ass yRini Rnnt .7)57 ]67)€f WITH A PREFACE BY THE REY. CHARLES KEMBLE, M.A. RECTOR "OP RATH LOND OK. Seeley, Jackson and Haliiday, 54, Eleet Street. ' 1864. .13*7 Exchange Western Ont. Univ. Library JUN 5 1939 PREFACE. At the request of one, whose name, were it ;iven, would be sufficient guarantee for the sound- less of the following selection of sacred poems, I lave examined the manuscript as it has been pre- pared for the press. The fulfilment of this pleasur- able task enables me to express my cordial approval of the selection, and my belief that few persons will peruse it without profit and satisfaction. If the present be a period in which no living poet of the highest order receives universal ap- plause, it is one in which the treasures of the past are carefully examined, and many a mine long ago regarded as exhausted, if indeed its very existence had not well nigh passed from memory, has been b IV PREFACE. anew opened and re-worked, and many a gem of surpassing brightness and worth has been thence brought into light. This work was undertaken for the purpose of placing before the Christian public a series of sa- cred pieces which are not usually found in books designed for use in Public Worship, but which for sentiment and poetry alike claim to be esteemed as ' apples of gold in pictures of silver/ The arrangement adopted is chronological. The pieces are culled from the writings of various authors, whose names adorn the literary history of our country, from the reign of Queen Elizabeth to the present day. There is an identity of faith, of hope, and of joy by which all may be recognized as fitting media for the expression of the experience of the members of the one Church militant here on earth — the one family of God's first-born. A work of this kind effectively illustrates the communion of saints. For many successive generations the same inner spiritual life has been PREFACE. v affected by the same divine truths ; the saintly soul has been stirred by the same antagonisms of flesh and spirit, conscious of the same keen con- flict between sin and grace, drawn onward by the same hopes, prompted to action by the same aspirations, and borne aloft by the same im- pulsive motives. The depths of sin and misery, revealed by the lens of God's word and the light of God's Spirit, enforce from the terrified spirit the groanings of unutterable despair. The mighty love displayed on Calvary, the atoning efficacy of the blood of our Saviour-God there shed, when He made His soul an offering for sin, and died the just for the unjust to bring us to God, raises from the dust of death, dispels fear, inspires with joy and peace, the blessed progeny of faith, and summons from the joyous beholder a new song, even a thanksgiving to our God. The poet's appeal to his own heart finds a ready response in ours ; and, de- spite the mental activity and intellectual develop- ment of the 19th century, we here find ourselves VI PREFACE. on the same platform of faith and hope and love with those whose spiritual condition and progress were described centuries ago. The continuous stream of hallowed poesy flows on • age after age lifts up its voice; voice after voice takes up the subject with varied rhythm and in perhaps a slightly varied key. We listen entranced by the music of the successive bards as one by one they pass before us. And when the last cadence of the reremost has died away, with bated breath we listen as if to catch from the spirit-world the echoes of their now united strains, as in that land of unsullied purity and jov they sing their song of grat-eful praise, to Him who loved them, and washed them from their sins in His own blood, and made them kings and priests unto God, with whom they shall live in heavenly light and holiness and love for ever and ever. C. K. Bath, November n, 1863. CONTENTS. PART I. OLD ENGLISH : ELIZABETHAN : STUART. DRUMMOND. Now doth the sun appear WOTTON. O Thou great Power ! in whom I move MARDLEY. Lord, turn not Thy face away JONSON. 1 sing the birth was born to-night Hear me, O God ! HERBERT. Sweet day, so cool ; so calm, so bright Throw away Thy rod My stock lies dead, and no increase Teach me. my God and King Sweetest Saviour, if my soul . . ' When God at first made man CH. HARVEY. Great, without controversy great PAGE 3 13 16 vlu CONTENTS. DONNE. pAGE Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun . . 17 SANDYS. God is our refuge, our strong tower .. .. 18 WITHER. Who knows, when he to go from home . . 20 Behold the sun, that seeirfd but now . . . . 21 HERRICK. In the hour of my distress .. .. ..23 KING. Like to the falling of a star . . . . 24 CRASHAW. Lord ! what is man ? Why should he cost Thee . . 25 On the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood . . 27 SHIRLEY. The glories of our blood and state . . . . 29 F. QUARLES. Wages of Sin is death : the day is come . . 30 Ah ! whither shall I fly ? what path untrod . . 32 J. QUARLES. In all extremes, Lord, Thou art still . . . . 33 WALLER. The seas are quiet when the winds are o'er . . 35 MILTON. When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never 36 When I consider how my light is spent . . . . 37 Blest pair of Syrens, pledges of heaven's joy . . 37 BAXTER. Lord, it belongs not to my care . . . . 39 CONTENTS. IX VAUGHAN. PAG£ When first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave . . 40 My soul, there is a country . . . . 42 MARVELL. Where the remote Bermudas ride . . 43 ROSCOMMON (FROM TIJE LATIN). The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound . . 45 PART II. WILLIAM AND MARY, ANNE, GEORGE I. AND II. DRYDEN. Creator Spirit, by whose aid . . . . . . 49 KEN. My God, to keep my heart . . . . 51 TATE. Bless God, my soul ! — Thou, Lord, alone . . 52 ADDISON. The Lord my pasture shall prepare . . 54 DODDRIDGE. Interval of grateful shade . . . . 55 CENNICK. Jesus, my all, to heaven is gone . . . , 58 JOHN BYROM. My spirit longeth for Thee . . . . 59 X CONTENTS. ANNE STEELE. My God, my Father, blissful name HART. Jesus, while He dwelt below OLIVERS. The God of Abraham praise SEAGRAVE. Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings J. WESLEY (FROM TERSTEEGEN). Thou hidden Love of God, whose height J. WESLEY (FROM THE GERMAN). I thirst, Thou wounded Lamb of God . . . . J. WESLEY (FROM COUNT ZINZENDORF). Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness J. WESLEY (FROM SCHEFFLER). Thee will I love, my strength and tower J. WESLEY (FROM GERHARDT). Give to the winds thy fears . . J. WESLEY (FROM BISHOP A. G. SPANGENBERG High on His everlasting throne J. WESLEY (FROM PAUL GERHARDT). Commit thou all thy griefs C. WESLEY. Thou God of glorious majesty No, I would not always live Come, O Thou Traveller unknown I the good fight have fought Help, Lord, to whom for help I fly Christ, whose glory fills the skies PAGE 61 62 66 70 71 73 75 77 78 80 86 88 8 9 92 93 94 CONTENTS. Weary of wandering from my God Shrinking from the cold hand of death . . In age and feebleness extreme GAM.BOLD. So many years I've seen the sun That I am Thine, my Lord and God . . XI PAGE 95 97 PART III. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. MOSES BROWNE (FROM THE GERMAN) 'Tis not too hard, too high an aim GRIGG. Jesus, and shall it ever be TOPLADY. Happiness ! thou lovely name Lord, I feel a carnal mind When languor and disease invade Supreme High- Priest, the pilgrim's light O that my heart was right with Thee COWPER. The path of sorrow, and that path alone Oh ! for a closer walk with God Far from the world, O Lord ! I flee Weak and irresolute is man When darkness long has veiTd my mind -What various hindrances we meet 105 io8 109 in 113 "5 117 118 120 121 122 123 125 X11 . CONTENTS. COWPER (FROM MAD. GUION). page Long plunged in sorrow, I resign . . 126 NEWTON. Quiet, Lord, my froward heart . . . , # 127 One there is, above all others . . . . 128 Come, my soul, Thy suit prepare .. ..130 In every object here I see .. .. ..131 BRUCE, PUBLISHED BY LOGAN. Where high the heavenly temple stands .. 132 Behold ! the mountain of the Lord . . 1 3 3 COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON. The world can neither give nor take . . . . 1 3 5 C. J. LATROBE (FROM BISHOP GREGOR). Man of sorrows, and acquainted . . ..136 KIRKE WHITE. What is this passing scene ? . . . . 138 Awake, sweet harp of Judah, wake . . 139 Ah ! when did wisdom covet length of days . . 141 Through sorrow's night and danger's path . . 141 MARRIOTT. A saint ! Oh would that I could claim . . . . 143 BERRIDGE. Jesus, cast a look on me . . . . 144 CAMPBELL. When Jordan husrfd his waters still . . . . 146 BEDDOME. Wait, O my soul, thy Maker's will . . 147 BYRON. A spirit pass'd before me : I beheld . . 148 The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold 149 CONTENTS. X1U PART IV. MODERN: DECEASED WRITERS. HEBER. page To conquer and to save, the Son of God . . 153 Beneath our feet and o'er our head . . ..154 Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee . . . . . . 155 There was joy in heaven ! . . 157 BOWDLER. Child of man, whose seed below . . 158 R. GRANT. Lord of earth ! Thy forming hand . . . . 160 From Olivet's sequester'd seats .. ..162 KELLY. The God of glory dwells on high .. ..164 O Zion ! when I think on thee . . . . 165 JANE TAYLOR. There is a state unknown, unseen . . . . 166 Come, my fond, fluttering heart . . . . 168 S. M. WARING. Plead Thou — oh plead my cause ! . . 170 How sweet shall be the incense of my prayer ! . . 172 HEMANS. Leaves have their time to fall . . 173 O lovely voices of the sky . . . . 175 Fear was within the tossing bark . . . . 176 XIV CONTENTS. HUIE. page Child of the dust ! if e'er thine eye . . . . 177 WORDSWORTH. A bright-hair'd company of youthful slaves . . 179 But whence came they who for the Saviour Lord . . 179 Not seldom, clad in radiant vest . . . . 180 MOORE. Fallen is thy throne, O Israel . . . . 181 SCOTT. When Israel, of the Lord beloved . . ..183 CROLY. The wind blows chill across those gloomy waves . . 183 CONDER. 'Tis finish'd! — Every circumstance fulfill'd .. 185 Oh, cling not, Trembler, to life's fragile bark . . 186 CAROLINE FRY. Ask the bird that soars on high . . 188 Grace does not steel the faithful heart .. ..189 Faith, like a simple, unsuspecting child . . 191 LYTE. Dark was my lot, and long it spurn'd . . 192 There is a safe and secret place . , . . 194 Glorious Shepherd of the sheep .. ..195 When at thy footstool, Lord, I bend . . 196 Abide with me ! Fast falls the eventide . . . . 197 MONTGOMERY. Friend after friend departs . . . . 199 The days and years of time are fled . . , . 200 Prayer is the souPs sincere desire . . . . 202 O God unseen, but not unknown . . . . 204 Oh ! where shall rest be found . . . . 206 CONTENTS. XV PAGE Servant of God, well done ! . . . . 207 This shadow on the dial's face . . . . 209 Hail to the Lord's Anointed . . . . . . 211 HANKINSON. Come, see the place where Jesus lies . . . . 213 E. B. BROWNING. Of all the thoughts of God that are . . . . 215 The Saviour look'd on Peter. Ay, no word . . 217 It is a place where poets crown'd may feel the heart's decaying , . . . . . ..219 mc cheyne. When this passing world is done . . . . 224 PART V. MODERN : LIVING AND ANONYMOUS WRITERS. TRENCH. Lord, many times I am a-weary quite . . 229 Some murmur, when their sky is clear . . 230 MILMAN. Brother, thou art gone before us . . . . 231 KEBLE. Hues of the rich unfolding morn . . . . 233 'Tis gone, that bright and orbed blaze . . 235 Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved . . . . 238 " Lord, and what shall this man do ? " . . . . 240 When God of old came down from heaven . . 242 XVI CONTENTS. CHARLOTTE ELLIOTT. PAGE Just as I am, without one plea ... . 244 CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH. day of* rest and gladness . . . . . . 245 BATHURST. Jesus, Thy Church with longing eyes . . . , 248 TENNYSON. When Lazarus left his charnel-cave . . . . 249 Her eyes are homes of silent prayer . . . . 250 MONSELL. My Father and my God .. .. ,.251 Birds have their quiet nest . . . « . . 252 Soon and for ever, — such promise our trust , . 254 LATROBE. To love, where love is shown to me . . . . 255 Fair sea ! whose lines of rolling wave . . . . 257 BONAR. Far down the ages now . . . . . . 261 Thy way, not mine, O Lord . . . . 264 1 heard the voice of Jesus say .. .,265 Where the faded flower shall freshen . . . . 266 My God, it is not fretfulness . . . . 269 Yes, for me, for me, He careth . . . . 270 NEALE (FROM THE LATIN). For thee, O dear, dear country . . . . 272 (from anatolius). The day is past and over . . . , . . 276 Fierce was the wild billow ; dark was the night . . 277 (FROM STEPHEN OF SABA) . Art thou weary ? art thou languid . . . . 278 CONTENTS. XVII ANSTICE. Sweet is the Spirit's strain J. D. BURNS. Thou art gone up on high O Thou, whose tender feet have trod . . ANNA L. WARING. Father, I know that all my life Lord, a happy child of Thine In heavenly love abiding Though some good things of lower worth CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER. The roseate hues of early dawn SEARS. It came upon the midnight clear WILLIAMS (FROM THE LATIN). Why for thy Lord dost thou thus weep and mourn And Thou art growing up, O Child divine ! FROM THE LATIN. He wept by Lazarus' grave — how will He bear Who hath believed our report ? to whom Whither, Saul, this raging sense ANONYMOUS. My soul, amid this stormy world Left in her little room alone There lies a little lonely isle . . Never further than Thy cross One Priest alone can pardon me Knell of departed years In Jesu's book I bear The world with stones, instead of bread Who laughs at sin, laughs at his Maker's frowns PAGE 279 281 282 283 285 287 288 289 290 292 293 294 295 297 300 302 305 306 308 310 311 312 XV111 CONTENTS. PAGE Walk in the light ! so shalt thou know . . 3 1 3 With tearful eyes I look around . . 314 Thou knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow . . 315 God calling yet ! and shall I never hearken . . 317 Yes, our Shepherd leads, with gentle hand . . 318 My heart is fiVd, O God, my strength . . . . 319 Lo ! at Thy feet Thy children fall . . 320 Near me, O my Saviour, stand . . ..322 Change is our portion here . . . . 323 Hope of the coming glory . . . . 3 24 I have a heritage of joy . . . . , . 325 Love craves the presence and the sight . . . . 326 One sweet but solemn thought . . ^28 FIRST PART. OLD ENGLISH : ELIZABETHAN : STUART. THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. FIRST PART. THE DAY STAR. |OW doth the sun appear, The mountain's snow decav, Crown' d with frail flowers forth comes the infant year : My soul, Time posts away ; And thou yet in that frost Which flower and fruit hath lost, As if all here immortal were, dost stay ! For shame ! thy powers awake ; Look to that heaven which never night makes black, And there at that immortal Sun's bright rays, Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days. Drumrnond. THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. YOUR LIFE IS HID WITH CHRIST IN GODj ehi THOU great Power ! in whom I move, For whom I live, to whom I die, Behold me through thy beams of love, Whilst on this couch of tears I lie ; And cleanse my sordid soul within By thy Christ's blood, the bath for sin. No hallowed oils^ no grains I need, No rags of saints, no purging fire; One rosy drop from David's seed, Was worlds of seas to quench Thine ire ; Oh precious ransom ! which once paid, That " Consummahtm est " was said ; — And said by Him, that said no more, But seaPd it with His sacred breath : Thou then, that hast dispunged my score, And, dying, wast the death of death, Be to me now, on Thee I call, My life, my strength, my joy, my all ! IVoiton. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. A CONTRITE HEART THOU WILT NOT DESPISE. LORD, turn not Thy face away From him that lieth prostrate ; Lamenting sore his sinful life, Before Thy mercy- gate ; Which gate Thou openest wide to those That do lament their sin : Shut not that gate against me, Lor J, But let me enter in. And call me not to mine account, How I have lived here; For then, I know right well, O Lord, How vile I shall appear. I need not to confess my life, For surely Thou canst tell What I have been, and what I am, T know Thou know'st it well. So come I to Thy mercy-gate, Where mercy doth abound, Requiring mercy for my sin, To heal my deadly wound. THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Mercy, O Lord ! mercy I ask : This is the total sum ; For mercy, Lord, is all my suit ; Lord, let Thy mercy come ! THE NATIVITY. Mardley. SING the birth was born to-night, The Author both of life and light, The Angels so did sound it. And like the ravish' d shepherds said, Who saw the light, and were afraid, Yet searched, and true they found it. The Son of God, the Eternal King, That did us all salvation bring, And freed the soul from danger ; He whom the whole world could not take, The Word, which heaven and earth did make, Was now laid in a manger. The Father's wisdom wilPd it so ; The Son's obedience knew no NO ; Both wills were of one stature. And as that wisdom had decreed, The Word was now made flesh indeed, And took on Him our nature. ELIZABETHAN : STUART. What comfort by Him do we win, Who made Himself the price of sin, To make us heirs of glory ! To see this Babe, all innocence, A martyr born in our defence ; Can man forget this story ? A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER. EAR me, O God ! A broken heart 9_ Is my best part : Use still Thy rod, That I may prove Therein, Thy love. If Thou hadst not Been stern to me, But left me free, I had forgot Myself and Thee ; For sin 's so sweet, As minds ill bent Rarely repent, Until they meet Their punishment. Jonson. THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Who more can crave Than Thou hast done ? Thou gav'st a Son To free a slave : First made of nought ; Withal since bought, Sin, death, and hell His glorious name Quite overcame; Yet I rebel, And slight the same. But I'll come in Before my loss Me farther toss, As sure to win Under His cross. Jonson. 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. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 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 shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly lives. Herbert. HAVING COMPASSION ON OUR INFIRMITIES. THROW away Thy rod, Throw away thy wrath ; O my God, Take the gentle path. For my heart's desire Unto Thine is bent : I aspire To a full consent. lO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Not a word or look I affect to own, But by book, And Thy book alone. Though I fail, I weep : Though I halt in pace, Yet I creep To the throne of grace. Then let wrath remove ; Love will do the deed : For with love Stony hearts will bleed. Love is swift of foot : Love 's a man of war, And can shoot, And can hit from far. Who can { scape his bow ? That which wrought on Thee, Brought Thee low, Needs must work on me. Throw away Thy rod ; Though man frailties hath, Thou art God : Throw away Thy wrath. Herbert. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. II " FROM WHOM COMETH EVERY GOOD AND PERFECT GIFT." Y stock lies dead, and no increase Doth my dull husbandry improve ; O let Thy graces, without cease, Drop from above ! If still the sun should hide his face, Thy house would but a dungeon prove, Thy works night's captives : O let grace Drop from above ! The dew doth every morning fall ; And shall the dew outstrip Thy Dove ? The dew, for which grass cannot call, Drops from above. Death is still working like a mole, And digs my grave at each remove : Let grace work too, and on my sou* Drop from above. Sin is still hammering my heart, Unto a hardness, void of love : Let suppling grace, to cross his art, Drop from above. 12 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. O come, for Thou dost know the way ; Or, if to me Thou wilt not move, Remove me where I need not say, — Drop from above. Herbal. " DOING ALL TO THE GLORY OF GOD. EACH me, my God and King, In all things Thee to see, And what I do in anything, To do it as for Thee : Not rudely, as a beast, To run into an action ; But still to make Thee prepossest And give it his perfection. A man that looks on glass, On it may stay his eye ; Or if he pleaseth, through it pass, And then the heaven spy. All may of Thee partake : Nothing can be so mean, Which with this tincture, ' For Thy sake/' Will not grow bright and clean. ELIZABETHAN : STUART. J A servant with this clause Makes drudgery divine : Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws, Makes that and the action fine. This is the famous stone That turneth all to gold : For that which God doth touch and own Cannot for less be told. Herbert. O THE DEPTH OF THE RICHES ! 7Z& WEETEST Saviour, if my soul Were but worth the having, Quickly should I then control Any thought of waving. But when all my care and pains Cannot give the name of gains To Thy wretch so full of stains, What delight or hope remains ? ' What, child, is the balance thine r Thine the poise and measure ? If I say thou shalt be mine, Finder not mv treasure. 1 4 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. What the gains in having thee Doth amount to, only He Who for man was sold, can see : That transferred the account to me/ But as I can see no merit Leading to this favour, So the way to fit me for it Is beyond my savour. As the reason then is Thine, So the way is none of mine ; I disclaim the whole design ; Sin disclaims, and I resign. ' That is all, if that I could Get without repining, And my clay, my creature would Follow my designing ; That as I did freely part With my glory and desert, Left all joys to feel all smart ' Ah ! no more : thou break'st my heart ! Herbert. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. T^ " THE EYE IS NOT SATISFIED WITH SEEING ; NOR THE EAR WITH HEARING." j[HEN God at first made man, Having a glass of blessing standing by ; Let us, said He, pour on him all we can : Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span. So strength first made a way : Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, plea- sure : When almost all w r as out, God made a stay, Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure, Rest, in the bottom lay. For if I should, said He, Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore my gifts instead of me, And rest in nature, not the God of nature : So both should losers be. Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness : Let him be rich, and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to my breast. Herbert. 1 6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. EPIPHANY. REAT, without controversy great, Thev that do know it will confess The mystery of godliness, Whereof the Gospel doth intreat. God in the flesh is manifest, And that which hath for ever been Invisible, may now be seen, The eternal Deity new drest. Angels to shepherds brought the news : And wise men guided by a star, To seek the sun, are come from far : Gentiles have got the start of Jews. The stable and the manger hide His glory from His own ; but these, Though strangers, His resplendent rays Of Majesty divine have spied. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh they give, And, worshipping Him, plainly show That unto Him they all things owe, By whose free gift it is they live. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 1 7 Though clouded in a veil of flesh, The Sun of righteousness appears, Melting cold cares, and frosty fears, And making joys spring up afresh. Oh that his light and influence Would work effectually in me Another new Epiphany, Exhale and elevate me hence : That, as my calling doth require, Star-like I may to others shine, And guide them to that Sun divine, Whose daylight never shall expire. Ch. Harvey. A HYMN TO THE FATHER. ]ILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun, Which was my sin, though it were done before ? Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run, And do run still, though still I do deplore ? When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done : For I have more. 2 Io THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Wilt Thou forgive *that sin, which I have won Others to sin, and made my sins their door ? Wilt Thou forgive that sin, which I did shun A year or two, — but wallowM in a score ? When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done ; For I have more. I have a sin of fear, that when Pve spun My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ; But swear by Thyself that at my death Thy Son Shall shine as He shines now and heretofore; And having done that Thou hast done, I fear no more ! Donne. PSALM XLVI. OD is our refuge, our strong tower ; Securing by his mighty power, When dangers threaten to devour. Thus armM, no fears shall chill our blood, Though earth no longer stedfast stood, And shook her hills into the flood : Although the troubled ocean rise In foaming billows to the skies ; And mountains shake with horrid noise. ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 1 9 Clear streams purl from a crystal spring, Which gladness to God's city bring, The mansion of the Eternal King. He in her centre takes his place : What foe can her fair towers deface, Protected by His early grace ? Tumultuary nations rose And armed troops our walls inclose, But His fearM voice unnerved our foes. The Lord of Hosts is on our side ; The God by Jacob magnified ; Our strength, on whom we have relied. Come, see the wonders He hath wrought ; Who hath to desolation brought Those kingdoms which our ruin sought. He makes destructive wars surcease ; The earth, deflowered of her increase, Restores with universal peace. He breaks their bows, unarms their quivers, The bloody spear in pieces shivers, Their chariots to the flame delivers. 'Forbear, and know that I the Lord Will by all nations be adored ; Praised with unanimous accord/ 2 * SO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. The Lord of Hosts is on our side; The God by Jacob magnified ! Our strength, on Whom we have relied. Sandys. HOLD UP MY GOINGS IN THY PATHS, THAT MY FOOTSTEPS SLIP NOT." HO knows, when he to go from home, Departeth from his door, Or when or how he back shall come, Or whether never more. For some who walk abroad in health, In sickness back are brought ; And some who have gone forth with wealth, Have back returned with nought. Lord, therefore now I go abroad, My guard I Thee confess ; And humbly beg of Thee, O God, My going forth to bless. Go with me whither I would go, Stay with me where I stay ; Do for me what I ought to do, Speak Thou what I should say. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 21 From taking wrong, from doing harm, From thoughts and speeches ill, From passion's rage, from pleasure's charm, Vouchsafe to keep me still. Let me abroad some blessing find, And let no curse the while Befall to that I leave behind, My honest hopes to spoil ! But let my going out and in, My thoughts, my words, and ways, Be always safe, still free from sin, And ever to Thy praise. And when my pains effect shall take, Or times of stay are spent, With health and credit bring me back, With comfort and content. Wither. AT SUN-SETTING. EHOLD the sun, that seemM but now Enthroned overhead, Beginneth to decline below This globe on which we tread ; 22 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And he, whom yet we look upon With comfort and delight, Will quite depart from hence anon. And leave us to the night. Thus time, unheeded, steals away The life which nature gave ; Thus are our bodies, every day, Declining to the grave. Thus from us all those pleasures fly Whereon we set our heart ; And when the night of death draws nigh Thus will they all depart. Lord, though the sun forsake our sight, And mortal hopes are vain ; Let still Thine everlasting light Within our souls remain. And in the nights of our distress, Vouchsafe those rays divine Which from the Sun of Righteousness For ever brightly shine. Wither. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 2$ A LITANY TO THE HOLY GHOST. N the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart, and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown' d in sleep, Yet mine eves the watch do keep, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! When the passing bell doth toll, And the furies in a shoal Come to fright a parting soul^ Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! When the flames and hellish cries Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes, And all terrors me surprise, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! 24 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. When the Judgment is reveaPd, And that openM which was seaPd, When to Thee I have appeaPd, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! Her rick. "our life is even as a vapour !" jlIKE to the falling of a star; Or as the flights of eagles are; Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue ; Or silver drops of morning dew ; Or like a wind that chafes the flood ; Or bubbles which on water stood ; E'eri such is man, whose borrowed light Is straight calPd in and paid to-night. The wind blows out, the bubble dies, The spring entombM in autumn lies ; The dew dries up, the star is shot, The flight is past, and man forgot. King. ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 2j CHARITAS NIMIA. i'ORD ! what is man? Why should he cost Thee So dear ? What had his ruin lost Thee ? Lord, what is man, that Thou hast overbought So much a thing of nought ? Alas ! dear Lord, what were't to Thee If there were no such worms as we ? Heaven ne'er the less still heaven would be : Should mankind dwell In the deep hell, What have his woes to. do with Thee ? Let him go weep O'er his own wounds • Seraphim will not sleep, Nor spheres forget their faithful rounds : Still would those beauteous ministers of light ■ Burn all as bright, And bow their flaming heads before Thee; Still thrones and dominations would adore Thee : Still would those ever- wakeful sons of fire Sound forth Thy praise Both nights and days, And teach Thy loved name to their noble lyre. 26 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Let froward dust then do its kind, And give itself for sport to the proud wind. Why should a piece of peevish clay plead shares In the eternity of Thy old cares ? Why shouldst Thou bow Thy awful head to see What mine own madnesses have done with me ? Will the resplendent sun E'er the less glorious run ? Will he hang down his golden head, Or e'er the sooner seek his western bed, Because some foolish fly Grows wanton and will die ? If I were lost in misery What was it to Thy heaven and Thee ? What was it to Thy precious blood If my foul heart calPd for a flood ? What if my faithless soul and I Must needs fall in With guilt and sin ? What did the Lamb that He should die ? What did the Lamb that He should need, When the wolf sins, Himself to bleed ? If my base lust Bargained with death, and well-beseeming dust, Why should the white Lamb's bosom write ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 2 J The purple name Of my sin's shame ? Why should His unstainM breast make good My blushes with His own heart-blood ? my Saviour, make me see How dearly Thou hast paid for me ; That lost again my life may prove, As then in death, so now in love. Crashaw. psalm cxxxvii. i]N the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood, There we sat, and there we wept ; Our harps, that now no music understood, Nodding on the willows slept; While unhappy captives we, Lovely Sion, thought on thee. They, they that snatchM us from our country's breast, Would have a song carved to their ears In Hebrew numbers, then, O cruel jest ! When harps and hearts were drown' d in tears; Come, they cried, come, sing and play One of Sion's songs to-day. 28 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Sing ? play ? to whom, ah ! shall we sing or play, If not, Jerusalem, to thee ? Ah ! thee Jerusalem ; ah ! sooner may This hand forget the mastery Of music's dainty touch, than I The music of thy memory. Which when I lose, oh may at once my tongue Lose this same busy speaking art, Unperch'd, her vocal arteries unstrung, No more acquainted with my heart, On my dry palate's roof to rest, A withered leaf, an idle guest ! No, no, thy good, Sion, alone must crown The head of all my hope-nursed joys. But, Edom, cruel thou ! thou cried' st, Down, down, Sink, Sion, down, and never rise ! Her falling thou didst urge and thrust, And haste to dash her into dust. Dost laugh ? proud Babel's daughter ! Do, laugh on, Till thy ruin teach thee tears, Even such as these ; laugh, till a 'venging throng Of woes too late do rouse thy fears. Laugh till thy children's bleeding bones Weep precious tears upon the stones. Crashaw. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. IT IS APPOINTED UNTO ALL MExN" ONCE TO DIE/" jlHE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things There is no armour against fate : Death lays his icy hands on kings ; 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 ; Upon death's purple altar now, See where the victor-victim bleeds ! 3° THE BOOK Of SACRED SONG. Your heads must come To the cold tomb ; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. Shirley. "he can carry nothing with him when HE DIETH/' ] AGES of Sin is death : the day is come Wherein the equal hand of Death must sum The several items of man's fading glory Into the easy total of one story. The brows that sweat for kingdoms and renown, To glorify their temples with a crown, At length grow cold, and leave their honoured name To flourish in the uncertain blast of fame : This is the height that glorious mortals can Attain ; this is the highest pitch of man. The mighty conqueror of the earth's great ball, Whose unconfined limits were too small For his extreme ambition to deserve, — Six feet of length and three of breadth must serve . This is the highest pitch that man can fly ; While, after all his triumph, he must die. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 3 1 Lives he in wealth ? Doth well- deserved store Limit his wish, that he can wish no more ? And does the fairest bounty of increase Crown him with plenty, and his days with peace ? It is a right-hand blessing : but supply Of wealth cannot secure him ; he must die. Lives he in pleasure? Does perpetual mirth Lend him a little heaven upon this earth ? Meets he no sudden care, no sudden loss To cool his joys? Breathes he without a cross? Wants he no pleasure that his wanton eye Can crave or hope from fortune ? He must die. Lives he in honour ? hath his fair desert Obtained the freedom of his prince's heart ? Or may his more familiar hands disburse His liberal favours from the royal purse? Alas ! his honour cannot soar too high For pale-faced Death to follow; he must die. Lives he a conqueror ? and doth Heaven bless His heart with spirit, that spirit with success ; Success with glory ; glory with a name To live with the eternity of fame ? The progress of his lasting fame may vie With time : but yet the conqueror must die. 4 32 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Great and good God ! thou Lord of life and death. In whom the creature hath its being, breath ; Teach me to under-prize this life, and I Shall find my loss the easier when I die. So raise my feeble thoughts and dull desire, That, when these vain and weary days expire, I may discard my flesh with joy, and quit My better part of this false earth, and it Of some more sin ; and for this transitory And tedious life enjoy a life of glory. F. Quarles. a WHO HAVE FLED TO TAKE REFUGE/" H ! whither shall I fly ? what path untrod Shall I seek out to 'scape the flaming rod ! Of my offended, of my angry God ? Where shall I sojourn ? what kind sea will hide My head from thunder ? where shall I abide, Until His flames be quench' d or laid aside ? What if my feet should take their hasty flight, And seek protection in the shades of night ? Alas ! no shade can blind the God of light. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. $$ What if my soul should take the wings of day And find some desert ? if she springs away, The wings of vengeance wave as fast as they. What if some solid rock should entertain My frighted soul ? can solid rocks restrain The stroke of justice, and not cleave in twain ? Nor sea, nor shade, nor shield, nor rock, nor cave, Nor silent deserts, nor the silent grave, Where flame- eyed fury means to smite, can save. ? Tis vain to flee; till gentle mercy show Her better eye, the further off we go, The swing of justice deals the mightier blow. The ingenuous child, corrected, doth not fly His angry mother's hand, but clings more nigh, And quenches with his tears her flaming eye. Great God ! there is no safety here below ; Thou art my fortress, Thou that seem'st my foe, ; Tis Thou, that strikest the stroke, must guard the blow. F. Quarles. " LOOKING UNTO JESUS." J|N all extremes, Lord, Thou art still The mount whereto my hopes do flee ; O make my soul detest all ill, Because so much abhorrM by Thee ; 3 34 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG Lord, let Thy gracious trials show That I am just, or make me so. Shall mountain, desert, beast, and tree, Yield to that heavenly voice of Thine ; And shall that voice not startle me, Nor stir this stone — this heart — of mine ? Yet, Lord, till Thou new bore mine ear Thy voice is lost, — I cannot hear. Fountain of light and living breath, Whose mercies never fail nor fade, Fill me with life that hath no death; Fill me with light that hath no shade ; Appoint the remnant of my days To see Thy power, and sing Thy praise. O Thou that sitt'st in heaven, and see'st My deeds without, my thoughts within, Be Thou my Prince, be Thou my Priest ; Command my soul, and cure my sin. How bitter my afflictions be I care not, so I rise to Thee. What I possess, or what I crave, Brings no content, great God, to me, If what I would, or what I have, Be not possessed, and blest, in Thee. ELIZABETHAN : STUART. $$ What I enjoy, make it mine, In making me, that have it^ Thine. When winter fortunes cloud the brows Of summer friends ; when eyes grow strange ; When plighted faith forgets its vows ; When earth and all things in it change, — O Lord, Thy mercies fail me never, When once Thou lov'st, Thou lov'st for ever. J. Quarles. I AM NOW READY TO BE OFFERED, AND THE TIME OF MY DEPARTURE IS AT HAND." >]HE seas are quiet when the winds are o'er ; So calm are we, when passions are no more ! For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries : The souPs dark cottage, batter' d and decay' d, Lets in new light, thro' chinks that time has made. Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become, As they draw near to their eternal home ; 3 * 3<5 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, That stand upon the threshold of the new. Waller. ON THE DEATH OF CATHERINE THOMSON. Wrp HEN Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, Had ripenM thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load Of death, calPd life; which us from life doth sever. Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour, Staid not behind, nor in the grave were trod ; But, as Faith pointed with her golden rod, Followed thee up to joy and bliss for ever ! Love led them on, and Faith, who knew them best, Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes Before the Judge; who thenceforth bade thee rest, And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. Milton. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 37 ON THE AUTHOR'S BLINDNESS. iHEN I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide ; And that one talent, which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He, returning, chide ; — " Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ? " I fondly ask : But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, — " God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts ; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve Him best ; his state Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; They also serve, who 'only stand and wait." Milton. SACRED MUSIC. JLEST pair of Syrens, pledges of heaven's Ml Joy ' Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse, 3^ THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Wed your divinest sounds, and mixed power employ Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce ; And to our high- raised phantasy present That undisturbed song of pure concent, Aye sung before the sapphire-colourM throne, To Him that sits thereon, With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee : Where the bright seraphim, in burning row, Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow ; And the cherubic host, in thousand quires, Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, Hymns devout and holy psalms Singing everlastingly ; That we on earth, with undiscording voice May rightly answer that melodious noise ; As once we did, till disproportion^ sin JarrM against nature' s chime, and with harsh din Broke the fair music that all creatures made To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayM In perfect diapason, whilst they stood In first obedience, and their state of good. Oh, may we soon again renew that song, And keep in tune w r ith heaven, till God ere long ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 39 To his celestial concert us unite, To live with him, and sing in endless mora of light. Milton. HAVING A DESIRE TO DEPART, AND TO BE WITH CHRIST.^ ^10 RD, it belongs not to my care Whether I die or live ; To live and serve Thee is my share, And this Thy grace must give. If life be long, I will be glad, That I may long obey; If short, yet why should I be sad, That shall have the same pay ? Christ leads me through no darker rooms Than He went through before ; He that unto God's kingdom comes Must enter by this door. Come, Lord ! when grace has made me meet Thy blessed face to see • For if Thy work on earth be sweet, What must Thy glory be ? 4° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Then shall I end my sad complaints, And weary, sinful days, And join with the triumphant saints, That sing Jehovah's praise. My knowledge of that life is small, The eye of faith is dim ; But 'tis enough that Christ knows all, And I shall be with Him. Baxter. RISING UP A GREAT WHILE BEFORE DAY, HE PRAYED." ]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 ELIZABETHAN I STUART. 4 1 'Twixt heaven and us ; the manna was not good After sun-rising ; far day sullies flowers : Rise to prevent the sun ; sleep doth sins glut, And heaven' s gate opens when the world's is shut. Walk with thy fellow-creatures : note the hush And whisperings 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 Prevail'd 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, World's youth, Man's resurrection, and the future's bud. Shroud in their births ; the crown of life, light, truth, Is styled their star; the stone and hidden food : Three blessings wait upon them, one of which Should move — they make us holy, happy, rich. 42 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. When the world's up, and every swarm abroad, Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay : Despatch necessities ; life hath a load Which must be carried on, and safely may : Yet keep these cares without thee ; let the heart Be God's alone 5 and choose the better part. Vaughan. PEACE. Y soul, there is a country Afar beyond the stars, Where stands a winged sentry All skilful in the wars. There, above noise and danger, Sweet peace sits crownM with smiles, And One born in a manger Commands the beauteous files. He is thy gracious friend, And, O my soul, awake ! Did in pure love descend, To die here for thv sake. ELIZABETHAN: STUART. 43 If thou canst get but thither, There grows the flower of peace, The rose that cannot wither, Thy fortress, and thy ease. Leave then thy foolish ranges ; For none can thee secure, But One who never changes, Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure ! Vaughan. THE PURITANS IN AMERICA. \ HERE the remote Bermudas ride In ocean's bosom unespied, From a small boat that row'd along The listening winds received this song : — " What should we do but sing His praise, That led us through the watery maze Unto an isle so long unknown, And yet far kinder than our own. He lands us on a grassy stage, Safe from the storm and prelates' rage ; He gave us this eternal spring, Which here enamels every thing; 44 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And sends the fowls to us, in care, On daily visits through the air. He hangs in shades the orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night, And does in the pomegranate close Jewels more rich than Ormuz shows. He makes the figs our mouths to meet, And throws the melons at our feet ; With cedars, chosen by His hand From Lebanon, He stores the land. He cast, of which we rather boast, The gospel-pearl upon our coast, And in these rocks for us did frame A temple, where to sound His name. O let our voice His praise exalt, Till it arrive in heaven' s vault, Which thence, perhaps, rebounding, may Echo beyond the Mexique bay." Thus sang they in the English boat An holy and a cheerful note • And all the way, to guide their chime, With falling oars they kept the time. MarvelL ELIZABETHAN : STUART. 45 DIES IR^E. ^|HE last loud trumpets wondrous sound Shall through the rending tombs re- bound, And wake the nations under ground. Nature and Death shall, with surprise, Behold the pale offender rise, And view the Judge with conscious eyes. Then shall, with universal dread, The sacred mystic book be read, To try the living and the dead. The Judge ascends His awful throne, He makes each secret sin be known, And all with shame confess their own. O then, what interest shall I make, To save my last important stake When the most just have cause to quake ? Thou mighty, formidable King, Thou mercy's unexhausted spring, Some comfortable pity bring ! 