glory through thee. Thy sun shall never more go down ; A ray from heaven itself descended Shall light thy everlasting crown — Thy days of mourning all are ended. My own elect and righteous land ! The Branch, for ever green and vernal, Which I have planted with this hand, Live thou shalt in life eternal. %\)t Hana of ^romige* W. E. Staite. — Music by Dr E. F. RimbaulL ^\\ T EARY wand'rer through the Desert, V V Travller through this vale of tears, Bent with age, and worn with sorrow, Cheer thy heart and calm thy fears. Going Out and Coming In. 161 O'er yon sunny hills of gladness, Pilgrim, turn your weeping eyes ; Lo, behold the land of promise, See the glorious prospect rise. Weary wanderer through the desert, Traveller through this vale of tears, Bent with age, and worn with sorrow, Cheer thy heart and calm thy fears. Rest thee, now thy toils are ended ; Weep no more, the desert 's past ; Ne'er again shall pain or sadness O'er thy heart a shadow cast. See yon bright and shining river, Pilgrim, drink, the stream's divine ; Thither lies the land of promise, Enter, pilgrim, all is thine. Weary wanderer through the desert, Travellers through this vale of tears, Bent with age, and worn with sorrow, Cheer thy heart, and calm thy fears. (Bomg; £Dut anti €$min$ Jn. Isa Craig. — Music by J. IV. Hobbs. IN that home was joy and sorrow- Where an infant first drew breath, While an aged sire was drawing Near unto the gate of death : His feeble pulse was failing, And his eye was growing dim, He was standing on the threshold When they brought the babe to him ; L 1 62 Sacred Songs. While to murmur forth a blessing On the little one he tried, In his trembling arms he raised it, Press'd it to his lips, and died ; An awful darkness resteth On the path they both begin, Who thus met upon the threshold — Going out and coming in. Going out unto the triumph, Coming in unto the fight ; Coming in unto the darkness, Going out unto the light ; Although the shadow deepen'd In the moment of eclipse, When he pass'd through the dread portal With the blessing on his lips ; — And to him who bravely conquers, As he conquer'd in the strife, Life is but the way of dying, Death is but the gate of life. Yet awful darkness resteth On the path we all begin, Where we meet upon the threshold — Going out and coming in. &leep, Babp, feleep! George Wither. SLEEP, baby, sleep ! what ails my dear, What ails my darling thus to cry ? Be still, my child, and lend thine ear, To hear me sing thy lullaby. Sleep, Baby, Sleep! 163 My pretty lamb, forbear to weep ; Be still, my dear ; sweet baby, sleep. Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear ? What thing to thee can mischief do ? Thy God is now thy father dear, His holy Spouse, thy mother too. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. Though thy conception was in sin, A sacred bathing thou hast had ; And though thy birth unclean hath been, A blameless babe thou now art made. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my dear ; sweet baby, sleep. While thus thy lullaby I sing, For thee great blessings ripening be ; Thine Eldest Brother is a King, And hath a kingdom bought for thee. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. Sweet baby, sleep, and nothing fear ; For whosoever thee offends By thy protector threaten'd are, And God and angels are thy friends. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. When God with us was dwelling here, In little babes He took delight ; Such innocents as thou, my dear, Are ever precious in His sight. 164 Sacred So7igs. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. A little infant once was He ; And strength in weakness then was laid Upon His virgin mother's knee, That power to thee might be convey'd. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. In this thy frailty and thy need He friends and helpers doth prepare. Which thee shall cherish, clothe, and feed, For of thy weal they tender are. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. The King of kings, when He was born, Had not so much for outward ease ; By Him such dressings were not worn, Nor such-like swaddling-clothes as these. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. Within a manger lodged thy Lord, Where oxen lay, and asses fed : Warm rooms we do to thee afford, An easy cradle or a bed. Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. The wants that He did then sustain Have purchased wealth, my babe, for thee : And by His torments and his pain Thy rest and ease secured be. The Harp the Monarch Minstrel Swept 165 My baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. Thou hast, yet more, to perfect this, A promise and an earnest got Of gaining everlasting bliss, Though thou, my babe, perceiv'st it not ; Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. Lord Byron. — Music by Isaac Nathan. r J 'HE harp the monarch minstrel swept, J- The king of men, the loved of Heaven, Which Music hallow'd while she wept O'er tones her heart of hearts had given, Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven ! It soften'd men of iron mould, It gave them virtues not their own ; No ear so dull, no soul so cold That felt not, fired not to the tone, Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne ! It told the triumphs of our king, It wafted glory to our God ; It made our gladden'd valleys ring, The cedars bow, the mountains nod ; Its sound aspired to Heaven and their abode ! Since then, though heard on earth no more, Devotion, and her daughter, Love, Still bid the bursting spirit soar To sounds that seem as from above, In dreams that dav's broad light cannot remove. 1 66 Sacred Songs. l&ut!) and j]3aomu DUET J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. NAOMI. GO forth ! my hearth is desolate, I 'm old and childless now ; God's wrath falls at the widow's gate, His hand is on her brow ; But thou, my well-beloved Ruth, Earth's blessings may command ; Back in thy beauty and thy youth, Back to thine own bright land ! RUTH. Nay, mother — still my mother dear, For was not he, thy son, Now call'd away from earth's dull sphere, Mine own beloved one ? Mother, I still will cleave to thee, A blessing in thine age, A guide, a help, if such may be, Through thy lone pilgrimage. BOTH. The dead have pass'd the widow's gate, The loved ones all are flown : Oh ! who remain so desolate As they who mourn alone ? NAOMI. Beloved, amid Judea's band My kindred dwell, but thine Are distant from that holy land, Nor pray at Judah's shrine : The Nautilus. 167 Yet, kindly as ye dealt with him, The dead — so deal with me, And till these aged eyes grow dim I will remember thee. RUTH. Ask me no more to leave thy side^ Intreat me not to go, For wheresoe'er thou may'st abide. There will I dwell also ; And I will bend the suppliant knee With thee at Judah's shrine ; Thy people shall my people be, And thy God shall be mine- BOTH. And we will bend the suppliant knee At Judah's holy shrine ; Thy people shall my people be, And thy God shall be mine. W. E. Staite. — Mtisic by C. Hodgson. FAR o'er the wave when the winds are asleep, And hush'd is the cry of the sea-bird's wild note, And the sunshine of heaven plays over the deep, There the Nautilus glides in her beautiful boat ; How she spreads her broad sail, how she speeds on her flight ; All alone on the billow she feels no alarm, A vision of beauty, a creature of light ; She dreams not of danger, she dreads not the storm ; 1 68 Sacred Songs. Should a tempest arise, swiftly furl'd is the sail, One moment she lingers, we see her no more ; She is gone where she hears not the blast of the gale, To sleep till the storm and the tempest are o'er. In that beautiful creature an emblem I see Of a spirit redeem'd, of a soul that 's at rest, Embark' d on the waves of life's treacherous sea, While the sunshine of glory plays over her breast. All unfuiTd is the sail, for the breathings of love Waft her sweetly away from the troubles of time ; She fears not the billows while gazing above, As she steers her frail bark to heaven's beautiful clime : Should the storm roll around, should 'the waters prevail, She flies to the haven of safety and peace, In the depths of His mercy she hides from the gale, And sleeps till the storm and the tempest shall cease. ©Here not tlje grtnfiti Q^etrp'js «v!Eear& T. Moore. — Air, Stevenson. WERE not the sinful Mary's tears An offering worthy Heaven, When o'er the faults of former years She wept — and was forgiven. When bringing every balmy sweet Her day of luxury stored, She o'er her Saviour's hallow'd feet The precious odours pour'd. And wiped them with that golden hair, Where once the diamond shone, Though now those gems of grief were there Which shine for God alone ! Blessed are the Pure in Spirit. 169 Were not those sweets, so humbly shed — That hair — those weeping eyes — And the sunk heart, that inly bled, Heaven's noblest sacrifice ? Thou that hast slept in error's sleep, Oh, wouldst thou wake in heaven, Like Mary kneel, like Mary weep, " Love much," * and be forgiven ! Bleggeti are tfje pure m Spirit. J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Pohlenz. BLESSED are the pure in spirit, Who all worldly joys despise, Seeking only to inherit Purer mansions in the skies ; They whose hope in heaven is centred, Trusting to His word alone, Who the righteous path have enter'd That shall lead them to His throne. Blessed are the poor, whose treasure Is the worth that passeth show, Whom our heavenly Lord shall measure By their good deeds here below ; Though no earthly princes heed them, They shall see their Maker's face, When the last great day shall lead them To His heavenly throne of grace. * Luke vii. 47. i /O Sacred Songs. CijrigtmasJ Q^orm Alfred Tennyson. THE time draws near the birth of Christ ; The moon is hid ; the night is still ; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist. Four voices of four hamlets round, From far and near, on mead and moor, Swell out and fail, as if a door Were shut between me and the sound. Each voice four changes on the wind, That now dilate, and now decrease, Peace and goodwill, goodwill and peace, Peace and goodwill to all mankind. Rise, happy morn ! rise, holy morn ! Draw forth the cheerful day from night : O Father ! touch the east, and light The light that shone when Hope was born. flDn lorDan'js JBanfc* Lord Byron. — Music by J. Br ah am. ON Jordan's bank the Arab's camels stray, On Sion's hill the false one's votaries pray, The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep — Yet there — even there — O God ! Thy thunders sleep. Where is your Dwelling, ye Sainted ? 171 There — where Thy finger scorch' d the tablet-stone ! There — where Thy shadow to Thy people shone ! Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire ; Thyself — none living see and not expire. Oh ! in the lightning let Thy glance appear, Sweep from his shiver'd hand the oppressor's spear : How long by tyrants shall Thy land be trod ? How long Thy temple worshipless, O God ? Were f# pour SDtoellfn^ pe feamteii ? T. Moore.— Air, Hasse. WHERE is your dwelling, ye sainted ? Through what Elysium more bright Than fancy or hope ever painted, Walk ye in glory and light ? Who the same kingdom inherits ? Breathes there a soul that may dare Look to that world of spirits, Or hope to dwell with you there ? Sages ! who, even in exploring Nature through all her bright ways, Went, like the seraphs adoring, And veil'd your eyes in the blaze, — Martyrs ! who left for our reaping Truths you had sown in your blood, — Sinners ! whom long years of weeping Chasten'd from evil to. good, — 172 Sacred Songs. Maidens ! who, like the young crescent, Turning away your pale brows From earth, and the light of the present, Look'd to your Heavenly Spouse, — Say, through what region enchanted Walk ye, in heaven's sweet air ? Say to what spirit 'tis granted, Bright souls, to dwell with you there. <er!" Rev. J. S. B. Moxsell, D.D. SOON— and for ever ! • Such promise our trust, Though ashes to ashes And dust unto dust ; Soon — and for ever Our union shall be Made perfect, our glorious Redeemer, in Thee. When the sins and the sorrows Of time shall be o'er, Its pangs and its partings Remember'd no more ; 1 84 Sacred Songs. When life cannot fail And when death cannot sever, Christians with Christ shall be Soon — and for ever. Soon — and for ever The breaking of day- Shall drive all the dark clouds Of sorrow away. Soon — and for ever We'll see as we're seen, And learn the deep meaning Of things that have been. When fightings without us, And fears from within, Shall weary no more In the warfare of sin. Where tears, and where fears, And where death shall be — never, Christians with Christ shall be Soon — and for ever. Soon — and for ever The work shall be done, The warfare accomplished, The victory won. Soon — and for ever The soldier lay down Kis sword for a harp, And his cross for a crown. Then droop not in sorrow. Despond not in fear, A glorious to-morrow Is brightening and near ; The Spirit's Home. 185 When — blessed reward Of each faithful endeavour — Christians with Christ shall be Soon — and for ever. Strong; fait!) antj perfect Hotie* J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. WHY should we bring a broken heart To offer at the throne Of Him who holds our meanest part As if it were His own ? If 'tis but sorrow here below, Does not hope point above ? Then let us through life's journeying show Strong faith and perfect love. It is a grievous thing you say To suffer and to bear ; But did not One we all obey More than His burthen share ? For us He died, that we might know Those boundless realms above ; Then let us through life's journeyings show Strong faith and perfect love. W. E. Staite.— Music by E. J. Loder. HEN weeping o'er some sacred spot w That holds what once we call'd a friend, How sadly mournful seems the lot Of all things here so soon to end ! 1 86 Sacred Songs. Gay youth, no less than tott'ring age, Together rest in Death's embrace : Go read the monumental page, And there this gloomy moral trace — The gay, the grave, youth, age, are found Alike beneath the grassy mound. Beyond this dark and narrow sphere, So mark'd by Death, so touch'd by Time, Where joy ne'er melts in sorrow's tear ; There surely is some happier clime ! This thought should every grief assuage, From every heart its gloom efface : Go read the consecrated page, And there the fond assurance trace — Beyond the starry skies they roam, There lies the ransom'd spirit's home. %\z f asljton of tW Gloria pasgetij £toap* Thomas Haynes Bayly. — Air, Bingfy. THE fashion of this world passeth away, The things that are fairest are first to decay ; The bell of the lily, the leaf of the rose ; The moss on the bank where the violet grows ; All these are too sweet and too fragile to stay, For the fashion of this world passeth away. But mourn not the doom of inanimate things ; See thy favourite bird, with its beautiful wings ; Thy dog, full of instinct that courts a caress, And scarcely wants language his words to express ; The steed thou art proud of— all — all must decay, For the fashion of this world passeth away. Prayer at Midnight. 1 87 And were we not born for a worthier end, Than to love him, and lose him ? . Oh ! what were a friend ! The fond heart looks forth from its pilgrimage here To a meeting more blest in a happier sphere. For this we must watch, and for this we must pray, Since the fashion of this world passeth away. grayer at fl^fonfgflt* A. DE Vere. THE stars shine bright while earth is dark ! While all the woods are dumb, How clear those far-off silver chimes From tower and turret come. Chilly but sweet, the midnight air : And lo ! with every sound, Down from the ivy-leaf a drop Falls glittering on the ground. 'Twas night when Christ was born on earth ; Night heard His first, faint cry ; While angels caroll'd round the star Of the Epiphany. Alas ! and is our love too weak To meet Him on His way ? To pray for nations in their sleep ? For Love then let us pray; 1 88 Sacred Son o-s. Pray for the millions slumbering now ; The sick who cannot sleep ; Oh, may those sweet sounds waft them thoughts As peaceful, and as deep. Pray for the unholy, and the vain : Oh, may that pure-toned bell Disperse the demon powers of air, And evil dreams dispel ! And ever let us wing cur prayer With praise : and ever say, Glory to God who makes the night Benignant as the day I affliction* Bishop Wilberforce. WITHIN this leaf, to every eye So little worth, doth hidden lie Most rare and subtle fragrancy. Wouldst thou its secret strength unbind ? Crush it, and thou perfume shall find Sweet as Arabia's spicy wind. In this stone, so poor and bare Of shape and lustre, patient care Will find for thee a jewel rare. But rirst must skilful hands assay With file and flint to clear away The film which hides its fire from day. "Let not the Sim go Down on your Wrath!' 1S9 This leaf ! this stone ! it is thy heart : It must be crush'd by pain and smart, It must be cleansed by sorrow's art, Ere it will yield a fragrance sweet, Ere it will shine, a jewel neat, To lay before thy dear Lord's feet. ILtt not ti\t &un £0 SDoton on pour a&iratl>" J. E. Carpenter. — Music by J. R. Thomas. WHEN in thy bosom the wrath has been kindled, Bear with thy wrong, not in anger defend ; Turn not away from the crowd where you mingled, Leaving a foe where you sought for a friend : Speak not in anger, but rather in sorrow ; Part, and though each take a different path, Both may be wiser and better to-morrow ; " Let not the sun go down on your wrath." What though your prospects a moment seem blighted, Trusting to others, by others betray' d, There is not a wrong that can never be righted ; Justice was never by quarrelling made. L^rge but the truth, and be guided by reason, Leaving to others the opposite path, So will you triumph — but all in good season ; — " Let not the sun go down on your wrath." 1 90 Sacred Songs. SDifferent St^mtigf* Archbishop Trench. SOME murmur, when the sky is clear And wholly bright to view, If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue : And some with thankful love are fill'd If but one streak of light, One ray of God's good mercy, gild The darkness of their night. In palaces are hearts that ask, In discontent and pride, Why life is such a dreary task And all good things denied : And hearts in poorest huts admire How Love has in their aid (Love that not ever seems to tire) Such rich provision made. H. W. Longfellow. — Music by Miss Lindsay. ■ THERE is no flock, however watch' d and tended, But one dead lamb is there ; There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair. The air is full of farewells to the dying And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted. Resignation. 