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 1865. 
 
OR, 
 
 A HYMNAL OF SACRED POETRY. 
 
 SELECTED FROM THE BEST 
 
 ENGLISH WRITERS^ 
 
 AND ARRANGED AFTER THE ORDER OF THE 
 
 Apostles' Creed. 
 
 REV. GEORGE T. RIDER, M.A. 
 
 NEfV YORK: 
 
 D. Appleton & Company, 
 
 443 and 445 Broadway. 
 1865. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States 
 
 for the Southern District of New York. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The Lyric, rather than the Polemic spirit, 
 is the fairer witness of a living Christianity. 
 Periods of scholastic heat are periods of ethical 
 chill. When the Church goes forth in her mili- 
 tant greatness, overthrowing strongholds of dark- 
 ness and death, she is garlanded with hymns and 
 spiritual songs. Flushed with springtime fulness 
 of the Indwelling Presence, her heart wakes 
 into Praise and Thanksgiving. 
 
 In her conquering march she keeps step to 
 the rhythm and cadence of her stirring chant 
 and hymn. 
 
 Ambrose, Luther, and the Wesleys wrought 
 to such music j and perhaps their Hymns are 
 stronger and more persuasive with us, than are 
 their Definitions of Faith and Doctrine. 
 
 Hence, while the Ages all the way down, 
 are littered with stranded controversies, wasted 
 
iv Preface. 
 
 and wasting, the dead leaves and blasted fruit of 
 aimless thinking ; their Hymns live with us, 
 quick with spiritual forces, unspent and yet 
 warm with the great love that inspired them. 
 
 We reject their Definitions, and accept their 
 Hymns, finding the Fellowship of Praise whole- 
 some, and large enough for all our wants, over- 
 living and outliving all that is merely incidental 
 and extrinsic to the Church Life. 
 
 Hymns are personal disclosures of the inner 
 life : they bring to us all that is communicable 
 of "the fruits of the Spirit." They come to 
 us with all that words are permitted to bear of 
 ecstacy, the trance and the vision. They are, 
 then, our sweetest sureties of the greatness and 
 reality of the regenerate life, — of its promise 
 and prophecy. 
 
 The Hymnology of English Christianity, rep- 
 resenting so many widely-remote cultures, in- 
 terpenetrated with such rapturous, forceful im- 
 pulses, prismatic with such variously-hued yet 
 blended experiences, stands eminently alone and 
 unequalled in its wealth and beauty. 
 
 At the outset, kindled by the calm fervor of 
 the Missal and Breviary Hymns, and the glow- 
 
Preface. v 
 
 ing symbolism of a Church still guarding the 
 fires of the early faith, the Lyric spirit is felt 
 among the first developments of our Language, 
 while the Anglican Church was emerging from 
 the bondage of a dead tongue and dead supersti- 
 tions. And recalling the general and cordial 
 reception of the Christian Faith throughout 
 England, we find full explanation of the Chris- 
 tian temper more or less clearly defined in nearly 
 all her poetry. 
 
 Thus the Church at the Reformation found 
 a new language waiting to do its bidding : a lan- 
 guage that had grown with her own growth, and 
 developed an energy and wealth of resource, 
 while yet in its infancy, equal to the illustrious 
 service of her Evangelists or Psalmists : — the 
 language of Spenser and Shakespeare, George 
 Withers and Herbert, of Hooker and Barrow, 
 of Newton and Bacon. 
 
 The present posture of English Christianity 
 is a complex result of many vital movements, at 
 different times, acting from different centres of 
 power. They have each and all wrought for 
 the shaping of the structure as it now stands. 
 This compilation undertakes to register some- 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 thing of the Lyric spirit of this varied history ; 
 and not without some reference to the pro- 
 portions and relations which seem to have ob- 
 tained between the Ecclesiastic and Subjective, 
 the Retrospective and Prophetic tendencies 
 which in their turn have quickened the Church. 
 
 During the preparation of this work nothing 
 has been more clearly manifest, than the con- 
 tinual recurrence of deep and earnest unisons of 
 feeling — unisons of experimental life and Christian 
 consciousness^ especially touching the Adorable 
 Person and Offices of our Lord, floating down 
 from age to age, in such unfailing sweetness, 
 that a Christianity, which, to the Theologian, lies 
 the fragment of a perished Unity, finds its way 
 to the heart of the Worshipper clothed upon 
 with the freshness of a living, loving Presence, 
 among the Faithful, ministering in the name and 
 stead of its Lord. 
 
 The Poetry selected, is not generally found 
 in American reprints ; and a large part, it is be- 
 lieved, reaches the general reader for the first 
 
 time in this volume. 
 
 G. T. R. 
 
uiRRANGED ACCORDING TO THE APOSTLES' CREED. 
 
 Faith. 
 
 I believe ..... 1—8 
 
 God and Providence. 
 
 In God the Father Almighty, maker of 
 
 Heaven and Earth, . . 9"— 3^ 
 
 The Incarnation. 
 
 And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord ; 
 Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, Born 
 
 of the Virgin Mary, . . , 31 — 64 
 
 The Atonement. 
 
 Suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, 
 dead, and buried} He descended into 
 Hell, .... 65—108 
 
 The Resurrection. 
 
 The third day He rose from the dcadj . 109 — 124 
 
Vlll 
 
 Index of Subjects. 
 
 The Ascension. 
 
 He ascended into Heaven, And sitteth on 
 the right hand of God the Father 
 Almighty j . . . 
 
 Second Coming and Judgment. 
 
 From thence he shall come to judge the 
 quick and the dead. 
 
 The Holy Spirit. 
 
 I believe in the Holy Ghost, 
 
 Fellowship of Christ. 
 
 The Holy Catholic Church, 
 The Communion of Saints, 
 The Forgiveness of sins. 
 
 Time and Eternity. 
 
 The Resurrection of the body, And 
 The Life everlasting. Amen. 
 
 125—149 
 
 150 — I7Z 
 
 73—184 
 
 185-214 
 215 — 229 
 
 229—288 
 
dnirn ai Jfirsi pm^< 
 
 Abide with me ; fast falls the eventide 
 
 And am I here, and my Redeemer gone ? 
 
 A pathway opens from the tomb . 
 
 At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid 
 
 A thousand years have fleeted 
 
 At the cross, her station keeping , • 
 
 Awake glad heart ! get up and sing , 
 
 Away with sorrow's sigh . . . 
 
 FAGB 
 
 244 
 zoo 
 III 
 
 102 
 194 
 
 79 
 31 
 33 
 
 Behold the Lamb ! . . . 
 
 Beneath my cross I lay me down 
 
 Blessed Creatour ! let Thine only Sonne . 
 
 Brief life is here our portion . 
 
 But how shall we be glad ? 
 
 By Christ redeemed, in Christ restored 
 
 83 
 
 85 
 
 9 
 
 268 
 
 22S 
 
 156 
 
 Come lovely name ! life of our hope 
 
 50 
 
X Index of First Lines. 
 
 Come to our poor nature's night . , , 173 
 
 Come wandering sheep, O come! . , . 197 
 
 Day of anger, that dread Day . . . 162 
 
 Dear saviour of a dying world . , , • '17 
 
 Emmanuel, Thy name wc sing ... 40 
 
 Far from the Shepherd's one true fold I stray . . 159 
 
 False world, thou ly'st: thou canst not lend . . 282 
 For thee, O dear, dear Country .... 269 
 
 Go worship at Immanuel's feet . . , 138 
 
 Hark ! hark ! my soul ! angelic songs are swelling . 277 
 
 Head of the Hosts in glory ! . . . . 136 
 
 He Cometh on yon hallowed Board . . , 207 
 
 Here I sink before Thee lowly . . . 2x0 
 
 His mother cannot reach His face . . • 77 
 
 Holy Spirit, gently come .... 183 
 
 Holy Spirit given , . . .175 
 
 Holy Spirit, Lord of Light . 1 77 
 
 Hosanna to the living Lord ! . .154 
 
 How brightly dawns the Morning Star . 59 
 
 I journey through a desert drear and wild . • '7' 
 
 I love, and have some cause to love the earth . 10 
 
 1 made a posy while the day ran by . •2,73 
 
Index of First Lines. xi 
 
 PAoa 
 
 In token that thou shalt not fear . . . 203 
 
 I say to thee, do thou repent . . . .190 
 
 Is it not strange the darkest hour ... 93 
 
 I worship Thee, sweet Will of God ! . . .7 
 
 Jerusalem the golden ! . . . . 271 
 
 Jesuis in my heart; His sacred name . . .8a 
 
 Jesus mighty sufferer ! say . . . , 71 
 
 Jesu! the very thought of Thee . . . •144 
 
 Joy of my life while left me here ! . . . 128 
 
 Just as I am — without one plea . . . .252 
 
 Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom . 6 
 
 Let me be with Thee where Thou art . . .221 
 
 Let the storms ply their deep and threatening bass . 192 
 
 Little pomp of earthly state . . . .61 
 
 Lo ! He comes with clouds descending . . 1 68 
 
 Long did I toil and knew no earthly rest . .198 
 
 Lord! come away! ..... 158 
 
 Lord God of might, in reverence lowly . . .134 
 
 Lord, many times I am aweary quite • . . 55 
 
 Lord what a change within us one short hour . .215 
 
 My God and Father, while I stray . . . 17 
 
 My Lord, my Love was crucified . , . .96 
 
 My Saviour can it ever be . . . . 130 
 
 Not here! not here ! where the sparkling waters . • 3^75 
 
 Not Thou from us, O Lord, but wc . . . 251 
 
Xll 
 
 Index of First Lines. 
 
 O Book ! infinite sweetness ! let my heart 
 
 O Cross ! we hail thy bitter reign 
 
 O day most calm, most bright ! . . 
 
 Of all the thoughts of God, that are . 
 
 Of the bright things in earth and air 
 
 O Gift of Gifts ! O Grace of Faith . 
 
 O Jcsu! bruised and wounded more 
 
 O Jesu ! King most wonderful ! 
 
 O Jesu ! Thou the beauty art 
 
 O Lamp of Life ! that on the bloody Cross 
 
 O Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will 
 
 O timely happy, timely wise . 
 
 O time of tranquil joy and holy feeling ! . 
 
 Our course is onward, onward into light 
 
 FAOa 
 
 20 1 
 73 
 
 231 
 
 106 
 
 13 
 
 I 
 208 
 142 
 
 146 
 
 81 
 
 87 
 
 239 
 
 233 
 261 
 
 Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun . 
 
 Rest of the weary ! Thou 
 
 Rise — glorious Conqueror, rise 
 
 Rise heart! thy Lord has risen, sing His praise 
 
 98 
 126 
 
 120 
 
 Since Thou hast added now, O God 
 
 Sleep, sleep, mine Holy One . 
 
 So rest, my Rest . , 
 
 Star of the morn and even . 
 
 Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear 
 
 Sweet baby, sleep I what ails my dear . 
 
 Sweet Day, so cool, so calm, so bright 
 
 242 
 42 
 266 
 249 
 246 
 218 
 261 
 
Index of First Lines. 
 
 xni 
 
 Sweet Is the Spirit's strain 
 
 Sweet the moments, rich in blessing 
 
 FAGH 
 185 
 
 75 
 
 That clime is not like this dull clime of ours . . 287 
 
 The Apostle slept, — a light shone in the prison . , 279 
 
 The child leans on its parent's breast ... 3 
 
 The clouds that wrap the setting sun . , . 224 
 
 The face which duly as the sun . , . 214 
 
 The foe behind, the deep before . . . .109 
 
 The glories of our birth and state . . . 264 
 
 The night is dark — behold the shade was deeper . . 69 
 
 The pathways of Thy land are little changed . , 56 
 
 There is a book who runs may read , . .187 
 
 There is no night in heaven . . . . 285 
 
 The Sunne of my soul's light ! Thee would I call . 20 
 
 They are evermore around us , , . 216 
 
 Thine forever ! God of love . . . . 205 
 
 This did not once so trouble me . . , 254 
 
 Thou Whose almighty word . . . •179 
 
 Tis not for man to trifle ! Life is brief , , 222 
 
 To Him who for your sins was slain , , .148 
 
 Wake, ye holy maidens, fearing 
 
 Walk in the light, and thou shalt know . 
 
 Welcome sweet, sacred feast ! . , 
 
 We walked within the churchyard's bounds 
 
 What sudden blaze of song . 
 
 When first thy eyes unveil give thy soul leave 
 
 160 
 181 
 
 212 
 
 256 
 
 36 
 
 236 
 
xiv Index of First Lines. 
 
 When God of old came down from Heaven . . 165 
 
 When Jesus came to earth of old . , ,150 
 
 When wounded sore, the stricken soul . . 9I 
 
 Whilst the careless world is sleeping, . . .152 
 
 Who says the wan autumnal sun . . . 113 
 
 Who to the golden Sunnes long restless race . • '9 
 
 Why comes this fragrance on the summer breeze? . 18 
 
 Why dost thou beat so quick, my heart? . • .4 
 
LORD! I BELIEVE. 
 
 GIFT of Gifts ! O Grace of Faith ! 
 
 My God ! how can it be 
 That Thou, who hast discerning love, 
 
 Shouldst give that gift to me ? 
 
 How many hearts thou mightst have had 
 
 More innocent than mine ! 
 How many souls more worthy far 
 
 Of that sweet touch of Thine ! 
 
 Ah, Grace ! into unlikeliest hearts 
 
 It is thy boast to come, 
 The glory of thy light to find 
 
 In darkest spots a home. 
 
 How will they die, how will they die, 
 How bear the cross of grief. 
 
 Who have not got the light of faith. 
 The courage of belief? 
 I 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 The crowd of cares, the weightiest cross, 
 Seem trifles less than Hght, — 
 
 Earth looks so little and so low 
 When faith shines full and bright. 
 
 O happy, happy that I am ! 
 
 If thou canst be, O Faith ! 
 The treasure that thou art in life. 
 
 What wilt thou be in death ? 
 
 Thy choice, O God of Goodness ! then 
 
 I lovingly adore ; 
 O give me grace to keep thy grace, 
 
 And grace to merit more ! 
 
 Faber. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE PEACE OF GOD, 
 
 HE child leans on its parent's breast, 
 Leaves there its cares, and is at rest : 
 The bird sits singing by his nest, 
 And tells aloud 
 His trust in God, and so is blest 
 
 'Neath every cloud. 
 
 He has no store, he sows no seed; 
 Yet sings aloud, and doth not heed ; 
 By flowing stream or grassy mead. 
 
 He sings to shame 
 Men, who forget, in fear of need, 
 
 A Father's name. 
 
 The heart that trusts for ever sings, 
 And feels as light as it had wings ; 
 A well of peace within it springs : 
 
 Come good, or ill, 
 Whate'er to-day, to-morrow brings. 
 It is His will ! 
 Isaac Williams, (1842.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT IS LOVE, 
 JOT, PEACE, 
 
 HY dost thou beat so quick, my 
 heart ? 
 Why struggle in thy cage ? 
 What shall I do for thee, poor 
 heart ! 
 Thy throbbing heat to swage ? 
 
 What spell is this comes over thee ? 
 
 My soul ! what sweet surprise ? 
 And wherefore these unbidden tears 
 
 That start into mine eyes ? 
 
 Thy sweetness hath betrayed Thee, Lord ! 
 
 Dear Spirit it is Thou ; 
 Deeper and deeper in my heart 
 
 I feel thee nestling now. 
 
 Thy home is with the simple. Lord ! 
 
 The simple arc thy rest ; 
 Thy lodging is in child-like hearts; 
 
 Thou makcst there Thy nest. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Dear Comforter ! Eternal Love f 
 
 If Thou wilt stay with me, 
 Of lowly thoughts and simple ways 
 
 I'll build a nest for Thee. 
 
 My heart, sweet Dove ! Til lend to Thee 
 To mourn with at Thy will ; 
 
 My tongue shall be Thy lute to try 
 On sinners' souls Thy skill. 
 
 Who made this beating heart of mine, 
 But Thou my heavenly Guest ? 
 
 Let no one have it then but Thee, 
 And let it be Thy nest. 
 
 Faber. 
 
Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 THE TRUE LIGHT. 
 
 ORD, kindly Light, amid the encircling 
 gloom, 
 Lead Thou me on ! 
 iThe night is dark and I am far from 
 home; 
 Lead Thou me on ! 
 Keep Thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
 The distant way ; one step's enough for me. 
 
 I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou 
 
 Wouldst lead me on ; 
 I loved to see and choose my path, but now 
 
 Lead Thou me on ! 
 I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, 
 Pride ruled my will : remember not past years. 
 
 So long Thy power hath kept me, sure it still 
 
 Will lead me on ! 
 O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 
 
 The night is gone, 
 And with the morn those angel faces smile 
 Which I have loved long since and lost awhile. 
 
 Newman. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 NOT JS I WILL, BUT JS THOU 
 WILT, 
 
 WORSHIP thee, sweet Will of God ! 
 
 And all thy ways adore, 
 And every day I Hve I seem 
 
 To love thee more and more. 
 
 Thou wert the end, the blessed rule 
 Of Jesus* toils and tears ; 
 
 Thou wert the passion of His Heart 
 Those Thrce-and-Thirty years. 
 
 I love to kiss each print where thou 
 Hast set thine unseen feet : 
 
 I cannot fear the blessed Will ! 
 Thine empire is so sweet. 
 
 When obstacles and trials seem 
 
 Like prison-walls to be, 
 I do the little that I can do. 
 
 And leave the rest to thee. 
 
8 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 I have no cares, O blessed Will ! 
 
 For all my cares are thine ; 
 I live in triumph, Lord ! for Thou 
 
 Hast made Thy triumphs mine. 
 
 Ride on, ride on triumphantly, 
 Thou glorious Will ! ride on ; 
 
 Faith's pilgrim sons behind thee take 
 The road that thou hast gone. 
 
 He always wins who rides with God, 
 To him no chance is lost ; 
 
 God's will is sweetest to him when 
 It triumphs at his cost. 
 
 Ill that He blesses is our good, 
 
 And noblest good is ill; 
 And all is right that seems most wrong. 
 
 If it be his sweet Will! 
 
 Faber. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 HE THAT HATH THE SON, HATH 
 LIFE, 
 
 LESSED Creatour! let thine only 
 Sonne, 
 Sweete blossome, stock and roote 
 of David's line 
 The cleare, bright Morning-Starre give light 
 , and shine 
 On my poor spirit ; which hath nevi^-begunne 
 With his love's praise, and with vaine loves hath 
 donne. 
 To my poor muse let him his ears incHne 
 Thirsting to taste of that celestial wine 
 Whose purple streams hath our salvation wonne. 
 O gracious Bridegroom ! and thrice lovely 
 Bride ! 
 Which — ' Come and fill who will * — forever crie : 
 
 ' Water of life to no man is deny'de ; 
 ' Fill still who will — if any man be drie,' 
 O heavenly voice! I thirst, I thirst, and come 
 For life with other sinners to get some. 
 
 Barnabas Barnes, (1596.) 
 
10 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 DELIGHT IN GOD ONLY, 
 
 LOVE (and have some cause to love) 
 the earth ; 
 She is my Maker's creature; theiefore 
 good : 
 She is my mother, for she gave me birth ; 
 
 She is my tender nurse — she gives me food ; 
 But w^hat's a creature, Lord, compared with 
 
 Thee? 
 Or what's my mother, or my nurse to me ? 
 
 1 love the air: her dainty sweets refresh 
 
 My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me ; 
 
 Her shrill-mouthed quire sustains me with their 
 flesh. 
 And with their polyphonian notes delight mc : 
 
 But what's the air or all the sweets that she 
 
 Can bless my soul withal, compared to Thee ? 
 
 I love the sea : she is my fellow creature. 
 My careful purveyor ; she provides me store : 
 
 She walls me round ; she makes my diet greater ; 
 She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore : 
 
 But Lord of Oceans,when compared with Thee, 
 
 What is the ocean or her wealth to mc ? 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 1 1 
 
 To Heaven's high city I direct my journey, 
 Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye : 
 
 Mine eye, by contemplation's great attorney, 
 Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky ; 
 
 But what is Heaven, great God, to Thee ? 
 
 Without Thy presence, heaven's no heaven 
 to me. 
 
 Without Thy presence earth gives no refection ; 
 
 Without Thy presence sea affords no treasure ; 
 Without Thy presence air's a rank infection ; 
 
 Without Thy presence heaven itself no pleas- 
 ure : 
 If not possess'd, if not enjoy'd in Thee, 
 What's earth or sea or air or heaven to me ? 
 
 The highest honours that the world can boast. 
 Are subjects far too low for my desires ; 
 
 The brightest beams of glory are (at most) 
 But dying sparkles of Thy living fire. 
 
 The loudest flames that earth can kindle, be 
 
 But nightly glow-worms, if compared to Thee. 
 
 Without Thy presence wealth is bags of cares ; 
 
 Wisdom but folly ; joy disquiet — sadness : 
 Friendship is treason, and delights are snares, 
 
 Pleasures but pain, and mirth but pleasing 
 madness. 
 
12 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Without Thee, Lord, things be not what 
 
 they be. 
 Nor have they being when compared with 
 
 Thee. 
 
 In having all things, and not Thee, what have I ? 
 Not having Thee, what have my labours got ? 
 Let me enjoy but Thee, what further crave I ? 
 
 And having Thee alone, what have I not ? 
 I wish nor sea nor land ; nor would I be 
 Possessed of Heaven, heaven unpossess'd of 
 Thee. 
 
 Francis Quarles. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 13 
 
 THE DISCIPLINE OF FAITH. 
 
 "The eyes of them that see shall not be dim, and the ears of 
 them that hear shall hearken." Isaiahy xxxii. 3. 
 
 F the bright things in earth and air 
 
 How little can the heart embrace ! 
 Soft shades and gleaming lights are 
 there — 
 I knew it well but cannot trace. 
 
 Mine eye unworthy seems to read 
 
 One page of Nature's beauteous book ; 
 
 It lies before me, fair outspread — 
 I only cast a wishful look. 
 
 I cannot paint to memory's eye 
 
 The scene, the glance, I dearest love — 
 
 Unchanged themselves, in me they die. 
 Or faint, or false, their shadows prove. 
 
 In vain, with dull and tuneless ear, 
 
 I linger by soft music's cell, 
 And in my heart of hearts would hear 
 
 What to her own she deigns to tell. 
 
14 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 *Tis misty all, both sight and sound — 
 I only know 'tis fair and sweet — 
 
 'Tis wandering on enchanted ground 
 With dizzy brow and tottering feet. 
 
 But patience ! there may come a time 
 When these dull ears shall hear aright 
 
 Strains, that outring Earth's drowsy chime, 
 As Heaven outshines the taper's light. 
 
 These eyes, that dazzled now and weak, 
 At glancing motes in sunshine wink, 
 
 Shall see the King's full glory break, 
 Nor from the blissful vision shrink : 
 
 In fearless love and hope uncloyed 
 For ever on that ocean bright 
 
 Empowered to gaze ; and undestroyed, 
 Deeper and deeper plunged in light. 
 
 Though scarcely now their laggard glance 
 Reach to an arrow's flight, that day 
 
 They shall behold, and not in trance. 
 The region very far away. 
 
 If memory sometimes at our spell 
 Refuse to speak, or speak amiss, 
 
 We shall not need her where we dwell 
 Ever in sight of all our bliss. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 15 
 
 Meanwhile, if over sea or sky 
 
 Some tender lights unnoticed fleet, 
 
 Or on loved features dawn and die. 
 Unread, to us, their lesson sweet ; 
 
 Yet are there saddening sights around. 
 Which Heaven, in mercy, spares us too, 
 
 And we see far in holy ground. 
 If daily purged our mental view. 
 
 The distant landscape draws not nigh 
 For all our gazing ; but the soul. 
 
 That upward looks, may still descry 
 Nearer, each day, the brightening goal. 
 
 And thou, too curious ear, that fain 
 
 Wouldst thread the maze of Harmony, 
 
 Content thee with one simple strain. 
 The lowlier, sure, the worthier thee ; 
 
 Till thou art duly trained, and taught 
 The concord sweet of Love divine; 
 
 Then, with that inward Music fraught, 
 For ever rise, and sing, and shine. 
 
 Keble. 
 
l6 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 IHT GOD, THT GLORT, 
 
 FOUNTAIN of light and living breath. 
 Whose mercies never fail nor fade ! 
 Fill us with life that hath no death, 
 Fill us with light that hath no shade : 
 Appoint the remnant of our days, 
 To see Thy power, and sing Thy praise. 
 
 Lord God of gods, before whose throne 
 Stand storms and fires ! O what shall we 
 
 Return to heaven that is our own, 
 
 When all the world belongs to Thee ? 
 
 We have no offering to impart 
 
 But praises and a wounded heart. 
 
 Great God, whose kingdom hath no end. 
 Into whose secrets none can dive. 
 
 Whose mercies none can apprehend. 
 Whose justice none can feel — and live ! 
 
 What our dull hearts cannot aspire 
 
 To know, — Lord, teach us to admire ! 
 
 J. QUARLES. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THT WILL BE DONE! 
 
 Y GOD and Father, while I 
 
 stray 
 Far from my home, or life's rough 
 
 way, 
 
 teach me from my heart to say. 
 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Though dark my path, and sad my lot. 
 Let me be still and murmur not, 
 Orvbreathe the prayer divinely taught. 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 What though in lonely grief I sigh 
 For friends beloved, no longer nigh, 
 Submissive still would I reply. 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Though thou hast called me to resign 
 What most I prized, it ne'er was mine, 
 
 1 have but yielded what was Thine ; 
 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Should grief or sickness waste away 
 My life in premature decay. 
 
l8 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 My Father ! still I strive to say, 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Let but my fainting heart be blest, 
 With Thy sweet Spirit for its guest, 
 My God, to Thee I leave the rest; 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Renew my will from day to day ; 
 Blend it with Thine ; and take away 
 All that now makes it hard to say, 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Then, when on earth I breathe no more. 
 The prayer, oft mixed with tears before, 
 I'll sing upon a happier shore. 
 
 Thy will be done! 
 
 Charlotte Elliott, (1836.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 19 
 
 CANST THOU BT SEARCHING, FIND 
 OUT GOD? 
 