4^ THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Forget not what my ransom cost, Nor let my dear-bought soul be lost, In storms of guilty terror tost. Thou who for me didst feel such pain, Whose precious blood the cross did stain, Let not those agonies be vain ! Thou, who wert moved by Mary's grief, And by absolving of the thief Hast given me hope, now give relief. Reject not my unworthy prayer, Preserve me from that dangerous snare Which death and gaping hell prepare. Give my exalted soul a place Among Thy chosen right-hand race ; The sons of God, and heirs of grace. Prostrate my contrite heart I rend : My God, my Father, and my Friend, Do not forsake me in my end. Roscommon (from the Latin). SECOND PART. WILLIAM AND MARY, ANNE, GEORGE I. AND II. SECOND PART. VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS. CREATOR Spirit, by whose aid The world's foundations first were laid, Come, visit every humble mind • Come, pour Thy joys on human kind; From sin and sorrow set us free, And make Thy temples worthy Thee. O source of uncreated light, The Father's promised Paraclete ! Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire, Our hearts with heavenly love inspire ; Come, and Thy sacred unction bring, To sanctify us, while we sing. Plenteous of grace, descend from high, Rich in Thy sevenfold energy ! Thou strength of His Almighty hand, Whose power doth heaven and earth command ; 4 5° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Proceeding Spirit, our defence, Who doth the gift of tongues dispense, And crown' st Thy gift with eloquence. Refine and purge our earthly parts ; But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts ! Our frailties help, our wills control, Submit the senses to the soul ; And when rebellious they are grown, Then lay Thy hand, and hold them down. Chase from our minds the infernal foe, And peace, the fruit of love, bestow ; And lest our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way. Make us eternal truths receive, And practise all that we believe ; Give us Thyself, that we may see The Father, and the Son, by Thee. Immortal honour, endless fame, Attend the Almighty Father's name; The Saviour Son be glorified, Who for lost man's redemption died; And equal adoration be, Eternal Paraclete, to Thee. Dry den. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 5 1 WANDERINGS OF THE HEART. "Y God, to keep my heart. That it from Thee may never start, I know is Thy dread will : But how shall I that task fulfil ? The traitor with my rebel lusts will mix, And 'tis beyond my power, the mercury to fix. My heart inclines to bliss ; Yet studies the straight way to miss : My thoughts are loose and vain, When I most strive them to restrain, They fly at random all the world about, And render my best prayers careless and indevout. Opinions false one while My fond credulity beguile ; In a mistaken way^ With pertinaciousness I stray; I no destructive consequences heed, Am harder to reclaim the farther I proceed. Sin the internal cells Invades, where my remembrance dwells ; 4 * 53 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. PaLst foul ideas there In lively colours pictured are ; When to recall truths heavenly I designed, Things sensual overspread the surface of my mind. My God, Thou only art Able to know, keep, rule, the heart; Oh, make my heart Thy care, Which I myself to keep despair ! No rebels then will garrison my breast, Beneath Almighty wings my heart will live at rest. Ken. FROM PSALM CIV. lLESSGod,my soul! — Thou, Lord, alone Possessest empire without bounds ; With honour Thou art crowned, Thy throne Eternal majesty surrounds. With light Thou dost Thyself enrobe, And glory for a garment take ; Heaven* s curtains stretch beyond the globe, Thy canopy of state to make. God builds on liquid air, and forms His palace- chambers in the skies; The clouds His chariot are, and storms The swift-wing* d steeds with which He flies. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 53 As bright as flame, as swift as wind, His ministers heaven's palace fill ; All have their sundry tasks assigned ; All proud to serve their Sovereign's will. The various troops of sea and land In sense of common want agree ; All wait on Thy dispensing hand, And have their daily alms from Thee. They gather what Thy stores disperse, Without their trouble to provide : Thou opest Thine hand, the Universe, The craving world, is all supplied. Thou for a moment hidest Thy face, — The numerous ranks of creatures mourn ; Thou takest their breath, all nature's race Forthwith to mother earth return. Again Thou send'st Thy Spirit forth To inspire the mass with vital seed ; Nature 's restored, and parent earth Smiles on her new-created breed. Thus through successive ages stands, Firm fiVd, Thy providential care; Pleased with the work of Thy own hands, Thou dost the wastes of time repair. Tate. 54 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. PSALM XXIII. 1HE Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a Shepherd's care; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye ; My noon-day walks He shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend. When in the sultry glebe I faint, Or on the thirsty mountain pant, To fertile vales and dewy meads My weary, wandering steps He leads, Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, Amid the verdant landscape flow. Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread, My stedfast heart shall fear no ill, For Thou, O Lord, art with me still ; Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade. Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious, lonely wilds I stray, WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 55 Thy bounty shall my pains beguile ; The barren wilderness shall smile, With sudden greens and herbage crown' d^ And streams shall murmur all around. dddison. WHO GIVETH SONGS IN THE NIGHT. NTERVAL of grateful shade, Welcome to my weary head ! My Great Master still allows Needful periods of repose. By my Heavenly Father blest, Thus I give myself to rest. Heavenly Father ! gracious name 1 Night and day His love the same ! Far be each suspicious thought, Every anxious care forgot : Thou, my ever-bounteous God, Crown'st my days with various good. Thy kind eye, which cannot sleep, These defenceless hours shall keep : Blest vicissitude to me ! Day and night Pm still with Thee. 56 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. What though downy slumbers flee, Strangers to my couch and me ? Sleepless, well I know to rest, Lodged within my Father's breast. While the empress of the night Scatters mild her silver light, While the vivid planets stray Various through their mystic way, — While the stars unnumbered roll Round the ever-constant pole, Far above the spangled skies All my soul to God shall rise ; — ■ *M idst the silence of the night, Mingling with those angels bright, Whose harmonious voices raise Ceaseless love and ceaseless praise ; — Through the throng His gentle ear Shall my tuneless accents hear : From on high doth He impart Secret comfort to my heart. He, in these serenest hours, Guides my intellectual powers, And His Spirit doth diffuse Sweeter far than midnight dews, — WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. j7 Lifting all my thoughts above. On the wings of faith and love : Blest alternative to me, Thus to sleep, or wake, with Thee ! What if death my sleep invade, Should I be of death afraid ? While encircled by Thine arm, Death may strike, but cannot harm. What if beams of opening day Shine around my breathless clay, Brighter visions from on high Shall regale my mental eye. See ! a flood of sacred light, Which no more shall yield to night ! Transitory world, farewell ! Jesus calls with Him to dwell. With Thy heavenly presence blest, Death is life, and labour rest : Welcome sleep or death to me ! Still secure, for still with Thee. Doddridge. 58 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. " I AM THE WAY/ 7 ]ESUS, my all, to heaven is gone, He that I placed my hopes upon ; His track I see, and Pll pursue The narrow way till Him I view. The way the holy prophets went, The way that leads from banishment, The King's highway of holiness, Pll go, — for all its paths are peace. No stranger may proceed therein, No lover of the world and sin ; No lion, no devouring care, No sin nor sorrow shall be there. No, nothing may go up thereon But travelling souls, and I am one; Wayfaring men, to Canaan bound, Shall only in the way be found. This is the way I long have sought, And mournM because I found it not; My grief and burden long have been Because I could not cease from sin. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 59 The more I strove against its power, I sinnM and stumbled but the more ; Till late I heard my Saviour say, " Come hither, soul, I am the Way." Lo, glad I come, and Thou, blest Lamb, Shalt take me to Thee as I am : Nothing but sin I Thee can give ; Nothing but love shall I receive. Then will I tell to sinners round What a dear Saviour I have found ; PR point to Thy redeeming blood, And say, " Behold the way to God." Cennick. THE DESPONDING SOUL'S WISH. Y spirit longeth for Thee, Within my troubled breast ; Although I be unworthy Of so divine a guest. Of so divine a guest Unworthy though I be, Yet has my heart no rest, Unless it comes from Thee. 6o THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Unless it comes from Thee, In vain I look around ; In all that I can see, No rest is to be found. No rest is to be found But in Thy blessed love ; Oh ! let my wish be crown'd, And send it from above. ANSWER. CHEER up, desponding soul ; Thy longing, pleased I see; 'Tis part of that great whole Wherewith I long'd for thee. Wherewith I longM for thee, And left my Father's throne, From death to set thee free, To claim thee for my own. To claim thee for my own, I suffered on the cross ; Oh ! were my love but known No soul could fear its loss. WILLIAM AND MARY— GEORGE II. 6 1 No soul could fear its loss. But, filPd with love divine, Would die on its own cross, And rise for ever mine. John Eyrom. CONFIDENCE IN GOD. TY God, my Father, blissful name O may I call Thee mine ? May I with sweet assurance claim A portion so divine? This only can my fears control, And bid my sorrows fly; What harm can ever reach my soul Beneath my Father's eye ? Whatever Thy providence denies I calmly would resign ; For Thou art just, and good, and wise; O bend my will to Thine. Whatever Thy sacred will ordains, O give me strength to bear ; And let me know, my Father reigns, And trust His tender care. 62 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. If pain and sickness rend this frame, And life almost depart, Is not Thy mercy still the same To cheer my drooping heart ? If cares and sorrows me surround, Their power why should I fear ? My inward peace they cannot wound, If Thou, my God, art near. Anne Steele. GETHSEMANE. [JESUS, while He dwelt below, As divine historians say, To a place would often go ; Near to Kedron's brook it lay ; In this place He loved to be ; And 'twas named Gethsemane. 'Twas a garden, as we read, At the foot of Olivet, Low, and proper to be made The Redeemer's lone retreat : When from noise He would be free, Then He sought Gethsemane. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 63 Thither, by their Master brought, His disciples likewise came ; There the heavenly truths He taught Often set their hearts on flame ; Therefore they, as well as He, Visited Gethsemane. Oft conversing here they sat « Or might join with Christ in prayer; Oh ! what blest devotion 's that, When the Lord himself is there ! All things to them seemM to agree To endear Gethsemane. Full of love to man's lost race, On the conflict much He thought ; This He knew the destined place, And He loved the sacred spot \ Therefore Jesus chose to be Often in Gethsemane. Came at length the dreadful night ; Vengeance, with its iron rod, Stood, and with collected might, Bruised the harmless Lamb of God ; See, my soul, thy Saviour see, Prostrate in Gethsemane ! 64 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. View Him in that olive-press, Wrung with anguish, whelm* d in blood ! Hear Him pray in His distress, With strong cries and tears, to God : Then reflect, what sin must be, Gazing on Gethsemane. Gloomy garden, on thy beds, WashM by Kedron's water-pool, Grow most rank and bitter weeds, Think on these, my soul, my soul ! Wouldst thou sin's dominion see ? Call to mind Gethsemane. Eden, from each flowery bed, Did for man short sweetness breathe; Soon, by Satan's counsel led, Man wrought sin, and sin wrought death ; But, of life, the healing tree Grows in rich Gethsemane. Hither, Lord, Thou didst resort Oft-times with Thy little train ; Here wouldst keep Thy private court, Oh ! confer that grace again : Lord, resort with worthless me Oft-times to Gethsemane. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 65 True, I can't deserve to share In a favour so divine ; But since sin first fiVd Thee there, None have greater sins than mine ; And to this my woeful plea, Witness thou, Gethsemane ! Sins against a holy God ; Sins against his righteous laws ; Sins against his love, his blood, Sins against his name and cause, Sins immense as is the sea : — Hide me,, O Gethsemane ! Saviour, all the stone remove From my flinty, frozen heart ; Thaw it with the beams of love, Pierce it with thy mercy's dart ; Wound the heart that wounded Thee; Break it in Gethsemane ! Hart. 66 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. THIS IS MY NAME FOR EVER, J|HE God of Abraham praise, Who reigns enthroned above; &\ Ancient of everlasting days, And God of love : Jehovah, Great I AM ! By earth and heaven confest ; I bow, and bless the sacred Name For ever blest. The God of Abraham praise, At whose supreme command From earth I rise, and seek the joys At His right hand : I all on earth forsake, Its wisdom, fame, and power, And Him my only portion make, My shield and tower. The God of Abraham praise, Whose all-sufficient grace Shall guide me all my happy days In all my ways : WILLIAM AXD MARY GEORGE II. 67 He calls a worm His friend ! He calls Himself my God ! And He shall save me to the end, Through Jesus 3 blood. He by Himself hath sworn, I on His oath depend ; I shall, on eagles' wings up-borne, To heaven ascend : I shall behold His face, I shall His power adore, And sing the wonders of His grace For evermore. Though nature' s strength decay, And earth and hell withstand, To Canaan's bounds I urge my way At His command : The watery deep I pass, With Jesus in my view ; And through the howling wilderness My way pursue. The goodly land I see, With peace and plenty blest, A land of sacred liberty And endless rest : 5 * 63 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. There milk and honey flow. And oil and wine abound, And trees of life for ever grow, With mercy crownM. There dwells the Lord our King, The Lord our Righteousness ; Triumphant o'er the world and sin, The Prince of Peace : On Sion's sacred height His kingdom still maintains ; And glorious, with His saints in light, For ever reigns. He keeps His own secure ; He guards them by His side, Arrays in garments white and pure His spotless Bride ; With streams of sacred bliss, With groves of living joys, With all the fruits of Paradise, He still supplies. Before the great Three-One They all exulting stand, And tell the wonders He hath done Through all their land : WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 69 The listening spheres attend And swell the growing fame. And sing, in songs which never end, The wondrous Name. The God who reigns on high, The great archangels sing, And, « Holy, Holy, Holy," cry, t€ Almighty King ! Who was, and is the same, And evermore shall be ! Jehovah — Father— Great I AM ! We worship Thee." Before the Saviour's face The ransomM nations bow ; O'erwhelmM at His Almighty grace, For ever new. He shows His prints of love ; They kindle to a flame, And sound, through all the worlds above, The slaughtered Lamb. The whole triumphant host Give thanks to God on high ; " Hail, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost \» They ever cry : 7° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Hail, Abraham's God, and mine, I join the heavenly lays ; All might and majesty be Thine, And endless praise ! Olivers. THEY DESIRE A BETTER COUNTRY, EVEN A HEAVENLY." 1ISE, my soul, and stretch thy wings. Thy better portion trace ; Rise from transitory things Toward Heaven, thy native place. Sun, and moon, and stars decay ; Time shall soon this earth remove; Rise, my soul, and haste away To seats prepared above. Rivers to the ocean run, Nor stay in all their course; Fire ascending seeks the sun, — Both speed them to their source : So a soul that 's born of God, Pants to view His glorious face ; Upwards tends to His abode, To rest in His embrace. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 7 1 Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn, Press onward to the prize ; Soon the Saviour will return Triumphant in the skies. Yet a season, and ye know Happy entrance will be given; All our sorrow left below, And earth exchanged for heaven. Seagrave. £'< HOU hidden Love of God, whose height, Whose depth unfathomM, no man knows, I see from far Thy beauteous light, Inly I sigh for Thy repose : My heart is painM, nor can it be At rest, till it finds rest in Thee. Thy secret voice invites me still The sweetness of Thy yoke to prove ; And fain I would : but though my will Seem fixM, yet wide my passions rove ; Yet hindrances strew all the way ; I aim at Thee, yet from Thee stray. 72 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. •Tis mercy all, that Thou hast brought My mind to seek her peace in Thee ! Yet while I seek, but find Thee not, No peace my wandering soul shall see. O when shall all my wanderings end, And all my steps to Thee-ward tend ? Is there a thing beneath the sun That strives with Thee my heart to share ? Ah ! tear it thence, and reign alone, The Lord of every motion there : Then shall my heart from earth be free, When it has found repose in Thee. O hide this Self from me, that I No more, but Christ in me may live ! My vile affections crucify, Nor let one darling lust survive. In all things nothing may I see, Nothing desire or seek but Thee. O Love, Thy sovereign aid impart, To save me from low-thoughted care : Chase this self-will through all my heart, Through all its latent mazes there : Make me Thy duteous child, that I Ceaseless may " Abba, Father \" cry. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 73 Ah no ! ne'er will I backward turn : Thine wholly, Thine alone I am ! Thrice happy he, who views with scorn Earth's toys, for Thee his constant flame. O help, that I may never move From the blest footsteps of Thy love ! Each moment draw from earth away My heart, that lowly waits Thy call ; Speak to my inmost soul, and say, I am thy Love, thy God, thy All ! To feel Thy power, to hear Thy voice, To taste Thy love, be all my choice. J. Wesley {from Tersteege .<). ^MADE NIGH, BY THE BLOOD OF CHRIST.' THIRST, Thou wounded Lamb of God, To wash me in Thy cleansing blood, To dwell within Thy wounds ; then pain Is sweet, and life or death is gain. Take my poor heart, and let it be For ever closed to all but Thee ! Seal Thou my breast, and let me wear That pledge of love for ever there. 74 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. How blest are they, who still abide Close sheltered in Thy bleeding side ! Who life and strength from Thee derive. And by Thee move, and in Thee live ! What are our works but sin and death, Till Thou Thy quickening Spirit breathe ! Thou giv^st the power Thy grace to move — O wondrous grace ! O boundless love ! How can it be, Thou heavenly King, That Thou shouldst us to glory bring ? Make slaves the partners of Thy throne, Decked with a never-fading crown ? Hence our hearts melt, our eyes overflow, Our words are lost ; nor will we know, Nor will we think of aught beside " My Lord, my Love is crucified ! " Ah, Lord ! enlarge our scanty thought, To know the wonders Thou hast wrought ! Unloose our stammering tongue, to tell Thy love, immense, unsearchable ! First-born of many brethren Thou To Thee, lo ! all our souls we bow, WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 75 To Thee our hearts and hands we give : Thine may we die, Thine may we live. J. Wesley {from the German). HE HATH COVERED ME WITH THE ROBE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS." ESU, Thy blood and righteousness, My beauty are, my glorious dress ; 'Midst flaming worlds, in these array'd, With joy shall I lift up my head. Bold shall I stand in that great day ; For who aught to my charge shall lay ? Fully through these absolved I am From sin and fear, from guilt and shame. Lord, I believe Thy precious blood, Which at the mercy- seat of God For ever doth for sinners plead, For me, ev'n for my soul, was shed. When from the dust of death I rise, To claim my mansion in the skies, Ev'n then this shall be all my plea^ " Jesus hath lived, hath died for me." 7^ THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Thus Abraham, the friend of God, Thus all heaven's armies, bought with blood, Saviour of sinners, Thee proclaim, Sinners, of whom the chief I am. Naked from Satan did I flee To Thee, my Lord, and put on Thee : And thus adornM, I wait the word " He comes : Arise, and meet thy Lord." This spotless robe the same appears, When ruin'd nature sinks in years : No age can change its constant hue ; Thy blood preserves it ever new. Jesu, be endless praise to Thee, Whose boundless mercy hath for me, For me, and all Thine hands have made, An everlasting ransom paid. Thou God of power, Thou God of love, Let the whole world Thy mercy prove : Now let Thy word o'er all prevail : Now take the spoils of death and hell O let the dead now hear Thy voice, Now bid Thy banished ones rejoice ! WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 77 Their beauty this, their glorious dress, Jesu, Thy blood and righteousness ! J. Wesley [from Count Zinzendorf). WE LOVE HIM, BECAUSE HE FIRST LOVED US. JIHEE will I love, my strength and tower, Thee will I love, my joy and crown; Thee will I love with all my power, In all Thy works, and Thee alone ! Thee will I love, till that pure fire Fill my whole soul with chaste desire. In darkness willingly I strayM ; I sought Thee, yet from Thee I roved ; For wide my wandering thoughts were spread, Thy creatures more than Thee I loved : And now, if more at length I see, 'Tis through Thy light, and comes from Thee. I thank Thee, uncreated Sun, That Thy bright beams on me have shined ; I thank Thee, who hast overthrown My foes, and heaPd my wounded mind; I thank Thee, whose enlivening voice Bids my freed heart in Thee rejoice. 