191 Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions Not from the ground arise, But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise. We see but dimly through the mists and vapours ; Amid these earthly damps, What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers, May be Heaven's distant lamps. There is no Death ! What seems so is transition ; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life Elysian, Whose portal we call Death. She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — But gone unto that school Where she no longer needs our poor protection, And Christ Himself doth rule. In that great cloisters stillness and seclusion, By guardian angels led, Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, She lives whom we call dead. Day after day, we think what she is doing In those bright realms of air : Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, Behold her grown more fair. Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken The bond which nature gives, Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken. May reach her where she lives. 192 Sacred Songs. Not as a child shall we again behold her ; For, when with raptures wild, In our embraces we again enfold her, She will not be a child ; But a fair maiden in her Father's mansion, Clothed with celestial grace ; And beautiful with all the soul's expansion Shall we behold her face. And though at times impetuous with emotion And anguish long suppress'd, The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean That cannot be at rest, — We will be patient, and assuage the feeling We may not wholly stay ; By silence sanctifying, not concealing, The grief that must have way. %\)Z OfliflHeriiesfg sljail Blosgom a£ tfje Eosto DUET. J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. THE wilderness shall be made glad And blossom like the rose ; The desert shall rejoice for them Who on His word repose; They who have own'd the mighty power And excellence of Him, Before whose face the stars are pale, The sun itself is dim ! The Marriage Portion. 193 And they the beauty shall behold Of Lebanon restored, And with loud joy and singing praise The glory of the Lord ! And the lame man shall leap as the hart, The eyes of the blind be made clear, And the dumb in the song shall take part, The ears of the deaf made to hear ; And o'er the parch'd and thirsty earth The living well shall pour, And all things have a brighter birth Henceforth and evermore ; And the ransom' d of the Lord He to Zion shall restore, In joy to praise His holy word With gladness evermore ! %\z fl^arriajje portion. Num. vi. 24-26. J. E. Carpenter.— Music by M. T. Paradis. LORD and Father of creation ! From Thy heavenly throne above, Make Thy face to shine upon them, Deign to bless their plighted love ; Through the world to bless and keep them, Though the evil way be wide, Give them strength as on they journey, With Thy light their footsteps guide. To the bride, beyond her beauty, Give her still Thy grace to know ; To the bridegroom, for her portion, On her heavenly gifts bestow. 194 Sacred Songs. So their bridal gifts shall never Fade, as earthly things decay, But the bride and bridegroom ever Walk together in Thy way. %\\i Scorning:, toljm Ijer (Earip %uz\z. T. Moore. — Air, Beethoven. LIKE morning, when her early breeze Breaks up the surface of the seas, That in those furrows, dark with night, Her hand may sow the seeds of light — Thy grace can send its breathings o'er The spirit, dark and lost before, And freshening all its depths, prepare For Truth divine to enter there. Till David touch'd his sacred lyre, In silence lay the unbreathing wire ; But when he swept its chords along, Even angels stoop'd to hear that song. So sleeps the soul, till Thou, O Lord, Shalt deign to touch its lifeless chord — Till, waked by Thee, its breath shall rise In music worthy of the skies ! Magdalen's Hymn daring the Plague. igs W$z 2Dpmg; Cljrtetiatu phii. i. 23. J. E. Carpenter. — Air, German. I HAVE a desire to depart, obeying The heavenly call that bids me fly to rest ; Tired and weary, through the darkness straying, Fain would I be with angels ever bless' d ; Worn is my pilgrim's staff, — my days expended ; The home I lived for distant cannot be ; Why should I cling to earth ? its ties are ended ; It is the grave that sets the Christian free. What is the earth to me, with all its errors ? Long have I struggled with its empty show ; Bat to the sinful heart the grave has terrors, Not to the righteous ones, prepared to go ; Farewell, ye friends whose tears so fast are falling, Weep not that I so soon must take my flight ; Oh, may ye hear, like me, the angels calling, And long to join them in the realms of light. 9£ag;Haleti'0 |?mit tmrtng; tije plague* John Wilson. THE air of death breathes through our souls, The dead all round us lie ; By day and night the death-bell tolls, And says, " Prepare to die." The face that in the morning sun We thought so wondrous fair, Hath faded, ere his course was run, Beneath its golden hair. 196 Sacred Songs. I see the old man in his grave With thin locks silvery-gray ; I see the child's bright tresses wave In the cold breath of day. The loving ones we loved the best, Like music, all are gone ! And the wan moonlight bathes in rest Their monumental stone. But not when the death prayer is said The life of life departs ; The body in the grave is laid, Its beauty in our hearts. At holy midnight, voices sweet Like fragrance fill the room, And happy ghosts with noiseless feet Come bright'ning from the tomb. We know who sends the visions bright, From whose dear side they came ! — We veil our eyes before the light, We bless our Saviour's name. This frame of dust, this feeble breath, The plague may soon destroy ; We think on Thee, and feel in death A deep and awful joy. Dim is the light of vanish'd years In the glory yet to come ; Oh, idle grief ! oh, foolish tears ! When Jesus calls us home. Blessed are the Dead. 1 97 Like children for some bauble fair That weep themselves to rest, We part with life — awake ! and there The jewel in our breast. 25le£0e& are tfje SDeatu Rev. xiv. 13. J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Turk. QTREW his early grave with flowers, ^-' They the fragile emblems are ; Ke has gain'd those blissful bowers In the cloudless realms afar ; There the blooms that never wither Shall their incense round him shed, Grieve not — Heaven has called him thither ; Weep not — Blessed are the dead ! Father — think he is but sleeping, Though 'tis darkness there to thee ; M other — stand not idly weeping, He '11 his Heavenly Father see ; Though your hearts with grief are breaking, Joys celestial round him spread, Death is but to Life awaking : — Weep not — Blessed are the dead. 198 Sacred Songs. W$t Bit* Het JLom. T. Moore. — Air, Beethoven. THE bird let loose in eastern skies,* When hastening fondly home, Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies Where idle warblers roam, But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay, When nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way. So grant me, God, from every care And stain of passion free, Aloft, through Virtue's purer air, To hold my course to Thee ! No sin to cloud, no lure to stay My soul, as home she springs ; Thy sunshine on her joyful way, Thy freedom in her wings ! »>a&batlj $$ovn. Psalm v. 3. J. E. CARPENTER.— Music by F. Wallersticn. SILENCE without, and calm within the dwelling, The lazy flowrets slumber in the sun ; The half-mown hay stands in the meadow, telling The busy labour of the week is done. * The carrier pigeon, it is well known, flies at an elevated pitch, in order to surmount every obstacle between her and the place to which she is destined. Sabbath Eve. 199 Faintly, yet clear, the village bells are ringing, From distant cots the peasant band to warn ; Their anthems in the grove the birds are singing ; And all proclaims it is the Sabbath morn. Through the green lanes the village groups are bending ; By primrose banks the children take their way, Where the tall spire, above the trees ascending, Proclaims to all it is the hallow' d day. Sweet to the senses breathe the leaves and flowers, The heart leaps up to see the growing corn ; We thank thee, Father, for these peaceful hours Of prayer and rest — Thy holy Sabbath morn. feafcbatf) (tbe+ Psalm xxxiv. 7. J. E. Carpenter. — Music by F. Waller stien. IWANDER'D forth one Sabbath eve, When twilight shrouded hill and stream, And holy angels seem'd to weave For weary hearts some blissful dream. The sun had set behind the hill, No sound disturb'd the tranquil air ; The voice of bee and bird was still, The very flowers seem'd bow'd in prayer. Sweet Sabbath eve ! It may be that I slept a while, For when again I mark'd the skies, The moon beam'd with a placid smile, The stars had oped their golden eyes. 200 Sacred Songs. And when, once more, I turn'd to roam, My weary heart again grew light ; With chasten' d soul I sought my home, And bless' d my God that gave the night. Sweet Sabbath eve ! %\z |©ilot. W. E. STAITE.— Music by E. J. Loder. WHEN murky clouds obscure the sky, When billows roll and winds are high, And not one star of beauty's night Sheds o'er my way its cheering light, Dash'd on the wild tempestuous tide, My shatter'd bark shall safely ride, If Thou the Pilot's part perform, To guide and guard me through the storm. 'Tis thou, O Lord, canst whisper peace, And bid the storms of trouble cease ; Though half a wreck my barque I view, Thine arm can steer me safely through. Thy love shall bid my fears depart, Thy voice shall cheer my trembling heart, If Thou the Pilot's part perform, To guide and guard me through the storm. %\z Cfu'lto's* (prate. Mrs Jane T. Worthixgtox. IT is a place where tender thought Its voiceless vigil keepeth; It is a place where kneeling love, 'Mid all its hope, still weepeth: He changes not. 20 1 The vanish'd light of all a life That tiny spot encloseth, Where, follow' d by a thousand dreams, The little one reposeth. It is a place where thankfulness A tearful tribute giveth : That one so pure hath left a world Where so much sorrow liveth — Where trial, to the heavy heart, Its constant cross presenteth, And every hour some trace retains, For which the soul repenteth. It is a place for hope to rise, While other brightness waneth, And from the darkness of the grave To learn what gift it gaineth — From Him who wept, as on the earth Undying love still weepeth — From Him who spake the blessed words,- " She is not dead, but sleepeth." l§e changes* not, J. E. Carpenter.— Music by J. IV. Cherry, HE changes not, but is the same for ever; Behold His works, how uniform and grand: The mighty ocean still flows on, and never Fails the ripe harvest in the cultured land ; The seed time and the harvest are unchanging; Year after year the bright flowers come and go ; 'Tis we alone whose minds are ever ranging, Yearning for something that we ne'er may know. 202 Sacred Songs. He changes not — His goodness is unfailing; Why should we spurn the paths our fathers trod ? Their simple forms, their holy shrines assailing ? Do we not worship still the same wise God ? God of our fathers ! at Thy altars bending, Guide us, weak pilgrims, with Thy helping hand; So that our prayers, heavenward ascending, JMay reach Thy mansions in the promised land. ffiQUep, Cijfltirtn of 3;isracU T. Moore. — Air, Stevenson, WEEP, weep for him, the man of God — * In yonder vale he sunk to rest ; But none of earth can point the sod f That flowers above his sacred breast. Weep, children of Israel, weep. His doctrine fell like heaven's rain, His words refresh'd like heavens dew: Oh, ne'er shall Israel see again A chief to God and her so true. Weep, children of Israel, weep. Remember ye his parting gaze, His farewell song by Jordan's tide, When, full of glory and of days, He saw the Promised Land — and died. % Weep, children of Israel, weep. • Yet died he not as men who sink, Before our eyes, to soulless clay ; But changed to spirit, like a wink Of summer lightning, pass'd away. Weep, children of Israel, weep. * Dcut. xxxiv. 8. f Deut. xxxiv. 6. \ Deut. xxxiv. 4. The Reading Girl. 203 W$z IfteaMng (fcivl J. E. Carpenter. — Music by W. Vincent Wallace. IN the sunshine, in the daytime, Sat a girl beneath the tree, In the younger children's playtime, With a book upon her knee ; On her brow no shade of sadness As she bent before the page ; In her eye but light and gladness, Flush of youth, with calm of age. Whence that pure and holy feeling, Freed from all of earthly strife, O'er her spirit sweetly stealing ? There she read the Book of Life. Then a Temple seem'd the wild wood, And I could not choose but deem That sweet form of perfect childhood Was an angel's in a dream: . For I felt a presence near me ; In my soul arose this prayer : — " Heavenly Father, deign to hear me, Make me like 'the reader' there ; Give me grace but to inherit Thoughts devoid of worldly strife, Pure of heart, and meek in spirit, Thus to read the Book of Life." 204 Sacred Songs. Mrs Frances S. Osgood. THE Father spake ! In grand reverberations Through space roll'd on the mighty music-tide, While to its low majestic modulations The clouds of chaos slowly swept aside. The Father spake — a dream, that had been lying Hush'd from eternity in silence there, Heard the pure melody and low replying, Grew to that music in the wondering air. Grew to that music — slowly, grandly waking, Till, bathed in beauty, it became a world ! Led by His voice, its spheric pathway taking, While glorious clouds their wings around it furled. Nor yet has ceased that sound — His love revealing, Though, in response, a universe rolls by ! Throughout eternity, its echo pealing — World after world awakes in glad reply ! And wheresoever, in His rich creation, Sweet music breathes — in wave, or bird, or soul — 'Tis but the faint and far reverberation Of that great tune to which the planets roll ! The Child and the Deiv- Drops. 205 %\)t Cljtlti anti tlje 2DrtD*3DrDp& J. E. Carpenter. — Music by J. L. Hopkins. "(^\ FATHER, dear father, why pass they away, ^^ The dew-drops that sparkled at dawning of day — That glittered like stars by the light of the moon, Oh, why are those dew-drops dissolving so soon ? Does the sun, in his wrath, chase their brightness away, As though nothing that 's lovely might live for a day ? The moonlight has faded — the flowers still remain, But the dew has dried out of their petals again." " My child," said the father, " look up to the skies, Behold yon bright rainbow — those beautiful dyes ; There — there are the dew-drops in glory reset, 'Mid the jewels of heaven they are glittering yet. Then are we not taught, by each beautiful ray, To mourn not earth's fair things though fleeting away? For though youth of its brightness and beauty be riven, All that withers on earth blooms more brightly in heaven." Alas for the father ! — how little knew he The words he had spoken prophetic could be ; That the beautiful child, — the bright star of his day, — Was e'en then like the dew-drops — dissolving away. Oh ! sad was the father, when lo, in the skies The rainbow again spread its beauteous dyes ; And then he remember' d the maxims he'd given, And thought of his child and the dew-drops — in heaven. 200 Sacred Songs. (Efrenfngr* George Withers. BEHOLD the sun, that seem'd but now Enthroned overhead, Beginning to decline below The globe whereon we tread. And he whom yet we look upon With comfort and delight W T ill quite depart from hence anon And leave us to the night. Thus time, unheeded, steals away The life which nature gave ; Thus are our bodies every day Declining to the grave : Thus from us all our pleasures fly Whereon we set our heart, And then the night of death draws nigh : Thus will they all depart. Lord ! though the sun forsake our sight, And mortal hopes are vain, Let still Thine everlasting light Within our souls remain ! And in the nights of our distress Vouchsafe those rays divine Which from the Sun of Righteousness For ever brightly shine. • Behold the Sim. 207 J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. SOARING and singing, bird of the day, What does thy full gush of melody say ? Is it a matin song singing of love, Too pure to be heard save in regions above ? " Why do I carol my song to the skies ?" Thus to my fancy the song-bird replies : " Does not the earth in tranquillity rest, — Man on his pillow, the bird on his nest ? Should we not sing, then, at morning's first rays, A song of thanksgiving, a carol of praise ? ?3 Singing and soaring, bird of the day, Why from this green earth away and away ? Ever returning, thy song never done, Pluming thy bright wings on high in the sun. "Why do I soar ?" So the spirit of love Seems to reply from the regions above : "Is there not One who is ever on high, Watching below from His throne in the sky ? And thus to the skylark perchance it is given, To call back thy thoughts from the earth unto heaven !" T. Moore. — Air, Lord Momington. BEHOLD the Sun, how bright From yonder east He springs, As if the soul of life and light Were breathings from His win^s ! 