 HO to the golden sunnes long 
 restless race 
 Can limit set ? What vessel 
 can comprise 
 The swelling winds ? What cunning can devise 
 With queint arithmetique, in steadfast place 
 To number all the starres in heaven's pallace ? 
 What cunning artist ever was so wise 
 Who, by the starres and planets, could advise 
 Of all adventures the just course and case ? 
 
 Who measured hath the waters of the seas? 
 Who ever in just balance poysed the ayre ? 
 As no man ever could the least of these 
 Performe with humaine labour, strength and care, 
 So who shall strive, in volumes to contayne 
 God*s prayes ineffable, contends in vayne. 
 Barnabas Barnes, (1596.) 
 
20 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 A NAME WHICH IS ABOVE EVERT 
 NAME, 
 
 HE sunne of our soul's light! Thee 
 would I call: — 
 But for our light Thou didst the 
 bright sunne make : 
 Nor reason that Thy majestie should take 
 The chiefest epithetes at all. 
 Our chief directions starre celestiall ! 
 
 (But that the starres for our direction's sake 
 Thou fixed, and canst at pleasure shake) 
 I would Thee name, The Rocke Substantial! 
 
 Of our assurance, I would tearme Thy name. 
 But that all rocks by Thy command were made. 
 
 If King of kings, Thy majestie became. 
 Monarch of monarchs I would have saide — 
 But Thou giv'st kingdoms and makes crownes 
 
 unstable ; 
 By these I know Thy name — Ineffable ! 
 
 Barnabas Barnes, (1596.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 21 
 
 DE PROFUNDIS, 
 
 HE face which, duly as the sun, 
 Rose up for me with life begun. 
 To mark all bright hours of the day 
 With hourly love, is dimmed away, — 
 And yet my days go on, go on. 
 
 II. 
 
 The tongue which, like a stream, could run 
 Smooth music from the roughest stone, 
 And every morning with " Good day " 
 Make each day good, is hushed away, — 
 And yet my days go on, go on. 
 
 III. 
 
 The heart which, like a stafF, was one 
 For mine to lean and rest upon. 
 The strongest on the longest day 
 With steadfast love is caught away, — 
 And yet my days go on, go on. 
 
22 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And cold before my summer's done, 
 And deaf in Nature's general tune, 
 And fallen too low for special fear, 
 And here, with hope no longer here, — 
 While the tears drop, my days go on. 
 
 The world goes whispering to its own, 
 "This anguish pierces to the bone;" 
 And tender friends go sighing round, 
 "What love can ever cure this wound?" 
 My days go on, my days go on. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The past rolls forward on the sun 
 And makes all night. O dreams begun. 
 Not to be ended ! Ended bliss. 
 And life that will not end in this ! 
 My days go on, my days go on. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Breath freezes on my lips to moan : 
 As one alone, once not alone, 
 I sit and knock at Nature's door. 
 Heart-bare, heart-hungry, very poor, 
 Whose desolated days go on. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 23 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I knock and cry, — Undone, undone ! 
 Is there no help, no comfort, — none ? 
 No gleaning in the wide wheat-plains 
 Where others drive their loaded wains ? 
 My vacant days go on, go on. 
 
 IX. 
 
 This Nature, though the snows be down. 
 Thinks kindly of the bird of June : 
 The little red hip on the tree 
 Is ripe for such. What is for me, 
 Whose days so winterly go on ? 
 
 No bird am I to sing in June, 
 And dare not seek an equal boon. 
 Good nests and berries red are Nature's 
 To give away to better creatures, — 
 And yet my days go on, go on. 
 
 XI. 
 
 I ask less kindness to be done, — 
 Only to loose these pilgrim-shoon, 
 (Too early worn and grimed) with sweat 
 Cool deathly touch to these tired feet. 
 Till days go out, which now go on. 
 
24 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 xir. 
 
 Only to lift the turf unmown 
 From off the earth where it has grown, 
 Some cubit-space, and say, "Behold, 
 Creep in poor Heart, beneath that fold, 
 Forgetting how the days go on," 
 
 XIII. 
 
 What harm could that do ? Green anon 
 The sward would quicken, overshone 
 By skies as blue ; and crickets might 
 Have leave to chirp there day and night 
 While my new rest went on, went on. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 From gracious Nature have I won 
 Such liberal bounty? may I run 
 So, lizard-like, within her side. 
 And there be safe, who now am tried 
 By days that painfully go on ? 
 
 XV. 
 
 A voice reproves me thereupon. 
 
 More sweet than Nature's when the drone 
 
 Of bees is sweetest, and more deep 
 
 Than when the rivers overleap 
 
 The shuddering pines, and thunder on. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 25 
 
 XVI. 
 
 God's voice, not Nature's. Night and noon 
 He sits upon the great white throne 
 And listens for the creature's praise. 
 What babble we of days and days ? 
 The Day-spring He, whose days go on. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 He reigns above. He reigns alone ; 
 Systems burn out and leave His throne : 
 Fair mists of seraphs melt and fall 
 Around Him, changeless amid all, — 
 Ancient of Days, v/hose days go on. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 He reigns below. He reigns alone, 
 And, having life in love foregone 
 Beneath the crown of sorrow thorns. 
 He reigns the jealous God. Who mourns 
 Or rules with Him, while days go on ? 
 
 XIX. 
 
 By anguish which made pale the sun, 
 I hear Him charge His saints that none 
 Among His creatures anywhere 
 Blaspheme against Him with despair. 
 However darkly days go on. 
 2 
 
26 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Take from my head the thorn-wreath brown ! 
 No mortal grief deserves that crown. 
 
 supreme Love, chief Misery, 
 The sharp regaha is for Thee 
 Whose days eternally go on ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 For us, — whatever's undergone, 
 Thou knowest, wiliest what is done. 
 Grief may be joy misunderstood ; 
 Only the Good discerns the good. 
 
 1 trust Thee, while my days go on. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Whatever's lost, it first was won : 
 We will not struggle nor impugn. 
 Perhaps the cup was broken here. 
 That Heaven's new wine might show 
 
 more clear. 
 I praise Thee while my days go on. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 I praise Thee while my days go on ; 
 I love Thee while my days go on : 
 Through dark and dearth, through fire and 
 frost, 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 27 
 
 With emptied arms and treasure lost, 
 I thank Thee while my days go on. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 And having in Thy life-depth thrown 
 Being and suffering (which are one), 
 As a child drops his pebble small 
 Down some deep well, and hears it fall 
 Smiling — so I. Thy days go on. 
 
 Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
28 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 GOD IS LOVE. 
 
 HY comes this fragrance on the 
 summer breeze, 
 The blended tribute of ten 
 thousand flowers, 
 To me, a frequent wanderer 'mid the trees 
 
 That form these gay though soHtary bowers? 
 One answer is around, beneath, above ; 
 The echo of the voice, that God is Love ! 
 
 Why bursts such melody from tree and bush. 
 The overflowing of each songster's heart. 
 
 So filling mine that it can scarcely hush 
 Awhile to listen, but would take its part? 
 
 *Tis but one song I hear where'er I rove, 
 
 Though countless be the notes, that God is Love ! 
 
 Why leaps the streamlet down the rnountain side. 
 Hastening so swiftly to the vale beneath. 
 
 To cheer the shepherd's thirsty flock, or glide 
 Where the hot sun has left a faded wreath. 
 
 Or, rippling, aid the music of the grove ? 
 
 Its own glad voice replies, that God is Love 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 29 
 
 In starry heavens at the midnight hour, 
 In ever-varying hues at morning's dawn. 
 
 In the fair bow athwart the falling shower, 
 In forest, river, lake, rock, hill, and lawn. 
 
 One truth is written : all conspire to prove, 
 
 What grace of old revealed, that God is Love ! 
 
 Nor less the pulse of health, far glancing eye. 
 And heart so moved with beauty, perfume, 
 song. 
 
 This spirit, soaring through a gorgeous sky, 
 Or diving ocean's coral caves among. 
 
 Fleeter than a darting fish or startled dove ; 
 
 All, all declare the same, that God is Love ! 
 
 Is it a fallen world on which I gaze ? 
 
 Am I as deeply fallen as the rest. 
 Yet joys partaking, past my utmost praise. 
 
 Instead of wandering forlorn and unblest ? 
 It is as if an unseen spirit strove 
 To grave upon my heart, that God is Love ! 
 
 Yet wouldst thou see, my soul, this truth dis- 
 played 
 
 In characters which wondering angels read. 
 And read, adoring ; go, imploring aid 
 
 To gaze with faith, behold the Saviour bleed ! 
 Thy God, in human form ! O what can prove, 
 If this suffice thee not, that God is Love. 
 
30 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Cling to His cross; and let thy ceaseless prayer 
 Be, that thy grasp may fail not ! and, ere long 
 
 Thou ascend to that fair Temple, where 
 In strains ecstatic an innumerous throng 
 
 Of saints and seraphs, round the Throne above, 
 
 Proclaim for evermore, that God is Love ! 
 
 Thomas Davis, (1859.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 31 
 
 CHRIST'S NATIVirr. 
 
 WAKE, glad heart! get up, and 
 
 sing! 
 It is the Birth-day of thy King. 
 Awake ! awake ! 
 The sun doth shake 
 Light from his locks, and, all the way 
 Breathing Perfumes, doth spice the day. 
 
 Awake, awake ! hark how th* wood rings, 
 Winds whisper, and the busie Springs 
 
 A Concert make ; 
 
 Awake ! awake ! 
 Man is their high-priest, and should rise 
 To offer up the sacrifice. 
 
 I would I were some Bird^ or star, 
 Fluttering in woods, or lifted far 
 
 Above this Inne 
 
 And Rode of sin ! 
 Then either Star or Bird should be 
 Shining or singing still to thee. 
 
32 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 I would I had in my best part 
 
 Fit roomes for Thee ! or that my heart 
 
 Were so clean as 
 
 Thy manger was ! 
 But I am all filth, and obscene ; 
 Yet, if Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean. 
 
 Sweet Jesu ! will then ; let no more 
 This leper haunt and soyl thy door! 
 
 Cure him, ease him, 
 
 O release him! 
 And let once more, by mystic birth, 
 The Lord of life be born in earth. 
 
 Henry Vaughn. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 33 
 
 JAM DESINJNT SUSPIRIJ. 
 
 WAY with sorrow's sigh, 
 Our prayers are heard on high ; 
 And through Heaven's crystal door 
 'On this our earthly floor 
 Comes meek-eyed Peace to walk with poor 
 mortality. 
 
 In dead of night profound, 
 There breaks a seraph sound 
 Of never-ending morn ; 
 The Lord of glory born 
 Within a holy grot on this our sullen ground. 
 
 Now with that shepherd crowd 
 If it might be allowed. 
 We fain would enter there 
 With awful hastening fear. 
 And kiss that cradle chaste in reverend worship 
 bowed. 
 
34 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 O sight of strange surprise 
 That fills our gazing eyes : 
 A manger coldly strew'd, 
 And swaddling bands so rude, 
 A leaning mother poor, and child that helpless 
 lies. 
 
 Art Thou, O wondrous sight, 
 Of lights the very Light ; 
 Who holdest in Thy hand 
 The sky and sea and land ; 
 Who than the glorious heavens are more exceed- 
 ing bright ? 
 
 'Tis so ; faith darts before. 
 And, through the cloud drawn o'er, 
 She sees the God of all. 
 Where angels prostrate fall. 
 Adoring tremble still, and trembling still 
 adore. 
 
 No thunders round Thee break ; 
 Yet doth Thy silence speak 
 From that, Thy Teacher's seat. 
 To us around Thy feet. 
 To shun what flesh desires, what flesh abhors to 
 seek. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 35 
 
 B( 
 
 Within us, Babe divine, 
 
 Be born, and make us Thine; 
 
 Within our souls reveal 
 
 Thy love and power to heal ; 
 born, and make our hearts Thy cradle and 
 Thy shrine. 
 
 Isaac Williams, (1839.) 
 
36 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE NATIVITY. 
 
 •* And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude of the 
 heavenly host praising God." 
 
 HAT sudden blaze of song 
 Spreads o'er the expanse of 
 Heaven ? 
 In waves of light it thrills along, 
 Th' angelic signal given : 
 " Glory to God ! " from yonder central fire 
 Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry 
 quire ; 
 
 Like circles widening round 
 
 Upon a clear blue river, 
 Orb after orb, the wondrous sound 
 Is echoed on forever : 
 "Glory to God on high, on earth be peace, 
 "And love towards men of love — salvation and 
 release!" 
 
 Yet, stay before thou dare 
 To join that festal throng ; 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 37 
 
 Listen, and mark what gentle air 
 First stirred the tide of song; 
 'Tis not, " the Saviour born in David*s home, 
 *' To Whom for power and health obedient worlds 
 should come." 
 
 'Tis not, " the Christ the Lord :"— 
 
 With fixed adoring look 
 The quire of Angels caught the word, 
 Nor yet their silence broke : 
 But when they heard the sign, where Christ 
 should be. 
 In sudden light they shone and heavenly har- 
 mony. 
 
 Wrapped in His swaddling bands. 
 
 And in his manger laid, 
 The Hope and Glory of all lands 
 Is come to the world's aid : 
 No peaceful home upon His cradle smiled ; 
 Guests rudely went and came, where slept the 
 Royal Child. 
 
 But where Thou dwellest. Lord, 
 No other thought should be, 
 
 Once duly welcomed and adored. 
 How should I part with Thee ? 
 
38 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Bethlehem must lose Thee soon ; but Thou 
 wilt grace 
 The single heart to be Thy sure abiding place. 
 
 Thee, on the bosom laid 
 Of a pure virgin mind, 
 In quiet ever, and in shade. 
 Shepherd and sage may find ; 
 They, who have bowed untaught to Nature's 
 sway. 
 And they who follow Truth along her star-paved 
 way. 
 
 The pastoral spirits first 
 
 Approach Thee, Babe divine ; 
 For they in lowly thoughts are nurst. 
 Meet for Thy lowly shrine : 
 Sooner than they should miss where Thou 
 dost dwell. 
 Angels from Heaven will stoop to guide them to 
 Thy cell. 
 
 Still, as the day comes round 
 
 For Thee to be revealed. 
 By wakeful shepherds Thou art found. 
 
 Abiding in the field. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 39 
 
 All through the wintry heaven and chill night 
 air 
 In music and in light Thou dawnest on their 
 prayer. 
 
 O faint not ye for fear ! 
 
 What though your wandering sheep, 
 Reckless of what they see and hear, 
 Lie lost in wilful sleep ? 
 High Heaven, in mercy to your sad annoy 
 Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal 
 joy. 
 
 Think on th' eternal home. 
 The Saviour left for you ; 
 Think on the Lord most Holy, come 
 To dwell with hearts untrue : 
 So shall ye tread untired His pastoral ways. 
 And in the darkness sing your carol of high praise. 
 John Keble, (1827.) 
 
40 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 O THAT THE SALVATION OF ISRAEL 
 WERE COME OUT OF ZION. 
 
 iMMANUEL, Thy name we sing, 
 The Prince of Life, of grace the 
 
 spring, 
 iThe flower of heaven, the star of morn. 
 Lord of all lords, the Virgin born. Alleluia. 
 To Thee with angel hosts we raise 
 The grateful anthem of our praise. 
 That Thou art come to save and bless 
 A world that lies in wickedness. Alleluia. 
 
 For Thee, since first the earth was made. 
 
 How many a heart has watched and prayed j 
 
 How oft for Thee, with anxious pain. 
 
 Have seers and fathers sighed in vain ; Alleluia. 
 
 " Ah that from Zion's hill the Lord 
 
 " Would come to break our bonds abhorred ! 
 
 " Ah might we hear the Saviour's voice, 
 
 " Our Israel should indeed rejoice." Alleluia. 
 
 Now Thou art here ; Thou slumberest, 
 In lowly manger lulled to rest : 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 41 
 
 uia, 
 
 Maker of worlds, an Infant small, 
 
 And naked. Thou that clothest all. AUel 
 
 Thou com'st a stranger in the land. 
 
 Yet are the heavens in Thy command ; 
 
 Thou drinkest at a woman's breast. 
 
 By angel hosts true God confessed. Alleluia. 
 
 Then fearless I will cling to Thee, 
 
 For thou from sorrow makest free ; 
 
 Thou bindest death, our woes dost bear. 
 
 To gladness turning pain and care. Alleluia. 
 
 These lips my lifetime long would raise 
 
 Glad alleluias to Thy praise. 
 
 And in Thy glorious hall again. 
 
 Where time is not, renew the strain. Alleluia. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE VIRGIN MART TO THE CHILD 
 JESUS, 
 
 'LEEP, sleep, mine Holy One! 
 My flesh, My Lord ! what name ? 
 
 I do not know 
 A name that seemeth not too high 
 or low. 
 Too far from me or heaven. 
 My Jesus, that is best ! that word being given 
 By the majestic angel whose command 
 Was softly as a man's beseeching said, 
 When I and all the earth appeared to stand 
 
 In the great overflow 
 Of light celestial from his wings and head. 
 Sleep, sleep, my saving One ! 
 
 II. 
 
 And art Thou come for saving, baby-browed 
 And speechless Being — art Thou come for 
 
 savmg 
 
 The palm that grows beside our door is bowed 
 By treadings of the low wind from the south, 
 A restless shadow through the chamber waving : 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 43 
 
 Upon its bough a bird sings in the sun ; 
 But Thou, with that close slumber on Thy mouth, 
 Dost seem of wind and sun already weary. 
 Art come for saving, O my weary One ? 
 
 III. 
 
 Perchance this sleep that shutteth out the dreary 
 Earth sounds and motions, opens on Thy soul 
 
 High dreams on fire with God j 
 High songs that make the pathways where they 
 
 roll 
 More bright than stars do theirs ; and visions new 
 Of Thine eternal Nature's old abode. 
 
 Suffer this mother's kiss. 
 
 Best thing that earthly is. 
 To glide the music and the glory through. 
 Nor narrow in Thy dream the broad upliftings 
 
 Of any seraph wing. 
 Thus noiseless, thus. Sleep, sleep, my dream- 
 ing One ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The slumber of His lips meseems to run 
 Through my lips to mine heart, — to all its shift- 
 
 ings 
 Of sensual life, bringing contrariousness 
 In a great calm. I feel, I could lie down 
 As Moses did, and die, — and then live most. 
 
44 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 I am 'ware of you, heavenly Presences, 
 That stand with your pecuHar light unlost. 
 Each forehead with a high thought for a crown. 
 Unsunned i' the sunshine ! I am 'ware. Ye throw 
 No shade against the wall ! How motionless 
 Ye round me with your living statuary, 
 While through your whiteness, in and outwardly, 
 Continual thoughts of God appear to go. 
 Like light's soul in itself. I bear, I bear. 
 To look upon the dropt lids of Your eyes. 
 Though their external shining testifies 
 To that beatitude within, which were 
 Enough to blast an eagle at his sun. 
 I fall not on my sad clay face before ye, — 
 
 I look on His. I know 
 My spirit which dilateth with the woe 
 
 Of His mortality. 
 
 May well contain Your glory. 
 
 Yea, drop your lids more low. 
 Ye are but fellow-worshippers with me ! 
 
 Sleep, sleep, my worshipped One ! 
 
 V. 
 
 We sate among the stalls at Bethlehem. 
 
 The dumb kine from their fodder turning them, 
 
 Softened their horned faces 
 
 To almost human gazes 
 
 Toward the newly Born. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 45 
 
 The simple shepherds from the star-lit brooks 
 
 Brought visionary looks, 
 As yet in their astonied hearing rung 
 
 The strange, sweet angel-tongue. 
 The magi of the East, in sandals worn. 
 
 Knelt reverent, sweeping round. 
 With long, pale beards, their gifts upon the ground. 
 
 The incense, myrrh, and gold 
 These baby hands were impotent to hold. 
 So, let all earthlies and celestials wait 
 
 Upon Thy royal state. 
 
 Sleep, sleep, my kingly One. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I am not proud — meek angels, ye invest 
 New meeknesses to hear such utterance rest 
 On mortal lips, — " I am not proud " — not proud! 
 Albeit in my flesh God sent his Son, 
 Albeit over Him my head is bowed 
 As others bow before Him, still mine heart 
 Bows lower than their knees. O centuries 
 That roll, in vision, your futurities 
 
 My future grave athwart, — 
 Whose murmurs seem to reach me while I keep 
 
 Watch o'er this sleep, — 
 Say of me as the Heavenly said — ' Thou art 
 The blessedest of women ! ' — blessedest. 
 Not holiest, not noblest — no high name, 
 
46 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Whose height misplaced may pierce me like a 
 
 shame, 
 When I sit meek in heaven ! 
 
 For me, for me, 
 God knows that I am feeble like the rest ! — 
 I often wandered forth more child than maiden, 
 Among the midnight hills of Galilee 
 
 Whose summits looked heaven-laden, 
 Listening to silence as it seemed to be 
 God's voice ; so soft yet strong — so fain to press 
 Upon my heart as Heaven did on the height. 
 And waken up its shadows by a light. 
 And show its vileness by a holiness. 
 Then I knelt down most silent like the night, 
 
 Too self-renounced for fears, 
 Raising my small face to the boundless blue 
 Whose stars did mix and tremble in my tears. 
 God heard them falling after — with his dew. 
 
 VII. 
 
 So, seeing my corruption, can I see 
 
 This Incorruptible now born of me. 
 
 This fair new Innocence no sun did chance 
 
 To shine on, (for even Adam was no child,) 
 
 Created from my nature all defiled. 
 
 This mystery, from out mine ignorance ; — 
 
 Nor feel the blindness, stain, corruption, more 
 
 Than others do, or / did heretofore ? — 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 47 
 
 Can hands wherein such burden pure has been, 
 Not open with the cry ' unclean, unclean,' 
 More oft than any else beneath the skies ? 
 
 Ah King, ah Christ, ah Son ! 
 The kine, the shepherds, the abased wise ; 
 
 Must all less lowly wait 
 
 Than I, upon Thy state : — 
 
 Sleep, sleep, my kingly One ! 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Art Thou a King, then ? Come, his universe ; 
 
 Come ; crown me Him a King ! 
 Pluck rays from all such stars as never fling 
 
 Their light where fell a curse. 
 And make a crowning for this kingly brow ! 
 What is my word ? — Each empyreal star 
 
 Sits in a sphere afar 
 
 In shining ambuscade. 
 
 The child-brow, crowned by none, 
 
 Keeps its unchildlike shade. 
 
 Sleep, sleep, my crownless One ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Unchildlike shade ! — No other babe doth wear 
 
 An aspect very sorrowful, as thou. — 
 
 No small babe-smiles, my watching heart has 
 
 seen. 
 To float like speech the speechless lips between. 
 
4-8 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 No dovelike cooing in the golden air, 
 No quick short joys of leaping babyhood. 
 
 Alas, our earthly good 
 In heaven thought evil, seems too good for 
 Thee: 
 
 Yet, sleep, my weary One I 
 
 And then the drear sharp tongue of prophecy, 
 With the dread sense of things w^hich shall be 
 
 done. 
 Doth smite me inly, like a sword ! a sword ? 
 {That ' smites the shepherd.') Then I think 
 
 aloud 
 The words ' despised,' — ' rejected,' — every word 
 Recoiling into darkness as I view 
 
 The Darling on my knee. 
 Bright angels — move not ! — lest ye stir the cloud 
 Betwixt my soul and His futurity ! 
 I must not die, with mother's work to do, 
 
 And could not live — and see. 
 
 xr. 
 
 It is enough to bear 
 This image still and fair — 
 This holier in sleep. 
 Than a saint at prayer : 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 49 
 
 This aspect of a child 
 Who never sinned or smiled ; 
 This Presence in an infant's face ; 
 This sadness most Hke love, 
 This love than love more deep. 
 This weakness like omnipotence 
 It is so strong to move. 
 Awful is this watching place, 
 Awful what I see from hence — 
 A King, without regalia, 
 A God, without the thunder, 
 A child, without the heart for play; 
 Ay, a Creator, rent asunder 
 From His first glory and cast away 
 On His own world, for me alone 
 To hold in hands created, crying — Son ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 That tear fell not on Thee 
 Beloved, yet Thou stirrest in Thy slumber! 
 Thou, stirring not for glad sounds out of number 
 Which through the vibratory palm trees run 
 
 From summer wind and bird, 
 
 So quickly hast Thou heard 
 
 A tear fall silently ? — 
 
 Wak'st Thou, O loving One ? 
 
 Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 3 
 
50 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 HYMN TO THE NAME OF JESUS. 
 
 OME lovely name ! life of our hope ! 
 Lo, we hold our hearts wide ope ! 
 Unlock thy cabinet of day, 
 Dearest sweet, and come away. 
 Lo, how the thirsty lands 
 Gasp for thy golden show'rs, with long-stretchM 
 hands ! 
 Lo, how the labouring earth, 
 That hopes to be 
 All heaven by thee, 
 Leaps at thy birth ! 
 The attending world, to wait thy rise, 
 
 First turn'd to eyes ; 
 And then, not knowing what to do, 
 Turn'd them to tears, and spent them too. 
 Come, royal name ! and pay the expense 
 Of all this precious patience : 
 
 Oh, come away 
 And kill the death of this delay. 
 Oh, see, so many worlds of barren years 
 Melted and measured out in seas of tears ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 51 
 
 Oh, see the weary lids of wakeful hope 
 (Love's eastern windows) all wide ope 
 
 With curtains drawn, 
 To catch the daybreak of thy dawn ! 
 Oh, dawn at last, long-look'd-for day ! 
 Take thine own wings and come away, 
 Lo, where aloft, it comes ! It comes, among 
 The conduct of adoring spirits, that throng 
 Like diligent bees, and swarm about it. 
 
 Oh, they are wise. 
 And know what sweets are suck'd from out it. 
 
 It is the hive 
 
 By which they thrive. 
 Where all their hoard of honey lies. 
 Lo, where it comes, upon the snowy dove's 
 Soft back, and brings a bosom big with loves. 
 Welcome to our dark world thou womb of day ! 
 Unfold thy fair conceptions ; and display 
 The birth of our bright joys. 
 