78 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Give to my eyes refreshing tears, Give to my heart chaste, hallowM fires ; Give to my soul, with filial fears, The love that all heaven' s host inspires ; That all my powers, with all their might, In Thy sole glory may unite. Thee will I love, my Joy, my Crown ! Thee will I love, my Lord, my God ! Thee will I love, though all may frown, And thorns and briars perplex my road ; Yea, when my flesh and heart decay, Thee shall I love in endless day. J. Wesley [from Scheffler). TRUST IN THE LORD : WAIT PATIENTLY ON HIM. |IVE to the winds thy fears ; Hope, and be undismayed; God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears, God shall lift up thy head Through waves, through clouds and storms, He gently clears thy way ; Wait thou His time ; so shall the night Soon end in joyous day. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 79 He everywhere hath sway. And all things serve His might ; His every act pure blessing is, His path unsullied light : When he makes bare His arm, What shall His work withstand ? When He His people's cause defends, Who, who shall stay His hand ? Leave to His sovereign sway To choose, and to command ; With wonder fllPd, thou then shalt own How wise, how strong His hand : Thou comprehend' st Him not, Yet earth and heaven tell, God sits as sovereign on the throne, He ruleth all things well. Thou seest our weakness, Lord, Our hearts are known to Thee ; O lift Thou up the sinking hand, Confirm the feeble knee ! Let us, in life and death, Boldly Thy truth declare ; And publish with our latest breath, Thy love, and guardian care. J. Wesley {from Gerhardt). 8o THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. AS WORKERS TOGETHER WITH HIM/ IGH on His everlasting throne, The King of Saints His work surveys \ Marks the dear souls He calls His own, And smiles on that peculiar race. He rests well pleased their toil to see ; Beneath His easy yoke they move ; With all their heart and strength agree In the sweet labour of His love. His eye at once the world looks through, A vast uncultivated field ; Mountains and vales in ghastly show, A barren, uncouth prospect yield : Cleared of the thorns by civil care, A few less hideous wastes are seen; Yet still they all continue bare, And not one spot of earth is green. See where the servants of their God, A busy multitude, appear ! For Jesus day and night employed, His husbandry they toil to clear. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. c The love of Christ their hearts constrains, And strengthens their unwearied hands ; They spend their blood, and sweat, and pains, To cultivate EmmanuePs lands. Alarm' d at their successful toil, Satan and his wild spirits rage ; They labour to tear up and spoil And blast the rising heritage. In every wilderness they sow The seed of death, the carnal mind ; They would not let one virtue grow, Nor leave one seed of good behind. Yet still the servants of their Lord Look up and calmly persevere, Supported by the Master's word, The adverse powers they scorn to fear ; Gladly their happy work pursue : The labour of their hands is seen, Their hands the face of earth renew ; Some spots at least are lively green. To dig the ground they thus bestow Their lives ; from every softened clod They gather out the stones, and sow The immortal seed, the word of God. 82 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. They water it with tears and prayers, Then long for the returning word ; Happy, if all their pains and cares Can bring forth fruit to please their Lord. Jesus their work delighted sees ; Their industry vouchsafes to crown : He kindly gives the wishM increase,, And sends the promised blessing down. The sap of life, the Spirit's powers, He rains incessant from above ; He all His gracious fulness showers, To perfect their great work of love. O multiply Thy sowers' seed, And fruit we every hour shall bear ; Throughout the world Thy gospel spread, Thy everlasting grace declare : We all in perfect love renew'd, Shall know the greatness of Thy power, Stand in the temple of our God As pillars, and go out no more. J. Wesley {from Bishop A, G. Spangenberg). WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 83 FOR OF HIM, AND THROUGH HIM, AND TO HIM, ARE ALL THINGS." OMMIT thou all thy griefs And ways into His hands, To His sure truth and tender care, Who earth and heaven commands : Who points the clouds their course, Whom winds and seas obey; He shall direct thy wandering feet, He shall prepare thy way. Thou on the Lord rely, So safe shalt thou go on ; Fix on His work thy steadfast eye, So shall thy work be done. No profit canst thou gain By self- consuming care; To Him commit thy cause ; His ear Attends the softest prayer. Thy everlasting Truth, Father ! Thy ceaseless love, Sees all Thy children^ wants, and knows What best for each shall prove. 84 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And whatsoever Thou wilPst Thou dost, O King of kings ; What Thy unerring wisdom chose, Thy power to being brings. Thou everywhere hast sway, And all things serve Thy might ; Thy every act pure blessing is, Thy path unsullied light. When Thou arisest, Lord, Who shall Thy work withstand ? When all Thy children want, Thou giv'st, Who, who shall stay Thine hand ? Give to the winds thy fears ; Hope, and be undismayed ; God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears ; God shall lift up thy head. Through waves and clouds and storms He gently clears thy w r ay ; Wait thou His time; so shall this night Soon end in joyous day. Still heavy is thy heart ? Still sinks thy spirit down ? Cast off the weight, let fear depart, And every care be gone. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 85 What though thou rulest not, Yet heaven and earth and hell Proclaim, God sitteth on the throne, And ruleth all things well ! Leave to His sovereign sway To choose and to command ; So shalt thou wondering own, His way How wise, how strong His hand ! Far, far above thy thought His counsel shall appear, When fully He the work hath wrought That caused thy needless fear. Thou seest our weakness, Lord, Our hearts are known to Thee ; Oh ! lift Thou up the sinking hand, Confirm the feeble knee ! Let us, in life, in death, Thy steadfast truth declare, And publish, with our latest breath, Thy love and guardian care ! J. IVesley {from Paul Gerkardt). 86 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. r* "IF THAT BY ANY MEANS I MIGHT ATTAIN TO THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD." nHOU God of glorious majesty, To Thee, against myself, to Thee, A worm of earth, I cry ; A half-awaken' d child of man, An heir of endless bliss or pain, A sinner born to die ! Lo ! on a narrow neck of land 'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand, Secure, insensible : A point of time, a moment's space, Removes me to that heavenly place, Or shuts me up in hell. O God, mine inmost soul convert ! And deeply on my thoughtful heart Eternal things impress : Give me to feel their solemn weight, And tremble on the brink of fate, And wake to righteousness. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. &7 Before me place, in dread array, The pomp of that tremendous day, When Thou with clouds shalt come, To j udge the nations at Thy bar ; And tell me, Lord, shall I be there, To meet a joyful doom ? Be this my one great business here, With serious industry and fear Eternal bliss to insure : Thine utmost counsel to fulfil, And suffer all Thy righteous will, And to the end endure. Then, Saviour, then my soul receive, Transported from this vale to live And reign with Thee above ! Where faith is sweetly lost in sight, And hope in full supreme delight, And everlasting love. C. Wesley. 88 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. )]0, I would not always live; Always sin, repent, and grieve ; Always in my dungeon groan ; Always serve a God unknown ; Or if Thou appear^st to me, Darkly through a glass I see, Know in part, and deeply mourn, Till I to Thy arms return. PardonM, still for sin I grieve, Never can myself forgive ; Weeping, though my heart were pure, Would I to the end endure ; Still lament, and daily die, Till my Saviour from the sky- Wipe the gracious tears away, Bear me to eternal da v. C. Wesley. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 89 i will not let thee go, except thou bless me!" OME, O Thou Traveller unknown, Whom still I hold, but cannot see ! My company before is gone, And I am left alone with Thee; With Thee all night I mean to stay, And wrestle till the break of day. ' I need not tell Thee who I am ; My misery and sin declare ; Thyself hast callM me by my name ; Look on Thy hands and read it there ; But who, I ask Thee, who art Thou ? Tell me Thy name, and tell me now. In vain Thou strugglest to get free, I never wall unloose mv hold : Art Thou the Man that died for me ? The secret of Thv love unfold : Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. 9° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Wilt Thou not yet to me reveal Thy new, unutterable name ? Tell me, I still beseech Thee, tell ? To know it now, resolved I am : Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. What though my sinking flesh complain. And murmur to contend so long, I rise superior to my pain ; When I am weak, then am I strong ! And when my all of strength shall fail, I shall with the God-man prevail. My strength is gone, my nature dies, I sink beneath Thy mighty hand : Faint, to revive, and fall, to rise ; I fall, and yet by faith I stand, — I stand, and will not let Thee go, Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. Yield to me now, — for I am weak ; But confident in self-despair : Speak to my heart, in blessings speak , Be conquered by my instant prayer ; Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move, And tell me if Thy name be Love. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 9 1 'Tis Love ! 'tis Love ! Thou diedst for me ; I hear Thy whisper in my heart : The morning breaks, the shadows nee ; Pure, universal Love> Thou art : To me, to all, Thy bowels move : Thy nature and Thy name is Love. My prayer hath power with God : the grace Unspeakable I now receive ; Through faith I see Thee face to face ; I see Thee face to face, and live ! In vain I have not wept and strove ; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. I know Thee, Saviour, who Thou art, Jesus, the feeble sinner's friend : Nor wilt Thou with the night depart, But stay, and love me to the end : Thy mercies never shall remove ; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. The Sun of Righteousness on me Hath risen, with healing in His wings ; Withered my nature's strength, from Thee My soul its life and succour brings ; My help is all laid up above ; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. 