2o8 Sacred Songs. So bright the gospel broke Upon the souls of men ; So fresh the dreaming world awoke In Truth's full radiance then. Before yon Sun arose Stars cluster'd through the sky ; But oh, how dim, how pale were those To His one burning eye ! So Truth lent many a ray To bless the Pagan's night ; But, Lord, how weak, "how cold were they To Thy one glorious li^ht ! Clje feaMiatlj of tlje gear. Miss Caroline May. IT is the sabbath of the year ; And if ye '11 walk abroad, A holy sermon ye shall hear, Full worthy of record. Autumn the preacher is ; and look — As other preachers do, He takes his text from the one Great Book, A text both sad and true. With a deep, earnest voice he saith — A voice of gentle grief, Fitting the minister of Death — " Ye all fade as a leaf ; And your iniquities, like the wind, Have taken you away ; Ye fading flatterers, weak and blind, Repent, return, and pray;' The Sabbath of the Year. 209 And then the wind ariseth slow, And giveth out a psalm ; And the organ pipes begin to blow Within the forest calm. Then all the trees lift up their hands, And raise their voices higher, And sing the notes of spirit bands In full and glorious choir. Yes, 'tis the Sabbath of the year ! And it doth surely seem, (But words of reverence and fear Should speak of such a theme,) That corn is garner'd for the bread, And berries for the wine, And a sacramental feast is spread, Like the Christian's pardon sign. And the year, with signs of penitence, The holy feast bends o'er ; For she must die, and go out hence — Die, and be seen no more. Then are the choir and organ still, ' The psalm melts in the air ; The wind bows down beside the hill, And all are hush'd in prayer. Then comes the sunset in the west, Like a patriarch of old, Or like a saint who hath won his rest, His robes, and his crown of gold ; And forth his arms he stretcheth wide, And with solemn tone and clear He blesseth, in the eventide, The Sabbath of the year. 2 1 o Sacred Songs. Burial antljem. Dean H. H. Milman. BROTHER, thou art gone before us, And thy saintly soul is flown, Where tears are wiped from every eye, And sorrow is unknown. From the burden of the flesh, And from care and sin released, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. The toilsome way thou 'st travell'd o'er, And borne the heavy load ; But Christ hath taught thy languid feet To reach His blest abode ; Thou 'it sleeping now, like Lazarus, Upon his Father's breast, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. Sin can never taint thee now, Nor doubt thy faith assail, Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ And the Holy Spirit fail ; And there thou 'rt sure to meet the good, Whom on earth thou lovedst best, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. " Earth to earth,'" and " dust to dust,"' The solemn Priest hath said ; So we lay the turf above thee now, And we seal thy narrow bed : Thanks for a Summer's Day. 2\ I But thy spirit, brother, soars away Among the faithful blest, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. And when the Lord shall summon us, Whom thou hast left behind, May we, untainted by the world, As sure a welcome find ; May each, like thee, depart in peace, To be a glorious guest, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. Cfjanfes for a j&ttmmer'sf 2Dap* A. Hume. — Sixteenth Century. THE time so tranquil is, and dear, That nowhere shall ye find, Save on a high and barren hill, The air of passing wind. All trees and simples,, great and small, That balmy leaf do bear, Than they were painted on a wall, No more they move or stir. The ample heaven of fabric sure, In clearness doth surpass The crystal and the silver, pure As clearest polish'd glass. Bedecked is the sapphire arch With streaks of scarlet hue ; And preciously from end to end Damasked white and blue. 2 1 2 Sacred Solids. Calm is the deep and purple sea, Yea, smoother than the sand ; The waves, that weltering wont to be, Are stable like the land. The ships becalm'd upon the seas, Hang up their sails to dry ; The herds, beneath their leafy trees, Amidst the flowers they lie. The little busy humming bees, That never think to drone, On flowers and flourishes of trees Collect their liquor brown. The dove with whistling wings so blue, The winds can fast collect, Her purple pens turn many a hue Against the sun direct. Great is the calm, for everywhere The wind is setting down, The smoke goes upright in the air, From every tower and town. What pleasure then to walk and see, Along a river clear, The perfect form of every tree Within the deep appear. The bells and circles on the waves, From leaping of the trout, The salmon from their holes and caves Come gliding in and out. Oh, sure it were a seemly thing, While all is still and calm, The praise of God to pray, and sing, With trumpet and with shawm. The Hope beyond the Grave. 2 1 3 All labourers draw home at even, And can to other say, " Thanks to the gracious God of heaven, Who sent this summer's day." Come not, £> Hortou T. Moore. — Air, Haydn. COME not, O Lord, in the dread robe of splendour, Thou wor'st on the Mount, in the day of Thine ire; Come, veil'd in those shadows, deep, awful, but tender, Which mercy flings over Thy features of fire ! Lord, Thou rememb'rest the night when Thy nation * Stood fronting her foe by the red rolling stream ; O'er Egypt Thy pillar shed dark desolation, While Israel bask'd all the night in its beam. So when the dread clouds of anger unfold Thee, From us, in Thy mercy, the dark side remove ; While shrouded in terrors the guilty behold Thee, Oh, turn upon us the mild light of Thy love ! %\i ^ope fceponD tlje (Erafce* J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. THERE'S a hope — 'tis not'for splendour, For splendour cannot give, With all that it can render, The hope for which we live ; * Exodus xiv. 20. \ 1 4 Sacred Songs. Worth all the fame we sigh for, All the laurels of the brave, Is that which we should die for, The hope beyond the grave i There 's a hope, though few have sought it, In this world of thorns and flowers, Though a blessed Saviour bought it Wjth His own dear life for ours ; 'Tis the hope of bliss undying, That, for us, He died to crave, Oh ! may ours, when life is flying, Be the hope beyond the grave / Caroline Southey. LAUNCH thy bark, mariner ! Christian, Heaven speed thee ! Let loose the rudder bands ! Good angels lead thee ! Set thy sails warily, Tempests will come : Steer thy course steadily ! Christian, steer home ! Look to the weather bow, Breakers are round thee ! Let fall the plummet now, Shallows may ground thee ! Reef in the foresail there ! Hold the helm fast ! So — let the vessel wear ! There — sweep the blast. Hope in Sorroiv. 215 What of the night, watchman ? What of the night ? " Cloudy — all quiet — No land yet— all 's right." Be wakeful, be vigilant, Danger may be At an hour when all seems Securest to thee. How — gains the leak so fast ? Clear out the hold, Hoist up thy merchandise — Heave out the gold ! There — let the ingots go ! Now the ship rights ; Hurrah ! the harbour's near, — Lo, the red lights. Slacken not sail yet At inlet or island, Straight for the beacon steer — Straight for the high land ; Crowd all thy canvas on, Cut through the foam, Christian ! cast anchor now : Heaven is thv home ! ^ope in »>orroto* Anna Blackwell, EYES that have spent their weeping, That have lost the power of tears ; Hearts that are coldly keeping The memories of years ; 216 Sacred Songs. Sleep ! sleep, and through your slumbers The watchers, tried and calm, Shall breathe, in angel-numbers, A sweet and solemn psalm. Shall say, " No cloud can gather Around His children's path, But He, th' all-loving Father, His part in their sadness hath. Not for His own good pleasure Would He have given them life, Unless joy's coming measure Outweigh'd all present strife. u Who gently bears his sorrow, And lives it bravely down, Shall win a fairer morrow, And wear the starry crown." ^Ije CijilD anD tfje fetar& J. E. Carpenter. — Music by James Perring. " HP* HEY tell me, dear father, each gem in the sky J- That sparkles at night is a star, But why do they dwell in those regions so high, And shed their cold lustre so far ? I know that the sun makes the blossoms to spring, That it gives to the flow' rets their birth, But what are the stars ? do they nothing but fling Their cold rays of light upon earth ?" The Use of the Flowers. 2 1 7 " My child, it is said that yon stars in the sky Are worlds that are fashion'd like this, Where the souls of the good and the gentle who die, Assemble together in bliss ; And the ray that they shed o'er the earth is the light Of His glory whose throne is above, That tells us, who dwell m these regions of night, How great is His goodness and love." " Then, father, why still press your hand to your brow, Why still are your cheeks pale with care ? If all that was gentle be dwelling there now, Dear mother, I know, must be there." " Thou chidest me well," said the father, with pain, " Thy wisdom is greater by far ; W T e may mourn for the lost, but we should not complain? While we ^aze on each beautiful star." Mrs Mary Howitt. GOD might have bade this earth bring forth Enough for great and small, The oak tree and the cedar tree, Without a flower at all. He might have made enough, — enough For every want of ours, — For luxury, medicine, and toil, And yet have made no flowers. The ore within the mountain mine Requireth none to grow, Nor doth it need the lotus flower To make the river flow. 2 1 8 Sacred Songs. The clouds might give abundant rain, The nightly dews might fall, The herb that keepeth life in man Might yet have drunk them all. Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, All dyed with rainbow light, All fashion'd with supremest grace, Upspringing day and night ; Springing in valleys green and low, And on the mountains high, And in the silent wilderness, Where no man passeth by ? Our outward life requires them not, Then wherefore had they birth ? — To minister delight to man, To beautify the earth ; To whisper hope — to comfort man Whene'er his faith is dim ; For whoso careth for the flowers Will care much more for him ! dje 3Dtai of iflotoergf. Mrs Hemans. "THWAS a lovely thought to mark the hours, -L As they floated in light away, By the opening and the folding flowers That laugh to the summer's day. Thus had each moment its own rich hue, And its graceful cup and bell, In whose colour'd vase might sleep the dew, Like a pearl in an ocean shell. The L aw of L oz r. 2 1 9 To such sweet signs might the time have flow'd In a golden current on, Ere from the garden, man's first abode, The glorious guests were gone. So might the days have been brightly told — Those days of song and dreams — When shepherds gather'd their flocks of old By the blue Arcadian streams. So in those isles of delight, that rest Far off in a breezeless main, Which many a bark, with a weary quest, Has sought, but still in vain. Yet is not life, in its real flight, Mark'd thus, — even thus, — on earth, By the closing of one hope's delight, And another's gentle birth ? Oh ! let us live, so that flower by flower, Shutting in turn, may leave A lingerer still for the sunset hour, A charm for the shaded eve. pring>ti&e l£our* Rev. John S. B. Monsell, D.D. THE spring-tide hour Brings leaf and flower, With songs of life and love ; And many a lay Wears out the day In many a leafy grove. Bird, fiower, and tree Seem to agree Their choicest gifts to bring ; But this poor heart Bears not its part, In it there is no spring. Dews fall apace, The dews of grace. Upon this soul of sin, And love Divine Delights to shine Upon the waste within : Yet, year by year, Fruits, flowers appear, And birds their praises sing ; But this poor heart Bears not its part Its winter has no spring. Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem. 223 Lord, let Thy love, Fresh from above, Soft as the south wind blow ; Call forth its bloom, Wake its perfume, And bid its spices flow ! And when Thy voice Makes earth rejoice, And the hills laugh and sing, Lord ! make this heart To bear its part, And join the praise of spring ! I^mtt of tije fl^oraiuan i]3uns of 25nljleljem AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI* S BANNER. H. W. LONGFELLOW. — Music by Miss M. Lindsay. WHEN the dying flame of day Through the chancel shot its ray, Far the glimmering tapers shed Faint light on the cowled head ; And the censer burning swung, Where, before the altar, hung The blood-red banner, that with prayer Had been consecrated there. And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while, Sung low in the dim, mysterious isle. " Take thy banner ! May it wave Proudly o'er the good and brave ; W 7 hen the battle's distant wail Breaks the Sabbath of our vale, 224 Sacred Songs. When the clarion's music thrills To the hearts of these lone hills, When the spear in conflict shakes, And the strong lance shivering breaks. u Take thy banner ! and, beneath The battle-cloud's encircling wreath, Guard it !— till our homes are free ! Guard it ! — God will prosper thee ! In the dark and trying hour, In the breaking forth of power, In the rush of steeds and men, His right hand will shield thee then. u Take thy banner ! But, when night Closes round the ghastly fight, If the vanquish' d warrior bow, Spare him ! — By our holy vow, By our prayers and many tears, By the mercy that endears, Spare him ! — he our love hath shared ! Spare him ! — as thou wouldst be spared ! 11 Take thy banner ! — and if e'er Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier, And the muffled drum should beat To the tread of mournful feet, Then this crimson flag shall be Martial cloak and shroud for thee." The warrior took that banner proud, And it was his martial cloak and shroud ! The Destruction of the Assyrians. 225 dje 2De£tntctiort of tlje &$$vvian$. Lord Byron. — Music by J. Nathan; also by S. Glover. THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold, And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen ; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed on the face of the foe as he pass'd ; And the eyes of the sleeper wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew stilL And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride ; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord. 226 Sacred Songs. »>ire of tlje Wlnibzv&z> Mrs Maria Brooks. SIRE of the universe ! — and me — Dost Thou reject my midnight prayer? Dost Thou withhold me even from Thee, Thus writhing, struggling 'gainst despair ? Thou know'st the source of feeling's gush, Thou know'st the end for which it flows : Then, if Thou bidd'st the tempest rush, Ah, heed the fragile bark it throws ! Fain would my heaving heart be still, But pain and tumult mock at rest ; Fain would I meekly meet Thy will, And kiss the barb that tears my breast. Weak I am form'd, I can no more, — Weary I strive, but find rot aid ; Prone on Thy threshold I deplore, But, oh, Thy succour is delay'd ! The burning, beauteous orb of day, Amid its circling host upborne, Smiles as life quickens in its ray: What would it were Thy hand withdrawn ? Scorch, devastate the teeming whole, Now glowing with its warmth divine ! Spirit, whose powers of peace control Great Nature's heart, oh, pity mine ! The Moon upon the Spire. 227 Wlnvm. Mrs Emma C. Embury. HEART, weary heart ! what means thy wild unrest ? Hast thou not tasted of earth's every pleasure ? With all that mortals seek thy lot is blest ; Yet dost thou ever chant in mournful measure — " Something beyond!" Heart, weary heart ! canst thou not find repose In the sweet calm of friendship's pure devotion ? Amid the peace which sympathy bestows, Still dost thou murmur, with repress'd emotion, — " Something beyond !" Heart, weary heart ! too idly hast thou pour'd Thy music and thy perfume on the blast ! Now, beggar'd in affection's treasured hoard, Thy cry is still — thy saddest and thy last — " Something beyond ! " Heart, weary heart ! oh, cease thy wild unrest ! Earth cannot satisfy thy bitter yearning, — Then onward, upward speed thy lonely guest, And hope to find, where Heaven's pure stars are burning, " Something beyond !" ^Ll)z Stpoott upon tlje ~>ptre* Hannah F. Gould. THE full-orb'd moon has reach'd no higher Than yon old church's mossy spire, And seems, as gliding up the air, She saw the fane ; and, pausing there, 22'6 Sacred S oners. Would worship, in the tranquil night, The Prince of Peace — the Source of Light-, — Where man for God prepared the place, And God to man unveils His face. Her tribute all around is seen ; She bends, and worships like a queen ! Her robe of light and beaming crown In silence she is casting down ; And, as a creature of the earth, She feels her lowliness of birth — Her weakness and inconstancy Before unchanging purity. Pale traveller, on thy lonely way 5 Tis well thy homage thus to pay ; To reverence that ancient pile, And spread thy silver o'er the aisle Which many a pious foot has trod That now is dust beneath the sod ; Where many a sacred tear was wept From eyes that long in death have slept ! The temple's builders — where are they ? The worshippers ? all pass'd away, Who came the first, to offer there The song of praise, the heart of prayer ! Man's generation passes soon ; It wanes and changes like the moon. He raises up the lowering wall, But, ere it crumbles, he must fall ! And does he sink to rise no more ? Has he no part to triumph o'er The Christian's Progress. 229 The pallid king ? no spark to save From darkness, ashes, and the grave ? Thou, holy place, the answer, wrought In thy firm structure, bars the thought ! The Spirit that establish' d thee Nor death nor darkness e'er shall see ! W$i C!jri0ttatV0 ^rogwissf. H. Kirke White. THROUGH sorrow's path, and danger's road, Amid the deepening gloom, We, soldiers of an injured King, Are marching to the tomb. There, w 7 hen the turmoil is no more, And all our powers decay, Our cold remains in solitude Shall sleep the years away. Our labours done, securely laid In this our last retreat, Unheeded, o'er our silent dust The storms of life shall beat. Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane, The vital spark shall lie, For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise To see its kindred sky. Sacred Songs. These ashes, too, this little dust, Our Father's care shall keep, Till the last angel rise, and break The long and dreary sleep. There love's soft dew o'er every eye Shall shed its mildest rays, And the long-silent dust shall burst With shouts of endless praise. part g>ecottti. DEVOTIONAL SONGS. DEVOTIONAL SONGS. Cf)e Creator. Psalm xix. Joseph Addison.— -Atr t P ley el. THE spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. Th' unwearied sun, from day to day, Does his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth ; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though in solemn silence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball ; What though no real voice or sound Amidst their radiant orbs be found ; ?34 Devotional Songs. In reason's ear they ail rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, For ever singing as they shine — " The hand that made us is divine ! " Hon. and Rev. Baptist Wriothesley N el. THERE'S not a bird, with lonely nest In pathless wood or mountain crest, Nor meaner thing, which does not share, O God ! in Thy paternal care ! There 's not a being now accurst, Who did not taste Thy goodness first ; And every joy the wicked see Received its origin from Thee. Each barren crag, each desert rude, Holds Thee within its solitude ; And Thou dost bless the wanderer there, Who makes his solitary prayer. In busy mart and crowded street, No less than in the still retreat, Thou, Lord, art near, our souls to bless With all a parent's tenderness ! And every moment still doth bring Thy blessings on its loaded wing ; Widely they spread through earth and sky, And last to all eternity ! Te Deum Laudamus. 