*^Oi:s**s»«fc* • FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY /VS%5 Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/laysofpstOOwrig m ^^SH^^* w ^ONDON; 65.PATERNOSTER ftOW. ^d J UN 1 1933 ' L A Y S& PIOUS MINSTRELS A COLLECTION OF ENGLISH SACRED POETRY INCLUDING A FEW TRANSLATIONS FROM FOREIGN WRITERS EDITED AND ARRANGED BY HENRY WRIGHT " Sing unto the Lord and praise His Name ; be telling of His Salvation from day to day." — Psalm xcvi. 2. ELEVENTH THOUSAND LONDON H OUL8TO N A N D WEIGH T 65, PATERNOSTER ROW MDCCCLXVI. London: J. & W. Rideb, Printers, 14, Bartholomew Close, E.C. ALL WHO ARE ADMIKE11S OF RELIGIOUS POETRY or a BEAUTIFUL AND PATHETIC CHARACTER, AND WHO RECOGNIZE ITS POWER TO i ELEVATE, TO STRENGTHEN, THIS LITTLE VOLUME IJS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED. PREFACE. It has been aptly remarked by a well-known Hymn writer, that " it would be almost impossible to overrate the value of really good Hymns for private as well as public use. Next to the Bible itself, Hymns have done more to influence our views, and mould our theology, than any other instrumentality whatever. Easily learned in the clays of childhood and youth ; often repeated ; seldom if ever forgotten, they abide with us as a most precious heritage amid all the changes of our earthly life. They form a fitting and most welcome expression for every kind of deep religious feeling \ and they are with us to speak of Faith and Hope in our hours of trial and of sorrow." In these feelings and sentiments I very cordially concur j and if this little volume be instrumental, even in a limited degree, in fostering a taste for vi Preface. Sacred Poetry, I shall feel myself amply rewarded for any labour or trouble I may have had in its selection. Some of the former editions of this Work contained several Hymns which, though intrin- sically good, were either more suitable for public worship, or were well known and familiar to the general reader. In the present edition these have been omitted, and their places supplied by a number of Poems, the composition of English or Foreign writers of deservedly high reputation and celebrity. With many sincere thanks I have to acknow- ledge the kind courtesy of the following authors, editors, and publishers, who have permitted me to insert various pieces, the copyright of which is their property. Among the authors or editors are the Rev. Dr. Horatius Bonar, author of "Hymns of Faith and Hope;" the gifted author of " Morning Thoughts ;" the Eev. E. H. Baynes, Editor of "English Lyrics 1 ' and the "Lyra Angli- cana f the Rev. Orby Shipley, Editor of the " Lyra Messianica," " Lyra Eucharistica," and " Lyra Mystica;" the Rev. Sir Henry W. Baker, the Preface. vii Eev. Dr. Monsell, the Eev. F. W. Kittermester, Charles Lawrence Ford, Esq., Miss Ada Cambridge, Miss C. Sellon, &c, &c. Among the publishers are Messrs. Longman and Co., of London ; Messrs. J. H. and J. Parker, of Oxford ; Messrs. Blackwood and Sons, and Messrs. W. and E. Chambers, of Edinburgh, &c, &c. The attention of my readers is specially directed to the pieces " Let me go," " Servant of God," and " We shall see Him as He is," the composition of Miss Mary Pyper (a resident in one of the " Closes " or Alleys in the old town of Edinburgh), who is in extreme old age, quite alone in the world, totally blind, and in deep poverty. Since the notice of Miss Pyper appeared in the last edition of this Work, many benevolent persons have sent me donations for her in postage stamps and other- wise. I shall still be glad to be the medium of alleviating in any degree the very painful circum- stances in which she is placed. I feel considerable gratification in being able to state, that in less than twelve months several thousand copies of this Volume have been dis- posed of, and a new edition is called for. Among viii Preface. the large number of friendly criticisms which ap- peared of the last edition, the only regret expressed was that the names of the Authors were omitted. At that time, from various causes needless to men- tion here, it was impossible to have given the authors' names ; but in the present Edition it will be found that, except in a very few instances, the Author's name is not only appended to the Poem, but appears also in the list of Contents. Many Poems which have been added to this Collection appear in print for the first time, and every care has been taken, by careful revision, to render the present Edition of my "Lays of the Pious Minstrels" still more worthy of the acceptance of all lovers of Sacred Poetry. H. W. London, 65, Paternoster Kow, March, 1866. CONTENTS. Page Before the Throne T. Westwood 13 The Law of Mercy . Anonymous 15 Love to God . Emily Taylor 16 A Sacramental Hymn S. Thomas Aquinas 17 The Marriage Vow . American 18 Bear thy Brother's B urden " The Three Wakings" 20 The Bridegroom Come rH Laurenti 22 Jerusalem ox High . Samuel Grossman 24 Come unto Me and Res t Her. Horatius Sonar, D.D. 27 All AVork is Holy . " Rhymed Convictions" 28 Resurgam . J. A. Walker 30 Spring D. M. Moir, "Delta" 32 The Dawn upon the ] Fountain Brow. ' ' Mo rn ing Th ough ts ; ' 33 Let me Go Mary Pyper 3<5 u Behold, I bring you Glad Tidings'" /. B. Walker 36 The "Wise Men of thi East . . John Austin 38 Heavenly Service . . C. L. Ford 40 Eden's Echoes . . Ada Cambridge 43 A Sprlng Concert . John Bethune 46 The Home of Jems . C. Sell on 4!) Invocatiox Translated from the French 52 Contents. The Glory yet to be revealed E. A. Muhlenbergh 55 Rest for the Weary Rev. Horatius Bo?iar, D.J). 56 Brighter Hours . . . Georgiana Bennett 57 Life is Onward American 59 Shadows .... " Morning Thoughts" 61 "I am the Bread of Life." " Hymns Ancient and Modem " 63 Night spreads her Sable Veil. Rev. F. W. Eittermester 64 11 Lift up your Heads, ye Mighty Gates." William Drummond 66 The Wreck F.J. Terry 68 "Thou never knbwest Me" . . _ R. L. 69 Song of Faith . . . Rev. William Crossivell 71 11 Set your Affections on Things above" C. Z. Ford 72 "I will Commune with Thee from above the Mercy-seat Anonymous 73 Light, Life, and Love . . . . C. Sellon 74 Paradise . . . Translated from the Spanish 76 On the Picture of a Saint. Rev. JR. JFinterbotham, LL.B. 78 The Dedication of the Temple. Rev. R. E. Baynes, M.A. 81 The Death of the Firstborn . T. Westivood 83 Doubt not, Fear not . "Morning Thoughts" 86 Echoes of the Cathedral . . Ada Cambridge 88 The Oldest Christian Hymn . . . Unknown 91 I leave thee not . Translated from the German 93 Let me be remembered by what I have done. Rev. Horatius Bonar, D.D. 9.; The Almighty . . Translated from the Russian 97 Revelation C. L. Ford 99 Contents. xi Page At Evening time it shall be Light Bernard Barton 102 The First Missionary . . . Anna Shipton 104 Rabboni .... " Morning Thoughts" 107 Forget me not J. A. Walker 109 Beneath the Cross W. Williams 111 Thy Days are Numbered. George Mogridge, " Old Humphrey" 112 " We shall see Him as He is . Mary Pyper 114 He giyeth His Beloved Sleep Rev. John Keble 116 The Tombs of the Bishop s . Ada Cambridge 118 " I WILL LOVE HIM, AND WILL MANIFEST MYSELF UNTO him." American 121 "He shall gather the Lambs with His Arm." Translated from the Italian 122 Humility 8. D. S. 124 Miracles C. L. Ford 126 The Voice of Psalms . . . John Bethune 128 Heaven C. Sellon 130 The Battle Prayer . . . . T. Westwood 135 Brother, we shall meet and rest. Rev. Boratius Bonar, D.D. 136 Enthroned upon the Mountain Height. ' ( Mom ing Th ough ts" 138 Spirit Watchings .... Anonymous 140 Let us not sleep as do others . W. Gashell 143 Dreamland . . Rev. A. Winterbotham, LL.B. 144 All Flesh is Grass . u Bouquet des Souvenirs" 150 As thy Day, so shall thy Strength be. Bishop Eastbum 151 The Welcome Home .... (7. Sellon 152 Thb Dying Soldier's Litany. . Robert Xexvstead 156 The Requiem Ada Cambridge 158 xii Contents. Page "Hear my Prayer, God" . . T. Westwood 162 "Servant op God, "Well Done!" . Mary Py per 163 " Surely I come quickly " . Rev. Dr. Monsell 165 "Lord, are there Few that be sated P" " Morning Thoughts " 167 Nineveh C. L. Ford 169 Gethsemane T. Grinfield 174 The Fashion of this World passeth away. Bishop Doane 176 Lazarus .... " Morning Thoughts" 178 The Magdalene's Cry at the Foot of the Cross. C. Sellon 180 Last at His Cross, earliest at His Grave. T. Grinfield 182 Passover Eve Anonymous 183 The Dying Words of Jesus . . C. L. Ford 185 The Valley of the Shadow of Death ' . Conder 189 In Coelo Quies Anonymous 191 He hath ascended on High Rev. Henry Trend, D.I). 192 LAYS OF THE PIOUS MINSTRELS. BEFORE THE THRONE. LITTLE child, A little meek-faced quiet village child, Sat singing by her cottage door at eve Alow sweet Sabbath song. Xo human ear Caught the faint melody — no human eye Beheld the upturned aspect, or the smile That wreathed her innocent lips the while they breathed The oft-repeated burden of the hymn, " Praise God ! Praise God ! " A Seraph by the Throne In the Full Glory stood. With eager hand He smote the Golden Harp-strings, till a flood Of harmony on the celestial air Welled forth, unceasing. Then, with a great voice, He sang the " Holy, Holy, Evermore, Lord God Almighty ! " and the eternal courts Tlnilled with the rapture, and the hierarchies, Angel, and rapt archangel, throbbed and burned 14 Lays of the Pious M in sir eh. With, vehement adoration. Higher yet "Rose the majestic Anthem, without pause ; Higher, with rich magnificence of sound, To its full strength ; and still the infinite Heavens Rang with the " Holy, Holy, Evermore ! " Till, trembling from excess of awe and love, Each sceptred Spirit sank before the Throne, With a mute Hallelujah. But, even then, While the ecstatic song was at its height, Stole in an alien voice — a voice that seemed To float, float upwards from some World afar — A meek and childlike voice, faint, but how sweet ! That blended with the Seraph's rushing strain, Even as a fountain's music with the roll Of the reverberate thunder. Loving smiles Lit up the beauty of each angel's face At that new utterance. Smiles of joy that grew More joyous yet, as ever and anon Was heard the simple burden of the hymn, "Praise God! Praise God!" And when the Seraph's song Had reached its close, and o'er the Golden Lyre Silence hung brooding — when the Eternal Courts Rang but with echoes of his chant sublime, Still, through the abysmal space, that wandering voice Came floating upward from its World afar, Still murmured sweet on the celestial air, " Praise God ! Praise God ! " T. Westwood. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 15 THE LAW OF MERCY. | IJS written with the pen of Heavenly Love On every heart which skill Divine has moulded, A transcript from the Statute-book above, Where Angels read their Sovereign's will unfolded. It bids us seek the holes where famine lurks, Clutching the hoarded crust with trembling fingers ; Where toil in damp unwholesome caverns works, Or with strained eyeballs o'er the needle lingers. It bids us stand beside the dying bed Of those about to quit the world for ever ; Smooth the tossed pillow, prop the sinking head, Cheer the heart-broken, whom Death hastes to sever. It bids us tell the tempted that the joy Of guilt indulged will change ere long to sorrow ; The draught of sickly sweetness soon will cloy, And pall upon the sated taste to-morrow. And those who copy thus Christ's life on earth, Feeding the poor, and comforting the weeper, Will all receive a meed of priceless worth, When ripely gathered by the Heavenly Keaper. Anonymous. 16 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. LOVE TO GOD. jHUS shaft thou love the Almighty Lord — With all thy heart, and soul, and mind." So speaks to man that Sacred Word For counsel and reproof designed. " With all thy Heart "—no idol thing, Though close around the heart it twine, Its interposing shade must fling, To darken that pure love of thine. "With all thy Mind " — each varied power, Creative fancy, musings high, And thoughts that glance behind, before, These must Eeligion sanctify. " With Soul and Strength " — thy days of ease, While vigour nerves each youthful limb, And hope and joy, and health and peace, All must be freely brought to Him. Thou Power Supreme, in whom we move, Vouchsafe Thy servants, in their day, The mind to adore, the heart to love, And strength to serve Thee while they may. Emily Taylor. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 17 A SACRAMENTAL HYMN. BREAD to pilgrims given, Food that angels eat, .Manna sent from Heaven, For Heaven-born natures meet ! Give us, for Thee long pining, To eat till richly filled, Till, earth's delights resigning, Our every wish is stilled. O Water, life-bestowing, From out the Saviour's Heart, A Fountain purely flowing, A Fount of Love Thou art ! Oh let us, freely tasting, Our burning thirst assuage ; Thy sweetness, never wasting, Avails from age to age. Jesus, this Feast receiving, We Thee unseen adore ; Thy faithful "Word believing, We take, and doubt no more ! Give us, Thou true and loving, On earth to live in Thee, Then, death the Veil removing, Thy glorious Face to see. S. Thomas Aquinas. 18 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE MARRIAGE VOW. | PEAK it not lightly — 'tis a holy thing, A Bond existing through long distant years, When joy o'er thine abode is hovering, Or when thine eye is wet with bitterest tears, Recorded by an angel's pen on high, And must be questioned in eternity. Speak it not lightly ! — though the young and gay Are thronging round thee now with tones of mirth, Let not the holy Promise of to-day Fade like the clouds that with the morn have birth ; But ever bright and sacred may it be, Stored in the treasure-cell of memory. Life will not prove all sunshine ; — there will come Dark hours for all. Oh, will ye, when the Night Of Sorrow gathers thickly round your home, Love, as ye did in times when calm and bright Seemed the sure path ye trod, untouched by care, And deemed the future, like the present, fair? Eyes that now beam with health may yet grow dim, And cheeks of rose forget their early glow ; Languor and pain assail each active limb, And lay, perchance, some worshipped beauty low ; Then will ye gaze upon the altered brow, And love as fondly, faithfully, as now ? The Marriage Vow. ID Should Fortune frown on your defenceless head, Should storms o'ertake your bark on life's dark Sea, Fierce tempests rend the sail so gaily spread When Hope her siren strain sang joyously, "Will ye look up, though clouds your sky o'ercast, And say, Together we will bide the blast % Age with its silvery locks comes stealing on, And brings the tottering step, the furrowed cheek, The eye from which each lustrous gleam hath gone, And the pale lip, with accents low and weak ; Will ye then think upon your life's gay prime, And, smiling, bid Love triumph over Time ? Speak it not lightly ! — oh, beware ! beware ! 'Tis no vain promise, no unmeaning word ; Lo ! men and angels list the Faith ye swear, And by the High and Holy One 'tis heard ; — Oh, then kneel humbly at His Altar now, And pray for strength to keep the Marriage Vow. American. 20 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. BEAR THY BROTHERS BURDEN. S thy Cruse of Comfort wasting ? Eise and share it with another, And through all the years of famine It shall serve thee and thy brother Love Divine will fill thy storehouse, Or thy handful still renew ; Scanty fare for one will often Make a royal feast for two. For the heart grows rich in giving ; All its wealth is living grain ; Seeds, which mildew in the garner, Scattered, fill with gold the plain. Is thy Burden hard and heavy ? Do thy steps drag wearily ? Help to bear thy brother's Burden ; God will bear both it and thee. Numb and weary on the mountains, Wouldst thou sleep amidst the snow 1 Chafe that frozen form beside thee, And together both shall glow. Bear thy Brothers Burden. t\ Art thou stricken in Life's Battle 1 Many wounded round thee moan ; Lavish on their wounds thy balsams, And that balm shall heal thine own. Is the heart a well left empty 1 Xone but God its void can fill ; Xothing but a ceaseless Fountain Can its ceaseless longings still. Is the heart a living power ] Self-entwined, its strength sinks low; It can only live in loving, And by serving Love will grow. "The Three Wakings:' 22 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE BRIDEGROOM COMETH. EJOICE, rejoice, believers ! And let your lights apjDear ; The evening is advancing, The darker night is near. The Bridegroom is arising ; And soon will He draw nigh : Up ! pray, and watch, and wrestle, At midnight comes the cry. See that your lamps are burning, Eeplenish them with oil ; Look now for your Salvation, The end of sin and toil. The watchers on the mountain Proclaim the Bridegroom near ; Go, meet Him as He cometh, With Hallelujahs clear. Oh ! wise and holy virgins, Now raise your voices higher, Till, in your jubilations, Yo meet the angel-choir. The Bridegroom Cometh. The Marriage Feast is waiting, The gates wide open stand ; Up, up, ye heirs of glory, The Bridegroom is at hand. Our hope and expectation, Jesu, now appear ; Arise, Thou Sun so looked for, O'er this benighted sphere ! With hearts and hands uplifted, We plead, Lord, to see The Day of our Redemption, And ever be with Thee ! Laurenti. 