PR 4839 .K15 E7 ;sjsj(;5gc2gSj|«jj3jjflnjffl^ ■ ::l^^^ s^^IhIk: .^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H^HnBim. m^swas^j^^Mm Copy 2 s V*^-\/ 'o^'-^'^o' **.^^\/ %"3^"/ ^^^]^a.^^- ./^-^iX ^'^:^B>%°- .^^-^^I^-^. V -sy* ■** • tfli c» ^ * f^ % * -or xif- • *s ^- -4 4^ - O M O ^ V{k •\/ ^^^'^^'Z \^^^\/ V^^*> \* .4.^ 0" ♦< .•1°^ .^ -jj' * '^s^^\n%* 'TIS < o » K .V d^ «. L^ .r .C,-' ^P^ E \' E X I X G t^^" REV. TOHX KEELE ILLUSTRATED Abad£ oiih cs, for it is ::-;nrd tre-i^g. 3^i ...t _iy is :3r ?p€i;i- XEW YORK /^ ...uG 2 It. E. p. DUTTOX AXD COMPAXV 39 West T"s-2:?«tv Thizi5 STZE^n 1884 rs1 Copyright, 18S3, By E. p. Button and Company. University Press: John Wilson and Son, Cambridge ^S-a/V^^ A GENUINE HYMN — at once simple and beautiful, devotional and lyrical — [ is one of Time's rarest blossoms, unfolding only at long intervals. By way of compensation, it is well nigh immortal ; it is handed down from generation to generation, from language to language ; " age does not wither, nor custom stale," its sweetness. Its perfume of praise continually rises from fresh altars, long after the heart whence it sprang is turned to dust. Such a hymn is Keble's " Evening," and it is worthily se- lected for illustration. Those to whom it is already familiar will be glad to see it in so fair and fitting a dress ; those who know it only in hymnals will like to see it as a whole, for the same spirit of melody and devotion breathes throughout. The Rev. John Kebie was a native of Fairford, Gloucester- shire, England: born in 1792, died in 1866. As Vicar of Hursley, he did excellent and lasting parish work ; as author, he is best known by "The Christian Year," from which the "Evening" is taken. isisf ^B mbasfi^^fKp^s ^!:- DESIGNED BY FRANK T. MERRILL. J. D. WOODWARD. F. CHILDE HASSAM. Dr(i7vn and engraved jmder the supervision of George T. Andrew. PAGE Half-title i Introduction 5 Evening 9 " Tlie traveller on his way must press" . ii "Thy wondrous works below" ... 13 "Thy words disclose" 15 "Abide with me" 17 PAGE "Steer through the tempest Thine own ark" 19 "Oh, by Thine own sad burthen, bcrne" 21 The Prodigal 23 Healing the Blind 25 "Like infants' slumbers" 27 " We lose ourselves in Heaven above " . 29 Evening. 'TiS gone, that bright and orbed blaze, Fast fading from our wistful gaze; Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight The last faint pulse of quivering light. 1 ?;^'''^-^;T€^^ / ■- ■ *<" >j: " "^ ^ ^ '^" mL. -^ -^ "^ -=-.^-1 m^ " ' ^ -w '- ^^^y ' ;:;»— ■ y" -^-;^. ^^^^^fe Z- -^ "^ " '' " -J" i ^fi^' ' ^ ^' ^', ' ?^ii ^^K^- £i3»^ s^r -'-- Wm^ ^:^ , s^^> ' ' . .^M^b. -^ ^9E^d issitiS^ »f=?~ -_r ; ^^^B^n^ /^^ ^1 ^B ^M -''^4HE& ' f^^^ ^H ^H ^^1 " ^HH^^BnHrj^ ^^^^ ^^H ^^^9 "^^^mL I^^^HBMk ' '^^^^i- ■\ 5^-V w a ^ & \ "^B .^^bhI^^^^I^Sb h^^ . 1 ,__- M 1 1 1 1 ^^fi ^H ^p ^« 1 1 ? " J i^^^^M ^^H jH 1 ■ ^1 1 In darkness and in weariness The traveller on his way must press, No gleam to watch on tree or tower, Whiling away the lonesome hour. Sun of my soul ! Thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near : 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 tlie light Thy words disclose Watch Time's fuU 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 m\^ heart within me burn, Plxcept in all I Thee discern. When the soft dews of kindly sleep My wearied eyelids gently steep, Be my last thought, how sweet to rest For ever on my Saviour's Breast. 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 Hght and dark, Steer through the tempest Thine own ark : Amid the howhng wintry 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, 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 '^MlvvdvV' ^r^ '}$ 1 I wmm Be every mourner's sleep to-night Like infants' slumbers, pure and light. Come near and bless us when we wake, Ere through the world our way we take; Till in the ocean of Thy love We lose ourselves in Heaven above. EVENING. T IS gone, that bright and orbed blaze, Yon manthng cloud has hid from sight The last faint pulse of quivering light. In darkness and in weariness The traveller on his way must press, No gleam to watch on tree or tower, Whiling away the lonesome hour. Sun of my soul ! Thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near : Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes ! When round Tliy 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. When the soft dews of kindly sleep My wearied eyelids gently steep, Be my last thought how sweet to rest For ever on my Saviour's breast. Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live : Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee 1 dare not die. Thou Framer of the light and dark, Steer through the tempest Thine own ark : Amid the howling wintry 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, Now, Lord, the gracious work begin ; Let him no more lie down in sin. Watch by the sick: enrich the poor With blessings from thy boundless stcre ; Be every mourner's sleep to-night Like infants' slumbers, pure and light. Come near and bless us when we wake, Ere through the world our way we take ; Till in the ocean of Thy love We lose ourselves in Heaven above. i^qSQ 3^3 ^^-n^. V 'bV ^^ ^ .^^ ^^. ^^^ 6°*. : s' -% N O r* av V*. V^\'J^% O M O ■'>'^, ♦ .^^ ''^^ *^ A ^^ *; •>^ v\^ ^ V .O*^'* 'c> ^\ ^^<'^ r: ^^v^c,'^ ^"^ o' O f^^ -"-o ^"•^^^ V <^ °'^ '-} „.•'./ V^^-^o' \-^^/ V-^'/ \' • <^ c?\ <=o " " (J^" " o .V O M 1. » « ^"^^ ♦ <^ .^0 * -^ %''^^^^'^,* >,h <:^ ► I "• e M o .^ .p- AOt. .■■ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 494 794 I '<'• ".'rill;'; ■ wm(i •'■'ii'.!. ;|',;j;;;:i,!.i' ..... , , 'i^^pfc.i ■r;:.'u::''l'^k