235 Through all creation let Thy Name Be echo'd with a glad acclaim ! That let the grateful churches sing ; With that let heaven for ever ring ; And we, where'er our lot is cast, While life, and thought, and feeling last, Through all our years, in every place, Will bless Thee for Thy boundless grace ! Thomas Cotterill. THEE we adore, eternal Lord ! We praise Thy Name with one accord ; Thy Saints, who here Thy goodness see, Through all the world do worship Thee. To Thee aloud all Angels cry, And ceaseless raise their songs on high, Both Cherubin and Seraphin, The heavens and all the powers therein. The Apostles join the glorious throng ; The Prophets swell the immortal song ; The Martyrs' noble army raise Eternal anthems to Thy praise. Thee, holy, holy, holy King ! Thee, the Lord God of hosts, they sing : Thus earth below, and heaven above, Resound Thy glory and Thy love. 236 Devotional Songs. TOI aim 3&e£t* John Chandler. THOU, great Creator, art possest, And Thou alone, of endless rest ; To angels only it belongs To lift to Thee their ceaseless songs. But we must toil and toil again With ceaseless woe and endless pain ; How then can we, in exile drear, Lift the glad song of glory here ? O Thou, who wilt forgiving be To all who truly turn to Thee, Grant us to mourn the heavy cause Of all our woe — Thy broken laws ! Then to such salutary grief Let Faith and Hope bring due relief; And we, too, soon shall be possest Of ceaseless son^s and endless rest. Pratge, olj, ^ratee our C5o6 atiti Iking! Rev. Sir Henry Baker. PRAISE, oh, praise our God and King ! Hymns of adoration sing ; For His mercies still endure, Ever faithful, ever sure. Praise, oh, Praise our God and King. 237 Praise Him that He made the Sun Day by day his course to run ; For His mercies still endure Ever faithful, ever sure : And the silver Moon by night, Shining with her gentle light ; For His mercies still endure Ever faithful, ever sure. Praise Him that He gave the rain To mature the swelling grain ; For His mercies still endure Ever faithful, ever sure : And hath bid the fruitful field Crops of precious increase yield ; For His mercies still endure Ever faithful, ever sure. Praise Him for our Harvest-store, He hath fill'd the Garner-floor; For His mercies still endure Ever faithful, ever sure : And for richer Food than this, Pledge of everlasting bliss ; For His mercies still endure Ever faithful, ever sure. Glory to our bounteous King ! Glory let Creation sing ! Glory to the Father, Son, And blest Spirit, Three in One ! 238 Devotional Songs. dje Beginning; anti tlje (Bito. John Hunt. LET all the world rejoice, The great Jehovah reigns ; The thunders are His awful voice ; Our life His will ordains ; The glories of His Name The lightnings, floods, and hail proclaim. He rules by sea and land, O'er boundless realms He sways ; He holds the oceans in His hand. And mighty mountains weighs : Unequall'd and alone, In majesty He fills His throne. The universe He made By His prevailing might ; The earth's foundations He hath laid, And scatter'd ancient night ; When heaven, and earth, and sea, Proclaimed His awful majesty. When the bright orb of day First gleam' d with ruddy light, And yonder moon, with silver ray, March'd up the vault of night ; And stars bedeck' d the skies, That seem'd creation's thousand eyes ; And earth's fair form was seen, 'W 7 ith flowers and blossoms drest ; And trees, and fields, and meadows green, Adorn'd her youthful breast, The Beginning and the End. 239 Hung out in boundless space, Amid the ocean's cool embrace ; Glad was the angel throng To see His might prevail ; And loud they sung a joyful song, This universal hail ; While yet in youth it stood, The Maker, too, pronounced it good. But this fair world shall die, The creature of a day, In ashes and in ruins lie, Its glory pass'd away ; As when before her birth, Again shall be this mighty earth. Soon shall the day be o'er Of yonder brilliant sun ; And he shall set to rise no more, His race of glory run ; And soon, alas ! all soon Shall fade the stars and yon pale moon. But ever fix'd, the throne Of the Eternal One Shall stand, when all creation's gone, Unequall'd and alone ; New worlds to make at will, And His own wise designs fulfil. 240 Devotional Songs. %\z Spring of liilz. Simon Browne. ETERNAL God, of beings first, Of all created good the Spring, For Thee I long, for Thee I thirst, My Love, my Saviour, and my King ! Thine is a never failing store ; If God be mine, I ask no more. The fairest world of light on high Reflection makes but faint of Thine ; The glorious servants of the sky In God's own beams transported shine ! But, shouldst Thou wrap Thy face in shade, Soon all their life and lustre fade. Thy Presence makes celestial day, And fills each raptured soul with bliss ; Night would prevail, were God away, And spirits pine in Paradise ! In vain would all the angels try To fill Thy room, Thy lack supply. And, sure, from heaven we turn our eyes In vain, to seek for bliss below ; The tree of life can't root nor rise, Nor in this blasted region grow : The wealth of this poor barren clod Can ne'er make up the want of God. But, Lord ! in Thee the thirsty soul Will meet with full, with rich supplies ! Thy smiles will all her fears control, Thy beauties feast her ravish' d eyes : To failing flesh and fainting hearts Thy favour life and strength imparts ! Praise the L ord of Heaven. 24 1 Praise tlje HorD of l&eaben. T. B. Browne. PRAISE the Lord of heaven, Praise Him in the height, Praise Him, all ye angels, Praise Him, stars and light! Praise Him, skies and waters, Which above the skies, When His word commanded, Did, established, rise ! Praise the Lord, ye fountains Of the deeps and seas, Rocks and hills and mountains, Cedars and all trees ! Praise Him, clouds and vapours, Snow, and hail, and fire, Stormy wind, fulfilling Only His desire ! Praise Him, fowls and cattle, Princes and all kings ! Praise Him, men and maidens, All created things ; For the name of God Is excellent alone ; Over earth His footstool, Over heaven His throne ! 242 Devotional Songs. ®$V (Boti antj I&fng;* George Herbert. LET all the world in every corner sing My God and King ! The heavens are not too high ; His praise may thither fly: The earth is not too low ; His praises there may grow. Let all the world in every corner sing My God and King! The Church with psalms must shout; No door can keep them out: But, above all, the heart Must bear the longest part. Let all the world in every corner sing My God and King! Before 3|e!)oW0 atofui ^Tljrone. Dr Watts. — Air, Madan. BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne, Ye nations, bow with sacred joy; Know that the Lord is God alone ; He can create, and He destroy. His sovereign power, without our aid, Made us of clay, and form'd us men ; And when, like wandering sheep, we stray'd, He brought us to His fold again. Sovereign Ruler, 243 We are His people, we His care, Our souls and all our mortal frame ; What lasting honours shall we rear, Almighty Maker, to Thy name ? We '11 crowd Thy gates with thankful songs, High as the heavens our voices raise; And earth, with her ten thousand tongues, Shall fill Thy courts with sound ng praise. Wide as the world is Thy command, Vast as eternity Thy love ! Firm as a rock Thy truth must stand, When rolling years shall cease to move. John Ryland. SOVEREIGN Ruler of the skies, Ever gracious, ever wise, All my times are in Thy hand, All events at Thy command. His decree, who form'd the earth, Fix'd my first and second birth ; Parents, native place, and time, All appointed were by Him. He that form'd me in the womb, He shall guide me to the tomb ; All my times shall ever be Order'd by His wise decree; 244 Devotional Songs. Times of sickness, times of health, Times of penury and wealth ; Times of trial and of grief, Times of triumph and relief; Times the Tempters power to prove, Times to taste a Saviour's love ; All must come, and last, and end, As shall please my heavenly Friend. Plagues and deaths around me fly : Till He bids, I cannot die: Xot a single shaft can hit Till the God of love sees fit. Thou Gracious, Wise, and Just! In Thy hands my life I trust : Have I something dearer still? 1 resign it to Thy will. May I always own Thy hand; Still to the surrender stand ; Know, that Thou art God alone : I and mine are all Thy own. Thee at all times will I bless ; Having Thee, I all possess ; How can I bereaved be, Since I cannot part with Thee ? Psalvt cxlviii. 245 ^gfalm cjltoiiu George Wither. COME, oh come, with sacred lays ! Let us sound th' Almighty's praise ; Hither, bring in true consent, Heart, and voice, and instrument. Let the orpharion sweet With the harp and viol meet : To your voices tune the lute : Let not tongue nor string be mute : Nor a creature dumb be found, That hath either voice or sound. Let such things as do not live, In still music praises give ; Lowly pipe, ye worms that creep On the earth, or in the deep ; Loud aloft your voices strain, Beasts and monsters of the main ; Birds, your warbling treble sing ; Clouds, your peals of thunder ring ; Sun and moon exalted higher, And you stars augment the quire. Come, ye sons of human race, In this chorus take your place, And amid this mortal throng, Be ye masters of the song. Angels and celestial powers, Be the noblest tenor yours. Let, in praise of God, the sound Run a never-ending round, That our holy hymn may be Everlasting, as is He. 246 Devotional Songs. From the earth's vast hollow womb Music's deepest bass shall come, Sea and floods from shore to shore Shall the counter-tenor roar. To this concert, when we sing, Whistling winds, your descant bring: Which may bear the sound above Where the orb of fire doth move : And so climb from sphere to sphere, Till our song th' Almighty hear. So shall He from heaven's high tower On the earth His blessing shower; All this huge wide orb we see Shall one choir, one temple be ; There our voices we will rear Till we till it everywhere : And enforce the fiends that dwell In the air, to sink to hell. Then, oh come, with sacred lays ! Let us sound th' Almighty's praise. atitient %mn. Phillip Doddridge. HARK the glad sound ! the Saviour comes, The Saviour promised long : Let every heart prepare a throne, And every voice a song. He comes, the prisoners to release In Satan's bondage held ; The gates of brass before Him burst, The iron fetters vield. Christmas Day. 247 He comes, from thickest films of vice To clear the mental ray, And on the eyeballs of the blind To pour celestial day. He comes, the broken hearts to bind, The bleeding souls to cure, And with the treasures of His grace To bless the humble poor. Our glad hosannahs, Prince of Peace, Thine advent shall proclaim ; And heaven's eternal arches ring With Thy beloved Name. Cljrfetmatf 2Dap. Samuel Richards. HP HOUGH rude winds usher thee, sweet day, -L Though clouds thy face deform, Though nature's grace is swept away Before thy sleety storm ; E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest, Of blessed days thou art most blest. Nor frigid air nor gloomy morn Shall check our jubilee ; Bright is the day when Christ was born, No sun need shine but He: Let roughest storms their coldest blow With love of Him our hearts shall glow. 248 Devotional Songs. Inspired with high and holy thought, Fancy is on the wing ; It seems as to mine ear it brought Those voices carolling, — Voices through heaven and earth that ran. Glory to God, goodwill to man! I see the shepherds gazing wild At those fair sprites of light ; I see them bending o'er the child With that untold delight Which marks the face of those who vie t Things but too happy to be true. There, in the lowly manger laid, Incarnate God they see ; He stoops to take, through spotless maid, Our frail humanity. Son of high God, creation's Heir He leaves His heaven to raise us there! Through Him, Lord, we are born anew, Thy children once again ; Oh, day by day our hearts renew, That Thine we may remain, And, angel-like, may all agree, One sweet and holy family. Oft as this joyous morn doth come To speak our Saviour's love, Oh, may it bear our spirits heme, Where He now reigns above; That day which brought Him from the skies, And man restores to Paradise ! CI iris t the Lord is Born To-day. 249 Then let winds usher thee, sweet da}', Let clouds thy face deform Though nature's grace is sw r ept away Before thy sleety storm ; E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest, Of blessed days thou art most blest. Cfjttet ttje ^orts te Bortt %o^&^ Rev. Charles Wesley. HARK ! how all the welkin rings Glory to the King of kings ! Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled ! Joyful, all ye nations, rise, Join the triumph of the skies ; Universal nature say, Christ the Lord is born to-day ! Christ, by highest Heaven adored; Christ, the Everlasting Lord ; Late in time behold Him come, Offspring of a Virgin's womb : Veil'd in flesh the Godhead see ; Hail, th' Incarnate Deity, Pleased as man with men to appear, Jesus, our Immanuel here ! Hail ! the heavenly Prince of Peace ! Hail ! the Sun of Righteousness ! Light and life to all He brings, Risen with healing in His wings. 250 Devotional Songs, Mild He lays His glory by, Born that man no more may die ; Born to raise the sons of earth, Born to give them second birth. Come, Desire of nations, come, Fix in us Thy humble home ! Rise, the Woman's conquering Seed, Bruise in us the Serpent's head ! Now display Thy saving power, Ruin'd nature now restore, Now in mystic union join Thine to curs, and ours to Thine ! Adam's likeness, Lord, efface ; Stamp Thy image in its place ; Second Adam from above, Reinstate us in Thy love ! Let us Thee, though lost, regain, Thee, the Life, the Heavenly Man : Oh, to all Thyself impart, Form'd in each believinsr heart ! W$z prince of $zatt+ John Morrison. THE race that long in darkness pined Have seen a glorious Light ; The people dwell in Day, who dwelt In Death's surrounding night Hymn on the Nativity. 25 1 To hail Thy rise, Thou better Sun, The gathering nations come, Joyous as when the reapers bear The harvest-treasures home. For Thou our burden hast removed, And queli'd th' oppressors sway, Quick as the slaughtered squadrons fell In ^Iidian's evil day. To us a Child of Hope is born, To us a Son is given ; Him shall the tribes of earth obey, Him all the hosts of heaven. His Name shall be the Prince of Peace, For evermore adored, The Wonderful, the Counsellor, The great and mighty Lord. His power increasing still shall spread, His reign no end shall know : Justice shall guard His throne above, And Peace abound below. ¥fymn on tlje iJiatittt^ Ben Jonson. I SING the birth was born to-night, The Author both of life and light ; The angels so did sound it. And like the ravish'd shepherds said Who saw the light, and were afraid, Yet search'd, and true they found it. -o- Devotional Songs. — The Son of God, th' Eternal King, That did us all salvation bring, And freed the soul from danger ; He whom the whole world could not take, The Word which heaven and earth did make, Was now laid in a manger. The Fathers wisdom will'd it so, The Sons obedience knew no No, Both wills were in one stature : And as that wisdom had decreed, The Word was now made flesh indeed, And took on Him our nature. What comfort by Him do we win, Who made Himself the price of sin, To make us heirs of glory ! To see this babe all innocence, A martyr born in our defence : Can man forget this story ? Christmas* %mn. Nahum Tate. WHILE shepherds waich'd their flocks by night, All seated on the ground, The angel of the Lord came down, And glory shone around. " Fear not." said he ; for mighty dread Had seized their troubled mind ; '" Glad tidings of great joy I bring To vou and all mankind. The Star of Bethlehem. 253 " To you in David's town this day Is born of David's line, A Saviour, who is Christ the Lord ; And this shall be the sign : " The heavenly Babe you there shall find To human view display'd, All meanly wrapp'd in swathing bands, And in a manger laid." Thus spake the seraph ; and forthwith Appear'd a shining throng Of angels praising God, who thus Address'd their joyful song : u All glory be to God on high, And in the earth be peace ; Good-will henceforth from Heaven to men Begin and never cease ! " Amen. <®ht fetar of Betfjlefiem. H. Kirke White.— Music by T. Purday. WHEN, marshall'd on the nightly plain, The glittering hosts bestud the sky ; One star alone of all the train Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. Hark! hark ! to God the chorus breaks From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the star of Bethlehem. 254 ■ Devotional Songs. Once on the raging seas I rode, The storm was loud, the night was dark. The ocean yawn'd — and rudely blow'd, The wind that toss'd my foundering bark : Deep horror then my vitals froze, Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem, When suddenly a star arose, It was the star of Bethlehem. It was my guide, my light, my all ; It bade my dark forebodings cease ; And through the storm, and danger's thrall, It led me to the port of peace. Now safely moor'd, my perils o'er, I '11 sing first in night's diadem, For ever and for evermore, The star ! the star of Bethlehem ! ^ati to ttje lorti'0 janointeti James Montgomery. HAIL to the Lord's Anointed ! Great David's greater Son ! Hail, in the time appointed, His reign on earth begun ! He comes to break oppression, To set the captive free ; To take away transgression, And rule in equity. Hail to the Lord's Anointca ! 