24 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. JERUSALEM ON HIGH. WEET place, sweet place, alone The court of God Most High, The Heaven of Heaven's Throne Of spotless Majesty. happy place ! When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy Face 1 Jerusalem on high My song and city is ; My home whene'er I die, The centre of my bliss. happy place ! When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy Face ! No tears from any eyes, Drop in that Holy Choir ; But Death itself there dies, And sighs themselves expire. Jerusalem on High. happy place ! When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy Face I There should temptation cease, My frailties there should end ; There should I rest in peace, In the Arms of my best Friend. O happy place ! When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy Face I There dwells my Lord, my King Judged here unfit to live j There angels to Him sing, And lovely homage give. happy place S When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy Face I Xo sun by day shines there, No moon by silent night \ Oh, no ! these needless are — The Lamb's the City's Light. 26 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. happy place ! When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy Face 1 The Lamb's Apostles there I might with, joy behold • The Harpers I might hear, Harping on Harps of Gold. O happy place ! When shall I be, My God, with Thee, To see Thy Face '? Samuel Grossman. Lays of (he Pious Minstrels. 27 COME UNTO ME, AND REST." 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 quenched, 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 he bright." I looked to Jesus, and I found In Him my Star, my Sun, And in that Light of Life I'll walk Till travelling days are done. Rev. Horattus Boxar, TU>. 28 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. ALL WORK IS HOLY. OEK while life is given • Faint not, although 'tis hard \ Work is the will of Heaven, And Peace is the reward ! All Work is Holy. What though thy lot he hidden, And proud ones pass thee by 1 Feel duty as God-hidden, Act as beneath His Eye ! For Work is Holy. Cleave to thy humble place, Ennoble it with thy zeal ; Work with a manful grace, Make fruitless cumberers feel That Work is Holy. Scorn nought as plain or mean \ All with thy worth impress ! That all where thou hast been May day by day confess That Work is Holy. All Work is Holy. 29 Work while life is given, Xor shrink though hardship soars ; True suffering fits for Heaven, There Six alone debars ! For Work is Holy. Angels' ears now listen Thy earth-spurned plaintive tale ; Angels' eyes shall glisten, While they thy scars unveil ! " For Work is Holy. They'll know these are the proof That thou hast striven well ; Nor idly stood aloof, While other brave ones fell ; For Work is Holy. Work while life is given ; Pine not although 'tis hard ; Work is the will of Heaven, And Peace is the reward ! All Work is Holy. " Rhymed Convictions." 30 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. RE SURG AM. HEN autumn's deepening shadows fall On mountain and on lea, And Nature's fading tints recall The thought, " How frail are w T e !" — When sinks the soul 'mid doubts and fears, And terrors of the tomb, And pensive Memory sheds her tears O'er forms laid in its gloom ; — When all things round us of decay And desolation tell, And the soul shrinks in haste away From scenes we loved too well, — how consoling then to know, Whatever griefs })revail, There is a God who brightens woe, And soothes the mourner's wail ! — A God who once Man's image bore, And bowed to Man's estate, Man's faded glory to restore, His Bliss to renovate ; — Resurgam. 31 A Saviour who, 'mid change and chance, Is changeless and the same, Regards each trembling suppliant's glance, And calls him by his name. Then let the clouds and tempests lower, The wild winds fiercely rave ; Let Death put forth his vaunted power, And lay us in the grave : Xor Cloud nor Tempest, Death nor Hell, Xeed Faith triumphant dread ; Immanuel shall her tears dispel. And raise her from the dead. J. A. AValkek. 32 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. SPRING. j|OW pleasant is the opening year ! The clouds of Winter melt away, The flowers in beauty reappear, The songster carols from the spray. Lengthens the more refulgent day, And bluer grows the arching sky ; All things around us seem to say, "Christian, direct thy thoughts on high." In darkness, through the weary length Of Winter, slept both bud and bloom ; But Nature now puts forth her strength, And starts renewed as from the tomb. Behold an emblem of thy doom, man ! — a Star hath shone to save, And morning yet shall re-illume The midnight darkness of the Grave. Yet ponder well how then shall break The dawn of Second Life on thee ; — Shalt thou to Hope, to Bliss awake, Or vainly strive God's Wrath to flee ! Then shall pass forth the dread Decree, That makes or weal or woe thine own. Up and to Work ! Eternity Must reap the Harvest Time hath sown. D. M. Mom. "Delta." Lays of the Pious Minstrels THE DAWN UPON THE MOUNTAIN BROW. HE dawn upon the mountain brow Lighteth the path of One, who brings Glad tidings from the King of kings. How beautiful His Feet ! they seem Laved in the Fount, whose Waters flow Forth from the Throne in living stream, While at each step the morning dew Cleanseth those lovely Feet anew ! 'Tis noon upon the mountain brow, And stains on those fair Feet betray How morning dews have passed away. Whereat, in agony of fears, The pilgrim pausing bendeth low, Ami weepeth till the Fount of tears Hath washed his feet, from each sad stain Thus rendered beautiful again. 'Tis evening on the mountain brow: Wounded and bruis&d, pierced, torn \W jagged rock, by rankling thorn, He heeds it not — that Crimson Flood o4 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Sheds o'er his feet a brighter glow; While bathed as in a fount of blood, The gushings of the crimson rill Have washed those fair feet fairer still. "lis night upon the mountain brow ; But radiant with the setting sun, The pilgrim's feet their course have run. Bathed in the Fount of liquid light, Where Angels lave their wings of snow, How beautiful upon the height Of Sion's hill, those glorious Feet Tread the Eternal City's golden street ! " Morning Tfioughts. Lays of the Pious Miifistvels. 35 LET ME GO. ET me go! — The Day is breaking, Morning bursts upon mine eye, Death this mortal frame is shaking — But the soul can never die! Let in*' go! — The Day-Star, beaming, Gilds the radiant realms above; Its full Glory on me streaming, Lights me to that Land of Love! Let me go ! — My Warfare's ended ; Night's dark shades have passed away : All in view is Glory splendid, Boundless and eternal Day! Let me go! — My Master's Chariot Waits in state to bear me Home — Purchase of His Grace and Merit, — Alleluia ! Lord, 1 come ! Now 1 am Thine, and Thine for ever, While eternal ages roll ; Sense and sin no more shall sever Thy blest Presence from my soul! Now, amid the sacred splendour ( )i the glorious Hosts above, Everlasting praise I'll render To that God Whose name is Love! Mart Pyper 36 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. " BEHOLD, I BRING YOU GLAD TIDINGS." HE " sentinel stars," from the watch- tower of night, KejDt their vigil in silence on Jordan's dark wave, When a Herald came down from the region of Light To proclaim the Destroyer of Hell and the Grave. Oh, sweet were his accents — the eyelids of Morn Seemed to ope in the East at the soul-cheering sound ; At his words was the music of Paradise home ( )n the air, and its courts with the echo resound. " To children of Adam glad tidings I bring, Of joy to the guilty, the lost, the forlorn ; In the city of David a Saviour, a King, The Messiah — the Hope of the Nations is born. " From the Heaven of Heavens He comes in His Love, Where the armies of God strike their harps to His praise; That the chiefest of sinners may join them above, Their Captain appears as an Infant of Days. "Behold, I Briny you Glad Tidings" o, 6k He comes, like the Sun from the gates of the East, To pour upon Man Immortality's day; He comes, that the wanderers from Eden may rest, And rejoice when life's flowers arc fading away. "He comes, the commands of the Law to obey, And die by its sentence, that thus He may ope To His brethren (long prisoners of death and dismay ) The Temple of life and the Stronghold of Hope. 5 ' Hail Thou whom the Isles and the Gentiles shall trust ! Believing the record, the works of my pride I renounce — I am silent, and humbled in dust — In Thy finished Salvation alone I confide. My destinies all I confide to Thy Hand ; My hopes on Thy Righteousness only I place On this pedestal, Lord, I lor ever would stand, A pillar inscribed to the praise of Thy Grace. J. B. Walker 38 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE WISE MEN OF THE EAST. ESU ! behold, the Wise from far, Led to Thy Cradle by a Star, Bring gifts to Thee, their God and King. guide ns by Thy Light, that we The way may find, and still to Thee, Our hearts, our all, for tribute bring. Jesu! the pure, the spotless Lamb, Who to the Temple humbly came, Duteous the legal rites to pay, — make our jiroud, our stubborn will, All Thy wise, gracious Laws fulfil, Whate'er rebellious nature say. Jesu! who on the fatal Wood Pour'dst out Thy Life's last drop of Blood, Nailed to the accursed, shameful Cross, — may we bless Thy Love, and be Ready, dear Lord, to bear for Thee, All shame, nil grief, all pain and loss. The Wise Men of the East 39 Jon! who by Thine own Love slain — By Thine own power took'st life again, And ( Jonqueror from the Grave didst rise, — may Thy Death our souls revive, And e'en on earth a new Life give — A glorious Life, that never die-. Jesu! who to Thy Heaven again Return'dst in triumph, there to reign, Of men and Angels Sovereign King, — may our parting souls take flight, Up to that Land of joy and light, And there for ever grateful sing. All glory to the sacred Three, ( )ne undivided Deity, All honour, power, and love, and praise ! Still may Thy blessed Name shine bright, In beams of uncreated Light, ( Irowned with its own eternal rays ! John Austin. 40 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. HEAVENLY SERVICE. ASK not, Lord, for crown or victor's palm ; Enough for me, After life's storms, the sunshine and the calm Of rest with Thee. Nor yet such rest I ask, as idlesse sweet Of passive joy : But I will crave, amhitious, at Thy Feet, Some high employ — Some part to fill, some sphere or place to fit In Thy great Rule, — To learn or teach, to order or submit, As in Thy school : Whether, with powers all new, and senses strange, Fresh truths I scan ; Or, with the old, refined, in higher range, Soar, where I ran. Heavenly Service. 41 When Thou didst visit us, Thou didst nut choose Life's easier lot ; How should I, then, that portion, Lord, refuse, Thou, here, didst not ? Thy House is large ; not for Thy guests one room Dost Thou reserve : Nor is the Banquet all — that light were gloom, Might we not serve. So many worlds 1 view, such realms and spaces, There needs must be Some room and use for all our powers and graces, In just degree. This life is much too short, for Thy great Love Amends to make ; Late we begin, and still ourselves reprove For some mistake. Our earth hangs heavy about us, clogs and clings, Whate'er we try ; Some hot desire or passion melts our wings, If once we fly. So that our time is all contained with tears For fault and loss ; Itepentance and amendment, all our years, Leave work but dross. 42 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. I hit when we leave behind us all this clay. These mists and fears, And soar into the unobstructed I )av, Beyond the Spheres ; That will be work indeed if Thou assign To each his station, Unerring and unending as the line Of Thy Creation. C. L. Ford. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 43 EDEN'S ECHOES, ERE in the silence stand, Where the curling breakers bow, Weaving a fringe on the gulden sand TVith delicate lingers now. Stand by the wild sea-shore, In the evening light, alone : Hark to that deep, mysterious roar, And tenderer whispered tone : With rugged cliff behind, Where the curlew's white wing dips, The soft, light kiss of the western wind Breathed on your parted lips: Shingles beneath your feet, Seaweed and shells among ; Thrilling around you that music sweet - That strangely eloquent song; — Stand for one short half-hour, Far from the haunts of men, And say what mighty, unearthly power, Holds you in thraldom then ! 44 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Looking at that pure sky, That glittering, restless sea, Where no white sails in the sunbeams lie- Wliere all is so wild and free, — Why comes that strange, deep hush, Over the turbulent heart ? Why do the yearnings, all else can crush, From the inmost spirit start ? Why does the vexing strife Seem charmed to peace at last ; And the weary, tempted, and troubled life In sweet oblivion cast '? Why seems it all God there I — There, in that sky and sea, Stainlessly lovely, and pure and fair, As Heaven itself might be ! Ah ! in the soft sea-moan, Does not the Spirit speak I Does not the breeze bear His awful tune, Fanning your burning cheek ? The wave's voice is the same As when the world began, And God gave water and land its name — Making a home for Man. Eden 8 Echoes. 45 Hush ! for it breathes to you Something of that first breath Which sinless Adam in Eden drew, Ere he had tasted death. Your holier instinct breaks — Breaks through its sin-drugged sleep, When that soft echo of Eden wakes, In tones of the restless dee]). All ! the old longings rise — Longings the world can chill ! For the fire God lit in Paradise Smoulders within us still ! Stand on the wild sea-shore, Humbly — and all alone ; Echoes the music of nevermore In every whispered tone. And then go back, go home, To the lowly life again ; Those eloquent echoes, where'er you roam, Will in your heart remain, — Sweeping the broken strings With reverent touch, and fond : I ^lending its holy imaginings With thoughts of the World beyond. Ada Cambridge. 4?t> Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 51 SPUING CONCERT. HERE is a concert in the trues. There is a concert on the hill, There's melody in every breeze, And music in the murmuring rill. The shower is past, the winds are still, The fields arc green, the flowerets spring. The birds, and bees, and beetles fill The air with harmony, and fling The rosied moisture of the leaves In frolic flight from wing to wing, Fretting the spider as he weaves His airy web from bough to bough. • In vain the little artist grieves Their joy in his destruction now. Alas ! that in a scene so fair The meanest being e'er should feel The gloomy shadow of despair, Or sorrow o'er his bosom steal; But in a world where woe is real, Each rank in life and every day Must pain and suffering reveal, J Spring Concert. And wretched mourners in decay. When Nations smile o'er battles won, When banners wave and streamers play, The lonely mother mourns her son, Left lifeless on the bloody clay, And the poor widow, all undone, Sees the wild revel with dismay. The joyous Spring and Summer gay With perfumed gifts together meet, And from the rosy lips of May Breathe music soft and odours sweet ; And still my eyes delay my feet To gaze upon the earth and heaven, And hear the happy birds repeat Their anthems to the coming even. Yet is my pleasure incomplete ; I grieve to think how few are given To feel the pleasures I possess ; While thousand hearts, by sorrow riven. Must pine in utter loneliness, Or he to desperation driven. Oh ! could we find some happy land, Some Eden of the deep blue sea, By gentle breezes only fanned, Upon whose soil, from sorrow free, Grew only pure felicity ! Who would not brave the stormiest main Within that blissful Isle to be, Exempt from sight or sense of pain I 48 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. There is a land we cannot see, Whose joys no pen can e'er portray, And yet so narrow is the road, From it our spirits ever stray. Shed light upon that rjath, God, And lead ns in the appointed way. There only joy shall he complete, More high than mortal thoughts can reach, For there the just and good shall meet, Pure in affection, thought, and speech ; Xo jealousy shall make a breach, Xor pain their pleasure e'er alloy ; There sunny Streams of gladness stretch, And there the very air is joy ; There shall the faithful, who relied On faithless love till life would cloy, And those who sorrowed till they died O'er earthly pain and earthly woe, See pleasure like a whelming tide From an unbounded ocean flow. John Bethune. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 40 THE LOVE OF JESUS. ESU, my soul's "beloved Lord, Worthy alone to be By every living thing adored, Now and eternallv ! How can we coldly turn away From that Blest Heart, — so good, So sweet, — That loveth us alway, In our ingratitude ! that we knew its priceless worth ! that we loved Thee more ! That all, forsaking dreams of earth, Thy Beauty might adore ! Thou, Lord, art Love : and Thou wilt give, To all Thy lovers true, In Thee, with Thee, for aye to live In Pleasures ever new. But not for pleasure of her own The faithful soul would love : E 50 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Thy Glory and Thy Bliss alone Her yearning heartstrings move. Thee, Thee alone, in all she seeks, All other love forgot : By night her tears are on her cheeks, Because men love Thee not. For Thou didst leave Thy Father's Bliss, The love and joy of Heaven, To save us from our wretchedness : Low now, with sorrows riven, Thou liest, for us, in Anguish keen, Upon Thy Bed of Woe ; All rent and marred Thy Glorious Mien, With Grief which none may know. Oh ! by that Love, which yearneth still Over Thy wandering Sheep, Seek out and find, forgive, and thrill With love for Love so deep ! Lover of souls, arise ! and claim The Empire Thou hast won. Thine is the Kingdom ; Thy sweet Xanie Let all adore and own. The Love of Jesus. 