 Oh, thou compacted 
 Body of blessings ! spirit of souls extracted ! 
 Oh dissipate thy spicy powers. 
 Cloud of condensed sweets ! and break upon us 
 
 In balmy showers! 
 Oh fill our senses, and take from us 
 All force of so profane a fallacy, 
 To think aught sweet but that which smells of 
 thee. 
 
52 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Fair flow'ry name ! in none but thee, 
 And thy nectareal fragrancy, 
 
 Hourly there meets 
 An universal synod of all sweets ; 
 Sweet name ! in thy each syllable 
 A thousand blest Arabias dwell ; 
 A thousand hills of frankincense ; 
 Mountains of myrrh, and beds of spices. 
 And ten thousand paradises, 
 The soul that tastes thee, takes from thence. 
 How many unknown worlds there are 
 Of comforts, which thou hast in keeping ! 
 How many thousand mercies there 
 In pity's soft lap lie a-sleeping ! 
 Happy he who has the art 
 
 To awake them. 
 
 And to take them 
 Home, and lodge them in his heart. 
 Oh, that it were as it was wont to be. 
 When thy old friends, on fire all full of thee, 
 Fought against frowns with smiles ; gave glorious 
 
 chase 
 To persecutions ; and against the face 
 Of death and fiercest dangers, durst with brave 
 And sober pace march on to meet a grave. 
 On their bold breasts about the world they bore 
 
 thee ; 
 And to the teeth of hell stood up to teach thee ; 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 53 
 
 In the centre of their inmost souls they wore 
 
 thee, 
 Where rack and torment striv'd in vain to reach 
 thee. 
 
 Little, alas ! thought they 
 Who tore the fair breasts of thy friends, 
 
 Their fury but made way 
 For thee, and serv'd them in thy glorious ends. 
 What did their weapons, but with wider pores 
 Enlarge thy flaming breasted lovers. 
 
 More freely to transpire 
 
 That impatient fire 
 The heart that hides thee hardly covers ? 
 What did their weapons, but set wide the doors 
 For thee ? fair purple doors of love's devising ; 
 The ruby windows which enrich'd the east 
 Of thy so oft-repeated rising. 
 Each wound of theirs was thy new morning, 
 And re-enthron'd thee in thy rosy nest. 
 With blush of thine own blood thy day adorning : 
 It was the wit of love o'erflow'd the bounds 
 Of wrath, and made the way through all these 
 
 wounds. 
 Welcome, dear, all-adored name ! 
 
 For sure there is no knee 
 
 That knows not thee ; 
 Or if there be such sons of shame, 
 
 Alas ! what will they do, 
 
54 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 When stubborn rocks shall bow, 
 
 And hills hang down their heav'n-saluting heads 
 
 To seek for humble beds 
 Of dust, where, in the bashful shades of night, 
 Next to their own low nothing they may lie. 
 And couch before the dazzling light of thy dread 
 
 Majesty. 
 They that by love's mild dictate now 
 
 Will not adore thee. 
 Shall then, with just confusion, bow 
 
 And break before thee. 
 
 Richard Crash aw, (1644.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 55 
 
 KTRIE ELEISON, 
 
 ORD, many times I am aweary quite 
 
 Of mine own self, my sin, my 
 , vanity — 
 
 ^Yet be not Thou, or I am lost out- 
 right. 
 Weary of me. 
 
 And hate against myself I often bear, 
 
 And enter with myself in fierce debate ; 
 Take Thou my part against myself, nor share 
 In that just hate ! 
 
 Best friends might loathe us, if what things per- 
 verse 
 We know of our own selves, they also knew ; 
 Lord, Holy One ! if Thou who knowest worse 
 Shouldst loathe us too! 
 
 R. C. Trench. 
 
56 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE SHADOW OF A GREAT ROCK 
 IN A WE ART LAND, 
 
 HE pathways of Thy land are little 
 changed 
 Since Thou wert there ; 
 The busy world through other ways 
 hath ranged, 
 And left these bare. 
 
 The rocky path still cHmbs the glowing steep 
 
 Of Olivet, 
 Though rains of two millenniums wear it deep, 
 
 Men tread it yet. 
 
 Still to the gardens o'er the brook it leads. 
 
 Quiet and low, 
 Before his sheep the shepherd on it treads. 
 
 His voice they know. 
 
 The wild fig throws broad shadows o*er it still. 
 
 As once o'er Thcc ; 
 Peasants go home at evening up that hill 
 
 To Bethany. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. ^7 
 
 And as when gazing Thou didst weep o'er them 
 
 From height to height, 
 The white roofs of discrowned Jerusalem 
 
 Burst on our sight. 
 
 These ways were strew'd with garments once 
 and palm, 
 Which we tread thus ; 
 Here through Thy triumph on Thou passedst, 
 calm. 
 On to Thy cross. 
 
 The waves have washed fresh sand upon the 
 shore 
 
 Of Galilee ; 
 But chiselled on the hill-sides evermore 
 
 Thy paths we see. 
 
 Man has not changed them in that slumbering 
 land, 
 
 Nor time effaced ; 
 Where Thy feet trod to bless me still may stand j 
 
 All can be traced. 
 
 Yet we have traces of Thy footsteps far 
 
 Truer than these ; 
 Where'er the poor and tried and suffering are, 
 
 Thy steps faith sees. 
 
 3* 
 
58 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Nor with fond sad regrets Thy steps we trace ; 
 
 Thou art not dead ! 
 Our faith is onward till we see Thy face 
 
 And hear Thy tread. 
 
 And now wherever meets Thy lowliest band 
 
 In praise and prayer, 
 There is Thy presence, there Thy Holy Land — 
 
 Thou, Thou art there ! 
 
 Author of the " Thru ?Fakhgs" 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 59 
 
 THT LIGHT IS COME, 
 
 p^ O W brightly dawns the Morning Star, 
 With mercy coming from afar ! 
 The host of heaven rejoices ; 
 O righteous Branch, O Jesse's Rod, 
 Thou Son of man, and Son of God, 
 We too will lift our voices. 
 Jesu ! Jesu ! 
 Holy, holy, yet most lowly. 
 
 Draw Thou near us : 
 Great Emmanuel, stoop and hear us. 
 
 Though circled by the hosts on high. 
 He deigned to cast a pitying eye 
 
 Upon his helpless creature; 
 The whole creation's Head and Lord, 
 By highest Seraphim adored, 
 
 Assumed our very nature : 
 Jesu, grant us. 
 
 Through Thy merit, to inherit 
 Thy salvation ; 
 
 Hear, O hear our supplication. 
 
6o Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Then will we to the world make known 
 The love Thou hast to outcasts shown 
 
 In calling them before Thee : 
 And seek each day to be more meet 
 To join the throng who at Thy feet 
 
 Unceasingly adore Thee. 
 Living, dying, 
 
 From Thy praises, mighty Jesus, 
 Shrink we never. 
 
 Sing we forth Thy love for ever. 
 
 Rejoice, ye heavens; and earth reply: 
 With praise, ye sinners, fill the sky 
 
 For love so condescending. 
 Incarnate God, put forth Thy power. 
 Ride on, ride on, great Conqueror, 
 
 Thy glory wide extending. 
 Amen, amen ! 
 
 Hallelujah, Hallelujah ! 
 Praise be given 
 
 To Thy name in earth and heaven. 
 
 ''^li(iW^ 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 6l 
 
 ON J PICTURE OF THE ADORATION 
 OF THE MAGIANS, 
 
 ITTLE pomp of earthly state 
 
 On His lowly steps might wait ; 
 Few the homages and small, 
 That the guilty earth at all 
 Was permitted to accord 
 To her King and hidden Lord : 
 Therefore do we set more store 
 On these few and prize them more ; 
 Dear to us for this account 
 Is the glory of the Mount, 
 When bright beams of light did spring 
 Through the sackcloth covering — 
 Rays of glory forced their way 
 Through the garments of decay, 
 With which, as with a cloak, he had 
 His divinest splendors clad : 
 Dear the lavish ointment shed 
 On His feet and sacred head ; 
 And the high-raised hopes sublime, 
 And the triumph of the time. 
 
62 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 When through Zion's streets the way 
 Of her peaceful Conqueror lay, 
 Who, fulfilling ancient fame. 
 Meek and with salvation came. 
 
 But of all this scanty state 
 
 That upon his steps might wait, 
 
 Dearest are those Magian kings, 
 
 With their far-brought offerings. 
 
 From what region of the morn 
 
 Are ye come, thus travel-worn. 
 
 With those boxes pearl-embossed. 
 
 Caskets rare, and gifts of cost? 
 
 While, your swart attendants wait 
 
 At the stable's outer gate. 
 
 And the camels lift their head 
 
 High above the lowly shed ; 
 
 Or are seen, a long-drawn train. 
 
 Winding down into the plain. 
 
 From beyond the light-blue line 
 
 Of the hills in distance fine. 
 
 Dear for your own sake, whence are ye ? 
 
 Dearer for the mystery 
 
 That is round you — on what skies 
 
 Gazing, saw you first arise 
 
 Through the darkness that clear star, 
 
 Which has marshalled you so far. 
 
 Even unto this strawy tent — 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 63 
 
 Dancing up the Orient ? 
 Shall we name you kings indeed, 
 Or is this our idle creed ? — 
 Kings of Seba, with the gold 
 And the incense long foretold ? 
 Would the Gentile world by you 
 First-fruits pay of tribute due ? 
 Or have Israel's scattered race, 
 From their unknown hiding-place. 
 Sent to claim their part and right 
 In the child new-born to-night ? 
 
 But although we may not guess 
 
 Of your lineage, not the less 
 
 We the self-same gifts would bring, 
 
 For a spiritual offering. 
 
 May the frankincense, in air 
 
 As it climbs, instruct our prayer, 
 
 That it ever upward tend. 
 
 Ever struggle to ascend. 
 
 Leaving earth, yet ere it go 
 
 Fragrance rich diffuse below. 
 
 As the myrrh is bitter-sweet. 
 
 So in us may such things meet, 
 
 As unto the mortal taste 
 
 Bitter seeming, yet at last 
 
 Shall to them who try be known 
 
 To have sweetness of their own — 
 
64 -Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Tears for sin, which sweeter far 
 Than the world's mad laughters are ; 
 Desires, that in their dying give 
 Pain, but die that we may live. 
 And the gold from Araby — 
 Fitter symbol who could see 
 Of the love which, thrice refined, 
 Love to God and to our kind, 
 Duly tendered, he will call 
 Choices sacrifice of all ? 
 
 Thus so soon as far apart 
 From the proud world, in our heart, 
 As in stable dark defiled. 
 There is born the Eternal Child, 
 May to Him, the spirit's Kings 
 Yield their choicest offerings; 
 May the Affections, Reason, Will, 
 Wait upon Him to fulfil 
 His behests, and early pay 
 Homage to His natal day. 
 
 R. C. Trench. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 65 
 
 THE MOUNT OF OLIVES, 
 
 He went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all night 
 in prayer to God." St. Luke vi. 12. 
 
 HOU didst love the evening hours, 
 
 Saviour of the world and me, 
 And the closing of the flowers 
 Brought welcome rest to Thee, 
 As the hireling gladly sees 
 The long shadows of the trees. 
 
 Rest, but not on beds of down. 
 Curtained close in soft repose ; 
 
 Thou didst seek the mountain's crowns 
 Where the shady olive grows, 
 
 Thou didst find a place of prayer. 
 
 Commune with Thy Father there. 
 
 Ah, methinks I see Thee now. 
 Climbing, late, the mountain side ; 
 
 Cool night-breezes fan Thy brow. 
 Days long cares in shadows hide: 
 
 Far below the eastern steep 
 
 Salem hes in double sleep ! 
 
66 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 All day long those hands of Thine 
 Mercy's almoners have been ; 
 
 All day long those eyes Divine 
 
 Sights of want and woe have seen; 
 
 All day long those ears have heard 
 
 Many a harsh and sinful word. 
 
 Rest Thee, Saviour, rest Thee now ! 
 
 Let Thy weary eyelids close ; 
 On the lonely mountain's brow 
 
 Nought shall break Thy calm repose ; 
 Of Thy slumbers shall be born 
 Strength for toil with coming morn. 
 
 Angel hands Thy couch shall spread 
 On the green and mossy sward ; 
 
 At Thy feet and at Thy head 
 Cherubim keep watch and ward : 
 
 Bright, like his at Luz shall be 
 
 Midnight visions unto Thee ! 
 
 Nay — He rests not — sec Him there, 
 Kneeling low upon the sod. 
 
 All the burden of His prayer 
 Pouring forth as man to God ; 
 
 Far away from earthly jars, 
 
 In the clear, calm light of stars. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 67 
 
 For Himself He prays awhile, — 
 Strength to do His will on earth ; 
 
 He whose spirit knew no guile, 
 Bore no taint of sinful birth ; 
 
 Strength to bear His Father's frown, 
 
 Grace to spurn the proffered crown. 
 
 Then for those few simple sheep. 
 
 Earnest of His future fold, 
 Fervent yearnings upward leap. 
 
 Faith and Hope for them grow bold ; 
 Angel censors through the air 
 Waft the perfume of His prayer. 
 
 But the first gray light of morning 
 
 Pierces now the Olive shade; 
 Early birds with gentle warning, 
 
 Carol through the leafy glade ; 
 All unrested, save by prayer, 
 Jesus drinks the morning air. 
 
 Saviour ! let Thy evening hours 
 Dear to us, Thy children, be ; 
 
 With clasped hands, as folded flowers, 
 Praying earnestly to Thee, 
 
 Let our vesper-worship rise 
 
 Incense-like before Thine eyes ; — 
 
68 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Then, when that dark even-tide 
 Closes in our life's long day, 
 
 And, like some steep mountain-side. 
 Frowns the last and lonesome way. 
 
 Bright to us that path shall be, 
 
 Found alone, O Lord, with Thee. 
 
 C. L. Ford. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 69 
 
 GETHSEMA NE. 
 
 HE night is dark — behold, the shade 
 was deeper 
 In the still garden of Gethsemane, 
 When the calm Voice awoke the 
 weary sleeper, 
 "Couldst thou not watch an hour alone with 
 Me?" 
 
 O thou, so weary of thy self-denials. 
 And so impatient of thy little cross. 
 
 Is it so hard to bear thy daily trials — 
 
 To count all earthly things a gainful loss ? 
 
 What if thou always sufferest tribulation? 
 
 What if thy Christian warfare never cease ? 
 The gaining of the quiet habitation 
 
 Shall gather thee to everlasting peace. 
 
 Here are we all to suffer, walking lonely 
 
 The path that Jesus once Himself hath gone ; 
 
 Watch thou this hour in trustful patience 
 only. 
 This one dark hour before the eternal dawn : 
 
^o 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 And He will come in His own time from Heaven, 
 To set His earnest-hearted children free; 
 
 Watch only through this dark and painful even, 
 And the bright morning yet will break for 
 thee. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 71 
 
 FOR GOOD FRIDAY, 
 
 " Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by ? Behold, and see if 
 there be any sorrow like unto My sorrow." 
 
 ESUS, mighty Suft'erer! say, 
 How shall we this dreadful day 
 Near Thee draw and to Thee pray ? 
 
 We whose proneness to forget 
 Thy dear love on Olivet, 
 Bathed Thy brow with bloody 
 sweat ; — 
 
 We, who still in thought and deed 
 
 Often hold the bitter reed 
 
 To Thee, in Thy time of need ; — 
 
 Canst Thou pardon us, and pray. 
 As for those who on this day 
 Took Thy precious life away ? 
 
 Yes, Thy blood is all my plea ; 
 It was shed, and shed for me. 
 Therefore to Thy Cross I flee. 
 
72 
 
 Lyra AngUcana. 
 
 At Thy feet, in dust and shame, 
 I dare breathe Thy holy Name, 
 And Thy great salvation claim. 
 
 Jesu, deign in love to take 
 
 Pity on my soul, and make 
 
 This day bright for Thy dear sake. 
 
 Amen. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 73 
 
 THE POWER OF THE CROSS. 
 
 " And they that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the 
 affections and lusts." Ga/. v. 
 
 CROSS, we hall thy bitter reign ; 
 
 O come, thou well-beloved guest, 
 Whose sorest sufferings work not 
 pain. 
 
 Whose heaviest burden Is but rest. 
 For is not our Redeemer bound 
 
 In closest ties of love to those 
 Who faithful to the Cross are found 
 
 Through ceaseless tears, through saddest 
 woes ? 
 
 Pledge of our glorious home afar, 
 
 Thee, holy sign, with joy we take. 
 Sign of a peace life cannot mar, 
 
 Of just content death cannot shake : 
 The sign, how truth, once crucified 
 
 Now throned In majesty doth reign. 
 How love Is blest and glorified. 
 
 Which here on earth was mocked and slain. 
 4 
 
74 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Their names are writ in words of light 
 
 Who here on earth their Lord confessed : 
 They hear the Bridegroom's cry at night, 
 
 Come to my marriage feast, ye blest. 
 Who then would faint, nor gladly share 
 
 In Christ's reproach, in want or pain ? 
 The bitterest death who would not dare 
 
 With joy, the martyr's crown to gain ? 
 Catherine Winkworth, "Zyr. Ger.'* 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 75 
 
 AND THE PEOPLE STOOD BEHOLD- 
 ING, 
 
 WEET the moments, rich in bless- 
 
 Which before the Cross we spend, 
 Life, and health, and peace possess- 
 ing 
 From the sinner's dying Friend. 
 Rest we here, for ever viewing 
 
 Mercy's streaming fount of blood ; 
 Precious drops, our soul bedewing. 
 Plead and claim our peace with God. 
 
 Truly blessed is the station; 
 
 Low before His Cross we lie. 
 While we see divine compassion 
 
 Beaming from His earnest eye : 
 Here we feel our sins forgiven. 
 
 While upon the Lamb we gaze. 
 And our thoughts are all of heaven. 
 
 And our hearts overflow with praise. 
 
76 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 For Thy sorrows we adore Thee, 
 
 For the pains that wrought our peace j 
 Gracious Saviour, we implore Thee, 
 
 In our souls Thy love increase : 
 Still in ceaseless contemplation 
 
 Fix our hearts and eyes on Thee, 
 Till we taste Thy full salvation, 
 
 And unveiled Thy glories see. Amen. 
 
 Brydges. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 77 
 
 JESUS OUR LOVE IS CRUCIFIED. 
 
 IS Mother cannot reach His face ; 
 She stands in helplessness beside, 
 Her heart is martyred with her 
 Son's, — 
 Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! 
 
 What was Thy crime, my dearest Lord ? 
 
 By earth, by heaven. Thou hast been tried. 
 And guilty found of too much love ; — 
 
 Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! 
 
 Found guilty of excess of love. 
 
 It was Thine own sweet will that tied 
 
 Thee tighter far than helpless nails ; — 
 Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! 
 
 O come and mourn with me awhile ; 
 
 See Mary calls us to her side ; 
 O come and let us mourn with her 5— 
 
 Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! 
 
78 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 Have we no tears to shed for Him, 
 While soldiers scoff and Jews deride ? 
 
 Ah ! look how patiently He hangs, — 
 Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! 
 
 O break, O break, hard heart of mine ! 
 
 Thy weak self-love and guilty pride 
 His Pilate and His Judas were; 
 
 Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! 
 
 Come, take thy stand beneath the Cross, 
 And let the Blood from out that Side 
 
 Fall gently on thee drop by drop j 
 Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! 
 
 A broken heart, a fount of tears, — 
 Ask, and they will not be denied ; 
 
 A broken heart love's cradle is ; • 
 Jesus, our Love, is crucified ! 
 
 O Love of God ! O Son of Man ! 
 
 In this dread act Your strength is tried ; 
 And victory remains with love. 
 
 For He, our Love, is crucified ! 
 
 Faber. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 79 
 
 NOW THERE STOOD BT THE CROSS 
 OF JESUS HIS MOTHER, 
 
 T the Cross her station keeping, 
 Stood the mournful Mother weeping, 
 Where He hung, the dying Lord ; 
 For her soul of joy bereaved, 
 Bowed with anguish, deeply grieved. 
 Felt the sharp and piercing sword. 
 
 O how sad and sore distressed — 
 Nor was she, that Mother blessed 
 
 Of the sole begotten One ; 
 Deep the woe of her affliction 
 When she saw the crucifixion 
 
 Of her ever-glorious Son. 
 
 Who on Christ's dear Mother gazing, 
 Pierced by anguish so amazing. 
 
 Born of woman would not weep ? 
 Who on Christ's dear Mother thinking. 
 Such a cup of sorrow drinking. 
 
 Would not share her sorrows deep ? 
 
8o 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 For His people's sins chastised 
 She beheld her Son despised, 
 
 Scourged and crowned with thorny wreath ; 
 Saw Him then from judgment taken, 
 Mocked by foes, by friends forsaken. 
 
 Till He gave His soul to death. 
 
 Jesu, may such deep devotion 
 Stir in me the same emotion. 
 
 Fount of love. Redeemer kind. 
 That my heart, fresh ardour gaining. 
 And a purer love attaining, 
 
 May with Thee acceptance find. Amen. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 8i 
 
 LIGHT FROM THE CROSS. 
 
 " And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men 
 unto Me." 
 
 LAMP of Life ! that on the bloody 
 Cross 
 Dost hang, the Beacon of our 
 wandering race, 
 To guide us homeward to our resting-place, 
 And save our best wealth from eternal loss ! 
 So purge my inward sight from earthly dross, 
 
 That, fix'd upon Thy Cross, or near or far. 
 In all the storms this weary bark that toss, 
 (Whate'er be lost in that tempestuous war,) 
 Thee I retain, my Compass and my Star ! 
 That, when arrived upon the wish'd-for strand, 
 
 I pass of death th' irrevocable bar. 
 And at the gate of Heaven trembling stand. 
 The everlasting doors may open wide, 
 And give Thee to my sight, God glorified ! 
 
 Charles Dyson, (i8i6.) 
 
 4* 
 
82 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 JESU, 
 
 ESU is in my heart ; his sacred 
 
 name 
 Is deeply carved there. But, th' 
 
 other week, 
 A great affliction broke the Httle 
 
 frame. 
 Even all to pieces^ which I went 
 to seek. 
 And first I found the corner where was I; 
 After, where ^.S"; and next, where U was 
 
 graved. 
 When I had got these parcels, instantly 
 I sat me down to spell them ; and perceived 
 That, to my broken heart, he was I EASE lOU; 
 And, to my whole^ is JESU. 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 83 
 
 ECCE AGNUS DEI! 
 
 EHOLD the Lamb ! 
 
 Oh ! Thou for sinners slain, — 
 
 Let it not be in vain, 
 
 That Thou hast died : 
 Thee for my Saviour let me take, — 
 Thee, — Thee alone my refuge make, — 
 Thy pierced side ! 
 
 Behold the Lamb ! 
 Archangels, — fold your wings, — 
 Seraphs, — hush all the strings 
 
 Of million lyres : 
 The Victim, veiled on earth, in love, — 
 Unveiled — enthroned, — adored above, 
 
 All heaven admires ! 
 
 Behold the Lamb ! 
 Drop down, ye glorious skies, — 
 He dies, — He dies, — He dies, — 
 
 For man once lost ! 
 Yet lo ! He lives, — He lives, — He lives,- 
 And to His Church Himself He gives, — 
 
 Incarnate Host ! 
 
84 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Behold the Lamb ! 
 All hail, — Eternal Word ! — 
 Thou universal Lord, — 
 
 Purge out our leaven : 
 Clothe us with godliness and good, 
 Feed us with Thy celestial food, — 
 
 Manna from heaven! 
 
 Behold the Lamb ! 
 Saints, wrapt in blissful rest, — 
 Souls, — ^waiting to be blest, — 
 
 O Lord, — how long! 
 Thou church on earth, o'erwhelmed with 
 
 fears. 
 Still in this vale of woe and tears, 
 
 Swell the full song. 
 
 Behold the Lamb ! 
 Worthy is He alone, 
 To sit upon the throne 
 
 Of God above ! 
 One with the Ancient of all days, — 
 One with the Paraclete in praise, — 
 
 All light, — all love ! 
 
 Egerton Brydges. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 85 
 
 AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS, 
 
 E NEATH my 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 heart away. 
 Think on Thy bleeding wounds and pain. 
 And contemplate Thy woes again. 
 
 The rage of Satan and of sin. 
 Of foes without, and fears within. 
 Shall ne'er my conquering soul remove 
 Or from Thy Cross or from Thy love. 
 
 Secured from harms beneath Thy shade. 
 Here death and hell shall ne'er invade j 
 Nor Sinai, with its thundering noise. 
 Shall e'er disturb my happier joys. 
 
86 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 O unmolested happy rest ! 
 Where inward fears are all supprest ; 
 Here I shall love, and live secure, 
 And patiently my cross endure. 
 
 William Williams, (1772.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 87 
 
 THT WILL, NOT MINE, 
 
 " Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from Me : never- 
 theless not My will, but Thine, be done." St. Luke xxii. 42. 
 
 LORD my God, do Thou Thy 
 holy will — 
 I will lie still — 
 I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine 
 arm. 
 And break the charm. 
 Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast, 
 In perfect rest. 
 
 Wild Fancy, peace ! thou must not me beguile 
 
 With thy false smile : 
 I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways ; 
 
 Be silent. Praise, 
 Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all 
 
 That hear thy call. 
 
 Come Self-devotion, high and pure. 
 Thoughts that in thankfulness endure. 
 Though dearest hopes are faithless found. 
 
88 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 And dearest hearts are bursting round. 
 Come, Resignation, spirit meek, 
 And let me kiss thy placid cheek, 
 And read in thy pale eye serene 
 Their blessing, who by faith can wean 
 Their hearts from sense, and learn to love 
 God only, and the joys above. 
 
 They say, who know the life divine. 
 
 And upward gaze with eagle eyne. 
 
 That by each golden crown on high. 
 
 Rich with celestial jewelry. 
 
 Which for our Lord's Redeemed is set, 
 
 There hangs a radiant coronet. 
 
 All gemmed with pure and living light. 
 
 Too dazzling for a sinner's sight. 
 