2; 3D He comes with succour speedy To those who suffer wrong ; To help the poor and needy, And bid the weak be strong ; To give them songs for sighing, Their darkness turn to light ; Whose souls, condemn'd and dying Were precious in His sight. He shall come down like showers Upon the fruitful earth, And joy and hope, like flowers. Spring in His path to birth. Before Him, on the mountains, Shall Peace, the herald, go ; And Righteousness, in fountains, From hill and valley flow. Arabia's desert-ranger To Him shall bow the knee ; The Ethiopian stranger His glory come to see ; With offerings of devotion Ships from the isles shall meet. To pour the wealth of ocean In tribute at His feet. Kings shall fall down before Him, And gold and incense bring ; All nations shall adore Him, His praise all people sing. For He shall have dominion O'er river, sea, and shore, Far as the eagle's pinion, Or dove's light wins:, can soar. z$6 Devotional Songs. — ; For Him shall prayer unceasing, And daily vows, ascend ; His kingdom still increasing, A kingdom without end : The mountain dews shall nourish A seed, in weakness sown, Whose fruit shall spread and flourish. And shake like Lebanon. O'er every foe victorious, He on His throne shall rest, From age to age more glorious, All-blessing and all-blest. The tide of time shall never His covenant remove ; His Name shall stand for ever; That Name to us is Love. Dr Cottox. LORD of my life, inspire my song ! To Thee my noblest powers belong ; Grant me Thy favourite seraph's flame, To sing the glories of Thy name. My birth, my fortune, friends, and health, My knowled e too, superior wealth, Lord of my life ! to Thee I owe; Teach me to practise what I know. Ten thousand favours claim my song, And each demands an angel's tongue; Mercy sits smiling on the wings Of every moment as it springs. TJie Old and New Year. 257 But, oh ! with infinite surprise, I see returning years arise ; When unimproved the former score, Lord, wilt Thou trust me still with more ! Thousands this period hoped to see ; Denied to thousands — granted me ; Thousands that weep, and wish, and pray For those rich hours I throw away. The tribute of my heart receive, 'Tis the poor all I have to give ; Should it prove faithless, Lord, I'd wrest The bleeding traitor from my breast. C&e flDIO ano i!2eto gear. Arthur Tozer Russell. ANOTHER year hath fled; renew, Lord, with our days Thy love ! Our days are evil here and few; We look to live above : We will not grieve, though day by day We pass from earthly joys away; Our joy abides in Thee; Our joy abides in Thee ! Yet, when our sins we call to mind, We cannot fail to grieve ; But Thou art pitiful and kind, And wilt our prayer receive : 258 Devotional Songs, O Jesu, evermore the same, Our hope we rest upon Thy Name; Our hope abides in Thee ; Our hope abides in Thee ! For all the future, Lord, prepare Our souls with strength Divine ; Help us to cast on Thee our care, And on Thy servants shine : Life without Thee is dark and drear ; Death is not death if Thou art near ; Our life abides in Thee ; Our life abides in Thee ! Rev. John Newton. NOW, gracious Lord, Thine arm reveal, And make Thy glory known ; Now let us all Thy presence feel, And soften hearts of stone ! Help us to venture near Thy throne, And plead a Saviour's Name ; For all that we can call our own Is vanity and shame. From all the guilt of former sin May mercy set us free : And let the year we now begin, Begin and end with Thee. Epiphany Hymn. 259 Send down Thy Spirit from above, That saints may love Thee more, And sinners now may learn to love, Who never loved before. And when before Thee we appear In our eternal home, May growing numbers worship here, And praise Thee in our room ! William C. Dix. AS with gladness men of old Did the guiding star behold ; As with joy they hail'd its light, Leading onward, beaming bright ; So, most gracious Lord, may we Evermore be led to Thee ! As with joyful steps they sped To that lowly manger-bed ; There to bend the knee before Him whom heaven and earth adore So may we with willing feet Ever seek the mercy-seat. As they offer' d gifts most rare At that manger rude and bare ; So may we with holy joy, Pure and free from sins alloy, All our costliest treasures bring, Christ ! to Thee our heavenly King 260 Devotional Songs. Holy Jesus, every day Keep us in the narrow way ; And when earthly things are past, Bring our ransom'd souls at last Where they need no star to guide, Where no clouds Thy glory hide. In the heavenly country bright Need they no created light ; Thou its Light, its Joy, its Crown, Thou its Sun which goes not down ; There for ever may we sing Alleluias to our King. Ho! l?e corner, toft!) Clouts 2DegcenMng;* John Cexxick, C. Wesley, axd M. Madan. LO ! He comes, with clouds descending, Once for favourd sinners slain : Thousand thousand saints attending Swell the triumph of His train : Hallelujah ! God appears, on earth to reign ! Every eye shall now behold Him, Robed in dreadful majesty ; Those who set at nought and sold Him, Pierced, and nail'd Him to the Tree, Deeply wailing, Shall the true Messiah see. Prayer is the Soul's Desire. 261 Every island, sea, and mountain, Heaven and earth shall flee away ; All who hate Him must, confounded, Hear the trump proclaim the day ; Come to judgment ! Come to judgment, come away ! Now Redemption, long expected, . See in solemn pomp appear ! All His saints, by man rejected, Now shall meet Him in the air : Hallelujah ! See the day of God appear ! Answer Thine own Bride and Spirit ; Hasten, Lord, the general doom ; The new Heaven and earth t' inherit, Take thy pining exiles home ; All creation Travails, groans, and bids Thee come ! Yea, Amen ! let all adore Thee, High on Thine eternal throne ; Saviour, take the power and glory ; Claim the kingdom for Thine own : Oh, come quickly, Everlasting God, come down ! draper t<3 t!)e »>our0 SDegtre* James Montgomery. T)RAYER is the soul's sincere desire, -*- Utter'd or unexpress'd ; The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast. 262 Devotional Songs. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear, The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. Prayer is the contrite sinners voice Returning from his ways, While angels in their songs rejoice, And cry — Behold, he prays ! Prayer is the Christian's vital breath. The Christian's native air ; His watch- word at the gates of death ; He enters heaven with prayer. The saints in prayer appear as one In word, in deed, in mind, While with the Father and the Son Sweet fellowship they find. Nor prayer is made by man alone, The Holy Spirit pleads ; And Jesus, on th' eternal throne, For sinners intercedes. O Thou, by whom we come to God, The Life, the Truth, the Way ! The path of prayer thyself hath trod ; Lord, teach us how to pray ! The Voice of Praise. 263 ^Ije Foice of $raisfe* William Wordsworth. UP to the throne of God is borne The voice of praise at early morn, And He accepts the punctual hymn, Sung as the light of day grows dim. Nor will He turn His ear aside From holy offerings at noontide : Then here reposing let us raise A song of gratitude and praise. What though our burthen be not light, We need not toil from morn to night ; The respite of the mid-day hour Is in the thankful creature's power. Blest are the moments, doubly blest, That, drawn from this one hour of rest, Are with a ready heart bestow'd Upon the service of our God. Each field is then a hallow'd spot, An altar is in each man's cot, A church in every grove that spreads Its living roof above our heads. Look up to Heaven ! the industrious sun Already half his race hath run ; He cannot halt nor go astray ; But our immortal spirits may. Lord ! since his rising in the east, If we have falter' d or transgress' d, 264 Devotional Songs. Guide, from Thy love's abundant source, What yet remains of this day's course. Help with Thy grace, through life's short day, Our upward and our downward way ; And glorify for us the west, When we shall sink to final rest ! EorU! unto %\)tz toe Crp* J. E. Carpenter.— Music by N. J. Sporle. LORD ! unto Thee we cry, When trouble o'er us steals, Our refuge is on high, Our trust Thy love reveals ; To Thee alone we bend, — For Thine alone the power, — ■ Our Father and our Friend, In sorrow's darkest hour ! Lord ! unto Thee we cry, For whither should we go ? The fount is never dry From whence Thy mercies flow ! Grant that those sacred streams Of Thine eternal love May waft us from our dreams To sunnier shores above ! "Thy Will be Doner 265 lf?ear 2t£e, flD (BoU ! Ben Jonson. HEAR me, O God ! A broken heart Is my best part : Use still Thy rod, That I may prove Therein Thy love. If Thou hadst not Been stern to me, But left me free, I had forgot Myself and Thee. For sin's so sweet, As minds ill-bent Rarely repent, Until they meet Their punishment. "Cljp aflliii be 2Done*" Charlotte Elliott. MY God, my Father, while I stray Far from my home on life's rough way, Oh, teach me from my heart to say, — "Thy will be done!" 266 Devotional Sonars. Though dark my path, and sad my lot, Let me be still, and murmur not ; And breathe the prayer divinely taught,- " Thy will be done ! n What though in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved no longer nigh, Submissive still would I reply, — " Thy will be done !" If Thou shouldst call me to resign What most I prize — it ne'er was mine ; I have but yielded what was Thine, — " Thy will be done!" Should grief or sickness waste away My life in premature decay, My Father ! still I '11 strive to say, — "Thy will be done!" Let but my fainting heart be blest With Thy sweet Spirit for its guest, My God, to Thee I leave the rest, — "Thy will be done!" Renew my will from day to day, Blend it with Thine, and take away All that now makes it hard to say, — "Thy will be done!" Then, when on earth I breathe no more The prayer, oft mix'd with tears before, I '11 sing upon a happier shore, — " Thy will be done!" Submission. 267 ^raping; ^ogetljer. Anna L^titia Barbauld. HOW blest the sacred tie that binds, In union sweet, according minds ; How swift the heavenly course they run, Whose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are one I To each the soul of each how dear ! What jealous love, what holy fear ! How doth the generous flame within Refine from earth, and cleanse from sin ! Their streaming tears together flow For human guilt and mortal woe ; Their ardent prayers together rise Like mingling flames in sacrifice. Together both they seek the place Where God reveals His awful face; How high, how strong, their raptures swell, There 's none but kindred souls can tell. Nor shall the glowing flame expire When nature droops her sickening fire ; Then shall they meet in realms above, — A heaven of joy, because of love. William Cowper. OLORD, my best desire fulfil, And help me to resign Life, health, and comfort to Thy wi And make Thy pleasure mine. 268 Devotional Songs. Why should I shrink at Thy command, Whose love forbids my fears ? Or tremble at the gracious hand That wipes away my tears ? No, rather let me freely yield What most I prize to Thee ; Who never hast a good withheld, Or wilt withhold from me. Thy favour all my journey through Thou art engaged to grant ; What else I want, or think I do, 'Tis better still to want. Wisdom and mercy guide my way; Shall I resist them both ? A poor blind creature of a day, And crush' d before the moth ! But, ah ! my inward spirit cries, Still bind me to Thy sway ; Else the next cloud that veils the skies Drives all these thoughts away. ffiQle Hook to Ojcc. William Hiley Bathurst. FULL of weakness and of sin, We look to Thee for life ; Lord, Thy gracious work begin, And calm the inward strife ! Thy Mercies are Great. 269 Though our hearts are prone to stray, Be Thou a constant Friend ; Though we know not how to pray, Thy saving mercy send ! Let Thy Spirit, gracious Lord, Our souls with love inspire, Strength and confidence afford, And breathe celestial fire ! Teach us first to feel our need, Then all that need supply ; When we hunger, deign to feed, And hear us when we cry ! When we cleave to earthly things, Send Thy reviving grace ; Raise our souls, and give them wings To reach Thy holy place 1 W$t S^ercfess are (0reat* J. E. Carpenter. — Music by N. J. Sfiorle. THY mercies are great, For Thy love is unbounded, The rich at Thy gate Stand abash'd and confounded ; The poor and the meek, In Thy goodness excelling, Thy throne they may seek, And may enter Thy dwelling ! 2J0 Devotional Songs. Thy mercies are great, They are never denied us ; Our footsteps await ; To Thy wisdom confide us; Our hope and our trust In Thy goodness we centre, That, arisen from dust, We Thy kingdom may enter. Bishop Reginald Heber. LORD of mercy and of might ! Of mankind the Life and Light ! Maker, Teacher Infinite ! Jesus ! hear and save ! Who, when sin's tremendous doom Gave creation to the tomb, Didst not scorn the Virgin's womb, Jesus ! hear and save ! Mighty Monarch ! Saviour mild ! Humbled to a mortal child, Captive, beaten, bound, reviled, Jesus ! hear and save ! Throned above celestial things, Borne aloft on angels' wings, Lord of lords, and King of kings, Jesus ! hear and save ! Who shall yet return from high, Robed in might and majesty, Hear us ! help us when we cry ! Jesus ! hear and save ! Pleading for Pardon. 2J I peatung; for ^ar&om Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. WHEN at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend, And plead with Thee for mercy there, Think of the sinner's dying friend, And for His sake receive my prayer. Oh, think not of my shame and guilt, My thousand stains of deepest dye ; Think of the blood which Jesus spilt, And let that blood my pardon buy. Think, Lord, how I am still Thy own, The trembling creature of Thy hand ; Think how my heart to sin is prone, And what temptations round me stand. Oh, think upon Thy holy Word, And every plighted promise there ; How prayer should evermore be heard, And how Thy glory is to spare. Oh, think not of my doubts and fears, My strivings with Thy grace Divine : Think upon Jesus' woes and tears, And let His merits stand for mine. Thine eye., Thine ear, they are not dull ; Thine arm can never shorten' d be : Behold me here ; my heart is full ; Behold, and spare, and succour me ! Devotional Songs. "^aliotoeb be e~ljp $ame!" J. E. Carpenter. — Music by N. J. Sporle. HALLO WD be Thy name!" Even while we sleep, In our dreams the same As when we wake to weep ; In the hour of joy, In the hour of shame, Lord ! our thoughts employ — " Hallow'd be Thy name!" On the raging sea, In the desert lone, Lord ! we bend the knee, And bow before Thy throne ; Dread ruler of the flood, And of the raging flame, Omnipotent and good, " Hallow'd be Thy name ! " flDfl, ^elp <&$, 3lori> ! Dean Milman. OH, help us, Lord ! each hour of need Thy heavenly succour give ; Help us in thought, and word, and deed, Each hour on earth we live. Calm. 273 Oh, help us when our spirits bleed With contrite anguish sore ; And when our hearts are cold and dead, Oh, help us, Lord, the more. Oh, help us through the prayer of faith More firmly to believe ; For still the more the servant hath, The more shall he receive. If strangers to Thy fold we call, Imploring at Thy feet, The crumbs that from Thy table fall, 'Tis all we dare entreat. But be it, Lord of Mercy, all, So Thou wilt grant but this : The crumbs that from Thy table fall Are light, and life, and bliss. Oh, help us, Jesus, from on high ; We know no help but Thee ; Oh, help us so to live and die As Thine in heaven to be. Calm. Rev. Horatius Bonar, D.D, CALM me, my God, and keep me calm. Whilst these hot breezes blow ; Be like the night-dew's cooling balm Upon earth's fever'd brow ! S 274 Devotional Songs. Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, Soft resting on Thy breast ; Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm, And bid my spirit rest. Calm me, my God, and keep me calm. Let Thine outstretched wing Be like the shade of Elim's palm Beside her desert-spring. Yes ; keep me calm, though loud and rude The sounds my ear that greet ; Calm in the closet's solitude, Calm in the bustling street ; Calm in the hour of buoyant health, Calm in my hour of pain ; Calm in my poverty or wealth, Calm in my loss or gain ; Calm in the sufferance of wrong, Like Him who bore my shame ; Calm 'mid the threat'ning, taunting throng. Who hate Thy holy Name. Calm as the ray of sun or star, Which storms assail in vain, , Moving unruffled through earth's war, Th' eternal calm to gain ! In Thee, O Lord, we put our Trust. 275 3)n Wbzty 4D HorD, toe put our %vu0t. J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover, IN Thee, O Lord, we put our trust, Thy ways are for the good and just ; We mark Thy presence in the breeze, The leaf it severs from the trees, The flower that blooms and then decays, In all we mark Thy wondrous ways ; Our faith and trust we place in Thee, Dread Ruler of eternity ! In Thee, O Lord, we put our trust, We, trembling children of the dust ; For every thing that lives and moves Thy impress bears, Thy presence proves ; The seasons, as they onward roll, Bear witness to Thy wise control ; The streams, the hills, the rocks, the sea, Bear token of Thy majesty ! In Thee, O Lord, we put our trust ; We know that Thou art good and just ; That Thou alone hast power to save The sinner in his early grave ; Grant us, we pray, for Thy dear Son, That, when life's weary race is run, Our trembling souls may meet the just, Who place, O Lord, in Thee their trust ! zj6 Devotional Songs. "Mifiat gfjall 3 Rentier?" Psalm cxvi. 12, 13. Rev. John Newton. FOR mercies, countless as the sands, Which daily I receive From Jesus my Redeemer's hands, My soul, what canst thou give ? Alas ! from such a heart as mine, What can I bring Him forth ? My best is stain'd and dyed with sin, My all is nothing worth. Yet this acknowledgment I '11 make For all He has bestow'd ; Salvation's sacred cup I '11 take, And call upon my God. The best returns for one like me, So wretched and so poor, Is from His gifts to draw a plea, And ask Him still for more. I cannot serve Him as I ought, No works have I to boast ; Yet would I glory in the thought That I should owe Him most. Prayer for Children. 