51 Oh ! what shall separate us from Thee ! Shall peril, pain, or woe ] Shall Life ) or Death's sharp agony ? Or aught of joys below ? Jesn ! whom my soul loveth well, Shut up my heart in Thine : So shall no arts of malice fell Wean from that Love Divine. Chiefest among Ten Thousand ! Thou Didst die for love of me : Oh ! let me love Thee deeply now, And in Eternity ! C. Sellox. 52 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. INVOCATION. || Y daughter, go and pray ! See, Night is come : One golden Planet pierces through the gloom ; The misty outline trembles on the hill. Listen ! the distant wheels in darkness glide — All else is hushed ; the tree by the roadside Shakes in the wind its dust-strewn branches still. Day bears its evil, weariness, and pain. Let us to prayer ! calm Xight is come again : The wind among the ruined towers so bare Sighs mournfully : the herds, the flocks, the streams, All suffer, all complain ; worn Xature seems Longing for peace, for slumber, and for prayer. This is the hour when babes with Angels speak. While we are rushing to our pleasures weak And sinful, all young children, with bent knees, Eyes raised to Heaven, and small hands folded fair, Say at the self-same hour the self-same Prayer On our behalf, to Him Who all things sees. And then they sleep. Oh, peaceful cradle-sleep ! ( )h, childhood's hallowed Prayer ! Religion dee]) ( )f love, not fear, in happiness expressed ! Invocation. 53 So the young bird, when done its twilight lay Of Praise, folds peacefully at shut of day Its head beneath its wing, and sinks to rest. Pray thou for all who living tread Upon this Earth of Graves ; For all whose weary pathways lead Among the winds and waves ; For him who madly takes delight In pomp of silken mantle bright, Or swiftness of a horse ; For those who, labouring, suffer still ; Coming or going — doing ill — Or on their Heavenward course 1 . Pray thou for him who nightly sins Until the day dawns bright — Who at eve's hour of Prayer begins His dance and banquet light ; Whose impious orgies wildly ring, Whilst pious hearts are offering Their Prayers at twilight dim ; And who, those Vespers all forgot, Pursues his sin, and thinketli not, God also Heareth him. Child ! pray for all the poor beside The prisoner in his cell, 54 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. And those who in the city wide With crime and misery dwell ; For the wise sage who thinks and dreams ; For him who impiously blasphemes Religion's Holy Law. Pray thou — for Prayer is infinite — Thy faith may give the scorner light, Thy Frayer forgiveness draw. Translated from the French. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 55 THE GLORY YET TO BE REVEALED. IXCE o'er Thy Footstool here below Such radiant gems are strewn, what magnificence must glow, My God, about Thy Throne ! So brilliant here those drops of Light, Where the full Ocean rolls, how bright ! If Xight's blue curtain of the sky, With thousand stars enwrought, Hung like a royal canopy, With glittering diamonds fraught, Be, Lord, thy Temple's outer Veil, What splendour at the Shrine must dwell ! The dazzling Sun at noontide hour, Forth from his golden vase Flinging o'er earth the golden Shower, Till vale and mountain blaze, But shows, Lord, one Beam of Thine ; What then the Day where Thou dost Shine ! Ah ! how shall these dim eyes endure That !Noon of Living Bays, Or how my spirit, so impure, Upon Thy Glory gaze ? Anoint, Lord, anoint my sight, And robe me for that World of Light. W. A. MUHLENBERGH. 56 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. REST FOR THE WEARY. j|OT long, not long ! The spirit-wasting fever Of this strange life shall quit each throbbing vein ; And this wild pulse flow placidly for ever ; And endless peace relieve the burning brain. Earth's joys are but a dream ; its destiny Is but decay and death. Its fairest form Sunshine and shadow mixed. Its brightest day A rainbow braided on the wreaths of storm. Yet there is blessedness that changeth not ; A Eest with God, a Life that cannot die ; A better Portion, and a brighter Lot ; A Home with Christ, an Heritage on High. The tempest makes returning calm more dear ; The darkest midnight makes the brightest star ; Even so to us, when all is ended here, Shall be the past, remembered from afar. Then welcome change and death ! since these alone Can break life's fetters, and dissolve its spell ; Welcome all present change, which speeds us on So swift to that which is Unchangeable. Rev. Horatius Bonar, D.L>. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 57 BRIGHTER HOURS. HOUGH dark the present hour may seem, With sorrow, care, and strife ; Though Gladness may not shed her beam Upon the sky of life ; Yet fear not, for amidst the gloom One hope is ever ours — That joy may yet our lot illume, And bring us Brighter Hours ! Droop not, but nobly struggle still, For others look to thee ; And they would cease to strive with ill, If thou shouldst conquered be. In darkest nights some star appears, — In Winter's hand, some flowers ; So shines for us, in adverse years, The hope of Brighter Hours ! With fearless spirit still press on, — Act thine allotted part ! Life's high rewards were never won By faint and coward heart ! Keep on thy course, and falter not, Though the dread Tempest lours ; But still, however sad thy lot, Hope on for Brighter Hours ! 58 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Cares may be round thee ; doubts and fears Thy trembling soul oppress, — Mourner ! look upward through thy tears, Thy God is near to bless ! E'en if Hope's earthly ray grows dim, A better Light is ours, Which leads us on to trust in Him AVlio gives us Brighter Hours ! Georgjana Bennett. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 59 LIFE IS ONWARD. IFE is onward — use it AVith a forward aim ; Toil is heavenly, choose it, And its warfare claim. Look' not to another To perform your will ; Let not your own brother Keep your warm hand still. Life is onward — never Look upon the past ; It would hold you ever In its clutches fast. Xow is your dominion, Weave it as you please ; Bind not the soul's pinion To a bed of ease. Life is onward — try it, Ere the day is lost ; It hath virtue — buy it, At whatever cost. If the world should offer Every precious gem, Look not at the scoffer, Change it not for them ! 60 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Life is onward — heed it In each varied dress ; Your own art can speed it On to happiness. His bright pinion o'er you Time waves not in vain, If Hope chants before you Her prophetic strain. Life is onward — prize it In sunshine and in storm ; Oh ! do not despise it In its humblest form. Hope and Joy together, Standing at the goal, Through life's darkest weather, Beckon on the soul. American. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 61 STfADOWS. ARK shadows on the good man's day Rest, to my thinking, evermore, Or pass a little while away, To gather darker than before. Afflictions of the Christian's life The pulses are ; they panse from pain, But only for the weary strife To gather strength to throb again. Of every woe, the seeming end Precursor is of larger woes : For him, ere long, the warmest friend Converted to the chief of foes. Yes ! and were this the whole of all The earthly race who ever ran, Beyond dispute thou mightest call Such Christian the most hapless man. But if so be the meaner part Is all thy carnal eyes have seen, — If, amid outward gloom, the heart In brighter sunshine basks serene \ — If from that throbbing pulse, of pain Or grief, with each recurring blow 62 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. A nobler life through every vein Begins in fuller tide to flow \ — If onward as the billows sweep They bear him to the Haven nigh ; — If, losing earthly friends, he keep A closer Friend with God Most High, — Be mine the path of worldly gloom, In such requitals more than blest ; But spare me, Lord, that fearful doom, Internal strife with outward rest. "Morning Thoughts.* Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 63 " / AM THE BREAD OE LIFE." ||HE heavenly AVord proceeding forth, Yet leaving not the Father's side, Accomplishing His Work on earth, Had reached at length life's eventide. By false disciple to be given To foemen for His Life athirst, Himself the very Bread of Heaven He gave to His disciples first. He gave Himself in either kind, His Precious Flesh, His precious Blood, In Love's own fulness thus designed Of the whole Man to be the Food. By birth their fellow-Man was He ; Their Meat, when sitting at the Board \ He died their Ransomer to be ; He ever Reigns, their great Reward. O saving Victim, opening wide The gate of Heaven to Man below ; Our foes press on from every side, Thine Aid supply, Thy Strength bestow. Blest Three in One, to Thee ascend All thanks and praise for evermore ; grant us Life that shall not end, Upon the Heavenly Country's shore. " Hymns Ancient and Modem" ()4 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. NIGHT SPREADS HER SABLE VEIL IGHT spreads her sable veil Across the stainless sky, And one by one each twinkling star ®IH Peeps from its silent home afar, Tempting the wandering eye To rest — while thought in vision soars, And, lost in wonderment, adores. But lo ! the vaulted dome Is filled with Light Divine ; God's Angel comes to Earth to-day With gracious News ; about his way Celestial glories shine : He comes to tell to fallen Earth The long-expected Saviour's Birth. The shepherds see the light, And they are sore afraid ; They hear his Voice, — " Let terror cease ; To you is born the Prince of Peace, And in a manger laid : Go ! seek the Saviour, Christ the Lord, The Ever-Blessed, All- Adored." Then wakes a mighty Song From Angel Hosts above ; Night Spreads her Sable Veil. 65 And multitudes unite to sing The Praise of their Eternal King, And His Redeeming Love : Divine and full, that wondrous Sound Goes echoing on the world around. " Glory to God on High, And on the Earth he Peace ; Good will to Men," — so swells the strain : Hope visits this lost world again — Hope that will never cease While Jesu's Grace and Jesu's Love Call fallen Man to Pest ahove. Rev, F. W, Kitteumester, 66 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. "LIFT UP YOUR HEADS, YE MIGHTY GATES! 1 ' | EIGHT Portals of the -sky, Embossed with sparkling stars, — Doors of Eternity, With Adamantine Bars, — Tour arras rich uphold, Loose all your Bolts and Springs, Ope wide your Leaves of Gold, That in your Eoofs may come the King of Kings. Scarfed in a rosy cloud, He doth ascend the Air ; Straight doth the moon Him shroud With her resplendent hair ; The next encrystalled light Submits to Him its beams, And He doth trace the height Of that fair lamp which flames of beauty streams. He towers those golden bounds He did to sun bequeath : The higher wandering rounds Are found His Feet beneath. The milky way comes near ; Heaven's axle seems to bend " Lift up your Heads, ye Mighty Gates !" 67 Above each turning sphere, That, robed in Glory, Heaven's King may ascend. Now each ethereal Gate To Him hath opened been, And Glory's King in state His Palace enters in. Now come is this High Priest, In the Most Holy Place, Not without Elood addressed ; With Glory Heaven, the Earth to crown with Grace. Glory of the Heaven, sole delight of Earth, To Thee all Power be given, God's uncreated Birth. Of mankind Lover true, Endurer of his Wrong, Who does the world renew, Still be Thou our Salvation and our Song. William Drummond. (Si 68 Xa^/s of the Pious Minstrels. THE WRECK. STOOD upon the beach at even — - Darker the clouds above me grew, Till sable was the vault of heaven, And lightnings o'er the waters flew. On shore the forest trees were bending ; Upon the sea, the billow's crest, With fierce tempestuous wrath extending, Covered with foam its heaving breast. I saw a bark by wild waves shattered, Its cordage flying with the gale ; Its broken masts in fragments scattered, And rudely rent each quivering sail. Hope came, — for fast the shore 'twas gaining ; Hope fled, — for rocks appeared between. It struck ! a stranded wreck remaining Alone declared what once had been. And what is Life ? A stormy Ocean ; Man the frail Bark, and Heaven the Shore, Which, after many a fierce commotion, That bark may reach to leave no more. But if, by guilt and error driven, On sin's dark rocks it strikes at last, A fearful wreck, in sight of Heaven It sinks ! and Hope is ever past. F. J. Perry. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. (i. ( ) " THOU NEVER KNEWEST ME." JHE earthly spirit, stained with crimes, By Sin and Shame alternate riven, Will soar above the world sometimes, With an imploring look to Heaven. Thus when I turned my sorrowing eye, Kedeemer of the World, to Thee, My murmuring conscience made reply, " Thou never Knewest Me." There is an hour when all rejoice, An hour when even sorrow smiles ; An hour when pleasure's sprightly voice The listening mourner's care beguiles. Yet not to me time's ceaseless wing Could bring that hour from sadness free \ Each as it passed would darkly sing, "Thou never Knewest Me." Ah ! when that moment comes at last ; When every earthly hope goes by ; When all the works of Life are past ; When all is finished, but to die ; When, quivering on the brink of Fate, The trembling spirit turns to Thee, 70 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. "Will those all-gracious Lips repeat, " Thou never Knewest Me " ? no ! though long estranged from Thee, Though long detained by Satan's power, Thy Arms were open still to me, Who came at the eleventh hour. For me Thy gracious Lips prepare, Before assembled worlds to tell, " Behold a Sheep for whom I care, — My Child,— I Know him well." RL. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 71 SONG OF FAITH. HE lilied fields behold ; What king in his array Of purple pall and cloth of gold Shines gorgeously as they 1 Their pomp, however gay, Is brief, alas ! as bright ; It lives but for a summer's day, And withers in a night. If God so clothe the soil, And glorify the dust, Why should the slave of daily toil His Providence distrust ? Will He whose Love has nursed The sparrow's brood, do less For those who seek His Kingdom first, And with it Eighteousness 1 The birds fly forth at will, — They neither plough nor sow ; Yet there's the sheaves that crown the hill Or glad the vale below. While through the realms of air He guides their trackless way, Will Man in faithlessness despair ? Is he worth less than they ? Rev. William Crosswell. 72 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. "set your affections on things above:' Alls and poor are earthly pleasures, Mixed with dross the purest gold ; Seek we then for Heavenly Treasures,- Treasures never waxing old. Let our "best affections centre On the Things around the Throne, There no thief can ever enter, Moth and Bust are there unknown. Earthly joys no longer please us, Here would we renounce them all ; Seek our only Rest in Jesus, Him our Lord and Master call. Faith, our languid spirits cheering, Points to brighter worlds above ; Bids us look for His appearing, Bids us triumph in His Love. May our light be always burning, And our loins be girded round ; Waiting for our Lord's returning, Longing for the welcome sound. Thus the Christian life adorning, Never need we be afraid, Should He come at night or morning, Early dawn or evening shade. C. L. Ford. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 73 «/ WILL COMMUNE WITH THEE FROM ABOVE THE MERCY-SEAT.' OKD, when before Thy Throne we meet, Thy Goodness to adore, From Heaven, the Eternal Mercy-Seat, On ns Thy Blessing pour, And make our inmost souls to he A Habitation fit for Thee. The Body for our Hansom given, The Blood in Mercy shed, With this immortal Food from Heaven, Lord, let our souls be fed ; And as we round Thy Table kneel, Help us Thy quickening Graee to feel. Be Thou, Holy Spirit, nigh ! Accej^t the humble prayer, The contrite Soul's repentant sigh, The Sinner's heartfelt tear, And let our adoration rise As fragrant incense to the skies. 4feii|p 74 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. LIGHT, LIFE, AND LOVE. " He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life." — S. Johx vi. 47. ATHER of mercies ! from Thy Blissful Height Of Love and Joy and Glory, bend Thine Eye In gracious Pity on our woeful plight, And send Thy Help and Bounty from on High. O for His sake, Who Died that we might live, Who Lives that we henceforth might die no more ; Shed down that Light which Thou alone canst give, That darkling souls may Jesu's Love adore. all-embracing Spirit, from yon Seat Of Love proceeding ever, lend Thine Aid : Kindle our breasts with Thine undying Heat ; Waken to Life the souls Thou hast remade. Melt with Thy Love all-quickening : with Thy Fear Pierce Thou our veins and hearts : and lead as still Amid Thy showered Graces, up the drear And narrow Way, unto Thy Holy Hill. Light, Li/?, and Love. /•> Jesu ! true Life of every living soul ! True Love of lovers true, receive our prayer : Beneath the Banner of Thy Love enrol All hearts : that all Thy Life Eterne may share. So to Thy Glory, ever-Gracious Trine, Father, who drawest ; Son, who ownest all ; Spirit, who hindest fast in Bonds Divine, — Let that blest Love Thy wanderers recall. C. Sellox. 