 Prepared for virgin souls, and them 
 
 Who seek the martyr's diadem. 
 
 Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire. 
 
 Must win their way through blood and fire. 
 
 The writhings of a wounded heart 
 
 Are fiercer than a foeman's dart., 
 
 Oft in Life's stillest shades reclining. 
 
 In Desolation unrepining, 
 
 Without a hope on earth to find 
 
 A mirror in an answering mind. 
 
 Meek souls there are, who little dream, 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 89 
 
 Their daily strife an Angel's theme, 
 Or that the rod they take so calm 
 Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm. 
 
 And there are souls that seem to dwell 
 
 Above the earth, — so rich a spell 
 
 Floats round their steps, where'er they move, 
 
 From hopes fulfilled and mutual love. 
 
 Such, if on high their thoughts are set. 
 
 Nor in the stream the source forget. 
 
 If prompt to quit the bliss they know. 
 
 Following the Lamb where'er He go, 
 
 By purest pleasures unbeguiled 
 
 To idolize or wife or child ; 
 
 Such wedded souls our God shall own 
 
 For faultless virgins round His throne. 
 
 Thus everywhere we find our suffering God, 
 
 And where He trod 
 May set our steps : the Cross on Calvary 
 
 Uplifted high 
 Beams on the martyr host, a beacon light 
 
 In open fight. 
 
 To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart 
 
 He doth impart 
 The virtue of His midnight agony. 
 
 Where none is nigh. 
 
go Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Save God and one good angel to assuage 
 The tempest's rage. 
 
 Mortal ! if life smile on thee, and thou find 
 
 All to thy mind, 
 Think, who did once from Heaven to Hell de- 
 scend 
 
 Thee to befriend : 
 So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call, 
 
 Thy best, thine all, 
 
 " O Father ! not My will, but Thine be done" — 
 
 So speaks the Son. 
 Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise 
 
 Of griefs and joys ; 
 That we may cling forever to Thy breast 
 
 In perfect rest. 
 
 Keble. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 91 
 
 TOUCHED WITH A FEELING OF OUR 
 INFIRMITIES. 
 
 HEN wounded sore, the stricken 
 soul 
 Lies bleeding and unbound, 
 One only Hand, a pierced Hand, 
 Can salve the sinner's wound. 
 
 When sorrow swells the laden breast. 
 
 And tears of anguish flow. 
 One only Heart, a broken Heart, 
 
 Can feel the sinner's woe. 
 
 When penitence has wept in vain 
 
 Over some foul dark spot. 
 One only stream, a stream of blood. 
 
 Can wash away the blot. 
 
 'Tis Jesus' blood that washes white, 
 
 This Hand that brings relief, 
 This Heart that's touched with all our joys, 
 
 And feeleth for our grief. 
 
92 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Lift up Thy bleeding Hand, O Lord, 
 
 Unseal that cleansing tide ; 
 We have no shelter from our sin 
 
 But in Thy wounded side. 
 
 C. F. Alexander. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 93 
 
 HE WAS DESPISED AND REJECTED 
 OF MEN, 
 
 'S it not strange, the darkest hour 
 
 That ever dawned on sinful earth 
 Should touch the heart with softer power 
 For comfort, than an angel's mirth ? 
 That to the Cross the mourner's eye should 
 
 turn 
 Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn ? 
 
 Sooner than where the Easter sun 
 Shines glorious on yon open grave, 
 
 And to and fro the tidings run, 
 
 " Who died to heal, is ris'n to save ? " 
 
 Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends 
 
 The very Comforter in light and love descends ? 
 
 Yet it is so: for duly there 
 
 The bitter herbs of earth are set. 
 Till tempered by the Saviour's prayer, 
 
 And with the Saviour's life-blood wet. 
 They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm. 
 Soft as imprisoned martyr's death-bed calm. 
 
94 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 All turn to sweet — but most of all, 
 
 That bitterest to the lip of pride, 
 When hopes presumptuous fade and fall, 
 
 Or Friendship scorns us, duly tried. 
 Or Love, the flower that closes up for fear 
 When rude and selfish spirits breathe too near. 
 
 Then like a long-forgotten strain 
 
 Comes sweeping o'er the heart forlorn 
 
 What sunshine hours had taught in vain 
 Of Jesus suffering shame and scorn, 
 
 As in all lowly hearts He suffers still. 
 
 While we triumphant ride and have the world at 
 will. 
 
 His pierced hands in vain would hide 
 His face from rude reproachful gaze, 
 
 His ears are open to abide 
 
 The wildest storm the tongue can raise, 
 
 He who with one rough word, some early day, 
 
 Their idol world and them shall sweep for aye away. 
 
 But we by Fancy may assuage 
 
 The festering sore by Fancy made, 
 
 Down in some lonely hermitage 
 Like wounded pilgrims safely laid. 
 
 Where gentlest breezes whisper souls distressed. 
 
 That Love yet lives, and Patience shall find rest. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 95* 
 
 O ! sname beyond the bitterest thought 
 
 That evil spirits ever framed, 
 That sinners know what Jesus wrought, 
 
 Yet feel their haughty hearts untamed — 
 That souls in refuge, holding by the Cross, 
 Would wince and fret at this world's little loss. 
 
 Lord of my heart, by Thy last cry 
 
 Let not Thy blood on earth be spent — 
 
 Lo, at Thy feet I fainting lie, 
 
 Mine eyes upon Thy wounds are bent ; 
 
 Upon Thy streaming wounds my weary eyes 
 
 Wait like the parched earth on April skies. 
 
 Wash me, and dry these bitter tears, 
 
 O let my heart no further roam, 
 'Tis Thine by vows, and hopes, and fears, 
 
 Long since — O call Thy wanderer home ; 
 To that dear home, safe in Thy wounded side. 
 Where only broken hearts their sin and shame 
 may hide. 
 
 Keble. 
 
96 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 JESUS CRUCIFIED. 
 
 Y Lord, my love was crucified, 
 
 He all the pains did bear ; 
 But in the sweetness of His rest 
 He makes His servants share. 
 How sweetly rest Thy saints above 
 
 Which in Thy bosom lie ! 
 The Church below doth rest in hope 
 Of that felicity. 
 
 Thou, Lord, who daily feed'st Thy sheep, 
 
 Mak'st them a weekly feast ; 
 Thy flocks meet in their several folds 
 
 Upon this day of rest : 
 Welcome and dear unto my soul 
 
 Are these sweet feasts of love: 
 But what a Sabbath shall I keep 
 
 When I shall rest above! 
 
 I bless Thy wise and wondrous love, 
 
 Which binds us to be free ; 
 Which makes us leave our earthly snares, 
 
 That we may come to Thee ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 97 
 
 I come, I wait, I hear, I pray ! 
 
 Thy footsteps. Lord, I trace ! 
 I sing to think this is the way 
 
 Unto my Saviour's face ! 
 
 John Mason, (1683.) 
 
98 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE ENTOMBMENT, 
 
 **And Joseph wrapped the body in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in 
 his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock." 
 
 EST of the weary ! Thou 
 Thyself art resting now, 
 MiwJq Where lowly in Thy sepulchre Thou 
 MW liest: 
 
 From out her deathly sleep 
 
 My soul doth start to weep 
 
 So sad a wonder, that Thou Saviour diest ! 
 
 Thy bitter anguish o'er. 
 
 To this dark tomb they bore 
 Thee, Life of life, — Thee, Lord of all creation ! 
 
 The hollow rocky cave 
 
 Must serve Thee for a grave, 
 Who wast Thyself the Rock of our Salvation ! 
 
 O Prince of Life! I know 
 That when I too lie low, 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 99 
 
 Thou wilt at last my soul from death awaken ; 
 Wherefore I will not shrink 
 From the grave's rueful brink ; 
 
 The heart that trusts in Thee shall ne'er be 
 shaken. 
 
 To me the darksome tomb 
 
 Is but a narrow room, 
 Where I may rest in peace, from sorrow free. 
 
 Thy death shall give me power 
 
 To cry in that dark hour, 
 O Death, O Grave, where is your victory ? 
 
 The grave can nought destroy, 
 
 Only the flesh can die, 
 And e'en the body triumphs o'er decay ; 
 
 Cloth'd by Thy wondrous might 
 
 In robes of dazzling light. 
 The flesh shall burst the grave at the last Day. 
 
 My Jesus, day by day. 
 
 Help me to watch and pray. 
 Beside the tomb where in my heart Thou'rt laid. 
 
 Thy bitter death shall be 
 
 My constant memory, 
 My guide at last into Death's awful shade. 
 
 Catherine Winkworth, "Zyr. GerJ" 
 
lOO Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 MORS CHRISTL 
 
 ND am I here, and my Redeemer 
 
 gone ? 
 Can He be dead, and is not my life 
 done ? 
 
 Was He tormented in excesse of measure. 
 
 And doe I live yet ? and yet live in pleasure ? 
 
 Alas ! could sinners find out ne'r a one 
 
 More fit than Thee for them to spit upon ? 
 
 Did Thy cheekes entertaine a traytor's lips ? 
 
 Was Thy deare body scourg'd and torne with 
 whips. 
 
 So that the guiltlesse blood came trickling 
 after ? 
 
 And did Thy fainting browes sweat blood and 
 water ? 
 
 Wert Thou (Lord) hang'd upon the cursed 
 tree ? 
 
 O world of gricfc ! and was this all for me ? 
 
 Burst forth, my tcares, into a world of sor- 
 row. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 loi 
 
 And let my nights of griefe find ne'r a mor- 
 row : 
 
 Since Thou art dead (Lord) grant Thy servant 
 room 
 
 Within his heart to build Thy heart a tombe. 
 
 Francis Quarles. 
 
 i 
 
102 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Mr FLESH ALSO SHALL REST IN 
 HOPE, 
 
 **As for Thee also, by the blood of Thy covenant I have sent 
 forth Thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water." Zech. 
 ix. II. 
 
 length the worst is o'er, and 
 Thou art laid 
 Deep in Thy darksome bed ; 
 All still and cold beneath yon dreary 
 stone 
 Thy sacred form is gone ; 
 Around those lips where power and mercy hung 
 
 The dews of death have clung ; 
 The dull earth o'er Thee, and Thy foes 
 around, 
 Thou sleep'st a silent corse, in funeral fetters 
 wound. 
 
 Sleep'st Thou indeed .? or is Thy spirit fled, 
 
 At large among the dead ? 
 Whether in Eden bowers Thy welcome voice 
 
 Wake Abraham to rejoice, 
 Or in some drearier scene Thine eye controls 
 
 The thronging band of souls j 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 103 
 
 That, as Thy blood on earth, Thine agony 
 Might set the shadowy realm from sin and sor- 
 row free. 
 
 Where'er Thou roam'st, one happy soul, we 
 know 
 Seen at Thy side in woe, 
 Waits on Thy triumph — even as all the blest 
 
 With him and Thee shall rest. 
 Each on his cross, by Thee we hang awhile, 
 
 Watching Thy patient smile, 
 'Till we have learned to say, " Tis justly done 
 Only in glory. Lord, Thy sinful servant own." 
 
 Soon wilt Thou take us to Thy tranquil bower 
 
 To rest one little hour. 
 Till Thine elect are numbered, and the grave 
 
 Call Thee to come and save : 
 Then on Thy bosom borne shall we descend. 
 
 Again with earth to blend. 
 Earth all refined with bright supernal fires. 
 Tinctured with holy blood, and winged with pure 
 desires: 
 
 Meanwhile, with every son and saint of Thine 
 
 Along the glorious line. 
 Sitting by turns beneath Thy sacred feet 
 
 We'll hold communion sweet. 
 
104 ^y^ Anglicana. 
 
 Know them by look and voice, and thank 
 them all 
 For helping us in thrall, 
 For words of hope, and bright examples given 
 To show through moonless skies that there is 
 light in Heaven. 
 
 O come that day, when in the restless heart 
 
 Earth shall resign her part. 
 When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall 
 rest. 
 My soul with Thee be blest ! 
 But stay, presumptuous — Christ with thee 
 abides 
 In the rock's dreary sides ; 
 He from the stone will wring celestial dew 
 If but the prisoner's heart be faithful found and 
 true. 
 
 When tears are spent, and thou art left alone 
 
 With ghosts of blessings gone. 
 Think thou art taken from the cross, and laid 
 
 In Jesus' burial shade ; 
 Take Moses' rod, the rod of prayer, and call 
 
 Out of the rocky wall 
 The fount of holy blood ; and life on high 
 Thy grovelling soul that feels so desolate and 
 dry. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 105 
 
 Prisoner of Hope thou art — look up and sing 
 
 In hope of promised spring. 
 As in the pit his father's darling lay 
 
 Beside the desert way, 
 And knew not how, but knew his God would 
 save 
 Even from that living grave. 
 So buried with our Lord, will close our eyes 
 To the decaying world, till angels bid us rise. 
 
 Keble. 
 
 5* 
 
io6 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP, 
 
 F all the thoughts of God, that 
 
 are 
 Borne inward unto souls afar, 
 
 Along the Psalmist's music deep — 
 Now tell me if that any is, 
 For gift of grace surpassing this — 
 " He giveth His beloved sleep " ? 
 
 His dews drop mutely on the hill — 
 His cloud above it saileth still — 
 
 Though on its slope men toil and reap ; 
 More softly than the dew is shed. 
 Or cloud is floated overhead, 
 
 " He giveth His beloved sleep." 
 
 And friends, dear friends! when shall it be, 
 That this low breath is gone from me — 
 When round my bier ye come to weep ; 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 107 
 
 Let one, most loving of you all, 
 
 Say — " Not a tear must o'er her fall, 
 
 " He giveth His beloved sleep." 
 
 II. 
 
 What would we give to our beloved ? 
 The hero's heart to be unmoved — 
 
 The poet's star-tuned harp to sweep — 
 The senate's shout to patriot vows — 
 The monarch's crown to light the brows ? 
 
 " He giveth His beloved sleep." 
 
 " Sleep soft, beloved ! " we sometimes say. 
 But have no power to charm away 
 
 Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep ; 
 But never doleful dream again 
 Shall break their happy slumber, when 
 
 " He giveth His beloved sleep." 
 
 O earth, so full of dreary noise ! 
 O men, with wailing in your voice ! 
 
 O delved gold, the wailer's heap ! 
 O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! 
 God makes a silence through you all, 
 
 And giveth his beloved sleep ! 
 
io8 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Yea ! men may wonder while they scan — 
 A living, thinking, feeling man 
 
 In such a rest his heart to keep ! 
 But angels say — and through the word, 
 I ween, their blessed smile is heard — 
 
 " He giveth His beloved sleep." 
 
 Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 109 
 
 THE FOE BEHIND, THE DEEP BE- 
 FORE. 
 
 HE foe behind, the deep before, 
 Our hosts have dared and past the 
 sea; 
 And Pharaoh's warriors strew the 
 shore. 
 And Israel's ransomed tribes are free. 
 Lift up, lift up your voices now ! 
 The whole wide world rejoices now ! 
 The Lord hath triumphed gloriously ! 
 The Lord shall reign victoriously ! 
 Happy morrow 
 Turning sorrow 
 
 Into peace and mirth ! 
 Bondage ending. 
 Love descending. 
 O'er the earth ! 
 Souls assuring. 
 Guards securing. 
 
 Watch His earthly prison : 
 Seals are shattered. 
 Guards are scattered, 
 Christ hath risen ! 
 
no Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 No longer must the mourners weep, 
 Nor call departed Christians dead j 
 For death is hallowed into sleep, 
 And every grave becomes a bed. 
 Now once more, 
 Eden*s door 
 Open stands to mortal eyes ; 
 For Christ hath risen, and men shall rise : 
 Now at last. 
 Old things past, 
 Hope and joy and peace begin ; 
 For Christ hath won, and man shall win. 
 
 It is not exile, rest on high : 
 
 It is not sadness, peace from strife : 
 To fall asleep is not to die ; 
 
 To dwell with Christ is better life. 
 Where our banner leads us. 
 
 We may safely go : 
 Where our Chief precedes us, 
 
 We may face the foe. 
 His right arm is o'er us, 
 
 He will guide us through ; 
 Christ hath gone before us ; 
 Christians ! follow you ! 
 
 John Mason Neale, (1851.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. iii 
 
 EASTER DAT. 
 
 PATHWAY opens from the tomb, 
 
 The grave's a grave no more ! 
 Stoop down; look into that sweet 
 room; 
 
 Pass through the unseal'd door : 
 Linger a moment by the bed, 
 Where lay but yesterday the Church's Head. 
 
 What is there there to make thee fear ? 
 
 A folded chamber-vest, 
 Akin to that which thou shalt wear, 
 
 When for thy slumber drest ; 
 Two gentle angels sitting by — 
 How sweet a room, methinks, wherein to lie I 
 
 No gloomy vault, no charnel cell, 
 
 No emblem of decay. 
 No solemn sound of passing bell, 
 
 To say, " He's gone away ; " — 
 But angel-whispers soft and clear, 
 And He, the risen Jesus, standing near. 
 
112 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 " Why weepest thou ? Whom seekest thou?" 
 
 *Tis not the gardener's voice, 
 But His to whom all knees shall bow, 
 
 In whom all hearts rejoice; 
 The voice of Him who yesterday, 
 Within that rock was Death's resistless prey. 
 
 " Why weepest thou ? whom seekest thou ? 
 
 The living with the dead ? " 
 Take young spring flowers and deck thy brow. 
 
 For life with joy is wed : 
 The grave is now the grave no more ; 
 Why fear to pass that bridal-chamber door ? 
 
 Take flowers and strew them all around 
 
 The room where Jesus lay : 
 But softly tread ; 'tis hallowed ground, 
 
 And this is Easter-day. 
 " The Lord is risen," as He said. 
 And thou shalr rise with Him, thy risen Head. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 1 13 
 
 RESURRECTION, 
 
 "And when the Lord saw her, He had compassion on her, and 
 said unto her. Weep not. And He came and touched the 
 bier j and they that bare him stood still. And He said. Young 
 man, I say unto thee, Arise. St. Lukcy vii. 13, 14. 
 
 HO says the wan autumnal sun 
 Beams with too faint a smile 
 To light up nature's face again, 
 And, though the year be on the 
 wane. 
 With thoughts of spring the heart beguile ? 
 
 Waft him, thou soft September breeze, 
 
 And gently lay him down 
 Within some circling woodland wall. 
 Where bright leaves reddening ere they fall, 
 
 Wave gaily o'er the waters brown. 
 
 And let some graceful arch be there 
 With wreathed mullions proud, 
 
114 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 With burnished ivy for its screen, 
 And moss, that glows as fresh and green 
 As though beneath an April cloud. 
 
 Who says the widow's heart must break, 
 
 The childless mother sink? — 
 A kinder, truer voice I hear. 
 Which even beside that mournful bier 
 
 Whence parent's eyes would hopeless shrink. 
 
 Bids weep no more — O heart bereft. 
 How strange, to thee, that sound ! 
 
 A widow o'er her only son. 
 
 Feeling more bitterly alone 
 
 For friends that press officious round. 
 
 Yet is the voice of comfort heard. 
 For Christ has touched the bier — 
 
 The bearers wait with wondering eye. 
 
 The swelling bosom dares not sigh. 
 But all is still, 'twixt hope and fear. 
 
 Even such an awful soothing calm 
 
 We sometimes see alight 
 On Christian mourners, while they wait 
 In silence, by some church-yard gate. 
 
 Their summons to the holy rite. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 115 
 
 And such the tones of love, which break 
 
 The stillness of that hour, 
 Quelling th' embittered spirit's strife — 
 "The Resurrection and the Life 
 
 " Am I : believe, and die no more." — 
 
 Unchanged that voice — and though not yet 
 
 The dead sit up and speak. 
 Answering its call ; we gladlier rest 
 Our darlings on earth's quiet breast, 
 
 And our hearts feel they must not break. 
 
 Far better they should sleep awhile 
 
 Within the church's shade. 
 Nor wake, until new heaven, new earth, 
 Meet for their young immortal birth 
 
 For their abiding place be made. 
 
 Than wander back to life, and lean 
 
 On our frail love once more. 
 'Tis sweet, as year by year we lose 
 Friends out of sight, in faith to muse 
 
 How grows in Paradise our store. 
 
 Then pass, ye mourners, cheerly on. 
 Through prayer unto the tomb. 
 
ii6 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Still, as ye watch life's falling leaf, 
 Gathering from every loss and grief 
 Hope of new spring and endless home. 
 
 Then cheerly to your work again 
 
 With hearts new-braced and set 
 To run, untired, love's blessed race, 
 As meet for those, who face to face 
 Over the grave their Lord have met. 
 
 Keble. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 117 
 
 DEAR SAVIOUR OF A DYING WORLD, 
 
 ^EAR Saviour of a dying world, 
 Where grief and change must be, 
 In the new grave where Thou wast 
 laid, 
 My heart Hes down with Thee. 
 Oh, not in cold despair of joy, 
 
 Or weariness of pain. 
 But from a hope that shall not die, 
 To rise and live again. 
 
 I would arise in all Thy strength 
 
 Thy place on earth to fill. 
 To work out all my time of war 
 
 With love's unflinching will ; 
 Firm against every doubt of Thee 
 
 For all my future way — 
 To walk in Heaven's eternal light 
 
 Throughout the changing day. 
 
 Ah, such a day as Thou shalt own 
 When suns have ceased to shine ! 
 
ii8 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 A day of burdens borne by Thee, 
 And work that all was Thine. 
 
 Speed Thy bright rising in my heart, 
 Thy righteous kingdom speed, — 
 
 Till my whole life in concord say, 
 " The Lord is risen indeed." 
 
 Oh for an impulse from Thy love 
 
 With every coming breath. 
 To sing that sweet undying song 
 
 Amid the wrecks of death ! 
 A "hail !" to every mortal pang 
 
 That bids me take my right 
 To glory in the blessed life 
 
 Which Thou hast brought to light. 
 
 I lonjT to see the hallowed earth 
 
 In new creation rise, — 
 To find the germs of Eden hid 
 
 Where its fallen beauty lies, — 
 To feel the spring-tide of a soul 
 
 By one deep love set free ; 
 Made meet to lay aside her dust. 
 
 And be at home with Thee. 
 
 And then — there shall be yet an cnd- 
 An end now full to bless! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 119 
 
 How dear to those who watch for Thee 
 
 With human tenderness ! 
 Then shall the saying come to pass 
 
 That makes our home complete, 
 And, rising from the conquered grave, 
 
 Thy parted ones shall meet. 
 
 Yes — they shall meet, and face to face 
 
 By heart to heart be known. 
 Clothed with Thy likeness. Lord of life, 
 
 And perfect in their own. 
 For this corruptible must rise. 
 
 From its corruption free. 
 And this frail mortal must put on 
 
 Thine immortality. 
 
 Shine, then. Thou Resurrection Light, 
 
 Upon our sorrows shine ; 
 The fulness of Thy joys be ours. 
 
 As all our griefs were Thine. 
 Now, in this changing, dying life 
 
 Our faded hopes restore. 
 Till, in Thy triumph perfected. 
 
 We taste of death no more. 
 
 A. L. Waring. 
 
120 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 EASTER. 
 
 ISE, heart ! thy Lord is risen. Sing 
 His praise 
 Without delays, 
 Who takes thee by the hand, that 
 thou Hkewise 
 With Him mayst rise ; 
 That as thy death calcined thee to dust, 
 His life may make thee gold; and, much more, 
 just. 
 
 Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part 
 
 With all thy art. 
 The cross taught all wood to resound his name, 
 
 Who bore the same. 
 His stretched sinews taught all strings what key 
 Is best to celebrate this most high day. 
 
 Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song 
 Pleasant and long : 
 
 Or, since all music is but three parts vied. 
 And multiplied i 
 
Lyra Angllcana. 121 
 
 O let thy blessed spirit bear a part, 
 
 And make up our defects with His sweet art. 
 
 I got me flowers to strew thy way; 
 
 I got me boughs of many a tree ; 
 
 But thou wast up by break of day, 
 
 And brought'st thy sweets along with thee. 
 
 The sunne arising in the East, — 
 Though he give light, and th' East perfume ; 
 If they should offer to contest 
 With thy arising, they presume. 
 
 Can there be any day but this. 
 Though many sunnes to shine endeavour ? 
 We count three hundred — but we miss ; 
 There is but one, and that one, ever. 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
122 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 ASSURANCES, 
 
 " Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like 
 unto His glorious body, according to the working whereby He 
 is able even to subdue all things unto Himself." Philipptanty 
 iii. zi 
 
 ^^v ED o'er the forest peers the setting 
 pJr sun, 
 
 ^}A The line of yellow light dies fast 
 s^/ away 
 
 That crowned the eastern copse : and chill and 
 dun 
 Falls on the moor the brief November day. 
 
 Now the tired hunter winds a parting note. 
 And echo bids good-night from every glade ; 
 
 Yet wait awhile and sec the calm leaves float 
 Each to his rest beneath their parent shade. 
 
 How like decaying life they seem to glide ! 
 
 And yet no second spring have they in store, 
 But where they fall, forgotten to abide 
 
 Is all their portion and they ask no more. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 1 23 
 
 Soon o'er their heads blithe April airs shall sing, 
 A thousand wild-flowers round them shall 
 unfold, 
 
 The green buds glisten in the dews of spring. 
 And all the vernal rapture as of old. 
 
 Unconscious they in waste oblivion lie. 
 In all the world of busy life around 
 
 No thought of them ; in all the bounteous sky 
 No drop, for them, of kindly influence found. 
 
 Man's portion is to die and rise again — 
 
 Yet he complains, while these unmurmuring 
 part 
 
 With their sweet lives, as pure from sin and stain 
 As his when Eden held his virgin heart. 
 
 And haply half unblamed his murmuring voice 
 Might sound in Heaven, were all his second 
 life 
 
 Only the first renewed — the heathen's choice, 
 A round of listless joys and weary strife. 
 
 For dreary were this earth, if earth were all. 
 Though brightened oft by dear Affection's 
 kiss ; — 
 
 Who for the spangles wears the funeral pall? 
 But catch a gleam beyond it, and 'tis bliss. 
 
124 -^y^ Anglicana. 
 