277 draper for CijilDren. William Cowper. GRACIOUS Lord, our children see, By Thy mercy we are free ; But shall these, alas ! remain Subjects still of Satan's reign ? Israel's young ones when of old Pharaoh threaten'd to withhold ; Then Thy messenger said, "No; Let the children also go." When the angel of the Lord, Drawing forth his dreadful sword, Slew, with an avenging hand, All the first-born of the land, Then the people's door he pass'd Where the bloody sign was placed : Hear us now, upon our knees, Plead the blood of Christ for these ! Lord, we tremble, for we know How the fierce malicious foe, Wheeling round his watchful flight, Keeps them ever in his sight. Spread Thy pinions, King of kings ! Hide them safe beneath Thy wings, Lest the ravenous bird of prey Stoop, and bear the brood away. 278 Devotional Songs. Cfie JLoW0 draper* Rev. Edward Pearson. FATHER of all, supremely great, Of heaven and earth the Lord ! To Thee all creatures owe their birth ; Be Thou by all adored ! Soon may Thy laws be truly known, And o'er the world extend : Soon to Thy wise and righteous sway May all the nations bend ! As angels in the heavenly state Thy blest commands fulfil, So may Thy servants here on earth Obey Thy holy will ! On Thee we day by day depend, And on Thy care rely : From daily dangers guard us safe, Our daily wants supply ! Forgive our past offences, Lord ! Thy healing grace bestow : That mercy we to others grant, To us in mercy show ! When from without temptations call, Or lusts incite within, Oh, give us strength each care to shun, And save our souls from sin. Nearer, my God> to Thee. 279 additional verse. The Rev. James Plumbtre. For Thine 's the kingdom — glory Thine. And Thine almighty power : It was at first, it now doth shine, And shall when Time's no more. fearer, m? (BoD, to %\zz. S. F. Adams. — Music by Stephen Glover. NEARER, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ; E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me, Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! Though, like a wanderer, The sun gone down. Darkness comes over me, My rest a stone ; Yet in my dreams I 'd be Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! There let my way appear Steps unto heaven; All that Thou sendest me In mercy given ; Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! 280 Devotional Songs. Then, with my waking thoughts Bright with Thy praise, Out of my stony griefs Bethel I '11 raise ; So by my woes to be Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! And when on joyful wing Cleaving the sky, Sun, moon, and stars forgot, Upward I fly, Still all my song shall be, Nearer, my God, to The;, Nearer to thee ! Rev. H. F. Lyte. ABIDE with me ; fast falls the eventide ; The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide : When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me. Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away ; Change and decay in all around I see ; O 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. The Humble State. 281 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. I need Thy presence every passing hour ; What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power ? Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be? Through cloud and sunshine. Lord, abide with me. I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless ; Ills have no weight, and tears 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, in death, O Lcrd, abide with me. %\)i fumble fetate* Mrs Hannah More. GREAT Lord of all things ! Power divine ! Breathe on this erring heart of mine Thy grace serene and pure ; Defend my frail, my erring youth, And teach me this important truth, The humble are secure. Teach me to bless my lowly lot, Confined to this paternal cot, Remote from regal state ! Content to court the cooling glade, Inhale the breeze, enjoy the shade, And love my humble fate. 282 Devotional Songs. No anxious vigils here I keep, No dreams of gold disturb my sleep, Nor lead my heart astray ; Nor blasting Envy's tainted gale Pollutes the pleasures of the vale, To vex my harmless day. Yon tower which rears its head so high, And bids defiance to the sky, Invites the hostile winds : Yon branching oak extending wide, Provokes destruction by its pride, And courts the fall it finds. Then let me shun th' ambitious deed, And all the dangerous paths which lead To honour falsely won : Lord ! in Thy sure protection blest, Submissive will I ever rest, And may Thy will be done ! "^e sffjalt feed Ijte jFiocfe." Ralph Erskixe. OH, send me down a draught of love, Or take me hence to drink above ! Here, Marah's water fills my cup ; But there, all griefs are swallow'd up. Love here is scarce a faint desire ; But there, the spark's a flaming fire ; Joys here are drops, that passing flee ; But there, an overflowing sea. Light Eternal. 283 My faith, that sees so darkly here, Will there resign to vision clear ; My hope, that's here a weary groan, Will to fruition yield the throne. Here fetters hamper freedom's wing; But there, the captive is a king ; And grace is like a buried seed ; But sinners there are saints indeed. My portion here's a crumb at best; But there, the Lamb's eternal feast ; My praise is now a smothered fire ; But then I '11 sing, and never tire. Now dusky shadows cloud my day ; But then, the shades will flee away; My Lord will break the dimming glass, And show His glory face to face. My numerous foes now beat me down ; But then, I 'il wear the victor's crown ; Yet all the revenues I '11 bring To Zion's everlasting King ! ILiS^t (Eternal* William Hammond. OLORD, how little do we know, How little of Thy presence feel, While we continue here below, And in these earthly houses dwell ! 284 Devotional Songs. When will these veils of flesh remove, And not eclipse our sight of God ? When wilt Thou take us up above, To see Thy face without a cloud ? Show Thy omnipotence to save ; The characters of sin efface ; Thine image on our hearts engrave, And let us feel Thy sweet embrace ! Dart in our hearts a heavenly ray, A ray which still may shine more bright, Increasing to the perfect day, Till we awake in endless light ! Then shall each Star become a Sun, Fill'd with a lustre all Divine ; Each shall possess a radiant crown, And to eternal ages shine. 2Delfjj!)t m x\z ILorlu John Rylaxd. OLORD, I would delight in Thee, And on Thy care depend ; To Thee in every trouble flee, My best, my only Friend. When all created streams are dried, Thy fulness is the same ; May I with this be satisfied, And glory in Thy Name ! Gratitude to God. 28 5 Why should the soul a drop bemoan, Who has a fountain near; A fountain, which will ever run With waters sweet and clear ? No good in creatures can be found, But may be found in Thee ; I must have all things, and abound, While God is God to me. Oh, that I had a stronger faith, To look within the veil ! To credit what my Saviour saith, Whose word can never fail ! He that has made my heaven secure, Will here all good provide ; , While Christ is rich, can I be poor? Wliat can I want beside ? O Lord, I cast my care on Thee ; I triumph and adore : Henceforth my great concern shall be To love and please Thee more. Oftratftutie tD (0otu William Cowper. HOW blest Thy creature is, O God, When with a single eye He views the lustre of Thy word, The day springs from on high. 286 Devotional Songs. Through all the storms that veil the skies, And frown on earthly things, The Sun of Righteousness he eyes With healing on His wings. Struck by that light, the human heart, A barren soil no more, Sends the sweet smell of grace abroad, Where serpents lurk'd before. The glorious orb, whose golden beams The fruitful year control, Since first, obedient to Thy word, He started from the goal, Has cheer'd the nations with the joys His orient rays impart ; But, Jesus, 'tis Thy light alone Can shine upon the heart. Dean Henry Hart Milman. BOUND upon th' accursed tree, Faint and bleeding, who is He ? By the eyes so pale and dim, Streaming blood and writhing limb, By the flesh with scourges torn, By the crown of twisted thorn, By the side so deeply pierced, By the baffled burning thirst, By the drooping death-dew'd brow, Son of Man ! 'tis Thou ! 'tis Thou ! Good Friday. 287 Bound upon th' accursed tree, Dread and awful, who is He ? By the sun at noonday pale, Shivering rocks, and rending veil, By earth that trembles at His doom, By yonder saints, who burst their tomb, By Eden promised, ere He died, To the felon at His side ; Lord, our suppliant knees we bow, Son of God ! 'tis Thou ! 'tis Thou ! Bound upon th' accursed tree, Sad, and dying, who is He ? By the last and bitter cry, The ghost given up in agony, By the lifeless body laid In the chamber of the dead, By the mourners come to weep Where the bones of Jesus sleep ; Crucified ! we know Thee now ; • Son of Man ! 'tis Thou ! 'tis Thou ! Bound upon th' accursed tree, Dread and awful, who is He ? By the prayer for them that slew — " Lord ! they know not what they do ! " By the spoil'd and empty grave, By the souls He died to save, By the conquest He hath won, By the saints before His throne, By the rainbow round His brow, Son of God ! 'tis Thou ! 'tis Thou ! 288 Devotional Songs. Cijrfgt Crucffitetu Dean Milman. RIDE on ! ride on in majesty ! Hark ! all the tribes Hosanna cry ; Thine humble beast pursues his road, With palms and scatter'd garments strew' d. Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! In lowly pomp ride on to die : O Christ, Thy triumphs now begin O'er captive death and conquer'd sin. Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! The winged squadrons of the sky Look down with sad and wondering eyes To see the approaching Sacrifice. Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! The last and fiercest strife is nigh : The Father on His sapphire Throne Awaits His own anointed Son. Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! In lowly pomp ride on to die ; Bow Thy meek Head to mortal pain, Then take, O God, Thy power, and reign. ^Tljou art toftlj 9£e* Psalm xxiii. 4. J. E, Carpenter. —Music by J. R. Thomas. THOU art with me, ever with me, Lord of mercy, King of might ! In the sunshine of the morning, In the darkness of the night Calvary. 289 In sickness, when the shadow Of the grave was on my brow, Thy Word the staff I leant on, And in health my comfort now. Thou art with me, ever with me, And no evil I will fear ; In the hour of my affliction Thou art by my soul to cheer : Through Thee, my Lord and Saviour, I am victor in the strife, For Thy Cross the portals open'd, And made Death the Gate of Life. Caliiarp* Bishop Heber. THE Lord of might, from Sinai's brow, Gave forth His voice of thunder, And Israel lay on earth below, Outstretch'd in fear and wonder : Beneath His feet was pitchy night, And at His left hand and His right The rocks were rent asunder. The Lord of Love on Calvary, A meet and suffering stranger, Upraised to heaven His languid eye In nature's hour of danger; For us He bore the weight of woe, For us He gave His blood to flow, And meet His Father's anger. 290 Devotional Songs. The Lord of Love, the Lord of Might, The King of all created, Shall back return to claim His right On clouds of glory seated ; With trumpet-sound, and angel-song, And hallelujahs loud and long, O'er death and hell defeated. (Breat oD, tofjat 5a 1 feee anH ^ear? [Frequency called " Luther's Hymn." The first verse from the German of Benjamin Ringwald ; succeeding three by Dr W. B. Collyer.] GREAT God, what do I see and hear ? The end of things created ! The Judge of mankind doth appear On clouds of glory seated ! The trumpet sounds ; the graves restore The dead which they contain'd before : Prepare, my soul, to meet Him ! The dead in Christ are first to rise, And greet th' Archangel's warning, To meet the Saviour. in the skies On this auspicious morning : No gloomy fears their souls dismay ; His Presence sheds eternal day On those prepared to meet Him. Far over space, to distant spheres, The lightnings are prevailing : Th' ungodly rise, and all their tears And sighs are unavailing : The day of grace is past and gone ; They shake before the Judge's throne, All unprepared to meet Him. My Cross. 291 Stay, fancy, stay, and close thy wings, Repress thy flight too daring ! One wondrous sight my comfort brings, The Judge my nature wearing. Beneath His cross I view the day When heaven and earth shall pass away, And thus prepare to meet Him. ®%V Cross* Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. JESUS, I my cross have taken, All to leave, and follow Thee ; Destitute, despised, forsaken, Thou, from hence, my all shalt be : Perish every fond ambition, All I Ve sought, or hoped, or known ; Yet how rich is my condition ! God and heaven are still my own ! Let the world despise and leave me, They have left my Saviour too ; Human hearts and looks deceive me ; Thou art not, like them, untrue: And, while Thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love, and might, Foes may hate, and friends may shun me; Show Thy face, and all is bright ! Go, then, earthly fame and treasure ! Come, disaster, scorn, and pain ! In Thy service, pain is pleasure, With Thy favour, loss is gain. 292 Devotional Songs. I have call'd Thee, Abba, Father ! I have stay'd my heart on Thee ; Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, All must work for good to me. Man may trouble and distress me, 'Twill but drive me to Thy breast ; Life with trials hard may press me, Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. Oh, 'tis not in grief to harm me, While Thy love is left to me ! Oh, 'twere not in joy to charm me, Were that joy unmix' d with Thee ! Take, my soul, thy full salvation ; Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care; Joy to find, in every station, Something still to do or bear : Think what Spirit dwells within thee ! What a Father's smile is thine ! What a Saviour died to win thee ! Child of heaven, shouldst thou repine ? Haste, then, on from grace to glory, Arm'd by faith, and wing'd by prayer; Heaven's eternal day's before thee, God's own hand shall guide thee there ! Soon shall close thy earthly mission, Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days ; Hope soon change to glad fruition, Faith to sight, and prayer to praise ! / 1 r eeping Mary. 293 ©eneatlj tije Cross* William Williams. BENEATH Thy cross I lay me down, And mourn to see Thy bloody crown ; Love drops in blood from every vein ; Love is the spring of all His pain. Here, Jesus, I shall ever stay, And spend my longing hours away, Think on Thy bleeding wounds and pain, And contemplate Thy woes again. The rage of Satan and of sin, Of foes without, and fears within, Shall ne'er my conquering soul remove, Or from Thy cross, or from Thy love. Secured from harms beneath Thy shade, Here death and hell shall ne'er invade ; Nor Sinai, with its thundering noise, Shall e'er disturb my happier joys. Oh, unmolested happy rest, Where inward fears are all supprest ; Here I shall love, and live secure, And patiently my cross endure. aaieepfng St^arp. John xx. 1 1 -1 6. Rev. John Newton. MARY to her Saviour's tomb Hasted at the early dawn ; Spice she brought, and sweet perfume : But the Lord she loved was srone. 294 Devotional Songs. For a while she weeping stood, Struck with sorrow and surprise, Shedding tears a plenteous flood, For her heart supplied her eyes. Jesus, who is always near, Though too often unperceived, Came His drooping child to cheer, Kindly asking why she grieved. Though at first she knew Him not, When He call'd her by her name, Then her griefs were all forgot, For she found He was the same. Grief and sighing quickly fled, When she heard His welcome voice : Just before, she thought him dead ; Now, He bids her heart rejoice. What a change His word can make, Turning darkness into day ' You who weep for Jesus' sake, He will wipe your tears away. He who came to comfort her, When she thought her all was lost, Will for your relief appear, Though you now are tempest-toss'd ; On His word your burden cast, On His love your thoughts employ ; Weeping for a while may last, But the morning brings the joy. The Sinner's Friend. 295 W$i dinner'? frientu Charlotte Elliott. OTHOU, the contrite sinner's Friend, Who loving, lov'st them to the end, On this alone my hopes depend, That Thou wilt plead for me ! When, weary in the Christian race, Far off appears my resting-place, And fainting I mistrust Thy grace, Then, Saviour, plead for me ! W T hen I have err'd and gone astray Afar from Thine and Wisdom's way, And see no glimmering guiding ray, Still, Saviour, plead for me ! When Satan, by my sins made bold, Strives from Thy cross to loose my hold, Then with Thy pitying arms enfold, And plead, oh plead for me ! And when my dying hour draws near, Darken'd with anguish, guilt, and fear, Then to my fainting sight appear, Pleading in heaven for me ! When the full light of heavenly day Reveals my sins in dread array, Say Thou hast wash'd them all away ; Oh say, Thou plead' st for me ! 296 Devotional Songs. Bearing tlje Cross* Rev. Sir Henry Baker. OH what, if we are Christ's, Is earthly shame or loss ? Bright shall the crown of glory be, When we have borne the cross. Keen was the trial once, Bitter the cup of woe, When martyr d saints, baptized in blood, Christ's sufferings shared below. Bright is their glory now, Boundless their joy above, Where, on the bosom of their God, They rest in perfect love. Lord ! may that grace be ours ; Like them in faith to bear All that of sorrow, grief, or pain, May be our portion here ! Enough, if Thou at last The word of blessing give, And let us rest beneath Thy feet, Where saints and angels live ! All glory, Lord, to Thee, Whom heaven and earth adore ; To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, One God for evermore. Rock of Ages. 2 97 l&OCfe Of £p£f* Rev. A. M. Toplady. ROCK of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee ; Let the water and the blood, From Thy wounded side which flow'd, Be of sin the double cure ; Cleanse me from its guilt and power. Not the labour of my hands Can fulfil Thy law's demands ; Could my zeal no respite know, Could my tears for ever flow, All for sin could not atone ; Thou must save, and Thou alone. Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to Thy Cross I cling ; Naked, come to Thee for dress ; Helpless, look to Thee for grace ; Foul, I to the fountain fly"; Wash me, Saviour, or I die ! While I draw this fleeting breath, When my eyelids close in death, When I soar to worlds unknown, See Thee on Thy judgment throne : — Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee. 298 Devotional Songs. %\i 3Lz$$on of tije Cco0^ Rev. Charles Wesley. CHRIST, my hidden Life, appear, Soul of my inmost soul ! Light of life, the mourner cheer, And make the sinner whole ! Now in me Thyself display : Surely Thou in all things art ; I from all things turn away To seek Thee in my heart ! Open, Lord, my inward ear, And bid my heart rejoice ! Bid my quiet spirit hear Thy comfortable voice ; Never in the whirlwind found, Or where earthquakes rock the place ; Still and silent is the sound, The whisper of Thy grace ! From the world of sin, and noise, And hurry, I withdraw ; For the small and inward Voice I wait with humble awe : Silent am I now and still ; Dare not in Thy presence move : To my waiting soul reveal The secret of Thy love ! Thou hast undertook for me ; For me to death wast sold ; Wisdom in a mystery Of bleeding love unfold ! Man Honoured above A ngeh. 299 Teach the lesson of Thy cross ; Let me die, with Thee to reign ! All things let me count but loss, So I may Thee regain ! Show me, as my soul can bear, The depth of inbred sin ; All the unbelief declare, The pride that lurks within : Take me, whom Thyself hast bought ! Bring into captivity Every high aspiring thought, That would not stoop to Thee ! Lord, my time is in Thy hand ; My soul to Thee convert ! Thou canst make me understand, Though I am slow of heart. Thine, in whom I live and move, Thine the work, the power is Thine ! Thou art Wisdom, Power, and Love ; And all Thou art is mine ! apart l£onouret) abofce janplg. Rev. John Newton. NOW let us join with hearts and tongues, And emulate the angels' songs ; Yea, sinners may address their King In songs that angels cannot sjng ! They praise the Lamb who once was slain, But we can add a higher strain ; 300 Devotional Songs. Not only say, "He suffer'd thus," But that " He suffer'd all for us !" When angels by transgression fell, Justice consign'd them all to hell ; But Mercy form'd a wondrous plan To save and honour fallen man. Jesus, who pass'd the angels by, Assumed our flesh to bleed and die ; And still He makes it His abode ; As man He fills the throne of God. Our Next of kin — our Brother now — Is He to whom the angels bow ; They join with us to praise His name, But we the nearest interest claim. But ah ! how faint our praises rise ! Sure 'tis the wonder of the skies, That we, who share His richest love, So cold and unconcern'd should prove. Oh glorious hour, it comes with speed ! When we, from sin and darkness freed, Shall see the God who died for man, And praise Him more than angels can. (0O& incarnate, Henry Moore. THE Holy Son of God most high, For love of Adam's lapsed race, Left the sweet pleasure of the sky, To bring us to that happy place. Litany to the Saviour. 301 The robes of light He laid aside, Which did His majesty adorn, And the frail state of mortal tried, In human flesh and figure born. The Son of God thus man became, That man the Son of God might be. And by his second birth proclaim A likeness to His deity. Uttanp to t&e »>atifotir* Dean Henry Hart Milman. WHEN our heads are bow'd with woe, When our bitter tears o'erflow, When we mourn the lost, the dear, Gracious Son of Mary, hear. Thou our throbbing flesh hast worn, Thou our mortal griefs hast borne, Thou hast shed the human tear ; Gracious Son of Mary, hear. When the solemn death-bell tolls For our own departing souls ; When our final doom is near, Gracious Son of Mary, hear. Thou hast bow'd the dying head, Thou the blood of life hast shed, Thou hast fill'd a mortal bier ; Gracious Son of Mary, hear. 302 Devotional Songs. When the heart is sad within With the thought of all its sin ; When the spirit shrinks with fear, Gracious Son of Mary, hear. Thou the shame, the grief hast known Though the sins were not Thine own, Thou hast deign'd their load to bear ; Gracious Son of Mary, hear. Amen. \Eljere fe a fountain jFilleti toftij GiooD, William Cowper. THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins ; And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains. The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain in his day ; And there would I, though vile as he, Wash all my sins away. Dear dying Lamb ! Thy precious blood Shall never lose its power, Till all the ransom'd church of God Be saved, to sin no more. E'er since by faith I saw the stream Thy flowing wounds supply, Redeeming love has been my theme, And shall be till I die. The Way is Long and Dreary. 303 Then in a nobler, sweeter song I '11 sing Thy power to save, When this poor lisping, stammering tongue Lies silent in the grave. Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared, Unworthy though I be, For me a blood-bought free reward, A golden harp for me : 'Tis strung and tuned for endless years, And form'd by power divine To sound in God the Father's ears No other name but Thine. Cf)e (L&Iap t0 Hong anD 2Drearg* Adelaide A. Procter. THE way is long and dreary, The path is bleak and bare : Our feet are worn and w 7 eary, But we will not despair. More heavy was Thy burthen, More desolate Thy way; O Lamb of God, who takest The sin of the world away, Have mercy on us ! The snows lie thick around us, In the dark and gloomy night ; And the tempest wails above us, And the stars have hid their light. 304 Devotional Songs. But blacker was the darkness Round Calvary's Cross that day; O Lamb of God, that takest The sin of the world away, Have mercy on us ! Our hearts are faint with sorrow, Heavy and sad to bear ; For we dread the bitter morrow, But we will not despair : Thou knowest all our anguish, And Thou wilt bid it cease ; O Lamb of God, who takest The sin of the world away, Give us Thy peace ! Hftanp to our Horn* Sir R. Grant. SAVIOUR, when in dust to Thee Low we bow the adoring knee ; When, repentant, to the skies Scarce we lift our weeping eyes, Oh, by all Thy pains and woe Suffer'd once for man below, Bending from Thy throne on high, Hear our solemn litany. By Thy birth and early ye rs ; By Thy life of want and tears ; By Thy fasting and distress In the lonely wilderness ; L it any to our Lo rd. 305 By the dread mysterious hour Of the subtle tempter's power ; Jesu, look with pitying eye ; Hear our solemn litany. By the sacred grief that wept O'er the grave where Lazarus slept ; By the gracious tears that flow'd Over Salem's loved abode ; By the mournful word that told Treachery lurk'd within Thy fold ; Jesu, look with pitying eye ; Hear our solemn litany. By Thine hour of whelming fear ; By Thine agony and prayer ; By the purple robe of scorn ; By Thy wounds, Thy crown of thorn ; By Thy cross, Thy pangs, and cries ; By Thy perfect sacrifice ; Jesu, look with pitying eye ; Hear our solemn litany. By Thy deep expiring groan ; By the seal'd sepulchral stone ; By Thy triumph o'er the grave ; By Thy power from death to save ; Mighty God, ascended Lord, To Thy throne in Heaven restored, Prince and Saviour, hear our cry ; Hear our solemn litany. 306 Devotional Songs. ileanfng; on 3|e£u£* Sir Robert Grant. WHEN gathering clouds around I view, And days are dark and friends are few, On Him I lean, who not in vain Experienced every human pain ; He sees my wants, allays my fears, And counts and treasures up my tears. If aught should tempt my soul to stray From heavenly wisdom's narrow way ; To fly the good I would pursue, Or do the sin I would not do ; Still He, who felt temptation's power, Shall guard me in that dangerous hour. If wounded love my bosom swell, Deceived by those I prized too well ; He shall His pitying aid bestow, Who felt on earth severer woe ; At once betray' d, denied, or fled, By those who shared His daily bread. If vexing thoughts within me rise, And, sore dismay' d, my spirit dies ; Still He, who once vouchsafed to bear The sickening anguish of despair, Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry, The throbbing heart, the streaming eye. When sorrowing o'er some stone I bend, Which covers what was once a friend, The Easter Hymn. 307 And from his voice, his hand, his smile, Divides me for a little while ; Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed, For Thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead ! And oh ! when I have safely pass'd Through every conflict but the last ; Still, still unchanging, watch beside My painful bed, for Thou hast died ! Then point to realms of cloudless day, And wipe the latest tear away. %\z Carter ^ymn+ Anonymous. JESUS CHRIST is risen to-day, Alleluia ! Our triumphant holy day, Alleluia ! Who did once, upon the Cross, Alleluia ! Suffer to redeem our loss. Alleluia ! Hymns of praise then let us sing, Alleluia ! Unto Christ, our heavenly King, Alleluia ! Who endured the Cross and Grave, Alleluia ! Sinners to redeem and save. Alleluia ! 308 Devotional Songs. But the pain which He endured, Alleluia ! Our salvation hath procured, Alleluia ! Now above the sky He 's King, Alleluia ! Where the angels ever sing. Alleluia ! additional verse. Rev. Charles Wesley. Sing we to our God above, Alleluia ! Praise eternal as His love, Alleluia ! Praise Him, all ye heavenly host, Alleluia ! Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! Alleluia ! Cf)ri0t T&i&m. Revs. John Chandler and Isaac W t illiams. NOW morning lifts her dewy veil With new-born blessings crown'd ; Oh, haste we then her light to hail In courts of holy ground ! But Christ, triumphant o'er the grave, Shines more divinely bright : Oh, sing we then His power to save, And walk we in His light ! Christ Risen. 309 When from the swaddling bands of shade Sprang forth the world so fair, In robes of brilliancy array'd, Oh, what a Power was there ! When He, who gave His guiltless Son A guilty world to spare, Restored to life the Holy One, Oh, what a Love was there ! When forth from its Creator's hand The earth in beauty stood, All deck'd with light at His command, He saw, and call'd it good. But still more lovely in His sight, The earth still fairer stood, When the Holy Lamb had wash'd it white In His atoning blood. Still, as the morning rays return, To the pious soul 'tis given In fancy's mirror to discern The radiant domes of Heaven. But now that our eternal Sun Hath shed His beams abroad, In Him we see the Holy One, And mount at once to God. Oh, holy, blessed Three in One ! May Thy pure light be given, That we the paths of death may shun, And keep the road to Heaven ! 3 t o Devotional Songs. Cfjrtet tije Hor& i& Iftteeti {Map. Rev. Charles Wesley. CHRIST the Lord is risen to-day, Sons of men and angels say : Raise your joys and triumphs high, Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply. Love's redeeming work is done, Fought the fight, the battle won : Lo, our Sun's eclipse is o'er ! Lo, He sets in blood no more ! Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, Christ hath burst the gates of hell ! Death in vain forbids His rise ; Christ hath open'd Paradise ! Lives again our glorious King : Where, O Death, is now thy sting ? Once He died, our souls to save : W T here thy victory, O Grave ? Soar we now where Christ has led, Following our exalted Head ; Made like Him, like Him we rise ; Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. What though once we perish'd all, Partners in our parents' fall ? Second life we all receive, In our Heavenly Adam live. Risen with Him, we upward move ; Still we seek the things above ; Christ 's Ascension. 3 1 1 Still pursue, and kiss the Son, Seated on His Father's throne. Scarce on earth a thought bestow, Dead to all we leave below ; Heaven our aim, and loved abode, Hid our life with Christ in God : Hid, till Christ our Life appear Glorious in His members here ; Join'd to Him, we then shall shine, All immortal, all divine. Hail the Lord of Earth and Heaven 1 Praise to Thee by both be given ! Thee we greet triumphant now ! Hail, the Resurrection Thou ! King of Glory, Soul of bliss ! Everlasting life is this, — Thee to know, Thy power to prove, Thus to sing, and thus to love ! Cljrtst^ ascension. Henry Moore. GOD is ascended up on high With merry noise of trumpet-sound, And princely seated in the sky, Rules over all the world around. Sing praises then, sing praises loud Unto our universal King : He who ascended on a cloud, To Him all laud and praises sing. 312 . Devotional Songs. In human flesh and shape He went, Adorned with His passion's scars ; Which in Heaven's sight He did present, More glorious than the glittering stars. Oh, happy pledge of pardon sure, And of an endless blissful state, Since human nature once made pure, For Heaven becomes so fit a mate ! Lord, raise our sinking minds therefore,. Up to our proper country dear ; And purify us evermore, To fit us for those regions clear. That when He shall return again In clouds of glory, as He went, Our souls no foulness may retain, But be found pure and innocent. And so may mount to His bright hosts On eagle wings up to the sky, And be conducted to the courts Of everlasting bliss and joy. George Herbert. I GOT me flowers to strew Thy way ; I got me boughs from many a tree : But Thou wast up by break of day, And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee. Hosanna in the Highest. 3 1 3 The sun arising in the east, Though he give light and the east perfume ; If they should offer to contest With Thy arising, they presume. Can there be any day but this, Though many suns to shine endeavour ? We count three hundred, but we miss : There is but one, and that one ever. !?cr£annct in tlje Iktjjftejst* Bishop Heber. HOSANNA to the living Lord ! Hosanna to the Incarnate Word ! To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, Let earth, let heaven hosanna sing. Hosanna in the highest ! " Hosanna !" Lord, Thine angels cry; " Hosanna !" Lord, Thy saints reply : Above, beneath us, and around, The dead and living swell the sound. Hosanna ! Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! O Saviour, with protecting care, Return to this Thy house of prayer, Where we Thy parting promise claim, Assembled in Thy sacred Name. Hosanna in the highest ! But chiefest in our cleansed breast Bid Thine eternal Spirit rest ; 3 H Devotional So?igs. And make our secret soul to be A temple pure, and worthy Thee. Hosanna in the highest ! So, in the last and dreadful day, When earth and heaven shall melt away, Thy flock, redeem' d from sinful stain, Shall swell the sound of praise again. Hosanna ! Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! 3e0uef glial! IBteffftn Dr Isaac Watts. JESUS shall reign where'er the sun Doth His successive journeys run : His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more. For Him shall endless prayer be made, And praises throng to crown His head ; His name, like sweet perfume, shall rise With every morning sacrifice. People and realms of every tongue Dwell on His love with sweetest song, And infant voices shall proclaim Their early blessings on His Name. Blessings abound where'er He reigns ; The prisoner leaps to lose his chains ; The weary find eternal rest, And all the sons of want are blest. The Resurrection. 3 1 5 Where He displays His healing power, Death and the curse are known no more ; In Him the tribes of Adam boast More blessings than their father lost. Let every creature rise and bring Peculiar honours to our King ; Angels descend with songs again, And earth repeat the loud Amen. %^z Iftegurrecttoru Rev. Rowland Hill. WE sing His love, who once was slain, Who soon o'er death revived again, That all His saints through Him might have Eternal conquests o'er the grave. Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we Shall rise to immortality. The saints, who now with Jesus sleep, His own almighty power shall keep, Till dawns the bright illustrious day When death itself shall die away : Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we Shall rise to immortality. How loud shall our glad voices sing, When Christ His risen saints shall bring From beds of dust and silent clay, To realms of everlasting day ! Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we Shall rise to immortality. 3 16 Devotional Songs. When Jesus we in glory meet, Our utmost joys shall be complete ; When landed on that heavenly shore, Death and the curse will be no more : Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we Shall rise to immortality. Hasten, dear Lord, the glorious day, And this delightful scene display, When all Thy saints from death shall rise Raptured in bliss beyond the skies ! Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we Shall rise to immortality. Rev. Thomas Kelly. THE Head that once was crown'd with thorns, Is crown'd with glory now ; A royal diadem adorns The mighty Victor's brow. The highest place that Heaven affords Is His, is His by right, The King of kings, and Lord of lords, And Heaven's eternal Light. The joy of all who dwell above, The joy of all below, To whom He manifests His love, And grants His Name to know. To Him sing Hallelujah. 3 1 7 To them the Cross, with all its shame, With all its grace, is given;. Their name an everlasting name, Their joy the joy of Heaven. They suffer with their Lord below, They reign with Him above, Their profit and their joy to know The mystery of His love. The cross He bore is life and health, Though shame and death to Him : His people's hope, His peoples wealth, Their everlasting theme. Co Itm jSing; l&allelufaf)* Rev. Arthur Tozer Russell. TO Him, who for our sins was slain, To Him, for all His dying pain, Sing we Hallelujah ! To Him, the Lamb our sacrifice, Who gave His soul our ransom-price, Sing we Hallelujah ! To Him, who died that we might die To sin, and live with Him on high, Sing we Hallelujah ! To Him, who rose that we might rise And reign with Him beyond the skies, Sing we Hallelujah ! 3 1 8 Devotional Songs. To Him, who now for us doth plead, And helpejth us in all our need, Sing we Hallelujah ! To Him, who doth prepare on high Our home in immortality, Sing. we Hallelujah! To Him be glory evermore ; Ye heavenly hosts, your Lord adore ; Sing we Hallelujah ! To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, One God most great, our joy and boast, Sing we Hallelujah ! s JOSTAH COXDER. EE, the ransom'd millions stand, Palms of conquest in their hand ; This before the Throne their strain : " Hell is vanquish'd ; Death is slain ; Blessings, honour, glory, might, Are the Conqueror's native right ; Thrones and powers before Him fall ; Lamb of God, and Lord of all ! " Hasten, Lord ! the promised hour ; Come in glory and in power ; Still Thy foes are unsubdued; Nature sighs to be renew'd ; Time has nearly reach' d its sum ; All things with Thy Bride say, Come ; Jesus, whom all worlds adore, Come, and reign for evermore ! Praise the King of Heaven. 319 pratee tfie %\n§ of l£tatien. Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. PRAISE, my soul, the King of Heaven ; To His feet thy tribute bring, Ransom'd, heal'd, restored, forgiven, Evermore His praises sing, Alleluia! Alleluia! Praise the everlasting King. Praise Him for His grace and favour To our fathers in distress ; Praise Him still the same as ever, Slow to chide, and swift to bless : •Alleluia! Alleluia! Glorious in His faithfulness. Father-like, He tends and spares us, Well our feeble frame He knows ; In His hands He gently bears us, Rescues us from all our foes ; Alleluia! Alleluia! Widely yet His mercy flows. Angels in the height adore Him ; Ye behold Him face to face ; Saints triumphant bow before Him, Gather' d in from every race. Alleluia ! Alleluia ! Praise with us the God of grace. 