76 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. PARADISK EGION of Life and Light, Land of the Good whose earthly toils are o'er ; Nor frost nor heat may "blight Thy vernal beauty ; fertile Shore, Yielding thy blessed Fruit for evermore. There, without crook or sling, Walks the Good Shepherd ; blossoms white and red Kound His meek Temples cling ; And, to sweet Pastures led, His peaceful Flock beneath His Eye are fed. He guides, and near Him they Follow delighted ; for He makes them go Where dwells eternal May, And Heavenly Eoses blow, Deathless, and gathered but again to grow. He leads them to the height Named of the Infinite and long-sought Good, And Fountains of Delight, And where His Feet have stood Springs up along the way their tender food. Paradise. 77 And when, in the mid skies, The climbing sun has reached his highest hound. Reposing as He lies, "With all His Flock around, He witches the still air with modulated sound. From His sweet Lute flow forth Immortal Harmonies, of power to still All passions horn of earth, And draw the ardent will Its destiny of Goodness to fulfil. Might but a little part, A wandering Breath of that high Melody Descend into my heart, And change it till it he Transformed and swallowed up, Love, in Thee. Ah ! then my Soul should know, Beloved, where Thou liest at noon of day ; And from this place of Woe, Eeleased, should take its way, To mingle with Thy Flock and never stray. Translated from tJw Spanish. 78 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. ON THE PICTURE OF A SAINT. H ! fair and pure, we do not know The history of thy crowned strife, "We have no ancient books to show The story of thy Life. We know not where thy days were spent, We know not when thy Life was given ; To whom thy bright example lent To point them on to Heaven. We only guess thee from thy face, So beautiful and undismayed, The daughter of a noble race — A high-born Eoman maid. And yet we know thee — better far Than many friends of latter days : We know thee as one knows a star, And loves its pure soft rays. "We know thee by thy pictured grace, And by thy holy martyr name, The rapt devotion of thy face, And legendary fame. And, though we do not read thy tale Of cruel suffering, shame, and death, — At thought of which brave men might quail, And speak with bated breath ; — Oil the Picture of a Saint. 71) Yet do we know that thou didst die For love of Him who bore the Cross, Didst put the Gain of this world by, And count it all but Loss : We know thee of that glorious Band, The foremost in the Christian Fight, "Who long have won that Better Land, And long been clothed in Light. Of those who, by the Cross and Stake The noble name of Martyr gained ; Who gave their lives for Jesu's sake, When nought but life remained. And now, in Holy Church's Sky, Like quiet stars they brightly shine, And in their shining magnify The Majesty Divine. Like summer stars that seem to swim All night in dewy sunset glow, Until their paling glories dim The rising Day-Star show. Like winter stars that burn above The frozen earth with gleam intense, And gaze with eyes of ardent love On Man's inheritance; 80 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. So from the Church's Sky they glow, Set in a soft and golden haze, And watch our hurrying to and fro, And all our weary ways. They shine like thousand points of fire, And beautify the Church's Night, But fill our hearts with deep desire, For Jesu's perfect Light. Light, Peace, when wilt thou rise Upon the gloom of this world's dark, And flush with joy the stormy skies Above Thy Church's Ark ? We wait — and bless Thy Name for those Departed in Thy Faith and Fear, Who lived like us in toils and woes — We hold their memory dear, As pledges of Thy boundless Grace, Our certain Victory at last, When we have finished all our race, And all our strife is past. Eev. R Winterbotham, LL.B. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 81 THE DEDICATION OF THE TEMPLE. i EIGHT gleamed the sun, as from his orient bed He rose in strength, his giant course to tread. His Hashing beams first flung their living glow O'er fairest plains, where Jordan's waters How ; Then fell in beauty on the sacred height Of Sion's Hill, which, ere the waning light, By Israel's gathered children will be trod, And hallowed as the dwelling-place of God. In swelling tides they come, with eager haste. Through valleys green and o'er the desert waste \ From Carmel's base to fertile lands which lie Purple and hazy in the eastern sky : From Hebron's vale, where sparkling waters leap, To Accho's turrets, frowning o'er the deep, Their footsteps wend, till straining eyes behold Their new-born Temple bathed in ruddiest gold ; Then forms unnumbered 'neath its shadow stand, And tread the courts upraised by noiseless Hand. Hark ! in the distance Alleluias rise Like angel music wafted from the skies. What mean these myriads gathered here fco-day1 And what this priestly throng in rich array.' G 82 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Ask of the aged sire, and he will tell "Why crowd the tribes of favoured Israel. There were no courts for great Jehovah meet, While He vouchsafed to guide the wanderers' feet ; An humble tent arose where'er they trod, And curtains veiled the holy Ark of God : Xor honoured more, for many a chequered day In Shiloh's vale the sacred emblem lay ; But now on Zion's height, beloved of yore, Whence Salem's King the welcome offering bore, Great David's son hath reared a nobler Home, A pillared temple and a cedared dome. List ! notes melodious rise, glad sounds are borne From quivering timbrel and from solemn horn ; The censer's fragrant clouds sweet odours fling, The courts of God with hymns of triumph ring, As slowly winds the vast and joyful throng, With plaintive psalm and loud responsive song. Their King renowned his loyal tribes behold, In purple robe and coronet of gold ; His princes follow ; hoary priests are there, While Levi's sons the Ark of Mercy bear. With reverent hearts, before God's awful shrine Low bend the tribes of lordly Palestine ; Then, as the last sweet chord goes up and dies, Priests at the Altar bind the Sacrifice 4 . Eev. K. H. Paynes, M.A. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 83 THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. "And it came to pass, that at midnight the Lord smote all the first-born in the land of Egypt, from the first-born of Pharaoh that sat on his throne, nnto the first-born of the captive that was in the dungeon." — Exodus xii. 29. ["WAS night, and Memphis shone with festival : A glare, as from unnumbered torches, hung Over the splendid city. Darkness fled, Affrighted, from his ebon throne, and veiled His face from light, and all the queenly stars Grew dim and pale upon Night's fevered brow. There were rich sounds of music floating by On every wandering wind — at times the low And reedy murmur of the Egyptian flute, And then the viol's breathings, and the harp's Wild spirit-tones, while ever and anon, Above them all, arose the cymbal's clang, And the far-echoing trumpet's stirring peaL There is rejoicing in thy Palaces, Proud City of the Nile ! — The mighty one, Terrible Isis, at whose awful frown The trembling world grows pale, hath deigned to raise The mystic \reil, and, by her priestess' lips, 84 Lays of the Pious Mi/nstrels. Promise deliverance to her slaves 3 from all The woes denounced by Israel's prophet-chief. There is rejoicing in thy marble halls, Thou City of the Pharaohs. — Countless lamps Shed their soft light o'er the voluptuous scene, AVhere man}' a stately form and jewelled brow Flashed back a brighter lustre. On a throne, Rich with the wealth of many an orient land, Sat Egypt's kingly ruler : triumphs glowed Upon his dusky features, and Ins eye Shot forth its wonted glance of haughty pride ; Put o'er his loud and riotous mirth at times A change would pass, as if of sudden fear — A quick convulsive thrill, that seemed to throw O'er his dark cheek an ashy hue, which told A spirit not his own held mastery there. Midnight came, And dreamless slumber o'er the land held sway : Xo human sound disturbed the solemn calm, But ever and anon was heard a low And ominous rustling, as of spirit-wings That hovered o'er the city. They who watched That night, caught glimpses of an Awful Form, With strange, unearthly aspect, that looked down As if in wrath on the rebellious land. Hark ! was not that a wail that seemed to come Prom yon proud mansion by the murmuring Nile ? Again, again 'tis heard, more loud and shrill, While all around a thousand echoes rise, — The Death of the First-born. 85 A thousand shrieks of terror and dismay. And there are sounds of tumult : through the streets Eush, with winged feet, a fear-struck multitude, And torches flame again, and throw their light On pale and ghastly faces, and a cry, A wild, tierce cry, bursts from each quivering lip To Isis the Omnipotent, to save From the avenging Wrath of Israel's God. There's lamentation in thy marble halls, Great City of the Nile ! — thy hope is flown. Prostrate upon the earth, beside the couch Of him who was his pride, lay Egypt's King. They gathered round him there, and strove to stem, With ready words, the current of his grief; But he would know no comfort, and he turned And gazed upon his blighted flower — and wept ! There was no triumph now, no haughty scorn, No firm reliance on his country's gods; — Beside him lay his Dead, and he could hear Bis people's -roans, — he could not choose but weep, F<>r well he knew he was their Murderer ! There's lamentation in thy darkened homes, Sad Region of the Nile ! — The strong, the brave, The young, the gentle, and tie- beautiful, Youth's golden promise, manhood's ripened fruit, Are withered by the icy touch of Death ! A pal] is on the land ! — its light is quenched, — The Nation's strength is bowed — its spirit crushed : Egypl is 1 isolate ! T. Wbstwood. 86 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. DOUBT NOT, FEAR NOT N WARD, onward, doubt not, fear not, Xerve with faith thy fainting soul ; Though as yet the end appear not, Thou shalt surely reach the Goal : Though, as on thy sleepless pillow Memory scans the fearful past, Eound thee breaks the yawning billow, Howls above the whirlwind's blast. Though thou knowest that to-morrow Is with sorer trial fraught, Pregnant with severer sorrow Than the sorrowing past has brought : Though the storm, in bursting o'er thee, Spread destruction's bolts around, Some most dear struck down before thee. Dearer friends shall yet be found. He whose Angel stood beside thee, He whom darkness cannot shroud, He who sware to keep and guide thee When the tempest raged aloud ; — Height nor depth His Love can sever, Heaven nor Hell His Covenant Vow : Doubt not, Fear not. 87 Hath thy Saviour tailed thee ever ? Will He, can He, fail thee now 1 Xay, for to the Eternal City As thou drawest daily nigh, Greater Love, and Grace, and Pity Issue forth from God Most High. Messages of Peace shall greet thee, Angels' feet thy path attend ; Yea, Himself shall come to meet thee, And conduct thee to the End. "Morning Thoughts" 88 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. ECHOES OF THE CATHEDRAL. N the grey and shadowy morning, Ere the starlight fades away, Ere the gloom of the night lias vanished In many a golden ray ; As alone in the dreamy stillness, Alone and awake, we lie, The Echoes seem floating around us. And whispering prayerfully. When we walk in the busy sunshine, The hurrying crowds among, Resuming our daily labour, As the notes of some well-known song, With that loud-thrilling music mingling, The other seems always nigh, And we fancy the Angels' pinions We hear as they're passing by. Tn the glorious hour of sunset, When the bright day's almost done ; In the hush of a solemn twilight, When we sit and think alone : A\\i\ at midnight, when dreams fantastic Are gliding through all our sleep, Echoes of the Cathedral. 89 As the light on the slumbering city- Is mingling with shadows deep, We can hear the Cathedral Echoes In Heavenly notes entwine, Like the colours that on its pavement From beautiful windows shine ; — The echoes of prayer penitential, The sorrowful, heart-wrung sigh ; Of eager and sweet supplication, That never-neglected cry ; Of those notes of deep adoration, From the long-past ages caught ; Of glorious anthems, thrilling Through infinite realms of thought ; Of the sweet organ-music, drifting Afar down the nave to die ; Of the eloquent boyish voices, All blending in harmony ; Of the longed-for, low Benediction That falls on the drooping head, When the soul, in its weakness clinging To the Saviour's Cross, is fed ; Of the Words — more precious than .jewels — That daily we love to hear, That tell how He always is waiting To smile on His Children there. We hear, and the soft accents mingle With every sound of life, 90 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. To sweeten and temper its gladness, To comfort in hours of strife ; O'er days of some sad tribulation A shadowless light to fling ; To memory's sorrowful footfall An Echo of hope to bring. Oh, long may the Melody olden, That in the great Church we hear, And the thought of the Precepts Golden The lips of Christ's Bride doth bear, Intermingle with daily duties, And soften the daily strife, And guide our hearts, for the Master's sake, Each step of our daily life : In the morning and noon of gladness To tell of the Joy in store, Of the brighter and better Existence Which changeth not evermore ; O'er the twilight of grief and sadness To breathe with an Angel's breath, And with Echoes of Heaven, brighten The terrible Night of Death. Ada Cambridge. Lays of the Pious Minstrel*. [)[ THE OLDEST CHRISTIAN HYMN. In Poed., Lib. III., of Clement of Alexandria, is given (in Greek) the most ancient Hymn of the Primitive Church. EveD then (only one hundred and fifty years after the Apostles) it is asserted to be of much earlier origin. HEPHEED of tender youth, Guiding, in Love and Truth, Through devious ways ; Christ, our Triumphant King, We come Thy Name to sing, And here our children bring To shout Thy Praise. Thou art our Holy Lord ! The all-subduing Word ! Healer of strife ! Thou didst Thyself abase, That from Sin's deep disgrace Thou mightest save our Pace, And give us Life. Thou art Wisdom's High Priest ! Thou hast prepared the Feast Of Holy Love j And in our mortal pain None calls on Thee in vain ; Help Thou dost not disdain — Help from Above. 02 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Ever be thus our Guide ! Out Shepherd and our Pride, — Our Staff and Song ! Jesus ! Thou Christ of God ! By Thy perennial Word, Lead us where Thou hast trod, Make our Faith strong. So now, and till we die, Sound we Thy Praises high, And joyful sing. Infants, and the glad Throng Who to Thy Church belong, Unite, and swell the Song To Christ our King. Unknown. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 9:] I LEA VE THEE NOT LEA VE Thee not, Love, of Love the highest, Though doubt display Its hat tic day : I own the PoweT which Thou, my Lord, appliest. Thou didst hear Guilt and Woe ; Shall I to torment go When into judgment "brought ? Love, of Love the highest, I leave Thee not, I leave Thee not ! 1 leave Thee not, Thou who sweetly cheerest, Whose fresh supplies Cause strength to rise, Just in the hour when Faith's decay is nearest. If sickness chill the soul, And nights of languor roll, My heart one Hope hath caught ; O Thou who sweetly cheerest, I leave Thee not, I leave Thee not ! 1 leave Thee not; Thy Word my way shall brightenj With Thee 1 go, Through weal and woe ; Thy Precepts wise shall every burden lighten. 94 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. My Lord, on Thee I hang, Nor heed the journey's pang, Though thorny be my lot, Let but Thy Word enlighten : I leave Thee not, I leave Thee not ! I leave Thee not, my God, my Lord, my Heaven ; Nor death shall rend From Thee, my Friend, Who for my soul Thyself to Death hast given : For Thou didst Die for me, And Love goes back to Thee : My God, my Life, my Heaven, I leave Thee not, I leave Thee not ! Translated from the German. ~Y Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 95 LET ME BE REMEMBERED BY WHAT I II A VE DONE. IP and away, like the dew of the morning. Soaring from earth to its home in the sun — So let me steal away, gently and lovingly, Only Remembered by what I have done. My name, and my place, and my tomb, all forgotten, The brief Eace of Time well and patiently run ; So let me pass away, peacefully, silently, ( )nly Remembered by what I have done. ( rladly away from this toil would I hasten, Up to the Crown that for me has been Avon ; Unthought of by man in rewards or in praises, Only Remembered by what T have done. Up and away, like the odours at sunset, That sweeten the twilight as darkness comes on : So be my life — a thing felt but not noticed, Ami I but Remembered by what I have done. Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in freshness, When the (lowers that it came from are closed up and gone : 90 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. So would I "be to this World's weary dwellers, Only Eemembered by what I have done. Xeeds there the praise of the love-written record, The name and the epitaph graved on the stone ? The things we have lived for, let them be our story, We ourselves but Eemembered by what we have done. I need not be missed, if my life has been bearing (As its Summer and Autumn moved silently on) The Bloom, and the Fruit, and the Seed of its season ; I shall still be Eemembered by what I have clone. I need not be missed, if another succeed me, To reap down those fields which in Spring I have sown ; He who Ploughed and who Sowed is not missed by the Eeaper, He is only Eemembered by what he has done. Rev. Horatius Box ah, D.L). Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 97 THE ALMIGHTY. THOU Eternal One ! whose Presence bright All space doth occupy — all motion guide i Unchanged through Time's all-devastating flight, Thou only God ! There is no God beside ! Being above all beings ! Mighty One ! Whom none can comprehend, and none explore ; Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone ; Embracing all — supporting — ruling o'er — Being whom we call God — and know no more ! Thy chains the measured universe surround, Upheld by Thee ; by Thee inspired with breath ! Thou the beginning witli the end hast bound, And beautifully mingled Life and Death ! As sparks mount upward with the fiery blaze, So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from Thee ; And as the spangles in the sunny rays Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry Of Heaven's bright army glitters in Thy praise. A million torches, lighted by Thy hand, Wander unwearied through the blue abyss; They own Thy power, accomplish Thy command, All gay with life, all eloquent with blisa ii 98 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. What shall we call them ? Piles of crystal light \ A glorious company of golden streams % Lamps of celestial ether burning bright % Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams % But Thou to these are as the moon to night. Creator ! Yes ! Thy wisdom and Thy word Created me, Thou Source of Life and Good ! Thou Spirit of my spirit, and my Lord ! Thy Light, Thy Love, in their bright plenitude, Filled me with an immortal soul, to spring Over the abyss of Death, and bade it wear The garments of Eternal Day, and wing Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere, Even to its Source, to Thee, its Author, Thee ! thought ineffable ! vision blest ! Though worthless our conceptions all of Thee, Yet shall Thy shadowed Image till our breast, And waft its homage to the Deity. God ! thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar ; Thus seek Thy presence, Being wise and good ! 'Midst Thy vast works admire, obey, adore \ And when the tongue is eloquent no more, The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude ! Translated from the Russian. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 99 REVELATION. u Sacra Scriptura loquitur nobis tanquani balbutieudo, sicut inater balbutiens cum nlio suo parvulo, qui aliter nou potest intelligere verba ejus." ''The loving and earnest seeker will ever be making new discoveries in these spiritual heavens ; ever to him will what seemed at first but a light, vaporous cloud, upon closer gaze, to his armed eye, resolve itself into a world of stars." — Hvl- bbam Lectures, 1845, VI. 01) speaketh once, yea twice, things marvellous, Forth told in wondrous ways ; The echoes of His Words roll down to us From the old days. Now, with His Voice He Thunders from the hills, Sitting in State aloft ; Now, like the dropping dew, His Speech distils, Gentle and soft. Now, with profoundest thought, in higher teaching, His subtle Sense He girds ; Now, like a mother to her infant reaching, With childish words, He to our weakness sloops, and shades the lustre Of His too perfect Light ; 100 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Now shrinks our dazzled eye from a star-cluster Of truths most bright. Ey Urim and by Seer, by dream and vision, He Spake in times gone by ; Last, by His Son, who stept with Sealed Commission Down from the Sky. The World's sweet infant years, forgotten wholly, He makes us partly know ; The World to come, His Harvest ripening slowly, He cloth foreshow. From treasured Eolls and Archives of the Nations He brings forth One to light, That all may learn His Wisdom, Power, and Patience, Eeadkm; aright Xot of the stars and planets in their courses, JSTot of the trees and flowers, Not of the laws of Nature's hidden forces, Man's servant powers ; But of the soul's deep need, the Unite's yearning After an Infinite Heart, He holds Discourse with us, His scholars, Learning Part after part. Revelation. 101 We con and spell, as blind men with their fingers, The lines His Hand hath graved, Knowing in part, till, with celestial singers, On floor light-paved, We stand with eyes unsealed, and all the mystery Falls off, in perfect ken, From the great world and little, from the history Of Man— and Men. But, as the larger lens doth still dissever Fresh points in farthest blue, 80 on our stronger Sight shall rlash for ever Some Truth more new. C. L. Fokd. 102 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. AT EVENING TIME IT SHALL BE LIGHT E journey through a Yale of Tears, By many a cloud o'ercast ; And worldly cares, and worldly fears, Go with us to the last. ]S T ot to the last ! Thy Word hath said, Could we but read aright, Poor pilgrim, lift in Hope thy head, At Eve it shall be Light. Though earthborn shadows now may shroud Thy stormy path awhile, God's blessed Word can part each cloud, And bil the Sunshine smile. Only believe, in living Faith, His Love and Power Divine ; And ere thy Sun shall set in death, His Light shall round thee shine. When tempest-clouds are dark on high, His Low of Love and Peace At Evening Time it shall be Light. 103 Shines sweetly in the vaulted sky, — A pledge that storms shall cease. Hold on thy way, with hope unchilled, By Faith, and not by Sight ; And thou shalt own His Word fulfilled, At Eve it shall be Light. Bernard Barton. 104? Lay 8 of the Pious Minstrels. THE FIRST MISSIONARY. " Come, see a Man, which told me all things that ever I did : is not this the Christ r" — John iv. 29. [HE left her pitcher at the well, and to her home returned, The welcome Words of Life to bear, that in her full heart burned : Her kindred, and the stranger's ear, alike the Xews receive, Of Water from a hidden Spring, the Saviour waits to give. With joyful haste and zealous love, she turns to seek her home, The ceaseless burden of her theme, " Behold ! the Christ is come ! " He waits — Messiah waits to Bless, as none e'er Blessed before, Come, Drink ye of the Living Stream ; believe, and thirst no more. She left her pitcher at the well, her thoughts still backward bent ; Tears, marked by Jesu's Eye alone, fell softly as she went : The First Missionary, 105 " He told me all that e'er I did," the contrite sinner cried, "Nor to my wounded heart's relief the healing Balm denied. " Yea, line by line, my Life's dark page He gently read me o'er ; He spake in Wisdom and in Love, as man ne'er spake before ; Against my soul, so stained with sin, no curse of wrath was hurled, — Then knew I it was Christ the Lord, the Saviour of the World. " Come ! and behold Messiah's Face, of whom the people tell ; come and hear His holy Voice ! He waiteth by the well ; come to Christ !" Samaria's hills echo His Name aloud, And tidings of Messiah fly amid the wondering crowd. Come thou where streams of Love abound, and near the Fount remain ; For he who Drinks when Jesus draws .shall never Thirst again : Linger no more by Meribah, of bitter memories rife, Drink of the Spring that welleth up to everlasting Life. 106 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Like her of Sychar, hast thou drunk of that blest Fount ? Then go, Let others learn the priceless Gifts that from the Waters flow ; Go forth ! and in thy Saviour's strength, thy voice shall yet be heard, And wandering hearts shall turn and bless a feeble woman's word. Anna Shipton. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 107 RABBONI! ABBOXI ! Master, Lord Divine, So sadly lost, so strangely found ! Once more I touch, once more I twine My arms those sacred Feet around. Hold Thee I must ; for much I fear me, That but for this enforced delay, Elijah-like, Thy God will bear Thee 1 know not whither, far away." " Mary ! I come not from above, As those white-robed Angels come, To do some deed of "Wrath or Love, Then spread their wings in haste for Home. Not yet unto My Throne ascended, — Unloose thy grasp \ such fears are vain : Depart, and ere My Work is ended, Thou shalt behold My Face again. " Detain Me not. The loving touch Lut wastes the hour of loving deeds ; And all thou vainest so much, AVI iil<' yet we linger, useless speeds. Go, bid My brethren haste before Me, Hence to their native Galil 108 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. There shall thy Lord ascend in Glory, And they My Heavenward Flight shall see. " And thou — let not thy courage shrink ; Absent, I shall be with thee still \ My Flesh to Eat, My Elood to Drink, My Spirit in thy heart to dwell. I go unto our common Father ; Yet in My Xame, in mutual prayer, Wherever two or three shall gather, There shall they Meet and Touch Me there.'' "Morning Thought*:' Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 109 FORGET ME NOT. IEEK flower of unpretending hue, Of starry eye and pallid blue, That springs up in the woodland way, Or purest 'mid the hedgerows gay, Through tufted grass — 'neath hawthorn shade ; Sweet tenant of the gladsome glade, The sunny bank, the twilight dell, Who shall thy modest merits tell ? — Who sing thy praise in simple lay, Fair daughter of the lovely May ? The stranger, as he pensive roves, When spring-tide blossoms scent the groves, Perchance may view, with heedless eye, Full many a flower of brighter dye, And e'en regardless pass the bed Where secret violets perfume shed ; Then, sighing, pause while thoughts of home Fast crowding o'er the spirit come : And half forget his lonely lot, Where gleams thy smile — " Forget me Not." And when we stray those paths along, Made vocal by the woodland song ; Or o'er the verdant meadows roam, Where wild bees love to seek their home ; 110 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Or in the sylvan glade repose, While foliaged ramparts round us close, — Let each low plant — each floweret spread Upon the turf their footsteps tread, A preacher in such tranquil spot, Exclaim — " Man, Forget me Xot !" Forget not thou the wondrous Skill That formed me at thy Maker's Will ! Forget not that the fearful Power Which Earth sustains, decks too the flower ! Though suns, though planets own His Might, Which called them from the Womb of Might, Xot less His Wisdom meets thy view, Where the green herb drinks in the dew, And insect bowers their tenants shield, — Those flitting Pilgrims of the field ! Yes, my God ! Thy Voice I hear In all the seasons of the year ; In every scene of night or day, Thy Wisdom hails me on my way. All, all, both high and low, proclaim The Glory of Thy Awful Name ! And though a frail and fleeting thing, Fain would I of that Glory sing, And pray, unworthy though I be, That Thou wouldst e'en Forget not me. J. A. Walker. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Ill BENEATH THE CROSS. ENEATH 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. Secure from harm beneath Thy shade, Here Death and Hell shall ne'er invade, ~Nor Sinai, with its thunder's roar, Disturb my peace for evermore. unmolested, happy Pest, Where inward fears are all suppressed : Here shall I love and live secure, And patiently my Cross endure. W. Williams. 112 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THY DAYS ARE NUMBERED. jAKK ! hark ! a cry is gone abroad from every peopled plain, It sweeps along the sounding Shore, it murmurs from the Main ; From every varied spot of earth, where human creatures be, It loudly echoes through the land, and spreads from sea to sea ; From palace wall and humble cot. from town and village lone ; From every newly-opened grave, and every church- yard stone ; In every language under Heaven, a voice repeats the Cry, — „ Thy days are numbered, mortal Man, and thou art born to Die." Whate'er thy state may be, whate'er the paths thy feet have trod, Forsake thy sins and lowly kneel, and seek the Lord thy God ; Prepare thee for thy bod of death, though now thy bosom burn, For Dust thou art, and suddenly to Dust shall thou return. Thy Days are Numbered. 113 What though ten thousand flattering tongues conspire to praise thee now, Though glittering stars adorn thy breast, and diadems thy brow ; 'Mid all thy dreams of earthly bliss thou soon shalt hear the Cry, " Thy days are numbered, mortal Man, and thou art doomed to Die." George Mogridge (Old Humphrey), ^?*P(V^ 114 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. WE SHALL SEE HIM AS HE IS." IiOT as He was, a houseless Stranger, With no home to shield His Head,- Xut as seen in Bethlehem's manger, Where the horned oxen fed, — Xot as in the Garden groaning, Plunged in deep Mysterious Woe, All the Guilt of Man bemoaning, While the precious Blood-Sweats flow, — ZSot as seen on Calvary's mountain, Where He offered up His Soul, Opening wide that sacred Fountain Which alone can make us whole, — Xot as He was, a pale and breathless Captive in the Shades beneath, — But as He is, Immortal, Deathless, Conqueror o'er the powers of Death ! Yes ! we shall see Him in our nature, Seated on His lofty Throne — Loved, adored by every creature, Owned as God, and God alone ! There countless hosts of shining spirit- Strike their harps, and loudly sing " We shall see Him as He is." 115 To the praise of Jesu's Merits, To the Glory of their* King ! When we pass o'er Death's dark river, We shall see Hiin as He is — Eestiug in His Love and Favour, Owning all the Glory His : There to cast our Crowns before Him — Oh, what bliss the thought affords ! — There for ever to adore Hiin — King of Kings, and Lord of Lord- ! Mary Pyper. 110 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. "HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." UN of my soul, thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near : may no earth-born cloud arise, To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes. Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live ; Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die. When with dear friends sweet talk I hold, And all the flowers of life unfold, Let not my heart within me burn, Except in all I Thee discern. When the soft dews of kindly sleep My wearied eyelids gently steep, Be my last thought — how sweet to rest For ever on my Saviour's Breast ! If some poor wandering Child of Thine Have spurned, to-day, the Voice Divine, Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; Let him no more lie down in sin. "He giveth His Beloved Sleep." 117 Watch by the sick ; enrich the poor . With Blessings from Thy boundless Store : Be every mourner's sleep to-night, Like infants' slumbers, pure and light. Come near and bless us when we wake, Ere through the world our way we take ; Till in the Ocean of Thy Love We lose ourselves in Heaven above. Eev. John Keble. 118 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE TOMBS OF THE BISHOPS. |N the dim Cathedral chancel, where the organ-notes are pealing, And the strangely solemn echoes through the marble arches pour ; Where the light of Peace and Blessing, like the golden sunlight, stealing Through the fair old jewelled windows, seems to hover evermore ! Where the choristers come softly, with their quiet reverent faces, To stand there, so near the Altar, in Christ's Presence, day by day ; And, in holy awe and rapture, kneeling humbly in their places, Priests and people, young and aged, rich and lowly, come to pray. With those hands so meekly folded — pleading ever- more ! — reclining ; And the canopy all carven and emblazoned over- head j — Where the early, gentle, stainless light of morning time is shining — Type of " Glory Everlasting," that will dawn upon the Dead. The Tombs of the Bishops. 119 Resting calmly, sweetly sleeping, in those aisles so fair and stately, Which their feet, in earnest service and com- munion, once trod : In that sweet and quiet shadow, which in life they loved so greatly, When they stood beside the Altar as the Minis- ters of God. () ye waiting ones! where we kneel ye have often knelt as gladly, When the gift of Benediction has been poured upon the Rride : And ye too have often wept within the Sanctuary sadly, When strange, wild storms have burst upon the Church ye had to guide. Past and gone is all the labour, and the mingled joy and sorrow, All the struggles that, for sake of Christ, so patiently ye bore ! It is only Rest and Peace, until the glorious To- morrow — Till the saintly life be perfected in Him for evermore ! ye spirits of the righteous ! in the calm, pure air around us, It would seem that ye are lingering in this mighty Temple now ! 120 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. That the solemn choral music, whose exulting notes surround us, Breathes a Message of your gladness to the weary hearts below; Bidding us to work in patience, and the Cross to carry humbly, At the Altar never ceasing for the Grace of God to plead ; (E'en those hands of stone are praying, and the cold lips asking dumbly That the Father will have Mercy on the souls that Jesus freed !) Telling, in those hallowed echoes, what a marvellous awaking Will the last sweet Easter Morning to the Faith- ful-hearted be ! With what untold joy and rapture they will hail the Glory breaking, And before the Unveiled Presence, in its Glory, stand with Thee ! Ada Cambridge. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 121 : / WILL LOVE HIM, AND WILL MANIFEST MYSELF UNTO HIM." HAT happiness can equal mine ? I've found the Object of my love ; M} r Saviour and my Lord Divine Is come to me from Heaven above ! He makes my heart His own Abode, His Flesh becomes my daily bread ; He pours on me His Healing Blood, And with His Life my soul is fed. My Love is mine, and I am His, In me He dwells, in Him I live ; Where could I taste a purer Bliss ? What greater boon could Jesus give ? Royal Banquet, Heavenly Feast, O flowing Fount of Life and Grace, Where God the Giver, Man the Guest, Meet and unite in sweet embrace. Dear Jesus, now my heart is Thine, Oh may it never from Thee fly ; My God, be Thou for ever mine, And I Thine own eternally. No more, O Satan, thee I fear ; World, thy charms 1 now despise, For Christ Himself is with me here, My Joy, my Life, my Paradise. American. 