 Heavy and dull this frame of limbs and heart, 
 Whether slow creeping on cold earth, or 
 borne 
 On lofty steed, or loftier prow, we dart 
 
 O'er wave or field j yet breezes laugh to 
 scorn 
 
 Our puny speed, and birds, and clouds in heaven, 
 And fish, like living shafts that pierce the 
 main, 
 And stars that shoot through freezing air at 
 even — 
 Who but would follow could he break his 
 chain ? 
 
 And thou shalt break it soon ; the grovelling 
 worm 
 
 Shall find his wings, and soon as fast and free 
 As his transfigured Lord with lightning form 
 
 And snowy vest — such grace He won for thee, 
 
 When from the grave He sprung at dawn of 
 morn. 
 And led through boundless air thy conquer- 
 ing road. 
 Leaving a glorious track, where saints, new- 
 born. 
 Might fearless follow to their blest abode. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 125 
 
 But first, by many a stern and fiery blast 
 
 The world's rude furnace must thy blood 
 refine, 
 
 And many a gale of keenest woe be passed, 
 Till every pulse beat true to airs divine. 
 
 Till every limb obey the mounting soul. 
 
 The mounting souls, the call by Jesus given — 
 
 He who the stormy heart can so control. 
 The laggard body soon will waft to Heaven. 
 
 Keble. 
 
126 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 ASCENDED INTO HEAVEN. 
 
 I, ISE — glorious Conqueror, rise, 
 ^ Into Thy native skies, — 
 
 i 
 
 Assume Thy right : 
 |> And where in many a fold 
 The clouds are backward rolled- 
 Pass through the gates of gold, 
 And reign in light ! 
 
 Victor o'er death and hell ! 
 Cherubic legions swell 
 
 The radiant train : 
 Praises all heaven inspire ; 
 Each angel sweeps his lyre 
 And waves his wings of fire. 
 
 Thou Lamb once slain ! 
 
 Enter, Licarnate God ! — 
 No feet, but Thine, have trod 
 
 The serpent down : 
 Blow the full trumpets, blow ' 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 127 
 
 Wider your portals throw ! 
 Saviour — triumphant — go, 
 
 And take Thy crown ! 
 
 Yet — ^who are these behind, 
 In numbers more than mind 
 
 Can count or say — 
 Clothed in immortal stoles. 
 Illumining the poles — 
 A galaxy of souls, 
 
 In white array ? 
 
 And then was heard afar 
 Star answering to star — 
 
 Lo ! these have come. 
 Followers of Him, who gave 
 His life, their lives to save ; 
 And now their palms they wave 
 
 Brought safely home. 
 
 Oh Lord ! ascend Thy throne ! 
 For Thou shalt rule alone 
 
 Beside Thy Sire, 
 With the great Paraclete, 
 The Three in One complete — 
 Before whose awful feet 
 
 All foes expire ! 
 
 Egerton Brydges. 
 
128 
 
 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 LIFT UP TOUR HEARTS, 
 
 OY of my life while left me here ! 
 
 And still my love ! 
 How in Thy absence Thou dost 
 steere 
 
 Me from above ! 
 
 A life well led 
 
 This truth commends, 
 
 With quick or dead 
 
 It never ends. 
 
 Stars are of mighty use : the night 
 
 Is dark and long ; 
 The road foul ; and where one goes right, 
 
 Six may go wrong. 
 
 One twinkling ray. 
 
 Shot o*er some cloud, 
 
 May clear each way 
 
 And guide a crowd. 
 
 God's saints arc shining lights : who stays 
 Here long must passe 
 
Lyra Anglicana, 129 
 
 O'er dark hills, swift streams, and steep ways 
 As smooth as glasse ; 
 But these all night. 
 Like Candles, shed 
 Their beams, and light 
 Us into Bed. 
 
 They are indeed our Pillar-fires, 
 
 Seen as we go ; 
 They are the Citie's shining spires 
 
 We travell to. 
 
 A sword-like gleame 
 
 Kept man from sin 
 
 First Out ; this beame 
 
 Will guide him In, 
 
 Henry Vaughn. 
 
130 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE SAVIOUR'S GOING, GAIN, 
 
 " Nevertheless I tell you the truth ; it is expedient for you that I 
 go away; for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come 
 unto you : but if I depart, I will send Him unto you," St. 
 John, xvi. 7. 
 
 Y Saviour can it ever be 
 
 That I should gain by losing 
 
 Thee? 
 [The w^atchful mother tarries nigh, 
 Though sleep have closed her infant's eye ; 
 For should he wake and find her gone, 
 She knows she could not bear his moan. 
 But I am weaker than a child, 
 
 And Thou art more than mother dear ; 
 Without Thee Heaven were but a wild : 
 How can I live without Thee here ! 
 
 ••' 'Tis good for you, that I should go, 
 " You lingering yet awhile below ; " — 
 'Tis Thine own gracious promise, Lord ! 
 Thy saints have proved the faithful word, 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 131 
 
 When Heaven's bright boundless avenue 
 
 Far opened on their eager view, 
 
 And homeward to Thy Father's throne, 
 
 Still lessening, brightening on their sight. 
 Thy shadowy car went soaring on ; 
 
 They tracked Thee up th' abyss of light. 
 
 Thou bidd'st rejoice ; they dare not mourn. 
 But to their home in gladness turn. 
 Their home and God's, that favoured place. 
 Where still He shines on Abraham's race. 
 In prayers and blessings there to wait 
 Like suppliants at their Monarch's gate. 
 Who bent with bounty rare to aid 
 
 The splendors of His crowning day. 
 Keeps back awhile His largess, made 
 
 More welcome for that brief delay : 
 
 In doubt they wait, but not unblest ; 
 They doubt not of their Master's rest. 
 Nor of the gracious will of Heaven — 
 Who gave His Son, sure all was given — 
 But in ecstatic awe they muse 
 What course the genial stream may choose. 
 And far and wide their fancies rove. 
 
 And to their height of wonder strain, 
 What secret miracle of love 
 
 Should make their Saviour's going gain. 
 
132 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 The days of hope and prayer are past, 
 The day of comfort dawns at last, 
 The everlasting gates again 
 Roll back, and lo ! a royal train — 
 From the far depth of light once more 
 The floods of glory earthward pour ; 
 They part like shower-drops in mid air. 
 
 But ne'er so soft fell noontide shower, 
 Nor evening rainbow gleamed so fair 
 
 To weary swains in parched bower. 
 
 Swiftly and straight each tongue of flame 
 
 Through cloud and breeze unwavering came, 
 
 And darted to its place of rest 
 
 On some meek brow of Jesus blest. 
 
 Nor fades it yet, that living gleam. 
 
 And still those lambent lightnings stream ; 
 
 Where'er the Lord is, there are they ; 
 
 In every heart that gives them room. 
 They light His altar every day. 
 
 Zeal to inflame and vice consume. 
 
 Soft as the plumes of Jesus' dove 
 They nurse the soul to heavenly love : 
 The struggling spark of good within. 
 Just smothered in the strife of sin. 
 They quicken to a timely glow. 
 The pure flame spreading high and low. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 133 
 
 Said I, that prayer and hope are o'er? 
 
 Nay, blessed Spirit ! but by Thee 
 The Church's prayer finds wings to soar, 
 
 The Church's hope finds eyes to see. 
 
 Then fainting soul arise and sing ; 
 
 Mount, but be sober on the wing ; 
 
 Mount up, for Heaven is won by prayer, 
 
 Be sober for thou art not there ; 
 
 Till death the weary spirit free. 
 
 Thy God hath said, 'Tis good for thee 
 
 To walk by faith and not by sight : 
 
 Take it on trust a little while ; 
 Soon shalt thou read the mystery right 
 
 In the full sunshine of His smile. 
 
 Or if thou yet more knowledge crave. 
 As thine own heart, that willing slave 
 To all that works thee woe or harm : 
 Should'st thou not need some mighty charm 
 To win thee to thy Saviour's side. 
 Though He had deigned with thee to bide ? 
 The Spirit must stir the darkling deep. 
 
 The Dove must settle on the Cross, 
 Else we should all sin on or sleep 
 
 With Christ in sight, turning our gain to loss. 
 
 Keble. 
 
134 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE LORD REIGNETH: LET THE 
 EARTH REJOICE. 
 
 ORD God of might, in reverence lowly 
 The hosts of heaven call Thee Holy ; 
 
 From cherubim and seraphim 
 'And angel phalanx far extending, 
 In fuller tones is still ascending 
 The Holy, Holy of their hymn. 
 The fount of joy Thou art. 
 That filleth every heart 
 Ever, ever! 
 We too are Thine, and with them sing, 
 " Thou, Lord, and only Thou, art King." 
 
 Lord, there are bending now before Thee 
 The elders, with their crowned glory. 
 The first-born of the blessed band ; 
 There too earth's ransomed and forgiven. 
 Brought by the Saviour safe to heaven. 
 In glad unnumbered myriads stand. 
 Loud are the songs of praise 
 Their mingled voices raise 
 Ever, ever ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 135 
 
 We too are Thine, and with them sing, 
 "Thou, Lord, and only Thou, art King." 
 
 They sing in sweet and sinless numbers 
 The wondrous love that never slumbers. 
 And all the wisdom, power, and might, 
 The truth and faithfulness abiding. 
 And over all Thy works presiding j 
 But they can scarcely praise aright : 
 For all is never sung 
 Even by seraph's tongue. 
 Never, never! 
 We too are Thine, and with them sing, 
 "Thou, Lord, and only Thou, art King." 
 
 O come reveal Thyself more fully. 
 That we may learn to praise Thee truly ; 
 
 Make every heart a temple true. 
 Filled with Thy glory overflowing, 
 More of Thy love each morning showing, 
 And waking praises loud and new: 
 Here let Thy peace divine 
 Upon Thy children shine 
 Ever, ever ! 
 That, glad or sad, we still may sing, 
 " Thou, Lord, and only Thou, art King." 
 
136 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE GLORT OF GOD DID LIGHTEN 
 IT. 
 
 EAD of the Hosts in glory ! 
 We joyfully adore Thee, — 
 
 Thy church on earth below, 
 Blending with those on high, — 
 Where through the azure sky 
 Thy saints in ecstacy, — 
 For ever glow ! 
 
 Armies of God ! in union 
 
 With us, through one communion, — 
 
 Pour forth sweet prayers : 
 Our souls in love's embrace, — 
 Around the Saviour's face, — 
 And ask His special grace 
 
 To soothe our cares. 
 
 Holy Apostles ! beaming 
 With radiance brightly streaming 
 From diadems of power j 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 137 
 
 Call on the awful name, — 
 That we, through flood and flame 
 The gospel may proclaim 
 In every hour ! 
 
 Martyrs ! whose mystic legions 
 March o'er yon heavenly regions 
 
 In triumph round and round ; 
 Wave — wave your banners — wave ! 
 Your God — our Saviour, clave 
 For death itself a grave, — 
 
 In hell profound ! 
 
 Saints in fair circles, casting 
 Rich trophies everlasting 
 
 At Jesu's pierced feet, — 
 Amidst our rude alarms. 
 Stretch forth your conquering arms, 
 That we too, safe from harms. 
 
 In Heaven may meet ! 
 
 Angels — Archangels ! glorious 
 Guards of the Church victorious ! 
 
 Worship the Lamb ! 
 Crown Him with crowns of light, — 
 One of the Three by right, — 
 Love, — Majesty, — and Might, — 
 
 The Great I AM. 
 
 Egerton Brydges. 
 
138 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 GO WORSHIP JT IMMJNUEDS FEET, 
 
 O, worship at Immanuel's feet j 
 See in His face what wonders 
 
 meet; 
 Earth is too narrow to express 
 His worth, His glory, or His grace ! 
 
 The whole creation can afford 
 But some faint shadow of my Lord ; 
 Nature, to make His beauties known, 
 Must mingle colours not her own. 
 
 Is He compared to Wine or Bread ? 
 Dear Lord, our souls would that be fed : 
 That Flesh, that dying Blood of Thine, 
 Is Bread of Life, is heavenly Wine. 
 
 Is He a Tree ? the world receives 
 Salvation from His healing leaves ; 
 That righteous Branch, that fruitful bough, 
 Is David's root, and offspring too. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 139 
 
 Is He a Rose ? not Sharon yields 
 Such fragrancy in all her fields j 
 Or if the Lily He assume, 
 The valleys bless the rich perfume. 
 
 Is He a Vine ? His heavenly root 
 Supplies the boughs v^^ith life and fruit j 
 O let a lasting union join 
 My soul the branch to Christ the Vine ! 
 
 Is He the Head ? Each member lives, 
 And ovi^ns the vital power He gives; 
 The Saints below and Saints above 
 Joined by His Spirit and His love. 
 
 Is He a Fountain? There I bathe, 
 And heal the plague of sin and death 3 
 These waters all my soul renew. 
 And dense my spotted garments too. 
 
 Is He a Fire ? He'll purge my dross ; 
 But the true gold sustains no loss : 
 Like a Refiner shall He sit. 
 And tread the refuse with His feet. 
 
 Is He a Rock ? How firm He proves ! 
 The Rock of Ages never moves : 
 
140 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Yet the sweet streams, that from Him flow. 
 Attend us all the desert through. 
 
 Is He a Way ? He leads to God ; 
 The path is drawn in lines of Blood ; 
 There would I walk with zealous will 
 'Till I arrive at Zion's hill. 
 
 Is He a Door? I'll enter in ; 
 Behold the pastures large and green! 
 A paradise divinely fair; 
 None but the sheep have freedom there. 
 
 Is He designed a Corner Stone, 
 For men to build their Heaven upon ? 
 ril make Him my Foundation too ; 
 Nor fear the plots of Hell below. 
 
 Is He a Temple ? I adore 
 The indwelling majesty and power ; 
 And still to His Most Holy Place, 
 Whene'er I pray I turn my face. 
 
 Is He a Star ? He breaks the night, 
 Piercing the shades with dawning light; 
 I know His glories from afar, 
 1 know the bright, the Morning Star ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 141 
 
 Is He a Sun ? His beams are grace, 
 His course a joy, and Righteousness : 
 Nations rejoice when He appears 
 To chase their clouds and dry their tears. 
 
 Oh ! let me climb those higher skies 
 Where storms and darkness never rise ! 
 There He displays His powers abroad. 
 And shines and reigns th' Incarnate God, 
 
 Nor earth, nor seas, nor sun, nor stars. 
 Nor Heaven His full resemblance bears ; 
 His beauties we can never trace. 
 Till we behold Him face to face. 
 
 Isaac Watts, (1709.) 
 
142 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 JESU REX ADMIRJBILIS. 
 
 JESU ! King most wonderful ! 
 
 Thou Conqueror renowned ! 
 Thou Sweetness most ineffable ! 
 
 In whom all joys are found ! 
 
 When once Thou visitest the heart, 
 Then truth begins to shine ; 
 
 Then earthly vanities depart ; 
 Then kindles love divine. 
 
 O Jesu ! Light of all below! 
 
 Thou Fount of life and fire ! 
 Surpassing all the joys we know, 
 
 All that we can desire : 
 
 May every heart confess Thy name 
 
 And ever Thee adore ; 
 And seeking Thee, itself inflame 
 
 To seek Thee more and more. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 143 
 
 Thee may our tongues for ever bless ; 
 
 Thee may we love alone; 
 And ever in our lives express 
 
 The image of Thine own. 
 
 Caswall. 
 
144 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 JESU DULCIS MEMORU, 
 
 ^ESU ! the very thought of Thee 
 With sweetness fills my 
 breast ; 
 But sweeter far Thy face to 
 see, 
 And in Thy presence rest. 
 
 Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame, 
 
 Nor can the memory find, 
 A sweeter sound than Thy blest name, 
 
 O Saviour of mankind ! 
 
 O hope of every contrite heart, 
 
 O joy of all the meek. 
 To those who fall, how kind Thou art ! 
 
 How good to those who seek ! 
 
 But what to those who find ? ah ! this 
 Nor tongue nor pen can show : 
 
 The love of Jesus, what it is. 
 None but His loved ones know. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 145 
 
 Jesu ! our only joy be Thou, 
 As Thou our prize will be ; 
 
 Jesu ! be Thou our glory now, 
 And through eternity. 
 
 Caswall. 
 
146 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 JESU DECUS ANGELICUM, 
 
 JESU ! Thou the beauty art 
 
 Of angel worlds above ; 
 Thy name is music to the heart, 
 Enchanting it with love. 
 
 Celestial sweetness unalloyed ! 
 
 Who eat Thee hunger still ; 
 Who drink of Thee still feel a void, 
 
 Which naught but Thou can fill. 
 
 O my sweet Jesus ! hear the sighs 
 
 Which unto Thee I send ; 
 To Thee mine inmost spirit cries. 
 
 My being's hope and end ! 
 
 Stay with us, Lord, and with Thy light 
 
 Illume the soul's abyss ; 
 Scatter the darkness of our night. 
 
 And fill the world with bliss. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 O Jesu ! spotless Virgin flower ! 
 
 Our life and joy ! to Thee 
 Be praise, beatitude, and power, 
 
 Through all eternity. 
 
 Caswall. 
 
 H7 
 
148 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 CROWNED WITH GLORY AND 
 HONOUR. 
 
 ^^J^^O Him who for our sins was slain, 
 To Him, for all His dying pain. 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 To Him, the Lamb our sacrifice. 
 Who gave His soul our ransom price. 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 
 To Him that died that we might die 
 To sin, and live with Him on high. 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 To Him who rose that we might rise 
 And reign with Him beyond the skies 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 
 To Him who now for us doth plead. 
 And helpeth us in all our need. 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 To Him who doth prepare on high 
 Our home in immortality 
 
 Sing wc Hallelujah ' 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 149 
 
 To Him be glory evermore ; 
 
 Ye heavenly hosts, your Lord adore; 
 
 Sing ye Hallelujah ! 
 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 One God most high, our joy and boast, 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 
50 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 WHEN JESUS CAME TO EARTH OF 
 OLD. 
 
 HEN Jesus came to earth of 
 old, 
 He came in weakness and in 
 woe J 
 
 He wore no form of angel mould, 
 But took our nature poor and low. 
 
 But when He cometh back once more. 
 
 There shall be set the Great White Throne, 
 
 And earth and heaven shall flee before 
 The face of Him that sits thereon. 
 
 O Son of God, in glory crowned. 
 
 The Judge ordained of quick and dead ; 
 
 O Son of man, so pitying found 
 
 For all the tears Thy people shed ; — 
 
 Be with us in this darkened place. 
 
 This weary, restless, dangerous night j 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 1 51 
 
 And teach, O teach us by Thy grace 
 To struggle onward into light. 
 
 And since in God's recording book 
 Our sins are written every one, — 
 
 The crime, the wrath, the wandering look, 
 The good we knew, and left undone ; — 
 
 Lord, ere the last dread trumpet sound. 
 And ere before Thy face we stand. 
 
 Look Thou on each accusing word, 
 And blot it with Thy bleeding hand. 
 
 And by the love that brought Thee here, 
 And by the Cross and by the Grave, 
 
 Give perfect love for conscious fear. 
 And in the Day of Judgment save. 
 
 And lead us on, while here we stay. 
 And make us love our earthly home ; 
 
 Till from our hearts we learn to say, 
 " Even so Lord Jesus, quickly come." 
 C. F. Alexander. 
 
152 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 WHILST THE CJRELESS WORLD IS 
 SLEEPING. 
 
 ^^HILST the careless world is 
 sleeping, 
 Blest the servants who are keep- 
 ing 
 Watch, according to His Word, 
 For the coming of their Lord. 
 
 At His table He will place them. 
 With His royal banquet grace them, 
 
 Banquet that shall never cloy ; 
 
 Bread of life and wine of joy. 
 
 Heard ye not your Master's warning ? 
 He will come before the morning. 
 
 Unexpected, undescried ; 
 
 Watch ye for Him open-eyed. 
 
 Teach us so to watch. Lord Jesus; 
 From the sleep of sin release us : 
 
 Swift to hear Thee let us be, 
 
 Meet to enter in with Thee. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 153 
 
 God who with all good provides us, 
 God who made, who saved, who guides us. 
 Praise we with the heavenly host. 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 
 
154 ^y^ Anglicana. 
 
 HOLY AND REVEREND IS HIS NAME, 
 
 OS ANN A to the living Lord ! 
 Hosanna to the incarnate Word, 
 To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, 
 Let earth, let heaven, Hosanna 
 sing, 
 Hosanna, Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
 O Saviour, with protecting care 
 Return to this Thy house of Prayer: 
 Where w^e Thy parting promise claim. 
 Assembled in Thy sacred name : 
 
 Hosanna, Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
 But, chiefest, in our cleansed breast. 
 Eternal, bid Thy Spirit rest. 
 And make our secret soul to be 
 A temple pure, and worthy Thee : 
 
 Hosanna, Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 1 55 
 
 So, in the last and dreadful day, 
 When earth and heaven shall melt away. 
 Thy flock, redeemed from sinful stain, 
 Shall swell the sound of praise again : 
 Hosanna, Lord, Hosanna in the highest f 
 
156 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 TE DO SHOW THE LORD'S DEATH 
 UNTIL HE COME, 
 
 Y Christ redeemed, in Christ restored, 
 We keep the memory adored. 
 And show the death of our dear 
 Lord, 
 Until He come ! 
 
 His body broken in our stead. 
 Is here, in this memorial bread ; 
 And so our feeble love is fed. 
 Until He come ! 
 
 His fearful drops of agony. 
 His life-blood shed for us we see; 
 The wine shall tell the mystery. 
 Until He come ! 
 
 And thus that dark betrayal-night. 
 With the last Advent we unite ; 
 The shame ! the glory ! by this Rite, 
 Until He come ' 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 157 
 
 Until the trump of God be heard, 
 Until the ancient graves be stirred, 
 And with the great commanding word. 
 The Lord shall come ! 
 
 O blessed Hope ! with this elate 
 Let not our hearts be desolate. 
 But strong in faith, in patience wait. 
 Until He come ! 
 
158 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THT KINGDOM COME. 
 
 ORD ! come away ! 
 
 Why dost Thou stay? 
 Thy road is ready; and Thy paths 
 made straight 
 With longing expectation wait 
 The consecration of Thy beauteous feet ! 
 Ride on triumphantly ! Behold, we lay 
 Our lusts and proud wills in Thy way ! 
 
 Hosanna ! Welcome to our hearts ! Lord, here 
 
 Thou hast a temple too; and full as dear 
 
 As that of Sion, and as full of sin : 
 
 Nothing but thieves and robbers dwell therein: 
 
 Enter, and chase them forth, and cleanse the 
 
 floor ! 
 Crucify them, that they may never more 
 Profane that holy place 
 
 Where Thou hast chose to set Thy face ! 
 
 And then, if our stiff tongues shall be 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 159 
 
 Mute in the praises of Thy Deity, 
 The stones out of the temple wall 
 Shall cry aloud, and call 
 Hosanna ! and Thy glorious footsteps greet ! 
 
 Amen. 
 Bishop Jeremy Taylor, (1655.) 
 
i6o Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 WATCHING AND WAITING, 
 
 ■And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the Bridegroom 
 Cometh j go ye out to meet Him." Matt. xxv. 
 
 AKE, ye holy maidens, fearing 
 To slumber out your Lord's ap- 
 pearing ; 
 Hear ye the watchful herald's 
 cry: 
 Wake, Jerusalem, midnight tolleth ; 
 Hark, how His chariot onward rolleth ! 
 List, virgins rise. He draweth nigh : 
 Rise up ; with willing feet 
 Go out, the Bridegroom meet ! 
 
 Alleluia ! 
 Bear through the night 
 Your well-trimmed light ; 
 Speed forth to join the marriage rite. 
 
 Zion hears the herald's singing ; 
 Her heart of hearts with joy is springing. 
 She startcth up, she hastes away ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 161 
 
 Onward her Bridegroom cometh glorious, 
 In grace arrayed, by truth victorious ; 
 
 Her grief is joy, her night is day. 
 Come, worthy Champion, 
 O Christ, the Almighty Son : 
 
 Hosanna ! 
 We glide along 
 In pomp of song. 
 In haste to join the marriage throng. 
 
 Hymns of praise to Thee be given. 
 By men on earth and saints in heaven. 
 
 With harp, and lute, and psaltery : 
 Gates of pearl do guard Thy treasure, 
 We stand before them keeping measure, 
 
 In bursts of choral melody 
 No vision ever bore. 
 No ear hath heard before : 
 
 Allelulia ! 
 Yea, now will we 
 With holy glee 
 Renew this strain eternally. Amen. 
 
i62 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 DIES IRM, DIES ILEA, 
 
 ^^^^AY of anger, that dread Day 
 
 Shall the Sign in Heaven display, 
 And the Earth in ashes lay. 
 
 O what trembling shall appear. 
 When His coming shall be near. 
 Who shall all things strictly clear ! 
 
 When the trumpet shall command 
 Through the tombs of every land 
 All before the Throne to stand ; 
 
 Death shall shrink and nature quake, 
 When all creatures shall awake. 
 Answer to their God to make. 
 
 Sec the Book divinely penn'd. 
 In which all is found contain'd 
 Whence the world shall be arraign'd ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 163 
 
 When the Judge is on His Throne, 
 All that's hidden shall be shown, 
 Nought unpunished or unknown ! 
 
 What shall I before Him say ? 
 How shall I be safe that day. 
 When the righteous scarcely may ? 
 
 King of awful majesty, 
 Saving sinners graciously. 
 Fount of mercy, save Thou me ! 
 
 Leave me not my Saviour, one 
 
 For whose soul Thy course was run, 
 
 Lest I be that day undone. 
 
 Thou didst toil my soul to gain, 
 Didst redeem me with Thy pain ; 
 Be such labour not in vain ! 
 
 Thou just Judge of wrath severe, 
 Grant my sins remission here. 
 Ere Thy reckoning day appear. 
 
 My transgressions grevious are ; 
 Scarce look up for shame I dare 5 
 Lord, Thy guilty suppliant spare ! 
 
164 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Thou didst heal the sinner's grief, 
 And didst hear the dying thief: 
 Even I may hope relief. 
 