320 Devotional Songs. £>ong;0 of praise. James Montgomery. SONGS of praise the angels sang, Heaven with hallelujahs rang, When Jehovah's work begun, When He spake, and it was done. Songs of praise awoke -the morn When the Prince of Peace was born ; Songs of praise arose when He Captive led captivity. Heaven and earth must pass away, Songs of praise shall crown that day ; God will make new heavens, new earth, Songs of praise shall hail their birth. And can man alone be dumb Till that glorious kingdom come ? No ; the Church delights to raise Psalms, and hymns, and songs of praise. Saints below, with heart and voice, Still in songs of praise rejoice, ' Learning here, by faith and love, Songs of praise to sing above. Borne upon their latest breath, Songs of praise shall conquer death ; Then, amidst eternal joy, Songs of praise their powers employ. The Voice of Jesus. 321 <9p&e Fotce of 3[e0u0. Rev. H. Bonar, D.D. I HEARD the voice of Jesus say, " Come unto Me and rest ; Lay down, thou weary one, lay down Thy head upon My breast." I came to Jesus as I was, Weary, and worn, and sad ; I found in Him a resting-place, And He has made me glad. I heard the voice of Jesus say, " Behold ! I freely give The living water ; thirsty one, Stoop down, and drink, and live !" I came to Jesus, and I drank Of that life-giving stream ; My thirst was quench'd, my soul revived, And now I live in Him. I heard the voice of Jesus say, " I am this dark world's light ; Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, And all thy day be bright." I looked to Jesus, and I found In Him my star, my sun ; And in that light of life I '11 walk Till travelling days are done. 322 Devotional Songs. Come ta Q$z\ Charlotte Elliott. WITH tearful eyes I look around ; Life seems a dark and stormy sea ; Yet midst the gloom I hear a sound, A heavenly whisper — Come to Me ! It tells me of a place of rest ; It tells me where my soul may flee : Oh ! to the weary, faint, opprest, How sweet the bidding — Come to Me ! When the poor heart with anguish learns That earthly props resign'd must be, And from each broken cistern turns, It hears the accents — Come to Me ! When against sin I strive in vain, And cannot from its yoke get free, Sinking beneath the heavy chain, The words arrest me — Come to Me ! When nature shudders, loath to part From all I love, enjoy, and see ; When a faint chill steals o'er my heart, A sweet voice utters — Come to Me ! Come, for all else must fail and die ; Earth is no resting-place for thee ; Heavenward direct thy weeping eye ; I am thy Portion — Come to Me ! The A sceusion. 323 Oh, voice of mercy, voice of love ! In conflict, grief, and agony, Support me, cheer me from above, And gently whisper — Come to me ! C&e agceitsfiotu Rev. Dean A. P. Stanley, D.D. HE is gone — beyond the skies, A cloud receives Him from our eyes ; Gone beyond the highest height Of mortal gaze or angel's flight ; Through the veils of time and space, Pass'd into the holiest place ; All the toil, the sorrow done. All the battle fought and won. He is gone — and we return, And our hearts within us burn ; Olivet no more shall greet, With welcome shout, His coming feet ; Never shall we thank Him more On Gennessareth's glist'ning shore, Never in that look or voice Shall Zion's walls again rejoice. He is gone — and we remain In this world of sin and pain, In the void which He has left ; On this earth, of Him bereft ; We have still His work to do, We can still His path pursue, 324 Devotional Songs. Seek Him both in friend or foe, In ourselves His image show. He is gone — but we once more Shall behold Him as before, In the Heaven of Heavens, the same As on earth He went and came ; In the many mansions there, Peace for us He will prepare ; In that world unseen, unknown, He and we may yet be one. He is gone — but not in vain ; Wait, until He comes again ; He is risen. He is not here, Far above this earthly sphere ; Evermore in heart and mind There our peace in Him Ave find, To our own Eternal Friend, Thitherward let us ascend. afllljftguntiaj* James Montgomery. LORD God, the Holy Ghost, In this accepted hour, As on the day of Pentecost, Descend in all Thy power ! We meet with one accord In our appointed place, And wait the promise of our Lord, The Spirit of all grace. Whitsunday Hymn. 325 Like mighty rushing wind Upon the waves beneath, Move with one impulse every mind, One soul, one feeling breathe : The young, the old, inspire With wisdom from above, And give us hearts and tongues of fire To pray, and praise, and love. Spirit of Light, explore And chase our gloom away, With lustre shining more and more Unto the perfect day ! Spirit of Truth, be Thou In life and death our Guide ! Oh, Spirit of adoption, now May we be sanctified ! CLQlljitjJuntiDe l&pmm Rev. John Keble. WHEN God of old came down from heaven. In power and wrath He came ; Before His feet the clouds were riven, Half darkness and half flame : Around the trembling mountain's base The prostrate people lay ; A day of wrath, and not of grace ; A dim and dreadful day. 5 2b Devotional Songs. But when He came the second time, He came in power and love ; Softer than gale at morning prime Hover'd His holy dove. The fires, that rush'd on Sinai down In sudden torrents dread, Now gently light, a glorious crown, On every sainted head. Like arrows went those lightnings forth, Wing'd with the sinner's doom : But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth, Proclaiming life to come. And as on Israel's awe-struck ear The voice exceeding loud, The trump, that angels quake to hear, Thrill'd from the deep, dark cloud ; So, when the Spirit of our God Came down His flock to find, A voice from heaven was heard abroad, A rushing mighty wind. Nor doth the outward ear alone At that high warning start ; Conscience gives back th' appalling tone ; 'Tis echoed in the heart. It fills the Church of God ; it fills The sinful world around ; Only in stubborn hearts and wills No place for it is found. The Holy Trinity. 327 To other strains our souls are set ; A giddy whirl of sin Fills ear and brain, and will not let Heaven's harmonies come in. Come Lord, come Wisdom, Love, and Power, Open our ears to hear ; Let us not miss th' accepted hour ; Save, Lord, by love or fear. Bishop Heber. HOLY, Holy, Holy ! Lord God Almighty ! Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee : Holy, Holy, Holy ! merciful and mighty, God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity ! Holy, Holy, Holy ! all the saints adore Thee, Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea; Cherubim and Seraphim falling down before Thee, Which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be. Holy, Holy, Holy ! though the darkness hide Thee, Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see, Only Thou art Holy : there is none beside Thee Perfect in power, in love, and purity. Holy, Holy, Holy ! Lord God Almighty! All Thy works shall praise Thy Name, in earth, and sky, and sea : Holy, Holy, Holy! merciful and mighty; God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity ! 328 Devotional Songs. W$z C&ree in ®nz. Dr Isaac Watts. I GIVE immortal praise To God the Father's love, For all my comforts here And better hopes above ; He sent His own eternal Son To die for sins that man had done. To God the Son belongs Immortal glory too, Who bought us with His blood From everlasting woe ; And now He lives, and now He reigns, And sees the fruit of all His pains. To God the Spirit's name Immortal worship give, Whose new-creating power Makes the dead sinner live ; His work completes the great design, And fills the soul with joy divine. Almighty God ! to Thee Be endless honours done; The undivided Three, And the mysterious One ! Where reason fails with all her powers, There faith prevails, and love adores. Hymn to the Holy Spirit. 329 ^pnm to tlje ^olj? Spirit* Thomas Burridge. , PRAISE be Thine, most Holy Spirit, Honour to Thy Holy Name ! May we love it, may we fear it ! Set in everlasting fame. Honour to Thee, praise, and glory, Comforter, Inspirer, Friend ; Till these troubles transitory End in glory without end. By Thy hand, in secret working, Like a midnight of soft rain, Seeds that lay in silence lurking, Spring up green, and grow amain. Roots, which in their dusty bosoms Hid an age of golden days, Stirring with a cloud of blossoms, Clothe their barrenness for Thy praise. As an island in a river, Vex'd with endless rave and roar, Keeps an inner silence ever On its consecrated shore, Flower' d with flowers, and green with grasses : So the poor through Thee abide ; Every outer care that passes Deepening more the peace inside. When our heart is faint Thou warmest, Justifiest our delight ; Thou our ignorance informest, And our wisdom shapest right ; 330 Devotional Songs. Hope, the weary one, Thou lendes.t, In the hour of doubt and strife; Thou beginnest, and Thou endest, All that Christians count of life. Vtxii Creator fepirituiS. COME, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, And lighten with celestial lire ; Thou the anointing Spirit art, Who dost Thy seven-fold gifts impart : Thy blessed unction from above, Is comfort, life, and fire of love ; Enable, with perpetual light, The dulness of our blinded sight : Anoint and cheer our soiled face With the abundance of Thy grace • Keep far our foes, give peace at home ; Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come. Teach us to know the Father, Son, And Thee, of both, to be but One ; That, through the ages all along, This may be our endless song ; Praise to Thy eternal merit, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. l^vnm of ^rai0e. James Montgomery. HOLY, holy, holy Lord God of hosts, when heaven and earth Out of darkness, at Thy word Issued into glorious birth, L it any to the Holy Spirit. 331 All Thy works before Thee stood, And Thine eye beheld them good, While they sung with one accord, Holy, holy, holy Lord ! Holy, holy, holy! Thee One Jehovah ever more ; Father, Son, and Spirit, we, Dust and ashes, would adore: Lightly by the world esteem'd, From that world by Thee redeem'd. Sing we here, with glad accord, Holy, holy, holy Lord ! Holy, holy, holy ! all Heaven's triumphant choir shall sing, When the ransom'd victims fall At the footstool of their King: Then shall saints and seraphim, Hearts and voices, swell one hymn, Round the throne, with full accord, Holy, holy, holy Lord ! JLitanv to tfje ^olp fepirit* Robert Herrick. IN the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 332 Devotional Songs. When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart, and sick in head, And with doubts disquieted Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown'd in sleep, Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When God knows I 'm toss'd about Either with despair or doubt, Yet before the glass be out, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the tempter me pursueth With the sins of all my youth, And reproves me for untruth, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the judgment is reveal' d, And that open'd which was seal'd, When to Thee I have appeal' d, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. (BoH t$e spirit. James Montgomery. O SPIRIT of the living God ! In all Thy plenitude of grace, Where'er the foot of man hath trod, Descend on our apostate race ! Thou, ivhose Almighty Word. 333 Give tongues of fire and hearts of love To preach the reconciling word ; Give power and unction from above, whene'er the joyful sound is heard. Be darkness, at Thy coming, light ; Confusion, order in Thy path ; Souls without strength inspire with might ; Bid mercy triumph over wrath. . O Spirit of the Lord ! prepare All the round earth her God to meet ; Breathe Thou abroad like morning air, Till hearts of stone begin to beat. ¥ Baptize the nations far and nigh; The triumphs of Thy Cross record ; The name of Jesus glorify, Till every kindred call Him Lord. God from eternity hath will'd All flesh shall His salvation see ; So be the Father's love fulfill'd, The Saviour's sufferings crown'd through Thee! John Marriott. nTHOU, whose almighty word -L Chaos and darkness heard, And took their flight, Hear us, we humbly pray, And where the Gospel's day Sheds not its glorious ray Let there be light ! 334 Devotional Songs. Thou, who didst come to bring, On Thy redeeming wing, Healing and light, Health to the sick in mind, vSight to the inly blind, Oh, now to all mankind Let there be light ! Spirit of truth and love, Life-giving, holy Dove, Speed forth Thy flight ; Move on the waters' face, Spreading the beams of grace, And in earth's darkest place Let there be light ! Blessed and Holy Three, Glorious Trinity, Grace, Love, and Might ! Boundless as oceans tide, Rolling in fullest pride, Through the earth, far and wide, Let there be listiit ! ^pnm for ^rinitp fetmtmp* Rev. Henry Marchmont. HOLY, Holy, Holy ! unceasing anthems swelling, Saints ever sing in concert round Thy throne ; Thou, in cloudless splendour, hast Thine eternal dwelling Glorious and great ! Thou, Lord, art God alone. Triune Jehovah, Holy Trinity; Ever undivided, perfect Unity; God in Three Persons, to all eternity. Hymn for Trinity Sunday. 335 Holy, Holy, Holy! bright angels ever praising, All strike their harps to saintly strains on high ; Lost in awe and rapture while on Thy glory gazing, Wond'ring with joy, Thy greatness magnify. Triune Jehovah, &c. Holy, Holy, Holy ! they day and night adore Thee, Nor cease nor tire in their glad work of praise ; And as they prostrate fall and cast their crowns before Thee, All Heaven resounds with their triumphant lays. Triune Jehovah, &c. Holy, Holy, Holy ! we penitents adoring, Trembling with awe would sing with choirs above. Till, far beyond this sphere of sin and sorrow soaring, In holier songs we sing Thy power and love. Triune Jehovah, &c. Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God of our salvation, Thou hast redeem'd and bought us with Thy blood ; Thou alone art worthy of highest adoration, Thee we adore, our Saviour and our God. Triune Jehovah, &c. Holy, Holy, Holy ! blest Father, Son, and Spirit ! Equal in mercy, majesty, and might, Infinite in glory, and infinite in merit, Thee may we praise with all Thy " saints in light." Triune Jehovah, &c. 336 Devotional Songs. Rev. John Keble. LORD, in Thy name Thy servants plead, And Thou hast sworn to hear ; Thine is the harvest, Thine the seed, The fresh and fading year. Our hope, when autumn winds blew wild, We trusted, Lord, with Thee : And still, now spring has on us smiled, We wait on Thy decree. The former and the latter rain, The summer sun and air, The green ear, and the golden grain, All Thine, are ours by prayer. Thine too by right, and ours by grace, The wondrous growth unseen, The hopes that soothe, the fears that brace, The love that shines serene. So grant the precious things brought forth By sun and moon below, That Thee in Thy new heaven and earth We never may forego. , To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, The God whom we adore, Be glory, as it was, is now, And shall be evermore. Amen. Lord of the Harvest 337 3lorD of tlje Harfcegt* Professor Joseph Anstice. LORD of the harvest, once again We thank Thee for the ripen'd grain For crops safe carried, sent to cheer Thy servants through another year ; For all sweet holy thoughts supplied By seed-time, and by harvest-tide. The bare dead grain, in autumn sown, Its robe of vernal green puts on ; Glad from its wintry grave it springs, Fresh garnish'd by the King of kings : So, Lord, to those who sleep in Thee Shall new and glorious bodies be. Nor vainly of Thy Word we ask A lesson from the reaper's task ; So shall Thine angels issue forth ; The tares be burnt ; the just of earth, To wind and storm exposed no more, Be gather' d to their Father's store. Daily, O Lord, our prayers be said, As Thou hast taught, for daily bread : But not alone our bodies feed, Supply our fainting spirits' need : O Bread of Life, from day to day, Be Thou their Comfort, Food, and Stay ! 32,8 Devotional Songs. Dean H. Alford. COME, ye thankful people, come, Raise a song of harvest home ! All is safely gather'd in, Ere the winter-storms begin ; God, our Maker, doth provide For our wants to be supplied ; Come to God's own temple, come, Raise a song of Harvest-Home ! We ourselves are God's own field, Fruit unto His praise to yield ; Wheat and tares together sown, Unto joy or sorrow grown ; First the blade, and then the ear, Then the full corn shall appear ; Grant, O Harvest-Lord, that we Wholesome grain and pure may be. For the Lord our God shall come And shall take His harvest home ! From His field shall purge away All that doth offend, that day ; Give His angels charge at last In the fire the tares to cast, But the fruitful ears to store In His garner evermore. Then, thou Church triumphant, come, Raise the song of Harvest-Home ! All are safely gather'd in, Free from sorrow, free from sin ; Harvest Hymn. 339 There for ever purified, In God's garner to abide. Come, ten thousand Angels, come, Raise the glorious Harvest-Home ! Mrs Anna Letitia Barbauld. PRAISE to God, immortal praise, For the love that crowns our days ! Bounteous source of every joy, Let Thy praise our tongues employ. For the blessings of the field, For the stores the gardens yield ; For the vine's exalted juice, For the generous olive's use : Flocks that whiten all the plain ; Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain ; Clouds that drop their fattening dews ; Suns that temperate warmth diffuse : All that Spring, with bounteous hand, Scatters o'er the smiling land ; All that liberal Autumn pours From her rich o'errlowing stores : These to Thee, my God, we owe, Source whence all our blessings flow ; And for these my soul shall raise Grateful vows and solemn praise. 340 Devotional Songs. Yet, should rising whirlwinds tear From its stem the ripening ear ; Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot Drop her green untimely fruit ; Should the vine put forth no more, Nor the olive yield her store ; . Though the sickening flocks should fall, And the herds desert the stall ; Should Thine alter' d hand restrain The early and the latter rain ; Blast each opening bud of joy, And the rising year destroy ; Yet to Thee my soul should raise Grateful vows and solemn praise ; And, when every blessing's flown, Love Thee for Thyself alone ! ~>unnj> 2Dap