122 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. "HE SHALL GATHER THE LAMBS WITH HIS ARM." Isaiah xl. 11. j'HOU gentle soul, kneeling in meek devotion, Cherish the rising; ardour of thy breast ; lie who implanted that Divine emotion Calls thee to follow Him, and be at rest. In desert Pastures, lonely and unheeded, Weeping and lost, poor wanderer, thou didst stray ; Thy Shepherd heard thy cries, and straight pro- ceeded To bear thee in His tender Arms away. Peace, foolish lamb ! thou need'st no longer tremble, Thy gentle Guardian's Love is known of old ; Others may lie, and natter, and dissemble, But He will bring thee safely to the Fold. Envy and wrath, and every thought unholy, Be now for ever banished from thy breast ; Thou must aspire to be both meek and lowly, So shalt thou sweetly pass unto thy Pest. "He shall gather the Lambs'' 123 And what though grief and sighs and bitter weeping Sully the freshness of thy morning prime ? Wait tliou with patience for the joyful Reaping, Sweet and eternal is the Harvest-Time. What though the tribes of earth in scornful pity Brand thee, as Christ of old, with " fool " and " mad " ? Thou shalt rejoice within the Heavenly City, When they are desolate, forlorn, and sad. Translated from the Italian, 12-t Lays of the Pious Minstrels. HUMILITY. HE lowly spirit God hath consecrated As His abiding rest ; And angels by some patriarch's tent have waited, When kings had no such guest. Kound lowliness a gentle radiance hovers, A sweet, unconscious grace, Which, even in shrinking, evermore discovers The brightness on its face. Where God abides, Contentment is and Honour, — Such guerdon Meekness knows ; His Peace within her, and His Smile upon her, Her saintly way she goes. The Angels bend their eyes upon her goings, And guard her from annoy ; Heaven fills her quiet heart with overflowings Of calm celestial joy. The Saviour loves her, for she wears the Vesture With which He walked on earth ; And through her childlike glance, and step, and gesture, He knows her heavenly birth. Humility. 125 He now beholds this Seal of Glory graven On all whom He redeems, And in His own bright City, crystal paven, On every brow it gleams. The White-robed saints the Throne-steps singing under, Their state all meekly wear ; Their pauseless Praise wells up from hearts which wonder That ever they came there. S. D. S. 126 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. MIRACLES. jiHEBE are the mighty deeds they wrought, The prophets grand of olden time, When Nature's laws, as things of nought, Surrendered to a Faith sublime ? Why is the Grace no longer given ? Why falls not now the Eire from Heaven 1 Tread we the selfsame earth they trod, Who spake, and sun and moon stood still ; Turned floods into dry land ; whose rod Struck from the rock the living rill ; Darkened with thunder-clouds the sky By prayer, or drained earth's fountains dry ? Lo ! yon fair Land of sunniest skies, Where newer Life invades the old, Till the long sleep that sealed her eyes Is startled, and her sons behold, Through desert sands, and flags, and reeds, The highway for the winged steeds ! Is this indeed where Amram's son Smote fear into the hearts of kings ? Miracles. 127 Yon Hamlet where a Holier One Arose with Healing in His Wing Yon Mound beneath the Moslem sky Where He was lifted up to Die ? The holy places bear no sign And breathe no sound of marvels past ; Xo plainer impress of Divine, No heavenly halo round them cast : Theirs are the common light and air, All sights, all sounds, as otherwhere. But the same Spirit breathes o'er all, And greater Works are wrought than these Each hour, in every zone, till fall Hell's towers, and He who holds the Keys O'erturn the laws of Death and Hell, And Reign, restoring all things well. (J. L. Ford. 128 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE VOICE OF PSALMS. T was a household Hymn which broke Upon the silent air, and woke The woodland echoes near, which gave The music back in many a wave Of undulating sound. It seemed, At least so listening fancy deemed, As if kind ^Nature would prolong The melody of such a song, And lend at once her thousand chords To glorify the Lord of Lords. Mingled in that sweet strain there was A father's deep, sonorous bass, A mother's mellow tones, and soft The voice of childhood rose aloft In one united peal of Praise To Him whose Love prolonged their days ; To whom they gave their souls to keep Through the unconscious hours of sleep. Could those who taste eternal Bliss Find aught in such a world as this, 'Mid mortal care, resembling even The least beatitude of Heaven ? Could spirits pure, beneath the skies, Forget the Songs of Paradise ? The Voice of Psalms. 129 Angels, upon their errands dear, Had paused to sing and listen here. And did they not? Oh, who can tell How sweetly Seraph voices swell, Although unheard by mortal ears, Charming the Blest of other Spheres ? Tis said that there is joy in Heaven O'er one repentant soul forgiven ; And may not, then, the Song of Love, Repeated oft, arise above, And ring around the Throne Supreme Of Him whose Glory is the Theme I May it not mount from Choir to Choir, Ascending higher still, and higher ; Losing each tuneless tone and jar, As up it soars from star to star, Until the cottage psalm at last, From World to World by Seraphs passed, Resounds in Harmony complete, Where Heaven and Earth in chorus meet ? John Bethum;. 130 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. HEAVEN. HAT pure Bliss* unspeakable Of souls called with God to dwell, Faileth aught of earth to tell. All pure joys we know, in One, There shall show, as dewdrop lone To the ocean's mighty zone. All the treasures Holy Love E'er hath gathered, there shall prove, As to countless worlds above, One small grain upon the shore : Who may tell that precious Store ? Who may count its Jewels o'er ? Borne by Angel hands along, Welcomed in by Angel throng, With a thrilling burst of Song, Through the lustrous Gates of Heaven, (Image faint to us here given In the glowing hues of even :) Onward in the glorious Tide, Floating through those regions wide, Till she reach her Saviour's Side : Heaven. 131 Who may paint that Blissful Smile Which shall greet the Soul, erewhile Sinking 'neath her earthly toil ? Who conceive the endearing word Of her loved and Loving Lord ? — Sweetest Music ear e'er heard. AM 10 the Beauty of that Face, Filled with Majesty and Grace, May in faintest shadow trace? — Beaming with such dazzling Light, Thrilling through those Mansions bright, Where there shall be no more Night : Pouring, in resistless flood, Love — the City of our God To make glad — 'tis Angels' food. On this Heavenly Nectar fed, Tinged from Wounds that for us Bled, None shall Thirst or Hunger dread. Nought but joy from radiant Eye There shall beam, where God will dry Every tear, — still every sigh. Death for ever past, and Woe ; Sin, which blighted all below, There forgotten, none shall know. 132 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Every pain and trouble flown, Grief no more shall make her moan, None be sorrowful or lone. Souls long parted there shall meet, And in purest rapture greet ; Then, close twined, in converse sweet, Wandering through those endless Bowers, 'Mid the Amaranthine Flowers, Heeding not the timeless hours, Shall to one another tell How their Lord, who Loved them well, Brought them there, in Bliss to dwell. How, 'mid storm and fiery blast Borne by Him, through all they passed, Won the Eternal Gates at last. Glorying in the Morn's full beam, Now, as they look back, 'twould seem Earth were but a twilight dream. Woes they once deemed clouds of night, Now, as sparkling gems of Light, Shall adorn their Circlets bright ; Giving back the Rays of Love From their Sun, round Whom they move, Who those Crowns victorious wove. Heaven. 133 Pride and envy banished far, In that Glory each bright Star Joys that others brighter are. Those that nearest to the Throne Sing and slime, in Love shall own Every lesser, lower one. One their Love and one their Light, From that Fountain Infinite, By Whom, in Whom, all unite. Perfect Love all hearts shall thrill, To the brim each chalice fill, Still enlarging, satiate still. As from Bliss to Bliss they 1 Still upon their opened eyes Glories ever new arise ; While their highest, chiefest joy, Lies in strains which never cloy, Praising God without alloy. Yea, the Heaven of Heavens shall ring, While Seraphic harpers sing- All the Glories of their King. He who once, of all things bared, For our Bakes Earth's Sufferings shared, For as those blest Joys prepared : 134 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Who the Five Dread Marks of Love, "Won below, now wears Above ; These their deepest chord shall move. Oh, to those Blest Wounds, Lord, raise Longing eyes, in Faith to gaze, Even now, through earth's dark haze. Fill our hearts with Love so pure, That it may to death endure, And to every pang inure : Wean from all of earth, that we, Closely clinging, Lord, to Thee, May at length Thy Beauty see. Unto Him, the Joy of Heaven, Who the chains of Woe hath riven, Evermore be Glory given : Three in One, and One in Three, Father, Son, and Spirit, be Loved and Praised eternally ! C. Sellon. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 135 THE BA TTLE PRAYER. ATHEE, on Thee I call— The cannon booms, the smoke-wreath curls around ; Fiercely the death-shots plough the ensanguined ground, Lord of Sabaoth, in the mortal fight, Guide Thou mine arm aright ; Thou art the warrior's Shield, The warrior's Trust, — whate'er be Thy Decree, Triumph or death, I bow submissively ; In the wild raging of this perilous hour My spirit owns Thy Power. Art Thou not present here % Yes ; in each varying scene, so wild and stern, Thy Providence I trace, Thy Hand discern, And in the peaceful vale, or battle sod, I bless Thee, my God ! All Power, all Might is Thine, Omnipotent ! if so Thy Will ordain, The boon Thou gavest Thou mayst recall again : But still, in life or death, defeat or fame, My voice shall praise Thy Name. T. Westwood. 136 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. BROTHER, WE SHALL MEET AND REST HEEE the faded flower shall freshen, Freshen never more to fade ; "Where the shaded sky shall brighten, li Brighten never more to shade ; Where the sun-blaze never scorches ; Where the star-beams cease to chill ; Where no tempest stirs the echoes Of the wood, or wave, or hill ; Where the morn shall wake in gladness, And the noon the joy prolong ■ Where the daylight dies in fragrance, 'Mid the burst of Holy Song : Brother, we shall meet and rest, 'Mid the Holy and the Blest ! Where no shadow shall bewilder ; Where life's vain parade is o'er ; Where the sleep of Sin is broken, And the dreamer dreams no more : Where no bond is ever sundered ; Partings, claspings, sob and moan, Midnight waking, twilight weeping, Heavy noontide, — all are done : Where the child has found its mother ; Where the mother finds the child ; Where dear families are gathered That were scattered on the wild : Brother, we shall meet and rest, 'Mid the Holy and the Blest | Brother, ive shall Meet and Rest. 137 Where the hidden wound is healed ; Where the blighted life re-blooms ; Where the smitten heart the freshness Of its buoyant youth resumes : Where the love that here we lavish On the withering leaves of time, Shall have fadeless Flowers to tix on, In an ever spring-bright Clime : Where we find the joy of loving As we never loved before, Loving on, unchilled, unhindered, Loving once and evermore : Brother, we shall meet and rest, 'Mid the Holy and the Blest ! Where a blasted world shall brighten Underneath a bluer Sphere, And a softer, gentler Sunshine Shed its Healing splendour here : Where Earth's barren vales shall blossom, Putting on their robe of Green ; And a purer, fairer Eden Be where only wastes have been : Where a King in Kingly Glory — Such as earth hath never known — Shall assume the Righteous Sceptre, Claim and wear the Holy Crown : Brother, we shall meet and rest, 'Mid the Holy and the Blest ! Rev. Horatius Bonab, D.D. 138 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. ENTHRONED UPON THE MOUNTAIN HEIGHT NTHKONED upon the mountain height, Harmonious Peace unbroken reigns ; While Piscord, like a stormy night, In wild confusion wraps the plains. When in Sinai's secret place, God with His servant talked alone, With Beams too bright for earth, His Face From the dread Mount returning Shone : While from the camp below, the din Of hideous mirth to Heaven conveyed Wild orgies of the monstrous sin, The molten calf " which Aaron made." The wind is hushed, the ground is still, The burning flames no longer glow ; On Horeb's top Jehovah's Will Is heard in accents soft and low \ While earth, of pity clean bereft, God's latest servant thought to slay, — I, even I, alone am left, Whose life they seek to take away. How white their glistening Eobes appear ! How fair their heads, with Glory crowned ! — Enthroned upon the Mountain Height 139 Sinai's Prophet, Horeb's Seer, On Tabor's top with Jesu found. But while with Christ in God their life Is hidden on the mountain brow, More fierce the feud, more loud the strife Of Satan's sons must rage below. Why ? but that weary souls may yearn, The narrow Path in patience trod, Their homeward steps from earth to turn, And rest on Sion's Hill with God. "Morning Thoughts^ 140 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. SPIRIT WAT CHIN GS. ~N youth I died, in maiden bloom. With, gentle hand Death touched my cheek, And with his touch there came to me A Spirit, calm and meek. He took from me all wish to stay ; He was so kind I feared Him not : My friends beheld my slow decline, And mourned my joyless lot. They saw but Sorrow — I descried The Eliss that never fades away ; They felt the Shadow of the Tomb — I marked the Heavenly Day. L heard them sob, as through the night They kept their watch : then on my ear, Amid the sobbing, fell a Voice Their anguish could not hear. " Come ! and fear not ! " it softly cried ; " We wait to lead thee to thy Home :" Spirit Watchings. HI Then leaped my spirit to reply- " I come ! I lorn* to come !" I heard them whisper o'er my bed- " Another hour, and she must die ! I was too weak to answer them That Endless life was nigh. Another hour, with bitter tears, They mourned me as untimely dead, And heard not how I sang a Song Of Triumph o'er their head. They bore me to the grave, and thought How narrow was my resting-place; — My soul was roving high and wide At will through Boundless Space. They clothed themselves in robes of black ; Through the sad aisle the Requiem rang : Meanwhile the White-robed Choirs of Heaven A Holy Paean sang. Oft from my Paradise I come To visit those I love on Earth j fcer unperceived the door, — They sit around tli< i hearth, 142 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. And talk in saddened tone of me As one that never can return : How little think they that I stand Among them as they mourn ! But Time will ease their grief, and Death Will purge the Darkness from their eyes ; Then shall they triumph, when they learn Heaven's solemn Mysteries. Anonymous. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 143 " LET US NOT SLEEP AS DO OTHERS." LEEP not, Soldier of the Cross ! Eoes are lurking all around ; Look not here to rind repose : This is but thy Battle-ground. Up ! and take thy shield and sword ; Up ! it is the call of Heaven : Shrink not faithless from thy Lord ; jSTobly strive as He hath Striven. Break through all the force of 111 ; Tread the might of passion down, — Struggling onward, onward still, To the Conquering Saviour's Crown ! Through the midst of toil and pain, Let this thought ne'er leave thy breast, — Every triumph thou dost gain Makes more sweet thy coming B W. Gaskell. 144« Lays of the Pious Minstrels. DREAMLAND. L XCE I sat beside a river In a summer land ; Sat and watched the wavelets quiver In ujoon the sand ; Heard the ripple of the stream, As one hears it in a dream. But my reverie was ended By the sound of oars ; Down the stream a boat descended From some unknown shores, And therein one gently rowing, Careless where his boat was going. So he passed me, slowly drifting With the lapping tide, Dipping here an oar, and lifting Lilies o'er the side ; Tushing there against the bank, Where the flowering weeds grow rank. D m 'ii he passed beyond my vision, And I lay reclined, Dreamland. 