 All unworthy is my prayer; 
 Make my soul Thy mercy's care, 
 And from fire eternal spare. 
 
 Place me with Thy sheep, that band 
 
 Who shall separated stand 
 
 From the goats, at Thy right hand ! 
 
 When Thy voice in wrath shall say, 
 Cursed one, depart away ! 
 Call me with the blest, I pray ! 
 
 Lord Thine ear in mercy bow ! 
 Broken is my heart and low : 
 Guard of my last end be Thou ! 
 
 In that day, that mournful day. 
 When to judgment wakes our clay. 
 Show me mercy, Lord, I pray ! 
 
 Henry Alford, (1845.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 165 
 
 THE DAT OF HIS COMING. 
 
 HEN God of old came down 
 from Heaven, 
 In power and wrath He came ; 
 Before His feet the clouds were 
 riven, 
 Half darkness and half flame. 
 
 Around the trembling mountain's base 
 
 The prostrate people lay; 
 A day of wrath and not of grace; 
 
 A dim and dreadful day. 
 
 But when He came the second time. 
 
 He came in power and love ; 
 Softer than gale at morning prime. 
 
 Hovered His holy Dove. 
 
 The fires that rushed on Sinai down 
 
 In sudden torrents dread, 
 Now gently light, a glorious crown, 
 
 On every sainted head. 
 
i66 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Like arrows went those lightnings forth, 
 Winged with the sinner's doom: 
 
 But these, hke tongues, o'er all the earth, 
 Proclaiming life to come. 
 
 And as on Israel's awe-struck ear 
 
 The voice exceeding loud. 
 The trump, that angels quake to hear, 
 
 Thrilled from the deep dark cloud ; 
 
 So when the spirit of our God 
 Came down. His flock to find, 
 
 A voice from heaven was heard abroad, 
 A rushing mighty wind. 
 
 Nor doth the outward ear alone 
 
 At that high warning start ; 
 Conscience gives back th' appalling tone ; 
 
 'Tis echoed from the heart. 
 
 It fills the Church of God, it fills 
 
 The sinful world around ; 
 Only in stubborn hearts and wills 
 
 No place for it is found. 
 
 To other strains our souls are set ; 
 A giddy whirl of sin 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 167 
 
 Fills ear and brain, and will not let 
 Heaven's harmonies come in. 
 
 Come Lord, come Wisdom, Love, and 
 Power ; 
 Open our ears to hear ; 
 Let us not miss the accepted hour ; 
 Save, Lord, by love or fear ! 
 
 John Keble, (1827.) 
 
i68 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 IN THE CLOUDS OF HE J FEN. 
 
 He comes with clouds descending, 
 Once for favor'd sinners slain ; 
 Thousand — thousand saints attend- 
 
 ing, 
 
 Swell the triumph of His train : 
 Alleluia ! Alleluia ! 
 Jesus Christ shall ever reign ! 
 
 See the universe in motion, 
 
 Sinking in her funeral pyre, — 
 Earth dissolving, and the ocean 
 
 Vanishing in final fire : — 
 
 Hark, the trumpet ! Hark the trumpet ! 
 
 Loud proclaims the Day of Ire ! 
 
 Graves have yawned in countless numbcrs,- 
 
 From the dust the dead arise : 
 Millions, out of silent slumbers, 
 
 Wake in overwhelmed surprise ; 
 
Lyra Angllcana. 169 
 
 Where creation, — where creation, 
 Wrecked and torn in ruin lies ! 
 
 See the Judge our nature wearing, 
 
 Pure, ineffable, divine; — 
 See the great Archangel bearing 
 
 High in Heaven the mystic sign : 
 
 Cross of Glory ! Cross of Glory ! 
 
 Christ be in that moment mine I 
 
 Every eye shall then behold Him 
 
 Robed in awful majesty : 
 Those that set at nought, and sold Him, 
 
 Pierced and nailed Him to a tree, — 
 
 Deeply wailing, — Deeply wailing, 
 
 Shall the true Messiah see ' 
 
 Lo ! the last long separation ! 
 
 As the clearing clouds divide ; 
 And one dread adjudication 
 
 Sends each soul to either side ! 
 
 Lord of mercy ! Lord of mercy ! 
 
 How shall I that day abide ! 
 
 Oh ! may Thine own Bride and Spirit 
 
 Then avert a dreadful doom, — 
 And we summon to inherit 
 
 An eternal blissful home ; — 
 8 
 
170 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Ah ! come quickly ! Ah ! come quickly. 
 Let Thy second Advent come ! 
 
 Yea, Amen ! Let all adore Thee 
 On Thine amaranthine throne ! 
 
 Saviour ! take the power and glory. 
 Claim the kingdom for thine own ! 
 Men and angels : Men and angels, 
 Kneel and bow to Thee alone ! 
 
 Egerton Brydges. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 171 
 
 IFHO IS THIS THAT COMETH LEAN- 
 ING ON HER BELOVED? 
 
 JOURNEY through a desert drear and 
 
 wild, 
 Yet is my heart by such sweet thoughts 
 beguiled 
 
 Of Him on whom I lean, my strength, my stay, 
 That I forget the sorrows of the way. 
 
 Thoughts of His love, the root of every grace 
 Which finds in this poor heart a dwelling place. 
 The sunshine of my soul, than day more bright. 
 And my calm pillow of repose by night. 
 
 Thoughts of His sojourn in this vale of tears : — 
 The tale of love unfolded in those years. 
 Of sinless suffering and patient grace, 
 I love again and yet again to trace. 
 
 Thoughts of His glory : on the Cross I gaze. 
 And there behold its sad yet healing rays; 
 
172 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Beacon of hope, which Hfted up on high 
 Llumed with heavenly Hght the tear-dimmed eye. 
 
 Thoughts of His coming: for that joyful day 
 In patient hope I watch and wait and pray ; 
 The dawn draws nigh, the midnight shadows 
 
 flee; 
 O what a sunrise will that advent be ! 
 
 Thus while I journey on my Lord to meet, 
 My thoughts and meditations are so sweet 
 Of Him on whom I lean, my strength, my stay, 
 That I forget the sorrows of the way. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 173 
 
 STRENGTHENED WITH MIGHT BT 
 HIS SPIRIT IN THE INNER MAN, 
 
 OME to our poor nature's rnight, 
 With Thy blessed inward light, 
 ^Holy Ghost the Infinite. 
 Comforter divine : 
 We are sinful ; cleanse us, Lord ; 
 Sick and faint ; Thy strength afford : 
 Lost, until by Thee restored. 
 Comforter divine. 
 
 Orphan are our souls, and poor ; 
 Give us from Thy heavenly store 
 Faith, love, joy, for evermore. 
 
 Comforter divine : 
 Like the dew. Thy peace distil; 
 Guide, subdue our wayward will, 
 Things of Christ unfolding still. 
 
 Comforter divine. 
 
174 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Gentle, awful, holy Guest, 
 Make Thy temple in each breast 
 Shrine of purity confessed, 
 
 Comforter divine : 
 In us, for us, intercede. 
 And with voiceless groanings plead 
 Our unutterable need. 
 
 Comforter divine. 
 
 In us, "Abba, Father," cry, 
 Earnest of our bliss on high, 
 Seal of immortality. 
 
 Comforter divine: 
 Search for us the depths of God ; 
 Bear us up the starry road 
 To the height of Thine abode, 
 
 Comforter divine. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. ^ 175 
 
 THROUGH HIM WE HAVE ACCESS BT 
 ONE SPIRIT UNTO THE FATHER, 
 
 IfflC 
 
 OLY Spirit, given 
 
 For our guide to heaven, 
 
 Sent by love divine ; 
 With Thy peace consoling. 
 Every ill controlling, 
 
 On our darkness shine ! 
 Faith and hope and love increasing. 
 Fill our hearts v^ith joy unceasing. 
 
 Lord, of life the Giver, 
 Dwell with us forever: 
 
 Heavenly life inspire : 
 All within renewing. 
 With Thy grace enduing 
 
 Heart, mind, thought, desire ! 
 Fount of life forever flowing, 
 Grace and peace on us bestowing. 
 
 Fill our meditation 
 With Thine inspiration : 
 
176 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Graft us in Thy word : 
 So may we possessing 
 Thine all-fruitful blessing, 
 
 Glorify our Lord, 
 Follow Him with faith unfeigned, 
 Till we have His rest attained. 
 
 Only through His merit 
 We Thine aid inherit : 
 
 In His Name we plead: 
 Never let us grieve Thee, 
 But with joy receive Thee, 
 
 Fulness of our need: 
 In our wealth, and in affliction. 
 Crown us with Thy benediction. 
 
 Amen. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 177 
 
 IT IS THE SPIRIT THAT ^UICK- 
 ENETH 
 
 OLY Spirit, Lord of Light, 
 From Thy clear celestial height 
 
 Thy pure beaming radiance give : 
 Come, Thou Father of the poor, 
 Come, with treasures that endure, 
 Come, Thou Light of all that live. 
 
 Thou, of all consolers best, 
 Visiting the troubled breast. 
 
 Dost refreshing peace bestow ; 
 Thou in toil and comfort sweet. 
 Cooling breath in noontide heat. 
 
 Solace in the hour of woe. 
 
 Light most blissful. Light divine. 
 Visit Thou these hearts of Thine, 
 
 And our inmost being fill ! 
 If Thou take Thy grace away. 
 Nothing pure in man will stay ; 
 
 All his good is turned to ill. 
 8* 
 
178 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 Heal our wounds ; our strength renew ; 
 On our dryness pour Thy dew ; 
 
 Wash the stains of guilt away ; 
 Bend the stubborn heart and will ; 
 Kindle what is cold and chill j 
 
 Guide the steps that go astray. 
 
 Thou, on all who evermore 
 Thee confess and Thee adore, 
 
 In Thy seven-fold gifts descend : 
 Give them comfort when they die j 
 Give them their reward on high j 
 
 Give them joys which never end. Amen. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 179 
 
 THOU WHOSE ALMIGHTY WORD. 
 
 HOU Whose almighty word 
 Chaos and darkness heard, 
 
 And took their flight ! 
 Hear us we humbly pray, 
 And where the Gospel day 
 Sheds not its glorious ray, 
 Let there be Light ! 
 
 Thou Who didst come to bring 
 On Thy redeeming wing 
 
 Healing and light, — 
 Health to the sick in mind, 
 Sight to the inly blind, 
 O, now to all mankind, 
 
 Let there be Light. 
 
 Spirit of truth and love, 
 Life-giving, holy Dove, 
 
 Speed forth Thy flight ! 
 Move on the water's face. 
 
i8o Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Spreading the beams of grace, 
 And in earth's darkest place 
 Let there be Light ! 
 
 Blessed and holy Three, 
 Glorious Trinity, 
 
 Wisdom, Love, Might ! 
 Boundless as ocean's tide, 
 Rolling in fullest pride. 
 Through the world, far and wide. 
 
 Let there be Light ! 
 
 John Marriott. 
 
 ^¥^ 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 181 
 
 TFJLK IN THE LIGHT. 
 
 ALK in the light, and thou shalt 
 know 
 That fellowship of love 
 His spirit only can bestow, 
 Who reigns in light above. 
 Walk in the light, and sin abhorred 
 
 Shall ne'er defile again ; 
 The blood of Jesus Christ the Lord 
 Shall cleanse from every stain. 
 
 Walk in the light and thou shalt find 
 
 Thy heart made truly His 
 Who dwells in cloudless light enshrined ; 
 
 With whom no darkness is. 
 Walk in the light, and thou shalt own 
 
 Thy mists have passed away. 
 Because in thee that light hath shone 
 
 Which grows to perfect day. 
 
 Walk in the light, and e'en the tomb 
 No fearful shade shall mar j 
 
l82 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Glory shall chase away its gloom, 
 For Christ hath conquered there. 
 
 Walk in the light, and there shall be 
 A path, if thorny, bright ; 
 
 For God by grace shall dwell in thee, 
 And God Himself is light. 
 
 Bernard Barton. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 183 
 
 VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS. 
 
 p^ OLY Spirit, gently come, 
 Raise us from our fallen state. 
 Fix Thy everlasting home 
 In the hearts Thou didst create, 
 Gift of God most High ! 
 Visit every troubled breast : 
 Light and life and love supply ; 
 Give our spirits perfect rest. 
 
 Heavenly unction from above. 
 Comforter of weary saints. 
 Fountain, Life, and Fire of Love, 
 Hear and answer our complaints ! 
 
 Thee we humbly pray. 
 Finger of the Living God, 
 Now Thy seven-fold grace display. 
 Shed our Saviour's love abroad ! 
 
 Now Thy quickening influence bring. 
 On our spirits sweetly movej 
 
184 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Open every mouth to sing 
 Jesus' everlasting love ! 
 Lighten every heart ; 
 Drive our enemies away ; 
 Joy and peace to us impart : 
 Lead us in the heavenly way ! 
 
 Take the things of Christ and show 
 What our Lord for us hath done ; 
 May we God the P'ather know 
 Only in and through the Son j 
 
 Nothing will we fear, 
 Though to wilds and deserts driven, 
 While we feel Thy presence near. 
 Witnessing our sins forgiven. 
 
 Glory be to God alone, 
 God whose hand created all ! 
 Glory be to God the Son, 
 Who redeem'd us from our fall ! 
 
 To the Holy Ghost 
 Equal praise and glory be. 
 When the course of time is lost. 
 Lost in wide eternity ! 
 
 William Hammond, (1745.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 185 
 
 BWEET IS THE SPIRITS STRAIN, 
 
 WEET is the Spirit's strain; 
 Breathed by soft pleadings inly heard, 
 By all the heart's deep fountains 
 stirred, 
 By conscience, and the written Word ; 
 Come, wanderers, home again ! 
 
 The Bride repeats the call ; 
 By high thanksgiving, lowly prayer, 
 By days of rest, and fostering care. 
 By holy rites, that all may share; 
 
 She whispers. Come ! to all. 
 
 Let him who hears say. Come ! 
 If thou hast been sin's wretched slave ; 
 If thou art risen from that grave ; 
 Thy sleeping brethren seek to save, 
 
 And call the wanderers home. 
 
i86 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 And let all come, who thirst ! 
 Freely for every child of woe 
 The streams of living waters flow ; 
 And whosoever will may go 
 
 Where healing fountains burst. 
 
 There drink and be at rest j 
 On Him who died for thee believe ; 
 The Spirit's quickening grace receive ; 
 No more the God who seeks thee grieve; 
 
 Be holy and be blest ! 
 
 Joseph Anstice, (1836.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 187 
 
 HE HA TH NO T LEFT HIMSELF WITH- 
 OUT WITNESS. 
 
 HERE is a book, who runs may 
 read, 
 Which heavenly truth imparts ; 
 And all the lore its scholars need, 
 Pure eyes and Christian hearts. 
 
 The works of God, above, below, 
 
 Within us and around. 
 Are pages in that book, to show 
 
 How God Himself is found. 
 
 The glorious sky embracing all, 
 
 Is Hke the Maker's love. 
 Wherewith encompassed, great and small 
 
 In peace and order move. 
 
 The moon above, the Church below, 
 
 A wondrous race they run ; 
 But all their radiance, all their glow, 
 
 Each borrows of its sun. 
 
i88 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 The Saviour lends the light and heat 
 
 That crowns His holy will j 
 The saints, like stars, around His seat 
 
 Perform their courses still. 
 
 The saints above are stars in Heaven; 
 
 What are the saints on earth ? 
 Like trees they stand, whom God has given, 
 
 Our Eden's happy birth. 
 
 Faith is their fix'd unswerving root, 
 
 Hope their unfading flower ; 
 Fair deeds of charity their fruit. 
 
 The glory of their bower. 
 
 The dew of Heaven is like Thy grace ; 
 
 It steals in silence down ; 
 But, where it lights, the favoured place 
 
 By richest fruits is known. 
 
 One name, above all glorious names, 
 With its ten thousand tongues 
 
 The everlasting sea proclaims. 
 Echoing angelic songs. 
 
 The raging fire, the roaring wind. 
 The boundless power display : 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 189 
 
 But in the gentler breeze we find 
 Thy spirit's viewless way. 
 
 Two worlds are ours ; 'tis only sin 
 
 Forbids us to descry, 
 The mystic heaven and earth within, 
 
 Plain as the sea and sky. 
 
 Thou who hast given us eyes to see 
 
 And love this sight so fair, 
 Give us a heart to find out Thee, 
 
 And read Thee everywhere. 
 
 Keble, (1827.) 
 
igo Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF GOD. 
 
 SAY to thee, do thou repeat 
 To the first man thou mayest meet 
 In lane, highway, or open street — 
 
 That he, and we, and all men, move 
 
 Under a canopy of love. 
 
 As broad as the blue sky above : 
 
 That doubt and trouble, fear and pain 
 And anguish, all are shadows vain ; 
 That death itself shall not remain : 
 
 That weary deserts we may tread, 
 A dreary labyrinth may thread. 
 Through dark ways underground be led 
 
 Yet, if we will one Guide obey. 
 The dreariest path, the darkest way. 
 Shall issue out in heavenly day. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 191 
 
 And we on diverse shores now cast, 
 Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, 
 All in our Father's house at last. 
 
 And ere thou leave him, say thou this. 
 Yet one word more : they only miss 
 The winning of that final bliss — 
 
 Who will not count it true that Love, 
 Blessing, not cursing, rules above. 
 And that in it we live and move. 
 
 And one thing further make him know — 
 That to believe these things are so, 
 This firm faith never to forego — 
 
 Despite of all which seems at strife 
 With blessing, all with curses rife — 
 That this is blessing, this is life. 
 
 R. C. Trench. 
 
192 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE SURE COVENANT. 
 
 ' For this is as the waters of Noah unto Me j for as I have sworn 
 the waters shall no more go over the earth, so have I sworn 
 that I would not be wroth with thee." 
 
 ET the storms ply their deep and threate- 
 ning bass, 
 The bow of promise shall the 
 L ^^y.sa-,vx^Jfei> shades illume, 
 
 Brightly descried in Faith's eternal glass. 
 E'en like an Angel's many coloured plume 
 Waving in tempest — pledge that in her bloom 
 Nature, emerging from the stormy mass. 
 Will keep her time and order, — Let them 
 pass 
 The wicked and their plottings: 'mid the 
 gloom. 
 The Church surveys her covenant sign, and 
 smiles: 
 And 'neath her solemn rainbow's dripping 
 
 arch, 
 A mystic wing spread o'er her daring march, 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 193 
 
 She goes forth, on her heavenly work the 
 
 whiles, 
 Though weeping, sure that One in joy shall 
 
 bring, 
 Her and her sheaves at harvest-moon to sing. 
 
 From the Cathedral. 
 
194 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 / AM WITH rou JUFJrS. 
 
 THOUSAND years have fleeted ; 
 
 And, Saviour ! still we see 
 Thy deed of love repeated 
 On all who come to Thee. 
 As he who sat benighted, 
 
 Afflicted, poor, and blind ; 
 
 So now, (Thy word is plighted,) 
 
 Joy, light, and peace I find. 
 
 Dark gloom my spirit filling. 
 
 Beside the way I sat; 
 Desire my heart was thrilling ; 
 
 But anguish more than that. 
 To me no ray was granted. 
 
 Although I heard the psalms. 
 The faithful sweetly chanted, 
 
 And felt the waving palms. 
 
 With grief my heart was aching ; 
 O'erwhclming were my woes. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 195 
 
 Till, heaven-born courage taking, 
 
 To Thee my cry arose : 
 " O David's Son, relieve me, 
 
 " My bitter anguish quell ; 
 " Thy promised succour give me, 
 
 " And this dark night dispel ! " 
 
 With tears that fast were flowing, 
 
 I sought Thee through the crowd. 
 My heart more tender growing, 
 
 Until I wept aloud : 
 Oh ! then my grief diminished ; 
 
 For then they cried to me, 
 *' Blind man, thy woe is finished ; 
 
 " Arise, He calleth thee ! " 
 
 I came with steps that faltered ; 
 
 Thy course I felt Thee check ; 
 Then straight my mind was altered. 
 
 And bowed my stubborn neck : 
 Thou saidst, " What art thou seeking ? " 
 
 " Oh Lord ! that I might see ! " 
 Oh ! then I heard Thee speaking ; 
 
 " Believe, and it shall be." 
 
 Our hope. Lord, faileth never. 
 
 When Thou Thy word dost plight ; 
 
196 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 My fears then ceased forever, 
 
 And all my soul was light. 
 Thou gavest me Thy blessing ; 
 
 From former guilt set free, 
 Now heavenly joy possessing, 
 
 OLord! I follow Thee! 
 
 Frances Elizabeth Cox, (1841.) 
 
 From Fouque. 
 
 "•-^m^ 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 197 
 
 PASTOR ANIMARVM, 
 
 OME wandering sheep, O come ! 
 
 I'll bind thee to my breast j 
 I'll bear thee to thy home, 
 
 And lay thee down to rest. 
 
 I saw thee stray forlorn. 
 And heard the faintly cry, 
 
 And on the tree of scorn 
 For thee I deigned to die — 
 What greater proof could I 
 
 Give, — than to seek the tomb ? 
 
 Come, wandering sheep, O come ! 
 
 I shield thee from alarms, 
 And wilt thou not be blest ? 
 
 I bear thee in my arms ; 
 
 Thou, bear Me in thy breast ! 
 O, this is love — come, rest — 
 
 This is a blissful doom. 
 
 Come, wandering sheep, O come ! 
 
 Lyra Catholica. 
 
198 Lyja Anglicana. 
 
 IN MY FATHER'S HOUSE, 
 
 ONG did I toil, and knew no earthly 
 rest ; 
 Far did I rove, and found no cer- 
 tain home ; 
 
 At last I sought them in His sheltering breast, 
 Who opes His arms, and bids the weary 
 come : 
 With Him I found a home, a rest divine ; 
 And I since then am His, and He is mine. 
 
 Yes ! He is mine ! and nought of earthly 
 things. 
 Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or 
 power. 
 The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings, 
 
 Could tempt me to forego His love an hour. 
 Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's 
 
 thine ! 
 Go, I my Saviour's am, and He is mine ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 199 
 
 The good I have is from His stores supplied ; 
 
 The ill is only what He deems the best j 
 He for my Friend, I'm rich with nought 
 beside ; 
 
 And poor without Him, though of all possest ; 
 Changes may come ; I take, or I resign ; 
 Content, while I am His, and He is mine. 
 
 Whatever may change, in Him no change is 
 seen ; 
 
 A glorious Sun, that wanes not nor declines ; 
 Above the clouds and storms He walks serene, 
 
 And sweetly on his people's darkness shines : 
 All may depart ; I fret not nor repine. 
 While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine. 
 
 He stays me falling, lifts me up when down. 
 Reclaims me wandering, guards from every 
 foe J 
 Plants on my worthless brow the victor's 
 crown ; 
 Which, in return, before His feet I throw. 
 Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine, 
 Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine. 
 
 While here, alas ! I know but half His 
 love. 
 But half discern Him, and but half adore; 
 
200 
 
 Lyra Anglicana, 
 
 But when I meet Him in the realms above, 
 I hope to love Him better, praise Him 
 more. 
 And feel, and tell, amid the choir Divine, 
 How fully I am His, and He is mine. 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte, (1833.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 201 
 
 THE HOLT SCRIPTURES. 
 
 BOOK ! infinite sweetness ! let my 
 heart 
 Suck every letter; and a honey 
 gain, 
 
 Precious for every grief in any part, 
 To clear the breast, to mollify all pain. 
 
 Thou art all health ; health thriving till it make 
 
 A full eternity. Thou art a mass 
 Of strange delights, where we may wish and 
 take. 
 
 ^ 5JC *Ji 31* i^ 
 
 * * this is the well 
 That washes what it shears. Who can 
 
 endear 
 Thy praise too much ? Thou art Heav'n's 
 lieger here. 
 Working against the states of Death and Hell. 
 
202 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh that I knew how all thy lights combine, 
 And the configuration of their glory ! 
 
 Seeing not only how each verse doth shine, 
 But all the constellations of the story. 
 
 This verse marks that, and both do make a 
 motion 
 
 Unto a third, that ten leaves off doth lie. 
 Then, as dispersed herbs do watch a potion. 
 
 These three make up some Christian's destiny. 
 
 Such are thy secrets, which my life makes good. 
 And comments on thee. For in every thing 
 Thy words do find me out, and parallels bring. 
 
 And in another make me understood. 
 
 Stars are poor books, and oftentimes do miss : 
 This book of stars lights to eternal bliss. 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 203 
 
 HOLT BAPTISM, 
 
 N token that thou shalt not fear 
 
 Christ crucified to own, 
 We print the cross upon thee here, 
 
 And stamp thee His alone. 
 
 In token that thou shalt not blush 
 
 We glory in His name. 
 We blazon here upon thy front 
 
 His^lory and His shame. 
 
 In token that thou shalt not fail 
 Christ's quarrel to maintain, 
 
 But 'neath His banner manfully 
 Firm at thy post remain ; 
 
 In token that thou too shalt tread 
 The path He travelled by, 
 
 Endure the cross, despise the shame. 
 And sit thee down on high ; 
 
204 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Thus, outwardly and visibly, 
 
 We seal thee for His own; 
 And may the brow that wears His cross 
 
 Hereafter share His crown ! 
 
 Henry Alford, (1845/ 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 205 
 
 CONFIRMATION PRATER, 
 
 HINE for ever ! God of love, 
 Hear us from Thy throne above ; 
 Thine forever may vire be, 
 Here and in eternity ! 
 
 Thine for ever ! Lord of life, 
 Shield us through our earthly strife ; 
 Thou, the Life, the Truth, the Way, 
 Guide us to the realms of day. 
 
 Thine for ever ! O how blest 
 They who find in Thee their rest ; 
 Saviour, Guardian, heavenly Friend, 
 O defend us to the end. 
 
 Thine for ever ! Saviour keep 
 These Thy frail and trembling sheep ; 
 Safe alone beneath Thy care 
 Let us all Thy goodness share. 
 
2o6 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Thine for ever! Thou our Guide, 
 All our wants by Thee supplied, 
 All our sins by Thee forgiven. 
 Led by Thee from earth to heaven ! 
 
 Amen. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 207 
 
 EUCHARIST. 
 
 E Cometh, on yon hallowed Board 
 
 The ready Feast doth duly show. 
 Where wait the chalice and the 
 bread. 
 Like jems within their veil of snow. 
 
 He Cometh, as He came of old. 
 Suddenly to His Father's shrine. 
 
 Into the hearts he died to make 
 
 Meet temples for His grace Divine. 
 
 He Cometh, as the Bridegroom comes, 
 Unto the feast Himself has spread ; 
 
 His flesh and blood the heavenly food 
 Wherewith the wedding guests are fed. 
 
 He Cometh — gentle as the dew. 
 
 And sweet as drops of honey clear, 
 
 And good as God's own manna shower. 
 To longing souls that meet Him here. 
 
2o8 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 He Cometh — let not one withdraw, 
 Nor fear to bring repented sin ; 
 
 There's blood to wash, there's bread to feed, 
 And Christ Himself to enter in. 
 
 He Cometh — praises in the Church, 
 
 And Hymns of praise in Heaven above. 
 
 And in our hearts repentant faith, 
 
 And love that springs to meet His love. 
 C. F. Alexander. 
 
 II. 
 
 O Jesu, bruised and wounded more 
 
 Than bursted grape, or bread of wheat ; 
 
 The Life of Life within our souls. 
 The cup of our salvation sweet ; 
 
 We come to shew Thy dying hour. 
 
 Thy streaming vein, Thy broken flesh ; 
 
 And still the blood is warm to save. 
 And still the fragrant wounds are fresh. 
 
 O heart, that with a double tide 
 Of blood and water, maketh pure ; 
 
 O flesh, once ofl?ered on the Cross, 
 The gift that makes our pardon sure : 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 209 
 
 Let never more our sinful souls 
 The anguish of Thy cross renew; 
 
 Nor forge again the cruel nails 
 
 That pierced Thy victim Body through. 
 
 Come Bread of Heaven, to feed our souls, 
 
 And vi^ith Thee Jesu, enter in; 
 Come, Wine of God, and as w^e drink 
 
 His precious blood, wash out our sin. 
 
 C. F. Alexander. 
 
210 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 EATING AND DRINKING WITH 
 CHRIST. 
 
 vc 
 
 ERE I sink before Thee lowly, 
 Filled with gladness deep and holy, 
 As with trembling awe and wonder 
 On Thy mighty work I ponder, 
 On this banquet's mystery. 
 On the depths we cannot see; 
 Far beyond all mortal sight 
 Lie the secrets of Thy might. 
 
 Sun, who all my life dost brighten. 
 Light who dost my soul enlighten, 
 Joy, the sweetest man e'er knoweth. 
 Fount, whence all my being floweth. 
 Humbly draw I near to Thee j 
 Grant that I may worthily 
 Take this blessed heavenly food. 
 To Thy praise, and to my good. 
 
 Jesus, Bread of Life from heaven, 
 Never be Thou vainly given. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 211 
 
 Nor I to my hurt invited ; 
 
 Be Thy love with love requited ; 
 
 Let me learn its depths indeed, 
 
 While on Thee my soul doth feed ; 
 
 Let me, here so richly blest, 
 
 Be hereafter too Thy guest. 
 
212 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE HOLT COMMUNION. 
 
 ^/f^ ELCOME sweet, sacred feast ! 
 ' O welcome life ! 
 
 Dead I was, and deep in 
 trouble ; 
 
 But grace and blessing came with Thee so rife, 
 That they have quicken'd even drie stubble. 
 Thus soules their bodies animate. 
 And thus at first when things were rude, 
 
 Dark, void, and crude. 
 They by Thy Word their beauty had and date ; 
 
 All were by Thee, 
 
 And still must be ; 
 
 Nothing that is, or lives. 
 But hath His Quickenings, and reprieves. 
 
 As Thy hand opes or shuts ; 
 
 Healings and cuts. 
 Darkness, and day-light, life, and death 
 Are but mecr leaves turn'd by Thy breath. 
 
 Spirits without Thee die. 
 
 And blackness sits 
 
 On the divinest wits, 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 213 
 
 As on the sun eclipses lie. 
 
 But that great darkness at Thy death, 
 
 When the veyl broke with Thy last breath, 
 
 Did make us see 
 
 The way to Thee ; 
 And now by these sure, sacred ties, 
 
 After Thy blood 
 
 Our sov'rain good. 
 
 Had clear'd our eies, 
 
 And given us sight ; 
 Thou dost unto Thyself betroth 
 
 Our souls and bodies both 
 
 In everlasting light, 
 
 Was't not enough that Thou had'st pay'd the 
 price. 
 And given us eies, 
 When we had none, but thou must also take 
 Us by the hand. 
 And keep us still awake. 
 When we would sleep. 
 Or from Thee creep. 
 Who without Thee cannot stand ? 
 
 Was't not enough to lose Thy breath 
 And blood by an accursed death. 
 
 But Thou must also leave 
 
 To us, that did bereave 
 
214 -"^y^^ Anglicana. 
 
 Thee of them both, these seals, the means 
 That should both cleanse 
 
 And keep us so. 
 Who wrought Thy wo? 
 O Rose of Sharon ! O the Lily 
 
 Of the Valley ! 
 How art thou now, thy flock to keep, 
 Become hot\\ food^ and Shepheard to Thy sheep! 
 Henry Vaughn, (1650.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 215 
 
 REST UNTO TOUR SOULS. 
 
 ORD what a change within us one short 
 hour 
 Spent in Thy presence will prevail 
 to make — 
 
 What heavy burdens from our bosoms take, 
 What parched grounds refresh, as with a shower ! 
 We kneel, and all around us seems to lower ; 
 We rise, and all, the distant and the near. 
 Stands forth in sunny outline, brave and clear ; 
 We kneel how weak, we rise how full of power ! 
 Why, therefore, should we do ourselves this 
 
 wrong. 
 Or others — that we are not always strong ! 
 That we are ever overborne with care ; 
 That we should ever weak or heartless be. 
 Anxious or troubled, when with us in prayer, 
 And joy, and strength, and courage, are with 
 Thee ? 
 
 R. C. Trench. 
 
2l6 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 MINISTERING ANGELS, 
 
 HEY are evermore around us, though 
 
 unseen to mortal sight, 
 In the golden hour of sunshine, and 
 in sorrow's starless night. 
 Deepening earth's most sacred pleasures, with 
 
 the peace of sins forgiven, 
 Whispering to the lonely mourner of the painless 
 joys of Heaven. 
 
 Lovingly they come to help us, when our faith 
 
 is cold and weak, 
 Guiding us along the pathway to the blessed 
 
 Home we seek ; 
 In our hearts we hear their voices, breathing 
 
 sympathy and love. 
 Echoes of the spirit-language in the sinless 
 
 world above. 
 
 They are with us in the conflict, with their 
 words of hope and cheer. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 217 
 
 When the foe of our salvation and his armed 
 hosts draw near; 
 
 And a greater One is with us, and we shrink 
 not from the strife, 
 
 While the Lord of angels leads us on the battle- 
 field of life. 
 
 Seldom do we think upon them, seldom we be- 
 lieve them nigh, — 
 
 Like the child who deems in sunshine that the 
 stars have left the sky ; 
 
 So by this world's pleasures dazzled, scarce we 
 feel their presence true, — 
 
 In foolishness and fickleness are we not children 
 too? 
 
 Seeing all my guilt and weakness, looking down 
 
 with pitying eyes. 
 For the foolish things we cling to, and the 
 
 Heaven that we despise. 
 They have been our guardian angels since this 
 
 weary world began. 
 And they still are watching o'er for His sake 
 
 who died for man! 
 
 10 
 
2l8 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 FOR OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF 
 HE J FEN, 
 
 ' WEET baby, sleep ! what ails my 
 dear, 
 What ails my darling thus to cry ? 
 Be still, my child, and lend thine 
 ear. 
 To hear me sing thy lullaby. 
 My pretty lamb, forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 Thou bless6d soul, what canst thou fear ? 
 
 What thing to thee can mischief do ? 
 Thy God is now thy Father dear. 
 
 His holy Spouse, thy mother too. 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 While thus thy lullaby I sing, 
 
 For thee great blessings ripening bej 
 
Lyra Angllcana. 219 
 
 Thine eldest brother is a king, 
 
 And hath a kingdom bought for thee. 
 Sweet baby then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 Sweet baby, sleep, and nothing fear ; 
 
 For whatsoever thee offends 
 By thy protector threatened are, 
 
 And God and angels are thy friends. 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babe j sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 When God with us was dwelling here, 
 
 In little babes He took delight ; 
 Such innocents as thou, my dear, 
 
 Are ever present in His sight. 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep; 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 A little infant once was He ; 
 
 And strength in weakness then was 
 laid 
 Upon His virgin mother's knee, 
 
 That power to Thee might be conveyed. 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babej sweet baby, sleep. 
 
220 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 The wants that He did then sustain 
 
 Have purchased wealth, my babe, for 
 thee ; 
 
 And by His torments and His pain 
 Thy rest and ease secured be. 
 
 My baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 Thou hast, yet more, to perfect this, 
 
 A promise and an earnest got 
 Of gaining everlasting bliss. 
 
 Though thou, my babe, perceivedst it not; 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 George Withers, (1641.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 221 
 
 FOREVER WITH THE LORD, 
 
 ET me be with Thee where Thou art, 
 My Saviour, my eternal Rest ! 
 Then only will this longing heart 
 Be fully and forever blest ! 
 
 Let me be with Thee where Thou art, 
 Where spotless saints Thy Name adore ; 
 
 Then only will this sinful heart 
 Be evil and defiled no more ! 
 
 Let me be with Thee where Thou art. 
 
 Where none can die, where none remove ; 
 
 There neither death nor life will part 
 Me from Thy Presence and Thy love ! 
 Charlotte Elliott, (1836.) 
 
222 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 LIVE WHILE rOU LIVE. 
 
 IS not for man to trifle ! Life is brief, 
 
 And sin is here. 
 Our age is but the falling of a leaf — 
 A dropping tear. 
 We have no time to sport away the hours ; 
 All must be earnest in a world like ours. 
 
 Not many lives, but only one have we — 
 
 Frail, fleeting man ! 
 How sacred should that one life ever be — 
 
 That narrow span ! 
 Day after day filled up with blessed toil ; 
 Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil ! 
 
 Our being is no shadow of thin air. 
 
 No vacant dream: 
 No fable of the things that never were. 
 
 But only seem. 
 *Tis full of meaning as of mystery. 
 Though strange and solemn may that meaning be. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 223 
 
 Our sorrows are no phantoms of the night — 
 
 No idle tale : 
 No cloud that floats along a sky of light, 
 
 On summer gale. 
 They are the true realities of earth — 
 Friends and companions even from our birth. 
 
 O, life below, how brief, how poor, how sad ! 
 
 One heavy sigh. 
 O, Hfe above, how long, and fair, and glad ! 
 
 An endless joy. 
 Oh ! to have done for aye with dying here ! 
 Oh ! to begin the living in yon sphere ! 
 
 O, day of time, how dark ! O, sky and earth, 
 
 How dull your hue ! 
 O, day of Christ, how bright ! O, sky and earth, 
 
 Made fair and new ! 
 Come, better Eden, with thy fresher green ! 
 Come, brighter Salem, gladden all the scene ! 
 
 BONAR. 
 
224 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 IFE KNOW THAT WE HAVE PASSED 
 FROM DEATH UNTO LIFE, BE- 
 CAUSE WE LOVE THE BRETHREN 
 
 HE clouds that wrap the setting sun 
 When Autumn's softest gleams 
 are ending, . 
 Where all bright hues together run 
 In sweet confusion blending: — 
 Why, as we watch their floating wreath, 
 Seem they the Sreath of life to breathe ? 
 To Fancy's eye their motions prove 
 They mantle round the sun for love. 
 
 When up some woodland dell we catch 
 The many-twinkling smile of ocean, 
 Or with pleased ear bewildered watch 
 
 His chime of restless motion ; 
 Still as the surging waves retire 
 They seem to grasp with strong desire, 
 Such signs of love old Ocean gives, 
 Wc cannot choose but think he lives. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 225 
 
 Wouldst thou the life of souls discern ? 
 
 Nor human wisdom nor divine 
 ^elps thee by aught beside to learn ; 
 
 Love is life's only sign. 
 The spring of the regenerate heart, 
 The pulse, the glow of every part. 
 Is the true love of Christ our Lord, 
 As man embraced, as God adored. 
 
 But he, whose heart will bound to mark 
 
 The full bright bursts of summer morn, 
 Loves too each each little dewy spark 
 
 By leaf or floweret worn : 
 Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true. 
 Through the bright shower-drop meet his 
 
 view ; 
 The colouring may be of this earth ; 
 The lustre comes of heavenly birth. 
 
 Even so, who loves the Lord aright. 
 
 No soul of man can worthless find ; 
 All will be precious in his sight. 
 
 Since Christ on all hath shined : 
 But chiefly Christian souls ; for they. 
 Though worn and soiled with sinful clay. 
 Are yet, to eyes that see them rue. 
 All glistening with baptismal dew. 
 10* 
 
226 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 No distance breaks the tie of blood ; 
 
 Brothers are brothers evermore ; 
 Nor wrong, nor wrath of deadliest mood, 
 
 That magic may o'erpower ; 
 Oft, ere the common source be known. 
 The kindred drops will claim their own. 
 And throbbing pulses silently 
 Move heart towards heart by sympathy. 
 
 So is it with true Christian hearts ; 
 
 Their mutual shares in Jesus' blood 
 An everlasting bond impart 
 
 Of holiest brotherhood : 
 Oh ! might we all our lineage prove, 
 Give and forgive, do good and love. 
 By soft endearments in kind strife 
 Lightening the load of daily life ! 
 
 There is much need ; for not as yet 
 
 Are we in shelter or repose, 
 The holy house is still beset 
 
 With leaguer of stern foes ; 
 Wild thoughts within, bad men without, 
 All evil spirits round about, 
 Are banded in unblest device, 
 To spoil Love's earthly paradise. 
 
 Then draw we nearer day by day. 
 Each to his brethren, all to God j 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 227 
 
 Let the world take us as she may, 
 
 We must not change our road ; 
 Not wondering, though in grief, to find 
 The martyr's foe still keep her mind ; 
 But fixed to hold Love's banner fast, 
 And by submission win at last. 
 
 Keble. 
 
228 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 REJOICE EVERMORE, 
 
 UT how shall we be glad ? 
 We that are journeying through a vale 
 of tears, 
 ^yEncompassed with a thousand woes 
 
 and fears, 
 How should not we be sad ? 
 
 Angels that ever stand 
 Within the presence chamber, and there raise 
 The never-interrupted hymn of praise^ 
 
 May welcome this command : 
 
 Or they whose strife is o'er, 
 Who all their weary length of life hath trod. 
 As pillars now within the temple of God, 
 
 That shall go out no more. 
 
 But we who wander here. 
 We that arc exiled in this gloomy place, 
 Still doomed to water Earth's unthankful face 
 
 With many a bitter tear — 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 229 
 
 Bid us lament and mourn, 
 Bid us that we go mourning all the day, 
 And we will find it easy to obey. 
 
 Of our best things forlorn : 
 
 But not that we be glad ; 
 If it be true the mourners are the blest, 
 Oh, leave us in a world of sin, unrest. 
 
 And trouble, to be sad ! 
 
 I spoke and thought to weep — 
 For sin and sorrow, suffering and crime, 
 That fill the world, all mine appointed time 
 
 A settled grief to keep. 
 
 When lo ! as day from night. 
 As day from out the womb of night forlorn, 
 So from that sorrow was that gladness born. 
 
 Even in mine own despite. 
 
 Yet was not that by this 
 Excluded — at the coming of that joy 
 Fled not that grief — nor did that grief destroy 
 
 The newly-risen bliss : 
 
 But side by side they flow. 
 Two fountains flowing from one smitten heart 
 And ofttimes scarcely to be known apart — 
 
 That gladness and that woe : 
 
230 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Two fountains from one source, 
 Or which from two such neighboring sources 
 
 run, 
 That aye for him who shall unseal the one, 
 
 The other flows perforce. 
 
 And both are sweet and calm. 
 Fair flowers upon the banks of either blow, 
 Both fertilize the soil, and where they flow 
 
 Shed round them holy balm. 
 
 R. C. Trench. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 231 
 
 SUNDAY. 
 
 DAY most calm, most bright ! 
 The fruit of this, the next world's 
 
 bud; 
 Th' endorsement of supreme delight, 
 Writ by a friend, and with his blood ; 
 The couch of time ; care's balm and bay, — 
 The week were dark, but for thy light ; 
 Thy torch doth shew the way. 
 
 Sundays the pillars are 
 On which heaven's palace arched lies: 
 The other days fill up the space 
 And hollow rooms with vanities. 
 They are the fruitful beds and borders, 
 In God's rich garden ; that is bare. 
 
 Which parts their ranks and orders. 
 
 The Sundays of man's life. 
 Threaded together on time's string. 
 Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
 Of the eternal, glorious King. 
 
232 
 
 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 On Sunday, heaven's gate stands ope j 
 Blessings are plentiful and rife ; 
 More plentiful than hope. 
 
 Thou art a day of mirth : 
 And, where the week-days trail on ground, 
 Thy flight is higher, as thy birth. 
 O let me take thee at the bound. 
 Leaping with thee from seven to seven ; 
 Till that we both, being tossed from earth. 
 
 Fly hand in hand to heaven. 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 233 
 
 THE LORD'S DAT, 
 
 TIME of tranquil joy and holy feel 
 
 ing! 
 When over earth God's spirit from 
 above 
 
 Spreads out His wings of love ! 
 When sacred thoughts, like angels, come appeal- 
 ing 
 To our tent doors 5 O loeve ; to earth and heaven 
 The sweetest of the seven ! 
 
 How peaceful are thy skies ! thy air is clearer, 
 As on the advent of a gracious time: 
 
 The sweetness of its prime 
 Blesseth the world, and Eden's days seem 
 
 nearer : 
 I hear, in each faint stirring of the breeze, 
 
 God's voice among the trees. 
 
 O while thy hallowed moments are distilling 
 Their fresher influence on my heart like dews, 
 The chamber when I muse 
 
234 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Turns to a temple ! He, whose converse thrill- 
 ing 
 Honored Emmatis, that old eventide, 
 Comes sudden to my side. 
 
 'Tis light at evening time when Thou art pres 
 
 ent ; 
 Thy coming to the eleven in that dim room 
 
 Brightened, O Christ ! its gloom : 
 So bless my lonely hour that memories pleasant 
 Around the time a heavenly gleam may cast, 
 
 Which many days shall last ! 
 
 Raise each low aim, refine each high emotion, 
 That with more ardent footstep I may press 
 
 Toward Thy holiness; 
 And, braced for sacred duty by devotion. 
 Support my cross along that rugged road 
 
 Which Thou hast sometimes trod ! 
 
 I long to see Thee, for my heart is weary: 
 O when, my Lord ! in kindness wilt Thou 
 come 
 To call Thy banished home ? 
 The scenes are cheerless, and the days are 
 
 dreary ; 
 From sorrow and from sin I would be free. 
 And evermore with Thee ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 235 
 
 Even now I see the golden city shining 
 Up the blue depths of that transparent air: 
 
 How happy all is there ! 
 There breaks a day which never knows declin- 
 ing > 
 A Sabbath, through whose circling hours the 
 blest 
 Beneath Thy shadow rest ! 
 
 James D. Burns, (1855.) 
 
236 . Lyra Anglicana, 
 
 EARLY RISING AND PRATER. 
 
 ^^ HEN first thy eyes unveil, give 
 thy soul leave 
 To do the like ; our bodies but 
 forerun 
 
 The spirit's duty : true hearts spread and heave 
 Unto their God, as flowers do to the sun: 
 Give Him thy first thoughts then, so shalt thou 
 
 keep 
 Him company all day, and in Him sleep. 
 
 Yet never sleep the sun up ; prayer should 
 Dawn with the day : there are set awful hours 
 'Twixt heaven and us ; the manna was not 
 
 good 
 After sun-rising ; for day sullies flowers : 
 Rise to prevent the sun ; sleep doth sins glut. 
 And heaven's gate opens when the world's is 
 
 shut. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. . 237 
 
 Walk with thy fellow creatures ; note the 
 
 hush 
 And whispering amongst them. Not a spring 
 Or leaf but hath his morning hymn ; each bush 
 And oak doth know I AM. Canst thou not 
 
 sing! 
 O leave thy cares and follies ! Go this way, 
 And thou art sure to prosper all the day. 
 
 Serve God before the world ; let him not go 
 Until thou hast a blessing ; then resign 
 The whole unto him and remember who 
 Prevailed by wrestling ere the sun did shine ; 
 Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin, 
 Then journey on and have an eye to heaven. 
 
 Mornings are mysteries ; the first, the world's 
 
 youth, 
 Man's resurrection, and the future's bud, 
 Shroud in their births ; the crown of life, light, 
 
 truth 
 Is styl'd their star ; the stone and hidden food : 
 Three blessings wait upon them, one of which 
 Should move, — they make us holy, happy, 
 
 rich. 
 
 When the world's up, and every swarm abroad. 
 Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay ; 
 
238 Lyra Angllcana. 
 
 Despatch necessities ; life hath a load 
 Which must be carried on, and safely may ; 
 Yet keep those cares without thee 5 let the 
 
 heart 
 Be God's alone, and choose the better part. 
 Henry C. Vaughn, (1614.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 239 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 TIMELY happy, timely wise, 
 Hearts that with rising morn arise ! 
 Eyes that the beam celestial view. 
 Which evermore makes all things 
 new ! 
 
 New every morning is the love 
 Our wakening and uprising prove. 
 Through sleep and darkness safely brought, 
 Restored to life, and power, and thought. 
 
 New mercies, each returning day, 
 
 Hover around us while we pray ; 
 
 New perils past, new sins forgiven. 
 
 New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven, 
 
 If, on our daily course, our mind 
 Be set to hallow all we find, 
 New treasures still, of countless price, 
 God will provide the sacrifice. 
 
240 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be, 
 As more of Heaven in each we see ; 
 Some softening gleam of love and prayer 
 Shall dawn on every cross and care. 
 
 As for some dear familiar strain 
 Untired we ask, and ask again ; 
 Ever, in its melodious store, 
 Finding a spell unheard before ; 
 
 Such is the bliss of souls serene. 
 
 When they have sworn, and steadfast mean. 
 
 Counting the cost, in all t'espy 
 
 Their God, in all themselves deny. 
 
 O could we learn that sacrifice. 
 What lights would all around us rise ! 
 How would our hearts with wisdom talk 
 Along life's dullest, dreariest walk ! 
 
 We need not bid, for cloistered cell. 
 Our neighbour and our work farewell, 
 Nor strive to wind ourselves too high 
 For sinful man beneath the sky : 
 
 The trivial round, the common task, 
 Will furnish all we ought to ask ; 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 241 
 
 Room to deny ourselves ; a road 
 To bring us, daily, nearer God. 
 
 Seek we no more : content with these. 
 Let present rapture, comfort, ease. 
 As Heaven shall bid them, come and go ; 
 The secret this, of rest below. 
 
 Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love 
 Fit us for perfect rest above ; 
 And help us, this day and every day, 
 To live more nearly as we pray. 
 
 John Keble, (1827.) 
 
 II 
 
242 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 AS THT DAT IS. 
 
 INCE Thou hast added now, O 
 God! 
 Unto my life another day, 
 And giv'st me leave to walk abroad. 
 And labour in my lawful way ; 
 My walks and works with me begin. 
 Conduct me forth, and bring me in. 
 
 In every power my soul enjoys 
 
 Internal virtues to improve ; 
 In every sense that she employs 
 
 In her external works to move ; 
 Bless her, O God ! and keep me sound 
 From outward harm and inward wound. 
 
 Let sin nor Satan's fraud prevail 
 
 To make mine eye of reason blind. 
 
 Or faith, or hope, or love to fail, 
 Or any virtues of the mind ; 
 
 But more and more let them increase. 
 
 And bring me to mine end in peace. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 243 
 
 Lewd courses let my feet forbear ; 
 
 Keep Thou my hands from doing wrong ; 
 Let not ill counsels pierce mine ear, 
 
 Nor wicked words defile my tongue ; 
 And keep the windows of each eye 
 That no strange lust climb in thereby. 
 
 But guard Thou safe my heart in chief; 
 
 That neither hate, revenge, nor fear. 
 Nor vain desire, vain joy or grief. 
 
 Obtain command or dwelling there : 
 And, Lord ! with every saving grace. 
 Still true to Thee maintain that place ! 
 
 So till the evening of this morn 
 
 My time shall then so well be spent. 
 
 That when the twilight shall return 
 I may enjoy it with content. 
 
 And to Thy praise and honour say. 
 
 That this hath proved a happy day. 
 
 George Withers, (1641). 
 
244 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 JBIDE WITH US. 
 
 BIDE with me; fast falls the 
 
 eventide ; 
 The darkness ; Lord, with me abide : 
 I When other keepers fail, and com- 
 forts flee, 
 Help of the helpless ; O abide with me. 
 
 Swift to the close ebbs out life's little day ; 
 Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away ; 
 Changes and decay in all around I see ; 
 O Thou who changest not, abide with me ! 
 
 I need Thy presence every passing hour ; 
 What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's 
 
 power ? 
 Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be ? 
 Through cloud and sunshine. Lord, abide with 
 
 me 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 245 
 
 I fear no foe : with Thee at hand to bless, 
 Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness; 
 Where Is death's sting? where, grave, thy 
 
 victory ? 
 I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. 
 
 Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes ; 
 Shine through the gloom, and point me to the 
 
 skies ; — 
 Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain 
 
 shadows flee, — 
 In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me ! 
 
 Lyte. 
 
246 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 EVENING, 
 
 UN of my soul, Thou Saviour dear, 
 It is not night if Thou be nearj 
 Oh ! may no earth-born cloud arise 
 To hide Thee from Thy servant's 
 eyes! 
 