145 As in those famed fields Elysian, Filling all my mind With the sense of perfect beauty, Free from trouble, void of duty, — Eested in that scene entrancing For a little space, Watched the yellow sunlights glancing On the river's face, Gazed until I heard once more, Far above, the dipping oar. Down she glided, softly, lightly, With no effort made ; Round her shone the waters brightly, Where before was shade, Such a golden gleam she cast All about her as she passed. As I gazed and marked her air Of supremest grace, Half it seemed a maiden's fan, Half an Angel's face. While I gazed she passed away, Taking with her half the day. Trees above hex bending slowly, Wliispeiing seemed t<> woo her; Wayside flowers, bowing lowly, Flung their perfume to her ; And 1, starting from my seat, Followed on with wingfed feet. 146 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Through the wood my quick way wending, Came I to a place Where the rapid stream, descending, Paused a little space, And its waters spread between Flower-fringed islets green. Standing here, I saw her boat Dance into the lake ; Saw the water-lilies float Dancing in its wake ; Saw her passing on where he Idly rocked beneath a tree. Sudden marvel ! dumb surprise ! Boundless admiration Seemed within his startled eyes Almost adoration. ■ All his soul went forth to meet Her he had no power to greet. So he gazed in loving wonder, Finding still no speech, While she glided slowly under His o'erhanging beech : When the vision bright had passed, Sense and speech came back at last, And he sent a bitter cry All across the water, — " Leave me not, or 1 must die ! " Madly then besought her, Dreamland. 147 With a passion ever stronger, She would stay a little longer. All in vain ! entreaties wild Slackened nought her speed ; Faintly to herself she smiled, — Paid no other heed, Though he Hung to her the fiowers Gathered all those idle hours. II. Carried by some unseen power, Stood I by the river, Where the bitter, sleeted shower Made me start and shiver \ But I knew that river came, Though so altered, still the same. Either side the channel lying, Stiff and black and hare, Beds of ghostly rushes, dying In the winter air, Sighed to every breeze that pa — 1, Shrieked to every louder blast. All the twilight seemed hereft Of the sense of life; Lite had vanished, and had left Death with death at strife : Only from the farthest gloom Echoed hack the bittern's boom. Pale and cold the moon, forth-breaking With a sudden gleam, 148 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Sent a ray of silver shaking Down the rain-plashed stream, Glanced from off the feathered oars I had watched from happier shores ; Lighted up the pallid features Of his face averted : — He alone, of all God's creatures In this land, deserted, "With unflagging labour sped Onwards, where the river led. Then again the clouds, down-sweeping, Hid that sudden light, And I turned me, sadly weeping, Back into the night, Seeing still before me plain That fixed look of hopeless pain. For I knew the silent sorrow, Knew the helpless grief, — Grief to which no earthly morrow Ever brings relief; Read at once the condemnation Of his utter desolation. Then with hasty steps I hied me From that hateful spot, Till I heard a voice beside me Saying, " Weep thou not ; How canst thou thy tears defend, . Who hast not waited for the end ? Dreamland. 149 " Perhaps that vision brief was sent Unto him from Heaven • Perhaps that Angel face was lent For a while, not given, Lest his soul should rest content In its earthly element. " On the way where she has gone, Toward the narrow sea, Onwards, where her light has shone, Sad, but strong and free, Heart and soul and arm together, He may brave the wind and weather. " What though all his soul be weary, All his heart be sick, Toiling through the desert dreary, And the darkness thick ? Pressing on with constant mind, He shall leave all this behind. " And, beyond the narrow ocean, Past the breakers' roar, Souls of pure and firm devotion Reach a better Shore : Love, that overcometh here 1 , Findeth full fruition there." Rev. 11. WlNTERBOTHAM, LL.B. 150 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. ALL FLESH IS GEASS KASS of the field ! the morning sun Shines on thy verdure fair ; But ere his daily course is run, He'll scorch thy golden hair. In warning tone the Psalmist says, All living flesh is Grass ; But ah ! with ever heedless gaze, Mortals their Emblem pass. Youth, thoughtless of impending doom, Eejoicing in the morn, Forgets that evening's hour of gloom Must see his beauty shorn. And even when that hour is come, Man turns his thoughts away, And sinks into his last long Home, Forgetting he is clay. But Ave will twine within our wreath These flowerets of the sod, To tell us still of Change and Death, The Message of our God. " Bouquet des Souvenirs" Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 151 AS THY DAY SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE. HEX adverse winds and waves arise, And in my heart despondence sighs, When life her throng of cares reveals, And weakness o'er my spirit steals, Grateful I hear the kind decree That "as my Day, my Strength shall be." When with sad footstep Memory roves O'er smitten joys and buried loves ; When, like a mourner, low I bend, Without a comforter or friend ; Then to Thy Promise, Lord, I flee, — Still "as thy Day, thy Strength shall be." One trial more must yet be past, — One pang, the keenest and the last ; And when, convulsed with mortal pain, Struggling, I seek for ease in vain, Then wilt Thou give my bouI t<> - That, " as her Day, her Strength shall be." Bishop Eastburn. 152 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE WELCOME HOME. "I have sinned against Heaven, and in Thy sight.' — S. Luke xy. WANDEKIXG, anguished, stricken soul, No peace, no rest I find : What may this deep remorse control, This broken spirit bind ? Where'er I turn, some haunting sight Of guilty sorrow past Rises, and drives the happy light From eyes by shame o'ercast. Shall they e'er smile again 1 shall e'er This aching heart be still ? What spell may charm from Memory's lair The spectral forms of ill % Shall burning, bitter tears avail, Unceasing night and day 1 Shall deep-drawn sigh, or sorrowing wail, E'er drive remorse away ? Alas ! too far I've wandered long, My Father kind, from Thee ! Knowing the right, and choosing wrung \ — There is no Peace for me." The Welcome Home. 153 u Nay, mourn not thus in hopeless woe," Some Angel whispers nigh : " Arise, and to thy Father go, He yearns to still that cry. doubt Him not ! He loves thee now : It is His Love alone That bids thy soul in anguish bow, Since thou from Him art gone ; — That Love still pleads with thee apart, Amid the desert drear Of thy despairing, wayward heart : O turn to Him, and hear ! Turn, for there yet is time ; arise, And claim that Love once more : He will not even thee despise, A suppliant at His door. For now He grieves till thou return To seek His pardon free; Abject and fallen, thou yet shalt learn That there is Peace fur thee !" " I will arise, and trembling fall Before Him, and confess My grievous wanderings, each and all, My guilt and wretchedness. Still from the bitter task I shrink : What if He should not deign To hear? Alas! my spirits sink ; It may be all in vain. For none, as I, have fallen : yea, 1 Of sinners am the chief; 154 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. For I have sinned so wilfully, And pierced His Heart with grief. Yet once from those Blest Lips I heard What I may never doubt : For c him that cometh,' was His word, ' In no wise I cast out.' Yea, I will go, and cast me down At His loved Feet, and see If one so vile He yet will own, If there is Peace for me ! n " A fallen, miserable child, Father, I come to Thee ! For I have sinned against Thy mild And patient clemency : Against Thine oft -repeated call, Against Thy warning Love ; Unblushing, in the sight of all The Heavenly Court above. Xo more may I deserve the name Thou gavest once to me \ Such title dear I dare not claim, — Let me Thy servant be; The lowest, humblest place I crave, Within Thy mansions blest ; — Thou, who art never slow to save, ( ) hear, and give me rest ! Wilfully, deeply have 1 erred, But I return to Thee : O Father, let Thy gracious word Yet speak of Peace to me ! The Welcome Home. 155 " can it he, that Thou shouldst haste To raise Thy ingrate one ! Lo, in those loving arms embraced Thou callest him Thy Son ! Thy long-lost child Thou own est yet, Defaced with guilty stain : All wanderings past Thou dost forget. And girdest with Love's chain. Such bliss the trembling soul o'erpowers ; rather let me lie And bathe Thy Feet in mingled showers Of grief and ecstasy ! No more I fear to tell Thee all, Xo more despair shall wring This heart repentant, freed from thrall, Yet humbly sorrowing. Clothed in the robe of penitence, Absolved and cleansed by Thee, F -ted at Thine Own Board, from hence ( ) there is Peace for me ! " C. Sellon. ] 156 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE DYING SOLDIERS LITANY. BOM tlie gloomy battle-field, Hear, Lord, my earnest cry ; Up to Thee my soul I yield, — Soon this mortal frame must die : " Bow thine ear, in mercy bow, Hear, the world's Atonement Thou." Far from home and friendships dear, On a strange and distant shore, Only Thou canst reach me here, — Friends shall hear my voice no more : " Eow thine ear, in mercy bow, Hear, the world's Atonement Thou." Let Thy sheltering wings be spread Over my departing soul; Shield my unprotected head, Make my contrite spirit whole : " Eow Thine ear, in mercy bow, Hear, the world's Atonement Thou." Let Thy Spirit whisper " Peace," Through the Lamb for sinners slain ; The Dying Soldiers Litany. 157 Bid my guilty terrors cease, Wash away any every stain : " Bow Thine car, in mercy bow, Hear, the world's Atonement Thou.'' Let my sins be all forgiven, For my Lord, my Saviour's sake ; Bring my ransomed soul to Heaven, To Thyself my spirit take : " Bow Thine ear, in mercy bow, Hear, the world's Atonement Thou." Life is ebbing fast away, — < > my Saviour, be Thou nigh ; Xow, oh ! now, be Thou my stay, — Jesus, hear my dying cry : " Bow thine ear, in mercy bow, Hear, the world's Atonement Thou.'' BOBERT XEWSTEAD. 158 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE REQUIEM. ABK ! liow that eloquent note Throbs on the soft, sweet air, Solemn and stern and low, Breathing of mortal woe ! Its lingering echoes in our wild hearts float, Hushing them suddenly with the hush of prayer. Stand 'neath the old grey tower, Mellowed in crimson light ; Look at the blue hills now, Blushing from base to brow With the glad beauty of the sunset hour : (Jan there be mourning in a world so bright ? Hark ! how the old Church bell Answers, in accent clear, — " Sorrow and pain and care Lieth in plenty there. Bowers of Eden, where the sinless dwell — The sinless and sorrow] ess — they are not here. " There is a delicate face, Silent and pale and cold; The Requiem. 159 Light of the sunset lies Softly on sleeping eyes, — Eyes that no more, with tender, girlish grace, Shall speak the language that they spoke of old. " And small hands clasped in prayer, AVaxen, and white as snow, Clasped on a pulseless breast, Folded in perfect rest ; And sealed lips — such tremulous lips they were, Breathing of Love in tones most soft and low. " There is a lonely room, Over whose silent floor One step shall never go Xoiselessly to and fro ; That sunny chamber will be wrapt in gloom, For she, its mistress, must dwell there no more. " There is a faithful heart, Broken with pain and grief; — One which has loved her well, Far more than words can tell : Whose joys and sorrows she has borne in part For one short year — 80 beautiful ! so brief! " There is a little life, Feeble and weak ami new, Left in this weary land, With no fond mother's hand To guide and shelter in the time <>i' strife, And no sweet mother's love, tender and true. 160 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. " Think of that morning, — how You heard the marriage bells Ring o'er the bride's fair head ! — Xow she lies cold and dead, The first unanswered kiss upon her brow, And my sad requiem from the Church tower swells, " Breathing of Cross and Crown, Breathing of Death and Life, Breathing of Joy and "Woe, With solemn tone and slow ; Of earthly troubles that are all laid down, Of that deep peace which shall succeed the strife. " earth ! earth ! thy breath Is often very sweet ; Thy hills and valleys bear Colours so rich and fair : But all thy beauty is the prey of Death, — He treads it ruthlessly beneath his feet. " Sweetly thy flowers blow, — Flowers of Hope and Love ; Bitter the fruit they bring After the blossoming. Sinful and sorrowful is the world below ; Perfect and beautiful is the world above ! " Land of Love and Light ! O blessed, blessed Land ! The Requiem. 161 Thine are the stainless Bowers, Thine the Perennial Flowers ; Thine is the Gladness ever full and bright ; Shadows may fall not on thy Golden Strand. " In thee no hearts may mourn, ISTor eloquent tears o'erflow ; Thine is the perfect Peace, Thine is the sweet Release From every sorrow that the soul has borne Through this strange life of trial here below. " Ah ! there will dear ones meet, Parting no more for aye ; There will the old Love shine, Perfected, pure, Divine \ There shall they rest in Rapture calm and sweet, Those who are severed in this world to-day." Ada Cambridge. 162 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. "HEAR MY PRAYER, GOD." EEAT God, hear Thou my prayer ! Thy righteous Wrath forbear, My pride is bowed beneath Thy chasten- ing Eod ; Behold, with pitying Eye, My ceaseless agony — Though great my sin, forsake me not, God. let Thy Grace impart Strength to a contrite heart ; Bleeding and faint, it sinks beneath its load ; Trembling,, and sore dismayed, 1 call on Thee for aid — Incline Thine Ear unto my prayer, God. Let not Thine Anger burn Till dust to dust return ; Look down in Mercy from Thy Dread Abode ; Dispel the clouds that roll Like billows o'er my soul, Scatter the Darkness with Thy Light, God. Teach me no more to stray Erom Thine appointed Way ; Fain would I journey in the narrow Road ; But snares beset me round, Ami deadly fears abound, — Then Hear me, Aid me, Strengthen me, God. T. Westwood. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 16o "SERVANT OF GOD, WELL DONE!" HOU, too, art gone to Rest, Where all the pious Dead In peace and patience wait the Call Of their exalted Head. Thy battle Scenes are o'er, Thy Palm of Victory won ; And, hark ! a Voice from Heaven proclaims — " Servant of God, well done ! " Thy life was long and bright, And crowned with deeds of love — I will not blaze them to the world, For they are writ above. The evening of thy Day Shed forth a golden beam ; 'Twas full of faith, and hope, and love, And Jesus was the Theme. On His all-powerful Arm Thy parting spirit stayed, Who has the Keys of Death and Hell, And will recall the Dead. There, there, in endless Bliss, To spend eternal years — 164 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Keleased in full from this vain world Of sins, and doubts, and fears. For thou hast borne the Heat And Burden of the Day, And the Chief Shepherd leads thee now To Streams that ne'er decay. There Flowers immortal bloom, To charm the ravished sight ; And Palms and Harps await for those Who walk with Him in White. For they shall sing the Song Of Moses, long foretold, When they have passed those pearly Gates, And Streets of burnished gold. The Glories of the Lamb, Their rapturous strains shall raise — .Eternal ages shall record His Love, His Power, His Praise. Mary Pyper, Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 165 "SURELY I COME QUICKLY:' ER the distant mountains breaking, Comes the reddening dawn of day ; Rise, my soul, from sleep awaking, Eise and sing, and watch and pray, — Tis thy Saviour, On His bright returning Way. Thou long expected, weary Waits mine anxious soul for Thee ; Life is dark, and earth is dreary, Where Thy Light I do not see: my Saviour, When wilt Thou return to me? Long, too long, in sin and sadness, Far away from Thee I pine ; When, oh, when shall I the gladne>.> Of Thy Spirit fuel in mine I () my Saviour, When shall 1 he wholly Thine I Nearer is ray soul's salvation ; Spent the night, the day at hand : 166 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Keep me in my lowly station, Watching for Thee, till I stand, my Saviour, In Thy bright and promised Land. With my lamp well trimmed and burning, Swift to hear, and slow to roam, Watching for Thy glad returning, To restore me to my Home : Come, my Saviour, my Saviour, quickly come ! Rev. Dr. Monsell. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 167 "LORD, ARE THERE FEW THAT BE SA VED f " HETHER there many he, or few, Elect the Heavenly Goal to win, Truly I know not — this I know, That none who march with footsteps slow, That none who fight with hearts untrue, That none who serve with service cold, The Eternal City can behold, Or enter in. Whether there many be who thrive In their vast suit for that Vast Love, Truly I know not — this I know, That love lives not in outward show ; That but to seek is not to strive ; That thankless praises, empty prayers, Can claim no bond, for suit of theirs, His Court to move. How long the Door, unfastened now, Shall open by His Grace remain, Truly I know not — this I know, If once that Grace aside He throw, Xo tear, no sigh, no anguished vow, Gnashing of teeth, wringing of hands, 168 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Shall draw the Bolts and loose the Bands Ever again. How long His Wrath may yet forbear, And sheathe His Sword, and hide His Bod, Truly I know not — this I know, He points the arrows of His Bow, While speeds apace that Xight of fear, Of debt unpaid, of work undone, When Mercy, Pardon, Hope is none, Laid up with God. "Morning Thoughts." Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 160 SSjI NINEVEH. j EIGHT shone the sun upon the land of Shinar — Euphrates' waters rolled in gladdening glee, And Tigris rushed, as once through bowers diviner, Down to the pearly sea. And Ninus' towers in that broad light were flinging Their mighty shadows o'er her long, wide street, Where, 'mid the roll of ears and anvils ringing, And ceaseless tram}) of feet, Rose up to Heaven, in grand confusion blended, The voice of tongues, the many-mingled cries ; Laughter and song, with music's strains ascended, And pageants tired the eyes. But who is he, all travel-soiled and weary, That threads his way these joyous numbers thro , Like some black cloud that rises cold and dreary O'er a bright Heaven of blue i Stern was his brow, his aspect strange and solemn, In haste he trod — with stall' and girded vest — Save when by some tall arch or temple-colnnin, Short space he paused to rest. 170 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. The people came in motley crowds surrounding, His stranger garb provoked their taunting glee — He heard them not, for in his ears were sounding The waters of the sea. And evermore, as on his path he wended Through those broad ways, amid those chariot- throngs, The foot-tramps ceased, the rush of wheels was ended, The noise of mirth and songs : For loud above that din of voices swelling, Like a great bell, arose one piercing cry, — " Yet forty days, and Ashur's lordly dwelling Low in the dust shall lie !" And on he passed — Destruction's stern apostle — Where Mmrod's palace-walls sublimely rose, Through broad-leaved gates, where winged forms colossal Stared out in calm repose. He saw them not — he only saw the surging Of the white breakers on the lonely Deep, And sails in shreds, and pallid shipmen urging The guilty one from sleep. And still he called, in solemn tones sonorous, To all that gazed, to all that passed him by, While through the city rang, in one great chorus, The selfsame fearful cry : Nineveh 171 Like the great cry that rose from Egypt's houses, On that sad night of universal dread ; And lo ! that midnight voice the monarch rouses, Like Pharaoh, from his bed. Eor sleep is none, or only scares the dreamer With war-clang, crash of towers, and rush of rivers ; Knees smite, and loins are pained — with one groat tremor The lair of lions quivers. II. The months rolled on, but still the stately city, Xo stone disturbed, in ancient grandeur stood ; Sackcloth and tears awoke Jehovah's pity, And gave her respite good. But stands she still ? go ask each desert village, Each lonely mound, each heap of sunburnt clay : They tell of spoiler's hand, and tire, and pillage, And -lories passed away. And now, amid those landscapes bare and sallow, The Frank upturns the giant heads of old ; While in mute awe the simple Sons of Allah Stare at the opened mould ; At strange weird shapes, and lion-guarded portals, And panelled walls of chambers long and lone ; Where the proud deeds of long-forgotten mortals Lie chronicled in stone, 172 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Captains and rulers — horsemen upon horses — Chaldaean men portrayed upon the wall — And kings in chariots, gloating o'er the corses Of foes in ceaseless fall : And fair young men, and princes richly girded, Tasselled and tired, with red vermilion dyed — As in some book of eld, all darkly worded, We read her tale of pride. Such was thy doom, fairest-born of cities ! That sat'st serene upon thine arrowy river, Singing in scorn, amidst thy mirthful ditties, " I sit a Queen for ever ! " I sit a queen ; and know no care nor sorrow, While Msroch smiles, and fair Mylitta shields ; Bright dawns to-day, but many a brighter morrow The far horizon yields ! " Ah, vaunting vain ! and unsubstantial vision ! Thy dream of glory vanished like a smile ; The Lord looked down, and made, in strange trans- ition, Thy Grave — for thou wert vile ! And hast thou not, like lips of olden Sages, Some lesson lair, some moral tale to tell, Some warning voice, by us in later Ages To be remembered well? Nineveh. 173 Is thore no town on some broad river lying. Like thy tall towers, or populous Xo-Ammon, AVhere Heaven is spurned, and careless crowds are crying, We have no God but Mammon ? Is there no pride — no lofty seat of scorning, Xo idol shrine our own fond heart within, While conscience, prophet-like, with words of warning, Foretells the end of Sin ! Heed we that Voice, nor turn again to foil)', Cry mightily to God for sins gone by ; So fall we not, but stand secure and holy, When worlds in ruin lie. C. L. Ford. 174 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. GETHSEMANE. I; IGHT cast unwonted gloom around ; His friends had given their grief to sleep ; He, prostrate on the chilling ground, His lonely "Watch of Woe must keep. The last, the farewell Paschal Feast, With those sad friends at evening ta'en, He waits the traitor's murderous haste, To prove Him now the Lamb so slain. As thrice He kneels to groan His Woe, See Sweat like thick, large Blood-drops run: My Father, if this Cup might go, — And yet Thy Will, not Mine, be done. Death hovering in his ghastliest form \ Forsaking friends, Hell's banded power ; His Father's Frown (soul-piercing storm), And Earth's whole Guilt, were in that hour. Gethsemane, we hail thee well, Fair Eden's contrast sad yet dear : Gethsemane. 175 There Man a moment smiled, then fell : Man groaned for Man, and triumphed here. But oh, all holy Lamb of God, Hast Thou thy Heaven resigned for me I For me the Abyss of Horrors trod 1 Where shall I find return for Thee ? Oh ! Reign enthroned o'er all my heart, The happy prisoner of Thy Love, And lit me here to bear my part In Thine unending Praise above. T. Ghinfield. 176 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE FASHION OF THIS WORLD PASSETH AWAY. N careless childhood's sunny hours, When all we love is nigh, No thorn amid life's opening flowers, No cloud in all its sky ; We feel no ill, nor dream of care, But deem each following day Shall light us on to fairer scenes, And beam with brighter ray. And childhood's vernal seasons past, And shunned youth's thousand snares ; When manhood's Autumn comes at last, With sorrows, fears, and cares, Still, Autumn like, its skies are bright, And still the world seems young ; And still we love its mellow light, Its boughs with fruitage hung. But Autumn's golden skies must fade, And Autumn's fruits decay ; And soon, 'mid snows and storms, must come Old age's wintry day : The Fashion of this World Passeth away. 1 77 A wintry day at best, as short, As gloomy, and as cold, Till the worn body yields at last, And life lets go its hold. And when its earthly hold is gone, The world's brief fashion past, Are there no hopes that shall survive, Xo pleasures that shall last ] Yes, Christian, it is thine to know Life's but a weary way ; A short, though painful, Pilgrimage To realms of endless Day ; When Faith her Crown of Life shall wear, And Hope be lost in Joy, And meek-eyed Love be paid with Bliss That Time can ne'er destroy : For thither has the Lamb gone up Who Suffered and was Slain, That risen with Him His followers might With Him for ever reign. Bishop Doane. 178 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. LAZARUS. OW do the big drops, fast and thick, Of trouble's storm begin to fall ! He whom the Lord doth Love is sick ; And losing him they lose their all — Those sisters twain — of earthly stay, And their best Friend is far away. But will not He who always felt ►So much for them — their Master dear, — Will not His Loving Spirit melt When the sad tidings reach His Ear I When was He ever wont to turn A deaf Ear unto those that mourn '] Therefore, through many a weary hour They look for help, but look in vain ; The Lord, whose slightest Word hath Power To heal the sick, comes not again : He hears the news they send to tell, But in the same place bideth still. And often thus, when trouble's night Gathers in clouds of blackness round, Lazarus. 179 The Lord of Love withholds His Light, — Of those who seek Him long unfound ; From the sad mourner, tempest tost, Most hidden when expected most. And it is well ! He only seems To leave His Own in night to pine, Of Power and Love that brighter beams May with unequalled lustre shine, — Those brightest Beams unfelt, unknown, Till left to walk in night alone. "Morning Thoughts" 180 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. THE MAGDALENE'S CRY AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS. S. John xx. and xxi. MY own precious Lord ! my God, My Saviour, sweet and dear ; For me Thou pourest forth Thy Blood, For me Thou hangest here. I, I betrayed Thee by my sin; I scourged and mocked Thee ; I Denied Thy Love, that mine would win, And led Thee out to die. I stripped, I nailed Thee ; my King, My Jesu, dost Thou yet Suffer me by Thy Feet to cling 1 And dost Thou all forget 1 Those Hands, that I have pierced, dost Thou Stretch forth in Love to me ? On me that Thorn-encircled Brow Still bend, in Pity free ? The Magdalene's Cry at the Cross. 181 I cannot look on Thee, nor dare But weep, and clasp Thy Feet ; Only this one heart-yearning prayer I pray, Thy Mercy sweet. Since 1 have made Thee, by my sin, This bitter pain and loss, My Jesu, let me die within The Shadow of Thy Cross. C. Sellon. 182 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. "LAST AT HIS CBOSS, AND EARLIEST . AT HIS GRAVE." fIS past, that Night of deepest gloom ; 'Tis risen, the joyous Sun, And sleepless to her Saviour's Tomb Poor Magdalene has rim : She gazed within the darksome grot, Where His dear Form was laid, But while pale death absorbed her thought, Bright Angels were displayed. With looks of Love and words of Peace, They soothed her aching breast, When, lo ! to bid all sorrow cease, Her Jesus stands confessed ; And " Mary " from that well-known Voice, Heaven's harmony its tone, Can instant make the heart rejoice Which late could only groan. In that sepulchral Eden, lo ! The Tree of Life restored ; Imparadised the scene of Woe, By Angels and their Lord. 'Tis thus the Christian sees the Tomb, Begirt with shining Bands, And, while he eyes the place of Gloom, Before him Jesus stands. T. Grixfielp. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 183 PASSOVER EVE. HERE wilt Thou, Lord, that we prepare The Feast of Love to eat with Thee — Sweet bread with bitter herbs, or e'er The slaughtered Paschal Lamb we see ? To-morrow must that Lamb be killed, His Life-Blood on the earth be spilled. The Table's spread : the Master takes The Bread, and blessing it with Grace, Each drooping heart in Love partakes ; Each eye is fixed on that calm Eace, Whose tender, Love-enkindled Smile They soon must lose " a little while." And see ! the Cup is poured and blessed, And all partake, save lie, the Vine, Whose rich Life-Blood must now be pressed, That all may drink that mystic Wine " Which cheers the heart of God and Man," Ordained to flow since time began. Calmly He rises from His seat, A girded Levite, see Him bend And stoop to wasli the pilgrim feet 184 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Of those who on His steps attend ; Then breathing out the Law anew, " This do, as I have done to you." " I will not leave you comfortless, I go but to prepare a Place For all who now My Xame confess, And long to rest in My Embrace, My Peace I leave ; My last Bequest, In Me ye shall have perfect Rest." Lo ! now the Garden scene is o'er, The Agony, the Bloody Sweat ; ISor seer may tell what Jesus bore, Xor heart of Angel may forget The bitter Cry, the prayer-worn Knee, That night-watch in Gethsemane. Anonymous. Lays of the Pious Minstrels. 185 THE DYING WORDS OF JESUS. [ROTHEE in Christ! thy heart prepare, Gird up thy loins, and mount with me In soul yon Blood-stained Heights, to share The sight which Angels, wondering, see : Hear, on this spot of Holy ground, Thy Saviour's dying Words resound, And take to thee their Strength Divine ; For they can richest solace lend Through life — yea, and when life shall end, Such only comfort shall be thine. " Father, forgive them." loving Heart, pitying Eyes, Such look that on His murderers threw ; Forgive ! — amidst His pain He cries — They know not, Father, what they do. Lover of Men, Thy suppliant Prayer Ascends for those who nail Thee there, Who on Thy Grief with mockeries gaze ; O man, by vengeful passions driven, Lehold Thy bright Example given, And pray as thy Redeemer prays. 186 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. " Behold thy Mother:' What pattern of affection large, When, rising thousand pangs above, He recommends the filial charge To the Disciple of His Love. Must I my own beloved ones see Weep round my dying bed for me 1 This word shall sweetest comfort bring ; To Him whose latest Mandate kind Cared for the Friends He left behind, Shall those I leave for succour cling. " To-day shcdt thou he with Me in Paradise" Ho ! sin-sick souls, dispel your fears, Trust, and be saved ; in Christ confide ; Hear how the world's Eedeemer cheers The contrite sinner by His Side. He saith consoling, Thou shalt be To-day in Paradise with Me. Such Light at Death's dark gate be mine, So may I hear Thy strengthening Voice, Such Watchword sweet my heart rejoice, When iu the last dread Strife I join. "My G<»1, my God, why Im^l TJiou forsaken me ? " How sharp the sin-avenging Rod That urged Him, hanging on the Tret 1 , Loudly to cry, — My God, my God, Wherefore hast Thou forsaken ^I<' 1 The Dyinr/ Words of Jesus. 187 Yet thus iii Xature's weakest hour, When darkness o'er His soul hath power, His heart's firm trust is unforgot : I too, the Cup of grief shall drain ; My sinking soul shall cry, through pain, God, my God, forsake me not. "I thirst" I thirst — He cries, in sore complaint, With anguish parched, with pain subdued, The God, who strengthens all the faint, And filleth every mouth with food : And still, from thousand poor around, He calleth, in like piteous sound, From hearts by want and hunger riven. Thrice happy they, that call who heed : Who helps the poor in hour of need, Hath to his Lord Refreshment given. " It is finished" -Now ends the heavy hour of sadness; 'Tis Finished, — the Redeemer saith, Word of Victory, sound oi Gladness, Thou robbest all the sting from Death : How blest ; by Jesus justified : Who shall condemn, since Christ hath Died j Thou Diedst for us, and we are Thine : Lord, when I reach my life's last day, Ue this my joy, in death to say, 'Tis Finished ; Christ and Heaven are mine 188 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. "Father, into Thy Hands I commend My Spirits And when my eyes shall close, as Thine, In dark and sorrowful eclipse, In my last hour, such word be mine As latest struggled from Thy Lips : Hark how the solemn accents roll — Father, into Thy Hands my soul I yield — in mortal pangs he saith : So in that hour may I commend My soul to her Eternal Friend, Then sudden change for Sight my Faith. C. L. Ford. Lnys of the Pious Minstrels. 189 THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. jH, cling not, Trembler, to life's fragile bark : It fills — it soon must sink : Look not below, where all is chill and dark ; 'Tis agony to think Of that wild waste ; but look, oh ! look above, And see the outstretched Arm of Love. Cling not to this poor life : unlock thy clasp Of fleeting, vapoury air ; The world receding soon will mock thy grasp ; But let the wings of prayer Take the blest breeze of Heaven, and upward flee, And Life from God shall enter thee. Oil, fear not Him who walks the stormy wave : 'Tis not a spectre, but the Lord. Trust thou in Him who overcame the Grave, Who holds in captive ward The powers of Hell. Heed not the monster grim; Nor fear to go through Death to Him. 190 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. Look not so fondly back on this false Earth : Let hope not linger here. Say, would the worm forego its second birth. Or the transition fear, That gives it wings to try a world unknown, Although it wakes and mounts alone? But thou art not alone \ on either side The portal, friends stand guard : And the kind spirits wait thy course to guide. Why, why should it be hard To trust our Maker with the soul He gave, Or Him who Died that soul to save 1 Into His Hands commit thy trembling spirit, Who gave His life for thine : Guilty, fix all thy trust upon His Merit ; To Him thy heart resign. Oh, give Him love for love, and sweetly fall Into His Hands who is thy All. Conder. Lays of the Pious Minstrel*. 191 bit " AY CCELO QUIES" HEAR a voice at dawn of day. And to my heart it seems to say, When sorrow dims hope's brightest ray, " There's rest in Heaven." E'en at noon's busy hour I hear The same sweet words accost my ear, With power to stay the rising tear : "There's rest in Heaven." I hear it at the evening tide, When ritful shadows round us glide, Still whispering gently at my side, "There's rest in Heaven.'' Blest words ! which tell of nought but joy, Of endless rest without alloy, Well may they oft our thoughts employ, — " There's rest in Heaven.*' Spirit of Life and Love Divine, Subdue my heart and make it thine. That I may dwell upon as mine, That " rest in Heaven." Anonymous, 192 Lays of the Pious Minstrels. "HE HATH ASCENDED ON HIGH" HERE'S rapture in the Heavenly Height, And music 'mid the Worlds of Light ; Eor Glory's King ascends on high, Crowned with immortal victory. He came to die, but lives again ; The tyrant Death himself is slain ; While e'en the spoils of conquered hell Shall the Redeemer's triumphs swell. Risen, that He might others raise ; Sold, He the price of others pays ; The wandering sheep, that far had strayed, Has heard His voice, and prized His aid. Jesus ! the Glory, the Delight Of Angels, clothed with heavenly might, Do thou our inmost souls inspire, To seek Thee still with warm desire. Grant us in Thee alone to live ; Lead us ourselves to Thee to give ; And still Thy Love Divine impart, And warm and cheer Thy people's heart. Rev. Henry Trend. J. & W. Ridkr, Printers, 14, Bartholomew Close, London.