 When round Thy wondrous works below 
 My searching rapturous glance I throw. 
 Tracing out wisdom, power, and love. 
 In earth or sky, in stream or grove ; 
 
 Or, by the light Thy words disclose. 
 Watch time's full river as it flows. 
 Scanning Thy gracious Providence, 
 Where not too deep for mortal sense ; 
 
 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 ! 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 247 
 
 When the soft dews of kindly sleep 
 My wearied eyelids gently steep, 
 Be my last thoughts, how sweet to rest 
 For ever on my Saviour's breast ! 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Thou framer of the light and dark, 
 Steer through the tempest Thine own ark ! 
 Amid the howling mighty sea 
 We are in port if we have Thee. 
 
 The rulers of this Christian land, 
 Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand, 
 Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright ! 
 Let all do all as in Thy sight ' 
 
 Oh ! by Thine own sad burthen, borne 
 So meekly up the hill of scorn. 
 Teach Thou Thy priests their daily cross, 
 To bear as Thine, nor count it loss ! 
 
 If some poor wandering child of Thine 
 Have spurned to-day the voice divine j 
 
248 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; 
 Let him no more he down in sin ! 
 
 Watch by the sick — enrich the poor 
 With blessings from Thy boundless store ! 
 Be every mourner's sleep to-night 
 Like infant's slumber, 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 ! 
 
 John Keble, (1827.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 249 
 
 DAT BT DAT WE MAGNIFY THEE, 
 
 TAR of morn and even, 
 Sun of Heaven's heaven, 
 Saviour high and dear, 
 Toward us turn Thine ear ; 
 Through whatever may come, 
 Thou canst lead us home. 
 
 Though the gloom be grievous. 
 Those we leant on leave us, 
 
 Though the coward heart. 
 
 Quit its proper part. 
 
 Though the tempter come. 
 
 Thou wilt lead us home. 
 
 Saviour pure and holy. 
 
 Lover of the lowly. 
 Sign us with Thy sign. 
 Take our hands in Thine, 
 Take our hands and come, 
 Lead Thy children home ! 
 II* 
 
250 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Star of morn and even, 
 Shine on us from Heaven, 
 
 From Thy glory-throne 
 
 Hear Thy very ovi^n ! 
 
 Lord and Saviour come, 
 
 Lead us to our home ! 
 Francis Turner Palgrove, (1862. 
 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 251 
 
 / AM WITH rOU ALWAYS. 
 
 OT Thou from us, O Lord, but we 
 Withdraw ourselves from Thee. 
 
 When we are dark and dead 
 And Thou art covered with a cloud, 
 Hanging before Thee, like a shroud. 
 So that our prayers can find no way, 
 Oh ! teach us that we do not say, 
 " Where is Thy brightness fled ? " 
 
 But that we search and try 
 
 What in ourselves has wrought this blame ; 
 
 For Thou remainest still the same. 
 
 But earth's own vapours earth may fill 
 
 With darkness and thick clouds, while still 
 
 The sun is in the sky. 
 
 R. C. Trench. 
 
252 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 / WILL ARISE AND GO TO MY 
 FATHER, 
 
 UST as I am — without one plea, 
 But that Thy blood was shed for me, 
 And that Thou bid'st me come to 
 Thee — 
 O Lamb of God, I come. 
 
 Just as I am — and waiting not 
 To rid my soul of one dark blot, 
 To Thee, Whose blood can cleanse each spot — 
 O Lamb of God, I come. 
 
 Just as I am — though tossed about 
 With many a conflict, many a doubt. 
 With fears within and foes without — 
 O Lamb of God, I come. 
 
 Just as I am — poor, weary, blind ; 
 Sight, riches, healing of the mind. 
 Yea, all I need, in Thee I find — 
 O Lamb of God, I come. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 253 
 
 Just as I am — Thou wilt receive, 
 Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve, 
 Because Thy promise I believe — 
 O Lamb of God, I come. 
 
 Just as I am — Thy love, unknown, 
 Has broken every barrier down ; 
 Now to be Thine, yea, Thine alone — 
 O Lamb of God, I come. 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. 
 
254 -"^y^^ Anglicana. 
 
 THIS DID NOT ONCE SO TROUBLE 
 
 ME, 
 
 HIS did not once so trouble me, 
 That better I could not love Thee, 
 But now I feel and know 
 That only when we love, we find 
 How far our hearts remain behind 
 The love they should bestow. 
 
 While we had little care to call 
 
 On Thee, and scarcely prayed at all. 
 
 We seemed enough to pray : 
 But now we only think with shame. 
 How seldom to Thy glorious Name 
 
 Our lips their offerings pay. 
 
 And when we gave yet slighter heed 
 Unto our brother's suffering need. 
 
 Our hearts reproached us then 
 Not half so much as now, that we 
 With such a careless eye can see 
 
 The woes and wants of men. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 255 
 
 In doing this is knowledge won, 
 To see what yet remains undone ; 
 
 With this our pride repress, 
 And give us grace a growing store. 
 That day by day we may do more, 
 
 And may esteem it less. 
 
 R. C. Trench. 
 
256 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 J WALK IN A CHURCHTARD, 
 
 E walked within the churchyard 
 bounds, 
 My little boy and I — 
 He laughing, running happy 
 rounds, 
 I pacing mournfully. 
 
 " Nay, child ! it is not well," I said, 
 
 " Among the graves to shout, 
 To laugh and play among the dead, 
 
 And make this noisy rout." 
 
 A moment to my side he clung, 
 
 Leaving his merry play, 
 A moment stilled his joyous tongue. 
 
 Almost as hushed as they : 
 
 Then quite forgetting the command 
 
 In life's exulting burst 
 Of early glee, let go my hand, 
 
 Joyous as at the first. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 257 
 
 And now I did not check him more, 
 
 For, taught by Nature's face, 
 I had grown wiser than before 
 
 Even in that moment's space. 
 
 She spread no funeral-pall above 
 That patch of churchyard ground. 
 
 But the same azure vault of love 
 As hung o'er all around. 
 
 And white clouds o'er that spot would pass, 
 
 As freely as elsewhere ; 
 The sunshine on no other grass 
 
 A richer hue might wear. 
 
 And formed from out that very mould 
 
 In which the dead did lie. 
 The daisy with its eye of gold 
 
 Looked up into the sky. 
 
 The rook was wheeling overhead, 
 
 Nor hastening to be gone — 
 The small bird did its glad notes shed, 
 
 Perched on a gray head-stone. 
 
 And God, I said, would never give 
 
 This light upon the earth. 
 Nor bid in childhood's heart to live 
 
 These springs of gushing mirth — 
 
258 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 If our one wisdom were to mourn, 
 
 And linger with the dead, 
 To nurse, as wisest, thoughts forlorn 
 
 Of worm and earthy bed. 
 
 Oh, no ! the glory earth puts on, 
 The child's unchecked delight. 
 
 Both witness to a triumph won, 
 (If we did but read aright) — 
 
 A triumph won o'er sin and death, 
 From these the Saviour saves ; 
 
 And like a happy infant. Faith 
 Can play among the graves. 
 
 R. C. Trench. 
 
Lyra Anglicana, 259 
 
 THE WANDERER. 
 
 AR from the Shepherd's one true fold 
 I stray, 
 In pathways all unknown ; 
 O dark and gloomy is the woeful day 
 That finds me here alone. 
 
 My hopes are blighted, and my heart bereft 
 
 Of comfort and repose, 
 Because the Shepherd's blessed Fold I left, 
 
 To wander where I chose. 
 
 I sought more liberty and less restraint ; 
 
 My will I wished to please j 
 And all day long I made a vain complaint, 
 
 In greater rest and ease. 
 
 At last I broke away and left the flock. 
 
 To find a desert bare — 
 No food, no cooling stream, no sheltering rock, — 
 
 False dreams and blank despair. 
 
26o Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 O for the Fold, the blessed Fold once more ! 
 
 O for the Shepherd's hand, 
 To guide me back, and lead me as of yore 
 
 In verdant pasture land ! 
 
 O seek me, tender Shepherd, lest I die ; 
 
 Find me and take me home j 
 Once there again in calm security. 
 
 My feet shall never roam. 
 
 Thy staff may strike — I vi^ill not shrink again, 
 
 Or spurn Thy warning voice, 
 Or seek a pathway without toil or pain, 
 
 Of mine own erring choice. 
 
 But in the footsteps of the flock. Thy way 
 
 With duteous love I'll take. 
 And strive to curb my will, and day by day 
 
 All devious ways forsake. 
 
 Then seek me tender Shepherd, lest I die. 
 
 Or further from Thee roam ; 
 In pity heed Thy wanderer's heart-wrung cry. 
 
 And bring me safely home. 
 
 E. L. Lee. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 261 
 
 UNTO THE PERFECT DAT. 
 
 UR course is onward, onward into 
 light: 
 
 What though the darkness gathereth 
 ^^-^^^^ amain, 
 Yet to return or tarry, both are vain. 
 How tarry, when around is thick night ? 
 Whither return ? what flower yet ever might. 
 In days of gloom, and cold, and stormy rain. 
 Enclose itself in its green bud again. 
 Hiding from wrath of tempest out of sight? 
 Courage ! — we travel through a darksome cave ; 
 But still as nearer to the light we draw. 
 Fresh gales will reach us from the upper air. 
 And wholesome dews of heaven our foreheads 
 
 lave, 
 The darkness lighten more, till full of awe 
 We stand in the open sunshine — unaware. 
 
 R. C. Trench. 
 
262 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 VIRTUE, 
 
 WEET Day ! so cool, so calm, so 
 
 bright ; 
 The bridal of the earth and sky : 
 The dew shall weep thy fall to- 
 night ; 
 For thou must die. 
 
 Sweet Rose ! whose hue, angry and brave, 
 Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye : 
 Thy root is ever in its grave : — 
 And thou must die. 
 
 Sweet Spring! full of sweet days and roses; 
 A box where sweets compacted lie ; 
 My music shews you have your closes : — 
 And all must die. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 263 
 
 Only a sweet and virtuous soul, 
 Like seasoned timber, never gives ; 
 But, though the w^hole world turn to coal. 
 Then chiefly lives. 
 
 George Herbert. 
 
264 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. 
 
 HE glories of our birth and state, 
 
 Are shadows not substantial things ; 
 There is no armour against fate: 
 Death lays his icy hands on kings j 
 Sceptre and crown 
 Must tumble down, 
 And in the dust be equal made 
 With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 
 
 Some men with swords may reap the field, 
 And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; 
 But their strong nerves at last must yield. 
 They tame but one another still ; 
 Early or late. 
 They stoop to fate. 
 And must give up their murmuring breath, 
 When they, pale captives, creep to death. 
 
 The garlands wither on your brow. 
 
 Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 265 
 
 Upon Death's purple altar, now, 
 See where the victor victim bleeds: 
 All heads must come 
 To the cold tomb, 
 Only the actions of the just 
 Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. 
 
 James Shirley, (1646.) 
 
 12 
 
266 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Mr LIFE DRJTFETH NIGH TO THE 
 GRAVE, 
 
 O rest, my Rest, 
 
 For ever blest. 
 Thy grave vi^ith sinners making 
 By Thy precious death from sin 
 
 My dead soul av^^aking. 
 
 Here hast Thou lain. 
 
 After much pain, 
 Life of my life, reposing: 
 Round Thee now a rock-hewn grave, 
 
 Rock of ages closing. 
 
 Breath of all breath, 
 
 I know, from death 
 Thou wilt my dust awaken; 
 Wherefore should I dread the grave, 
 
 Or my faith be shaken ? 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 267 
 
 To me the tomb 
 
 Is but a room 
 Where I lie down on roses ; 
 Who by death hath conquered death, 
 
 Sweetly there reposes. 
 
 The body dies 
 
 (Nought else) and lies 
 In dust, until victorious 
 From the grave it shall arise 
 
 Beautiful and glorious. 
 
 Meantime I will. 
 
 My Jesus still 
 Deep in my bosom lay Thee, 
 Musing on Thy death : in death 
 
 Be with me, I pray Thee. 
 
268 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE JERUSJLEM THAT IS ABOVE, 
 
 RIEF life is here our portion ; 
 
 Brief sorrow, short-lived care ; 
 The life that knows no ending, 
 
 The tearless life, is there. 
 
 O happy retribution 
 Short toil, eternal rest : 
 
 For mortals and for sinners 
 A mansion with the blest. 
 
 And now we fight the battle. 
 But then shall wear the crown 
 
 Of full and everlasting 
 And passionless renown : 
 
 And now we watch and struggle, 
 And now we live in hope, 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 269 
 
 And Slon in her anguish 
 With Babylon must cope : 
 
 But He whom now we trust in 
 Shall then be seen and known ; 
 
 And they that know and see Him 
 Shall have Him for their own. 
 
 The morning shall awaken, 
 
 The shadows flee away, 
 And each true-hearted servant 
 
 Shall shine as doth the day. 
 
 There God, our King and Patron, 
 
 In fulness of His grace. 
 Shall we behold forever 
 
 And worship face to face. 
 
 II. 
 
 For thee, O dear, dear country. 
 
 Mine eyes their vigils keep ; 
 For very love beholding 
 
 Thy happy name, they weep. 
 
 The mention of Thy glory 
 
 Is unction to the breast. 
 And medicine in sickness. 
 
 And love, and light, and rest. 
 
270 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 O one, O only Mansion ! 
 
 O Paradise of Joy ! 
 Where tears are ever banished, 
 
 And smiles have no alloy : 
 
 The Lamb is all thy splendour, 
 The Crucified thy praise ; 
 
 His land and benediction 
 
 Thy ransomed people praise. 
 
 With jasper glow thy bulwarks, 
 Thy streets with emeralds blaze ; 
 
 The sardius and the topaz 
 Unite in thee their rays ; 
 
 Thine ageless walls are bonded 
 With amethyst unpriced ; 
 
 The saints build up the fabric, 
 And the corner-stone is Christ. 
 
 Thou hast no shore, fair ocean ! 
 
 Thou hast no time, bright day ! 
 Dear fountain of refreshment 
 
 To pilgrims far away ! 
 
 Upon the Rock of Ages 
 They raise thy holy tower ; 
 
 Thine is the victor's laurels, 
 And thine the golden dower. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 271 
 
 III. 
 
 Jerusalem the golden I 
 
 With milk and honey blest ! 
 Beneath thy contemplation 
 
 Sink heart and voice opprest. 
 
 I know not, oh ! I know not 
 
 What joys await us there ; 
 What radiancy of glory, 
 
 What bliss beyond compare. 
 
 They stand, those halls of Sion, 
 
 All jubilant v/ith song. 
 And bright with many an Angel, 
 
 And all the martyr throng : 
 
 The Prince is ever in them, 
 
 The daylight ever bright ; 
 The pastures of the blessed 
 
 Are decked in glorious light. 
 
 There is the throne of David ; 
 
 And there from care released, 
 The shout of them that triumph, 
 
 The song of them that feast ; 
 
 And they, who with their Leader 
 Have conquered in the fight, 
 
27*2 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 Forever and forever 
 
 And clad in robes of white. 
 
 O sweet and blessed country, 
 The home of God's elect ! 
 
 O sweet and blessed country, 
 That eager hearts expect ! 
 
 Jesu, in mercy bring us 
 To that dear land of rest : 
 
 Who art, with God the Father, 
 And Spirit, ever blest. Amen. 
 
 From St. Bernard. 
 
 <<i<^^ 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 273 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 MADE a posy, while the day ran 
 
 by; 
 " Here will I smell my remnant out, and 
 
 tie 
 
 My Hfe within this band." 
 But Time did beckon to the flowers, and they 
 By noon most cunningly did steal away, 
 And wither in my hand. 
 
 My hand was next to them, and then my 
 
 heart. 
 I took, without more thinking, in good part 
 
 Time's gentle admonition ; 
 Who did so sweetly death's sad task convey, 
 Making my mind to smell my fatal day, 
 
 Yet sugaring my suspicion. 
 
 Farewell dear flowers ! sweetly your time ye 
 
 spent ; 
 Fit, while ye liv'd, for smell or ornament ; 
 12* 
 
274 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 And, after death, for cures. 
 I follow straight, without complaint or grief; 
 Since, if my scent be good, I care not if 
 
 It be short as yours. 
 
 George Herbert, (1620.) 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 275 
 
 SEEKING A COUNTRT. 
 
 OT here ! not here ! not where the 
 sparkling waters 
 Fade into mocking sands as we 
 draw near, 
 
 Where in the wilderness each footstep falters — 
 " I shall be satisfied ! " — but oh, not here ! 
 
 Not here — where all the dreams of bliss deceive 
 us, 
 Where the worn spirit never gains its goal ; 
 Where, haunted ever by the thoughts that grieve 
 us. 
 Across us floods of bitter memory rpll. 
 
 There is a land where every pulse is thrilling 
 With rapture earth's sojourners may not know. 
 
 Where Heaven's repose the weary heart is stilling. 
 And peacefully life's time-tossed currents flow. 
 
 Far out of sight, while sorrows still enfold us. 
 Lies the fair Country where our hearts abide. 
 
276 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 And of its bliss is nought more wondrous told us, 
 Than these few words, " I shall be satisfied." 
 
 "I shall be satisfied !" The spirit's yearning 
 For sweet companionship with kindred minds — 
 
 The silent love that here meets no returning — 
 The inspiration which no language finds — 
 
 Shall they be satisfied ? The soul's vague long- 
 ing— 
 
 The aching void which nothing earthly fills ? 
 O ! what desires upon my heart are thronging. 
 
 As I look upward to the heavenly hills ! 
 
 Thither my weak and weary steps are tending — 
 Saviour and Lord! with Thy frail child 
 abide ! 
 Guide me toward Home, where, all my wander- 
 ings ending, 
 I shall see Thee, and " shall be satisfied." 
 
 mm 
 
 1 
 
 l§ 
 
Lyra Angllcana. 277 
 
 Mr SHEEP HEAR MT VOICE, 
 
 ^^i^^^^ ARK ! hark ! my soul ! angelic 
 AW W^M I lllx songs are swelling 
 
 O'er earth's green fields and 
 ocean's wave-beat shore ! 
 How sweet the truth those blessed strains are 
 telHng 
 Of that new life when sin shall be no more ! 
 
 Darker than night, life's shadows fall around us, 
 And, like benighted men, we miss our mark ; 
 
 God hides Himself, and grace hath scarcely 
 found us. 
 Ere death finds out his victims in the dark ! 
 
 Onward we go, for still we hear them singing. 
 Come weary souls ! for Jesus bids you come ! 
 
 And through the dark its echoes, sweetly ringing. 
 The music of the Gospel leads us home. 
 
 Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing^ 
 The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea. 
 
278 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 And laden souls, by myriads meekly stealing, 
 Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to Thee. 
 
 Rest comes at length ; though life be long and 
 dreary. 
 The day must dawn and darksome night be 
 past; 
 All journeys end in welcomes to the weary. 
 And heaven, the heart's true home, will come 
 at last. 
 
 Cheer up my soul ! faith's moonbeams softly 
 glisten 
 Upon the breast of life's most troubled sea ; 
 And it will cheer thy drooping heart to listen 
 To those brave songs which angels mean for 
 thee. 
 
 Angels ! sing on, your faithful watches keeping, 
 Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above ; 
 
 While we toil on, and soothe ourselves with 
 weeping. 
 Till life's long night shall break in endless love. 
 
 Oratory Hymns. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 279 
 
 THE DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN. 
 
 HE Apostle slept, — a light shone in 
 the prison, 
 An angel touched his side ; 
 Arise!" he said; and quickly he 
 hath risen. 
 His fettered arms untied. 
 
 The watchers saw no light at midnight gleam- 
 ing, 
 They heard no sound of feet ; 
 
 The gates fly open, and the saint, still dream- 
 ing, 
 Stands free upon the street. 
 
 So when the Christian's eyelid droops and 
 closes 
 
 In nature's parting strife, 
 A friendly Angel stands where he reposes, 
 
 To wake him up to Hfe. 
 
28o Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 He gives a gentle blow, and so releases 
 
 The spirit from its clay ; 
 From sin's temptations, and from life's dis- 
 tresses. 
 
 He bids it come away. 
 
 It rises up, and from its darksome mansion 
 
 It takes its silent flight ; 
 And feels its freedom in the large expansion 
 
 Of heavenly air and light. 
 
 Behind, it hears Time's Iron gates close faintly, 
 
 It now is far from them ; 
 For it has reached the City of the saintly, 
 
 The New Jerusalem. 
 
 A voice is heard on earth of kinsfolk weeping 
 
 The loss of one they love : 
 But he is gone where the redeemed are keeping 
 
 A Festival above ! 
 
 The mourners throng the way, and from the 
 steeple 
 
 The funcral-bcll tolls slow ; 
 But on the golden streets the holy people 
 
 Are passing to and fro ; 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 281 
 
 And singing as they meet, "Rejoice ! another, 
 Long waited for, is come ;" 
 
 The Saviour's heart is glad, a younger brother 
 Hath reached the Father's Home ! 
 
 J. D. Burns. 
 
282 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 THE VANITY OF THE WORLD, 
 
 ALSE world, thou ly'st: thou canst 
 not lend 
 The least delight: 
 Thy favours cannot gain a friend, 
 They are so slight: 
 Thy morning's pleasures make an end 
 
 To please at night : 
 Poor are the wants that thou supply'st, 
 And yet thou vaun'st, and yet thou vy*st 
 With heaven; fond earth, thou boasts; false 
 world, thou ly'st. 
 
 Thy babbling tells of golden tales 
 
 Of endless treasure; 
 Thy bounty offers easy sales 
 
 Of lasting pleasure ; 
 Thou ask'st the conscience what she ails. 
 
 And swcar'st to case her: 
 There's none can want where thou sup- 
 ply'st: 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 283 
 
 There's none can give where thou deny'st. 
 Alas! fond world, thou boasts; false world, 
 thou ly'st. 
 
 What well-advised ear regards 
 
 What earth can say ? 
 Thy words are gold, but thy rewards 
 
 Are painted clay : 
 Thy cunning can but pack the cards, 
 
 Thou canst not play: 
 Thy game at weakest, still thou vy'st ; 
 If seen, and then revy'd, deny'st : 
 Thou art not what thou seem*st; false world, 
 thou ly'st. 
 
 Thy timid bosom seems a mint 
 
 Of new-coin'd treasure ; 
 A paradise, that has no stint. 
 
 No change, no measure; 
 A painted cask, but nothing in't. 
 
 Nor wealth, nor pleasure : 
 Vain earth ! that falsely thus comply'st 
 With man ; vain man ! that thou rely'st 
 On earth, vain man, thou dot'st ; vain earth, 
 thou ly'st. 
 
 What mean dull souls, in this high measure. 
 To haberdash 
 
284 
 
 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 To earth's base wares, whose greatest treasure 
 
 Is dross and trash ? 
 The height of whose enchanting pleasure 
 
 Is but a flash ? 
 Are these the goods that thou supply's! 
 Us mortals with ? are these the high'st ? 
 Can these bring cordial peace? false world, thou 
 ly'st. 
 
 F. QUARLES. 
 
Lyra Anglicana. 285 
 
 ALL THE ANGELS STOOD ABOUT 
 THE THRONE. 
 
 HERE is no night in heaven: 
 
 In that blest world above 
 Work never can bring weariness, 
 For work itself is love. 
 There is no night in heaven: 
 Yet nightly round the bed 
 Of every Christian wanderer 
 Faith has an angel tread. 
 
 There is no grief in heaven : 
 
 For life is one glad day, 
 And tears are of those former things 
 
 Which all have passed away. 
 
 There is no grief in heaven : 
 
 Yet angels from on high 
 On golden pinions earthward glide. 
 
 The Christian's tears to dry. 
 
286 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 There is no want in heaven : 
 
 The Lamb of God supplies 
 Life's tree of twelvefold fruitage still, 
 
 Life's spring which never dries. 
 
 There is no want in heaven : 
 
 Yet in a desert land 
 The fainting prophet was sustained 
 
 And fed by angel's hand. 
 
 There is no sin in heaven : 
 Behold that blessed throng ; 
 
 All holy is their spotless robe, 
 All holy is their song. 
 There is no sin in heaven: 
 Here who from sin is free ? 
 
 Yet angels aid us in our strife 
 For Christ's true liberty. 
 
 There is no death in heaven : 
 For they who gain that shore 
 
 Have won their immortality. 
 And they can die no more. 
 There is no death in heaven : 
 But, when the Christian dies. 
 
 The angels wait his parting soul. 
 And waft it to the skies. 
 
Lyra Angllcana. 287 
 
 THE LAMB IS THE LIGHT THEREOF, 
 
 HAT clime is not like this dull clime 
 of ours ; 
 All, all is brightness there ; 
 A sweeter influence breathes around 
 its flowers, 
 And a benigner air. 
 No calm below is like that calm above. 
 No region here is like that realm of love ; 
 Earth's softest spring ne'er shed so soft a light. 
 Earth's brightest summer never shone so bright. 
 
 That sky is not like this sad sky of ours, 
 
 Tinged with earth's change and care : 
 No shadow dims it, and no rain-cloud lowers : 
 
 No broken sunshine there : 
 One everlasting stretch of azure pours 
 Its stainless splendour o'er those sinless shores : 
 For there Jehovah shines with heavenly ray, 
 And Jesus reigns dispensing endless day. 
 
288 Lyra Anglicana. 
 
 The dwellers there are not like those of earth ; 
 
 No mortal stain they bear ; 
 And yet they seem of kindred blood and birth ; 
 
 Whence and how came they there ? 
 Earth was their native soil ; from sin and shame. 
 Through tribulation, they to glory came ; 
 Bond-slaves delivered from sin's crushing load, 
 Brands plucked from burning by the hand of 
 God. 
 
 Yon robes of theirs are not like those below ; 
 
 No angel's half so bright : 
 Whence came that beauty, whence that Hving 
 
 glow. 
 And whence that radiant white ? 
 Washed in the blood of the atoning Lamb, 
 Fair as the light these robes of theirs became; 
 And now, all tears wiped off from every eye. 
 They wander where the freshest pastures lie, 
 Through all the nightless day of that unfading 
 
 sky. 
 
Princeton Theological Seminary Libraries 
 
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