92 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Contented now, upon my thigh I halt, till life's short journev end ; All helplessness, all weakness, I On Thee alone for strength depend ; Nor have I power from Thee to move ; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. Lame as I am, I take the prey ; Hell, earth, and sin, with ease overcome ; I leap for joy, pursue my way, And, as a bounding hart, fly home; Through all eternity to prove Thy nature and Thy name is Love. C. Wesley. " I HAVE FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT !" THE good fight have fought "- O when shall I declare ! The victory by my Saviour got, I long with Paul to share. O may I triumph so, When all my warfare 's past ! And dying, find my latest foe Under my feet at last ! WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 93 This blessed word be mine, Just as the port is gained ; — " Kept by the power of grace divine I have the faith maintained : " The apostles of my Lord, To whom it first was given, They could not speak a greater word, Nor all the saints in heaven. C. Wesley. I WILL GUIDE THEE WITH MINE EYE. ilELP, Lord, to whom for help I fly, And still my tempted soul stand by, Throughout the evil day ! The sacred watchfulness impart, And keep the issues of my heart, And stir me up to pray. My soul with Thy whole armour arm ; On each approach of sin alarm. And show the danger near ; Surround, sustain, and strengthen me, And fill with godly jealousy, And sanctifying fear. 94 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Whene'er my careless hands hang down, O let me see Thy gathering frown, And feel Thy warning eye : And starting, cry, from ruin's brink, " Save, Jesus, or I yield, I sink ! O save me, or I die ! " If near the pit I rashly stray, Before I wholly fall away, The keen conviction dart : Recall me by that pitying look, That kind, upbraiding glance, which broke Unfaithful Peter's heart. C. Wesley. "till the day-spring arise." HRIST, whose glory fills the skies, Christ, the true, the only Light, Sun of Righteousness, arise, Triumph o'er the shades of night ; Day-spring from on high, be near ! Day-star, in my heart appear ! Dark and cheerless is the morn Unaccompanied by Thee ; Joyless is the day's return Till Thy mercy's beams I see ; WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 95 Till they inward light impart, Glad my eyes, and warm my heart. Visit then this soul of mine, Pierce the gloom of sin and grief! Fill me, Radiancy Divine, Scatter all my unbelief ! More and more Thyself display, Shining to the perfect day ! C. Wesley. "l WILL GIVE THEM A HEART OF FLESH." JEARY of wandering from my God, And now made willing to return, I hear, and bow me to the rod ; For Him, not without hope, I mourn : I have an Advocate above, A Friend before the throne of love. O Jesu, full of pardoning grace, More full of grace than I of sin ; Yet once again I seek Thy face, Open Thine arms and take me in, And freely my backslidings heal, And love the faithless sinner still ! g6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Thou know'st the way to bring me back, My fallen spirit to restore ; Oh for Thy truth and mercy's sake, Forgive, and bid me sin no more ! The ruins of my soul repair, And make my heart an house of prayer ! The stone to flesh again convert, The veil of sin* once more remove ; Drop Thy warm blood upon my heart, And melt it with Thy dying love ; This rebel heart by love subdue, And make it soft, and make it new ! Give to mine eyes refreshing tears, And kindle my relentings now, Fill all my soul with filial fears, To Thy sweet yoke my spirit bow ; Bend by Thy grace, oh, bend, or break, The iron sinew in my neck ! Ah ! give me, Lord, the tender heart, That trembles at th* approach of sin ; A godly fear of sin impart, Implant, and root it deep within ; That I may dread Thy gracious power, And never dare offend Thee more ! C. Wesley. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. 97 LORD JESUS; RECEIVE MY SPIRIT ! " OHRINKING from the cold hand of deaths I soon shall gather up my feet ; Shall soon resign my mortal breathy And die^ my fathers* God to meet. Number' d among Thy people, I Expect with joy Thv face to see : Because Thou didst for sinners die, JesuS; in death remember me ! Oh that without a lingering groan I may the welcome word receive ; My body; with my charge; lay down; And cease at once to work and live ! Walk with me through the dreadful shade. And certify that Thou art mine ; My spirit; calm and undismayed; I shall into Thy hands resign. No anxious doubtS; no guilty gloom; Shall damp when Jesu's presence cheers ; My light; my life, my God is come; And glory in his face appears ! C. Wesley. 9 8 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. WHEN MY FLESH AND MY HEART FAIL, GOD IS THE STRENGTH OF MY HEART, AND MY PORTION FOR EVER." §lpPn ? N age and feebleness extreme, fm||j Who shall a helpless worm redeem ? daksffll — Jesus, my only hope Thou art, Strength of my failing flesh and heart ! Oh ! could I catch a smile from Thee, And drop into eternity ! C. Wesley. " THE END OF ALL THINGS IS AT HAND." O many years Pve seen the sun, And calPd these hands and eyes my own ; !i A thousand little acts Pve done. And childhood have, and manhood known : Oh what is Life ! and this dull round To tread, why was a spirit bound ? So many airy draughts and lines, And warm excursions of the mind, Have filPd my soul with great designs, While practice grovel I'd far behind : WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. Q9 Oh what is thought ! and where withdraw The glories which my fancy saw ? So many tender joys and woes Have on my quivering soul had power ; Plain life with heightening passions rose, The boast or burden of their hour : Oh what is all we feel ! why fled Those pains and pleasures o 3 er my head ? So many human souls divine, So at one interview displayed. Some oft and freely mixt with mine, In lasting bonds my heart have laid : Oh what is Friendship ! w^hy imprest On my weak, wretched, dying breast ? So many wondrous gleams of light, And gentle ardours from above, Have made me sit, like seraph bright, Some moments on a throne of love : Oh what is Virtue ! why had I, Who am so low, a taste so high ? Ere long, when sovereign wisdom wills, My soul an unknown path shall tread, And strangely leave, who strangely fills This frame, and waft me to the dead : TOO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Oh what is death ! — 'Tis life's last shore. Where vanities are vain no more; Where all pursuits their goal obtain,, And Life is all retouch' d again ; Where in their bright results shall rise, Thoughts, virtues, friendships, griefs, and joys. Gambold. I AM THINE, OH SAVE ME ! " HAT I am Thine, my Lord and God ! Sprinkled and ransom' d byThyblood, — Repeat that word once more, With such an energy and light, That this world's flattery or spite To shake me never may have power. From various cares my heart retires ; Though deep and boundless its desires, I 'm now to please but One : He, before whom the elders bow, With Him is all my business now, And with the souls that are His own. WILLIAM AND MARY GEORGE II. IOI This is my joy (which ne'er can fail), To see my Saviour's arm prevail ■ To mark the steps of grace ; How new-born souls, convinced of sin, His blood reveal' d to them within, Extol my Lord in every place. With these my happy lot is cast : Through the world's deserts, rude and waste, Or through its gardens fair; Whether the storm of malice sweeps, Or all in dead supineness sleeps ; Still to go on be my whole care. See ! the dear flock by Jesus drawn, In blest simplicity move on ; They trust His shepherd's crook. Beholders many faults will find, But they can tell their Saviour's mind ; Content, if written in His Book. No, my dear Lord, in following Thee, Not in the dark uncertainly, This foot obedient moves : 'Tis with a brother and a King, Who many to His yoke will bring; Who ever lives and ever loves. 102 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Now then, my Way, my Truth, my Life ! Henceforth let sorrow, doubt, and strife Drop oft* like autumn leaves ; — Henceforth, as privileged by Thee, Simple and undistracted be My soul, which to Thy sceptre cleaves. Gambold. THIRD PART. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. wS& WSMl ^^^h^&Si. I ^^ZS^sp^ W^W^&- THIRD PART. I PRESS TOWARDS THE MARK/ IS not too hard, too high an aim, Secure, thy part in Christ to claim ; n The sensual instinct to control, And warm with purer fires the soul. Nature will raise up all her strife, Foe to the flesh-abasing life, Loth in a Saviour's death to share, Her daily cross compelPd to bear ; But grace omnipotent at length Shall arm the saint with saving strength ; Through the sharp war with aids attend, And his long conflict sweetly end. Act but the infant's gentle part, Give up to love thy willing heart ; No fondest parent's tender breast Yearns like thv God's to make thee blest : 106 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Taught its dear mother soon to know, The simplest babe its love can show ; Bid bashful, servile fear retire, The task no labour will require. The sovereign Father, good and kind, Wants but to have His child resigned ; Wants but thy yielded heart, no more, With His rich gifts of grace to store. He to my soul no anguish brings, From thy own stubborn will it springs ; That foe but crucify, the bane, — Nought shalt thou know of frowns or pain. Shake from thy soul, o'erwhelmM, deprest, The encumbering load that galls its rest, That wastes its strength with bondage vain, With courage break the enslaving chain ! Let faith exert its conquering power, Say, in thy fearing, trembling hour, a Father, thy pitying aid impart ! " 'Tis done ! a sigh can reach His heart- Yet if, more earnest plaints to raise, Awhile His succours He delays ; Though His kind hand thou canst not feel, The smart let lenient patience heal : PERIOD OF GEORGE III. I07 Or if corruption's strength prevail, And oft thy pilgrim footsteps fail, Lift for His grace thy louder cries, So shalt thou cleansed and stronger rise. If haply still thy mental shade Deep as the midnight's gloom be made, On the sure faithful arm divine Firm let thy fastening trust recline. The gentlest Sire, the best of friends, To thee nor loss nor harm intends ; Though tost on the most boisterous main, No wreck thy vessel shall sustain. Should there remain of rescuing grace No glimpse, no shadow left to trace, Hear thv Lord's voice, u 'Tis Jesus' will :" Believe, thou dark lost pilgrim, still ! Then, thy sad night of terrors past, Though the dread season long may last, Sweet peace shall from the smiling skies Like a new dawn before thee rise ; Then shall thy faith's firm grounds appear, Its eyes shall view salvation clear. Be hence encouraged more, when tried, On thy best Father to confide. 108 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. O my too blind but nobler part, Be moved ! Be won by these, my heart ; — See of how rich a lot, how blest, The true believer stands possest. Come, backward soul, to God resign; Peace, His best blessing, shall be thine Boldly recumbent on His care^ Cast thy full burden only there. From Richter. " I AM NOT ASHAMED. ^]ESUS, and shall it ever be ! A mortal man ashamed of Thee ! Ashamed of Thee, whom angels praise ; Whose glories shine to endless days. Ashamed of Jesus ! sooner far Let evening blush to own a star : He sheds His beams of light divine O'er this benighted soul of mine. Ashamed of Jesus ! just as soon Let midnight be ashamed of noon : 'Tis midnight with my soul till He, Bright Morning Star, bids darkness flee. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. IC9 Ashamed of Jesus ! that dear friend, On whom my hopes of heaven depend ! No, — when I blush, be this my shame, That I no more revere His name. Ashamed of Jesus, yes, I may, When Pve no guilt to wash away ; No tear to wipe, no good to crave ; No fears to quell, no soul to save. Till then, — nor is my boasting vain, — Till then, I boast a Saviour slain : And oh, may this my glory be, That Christ is not ashamed of me. Grigg. TO KNOW THE LOVE OF CHRIST, WHICH PASSETH KNOWLEDGE." HAPPINESS ! thou lovely name, Where 's thy seat ? O tell me where ! Learning, pleasure, wealth and fame, All cry out, " It is not here." Not the wisdom of the wise Can inform me where it lies ; Not the grandeur of the great Can the bliss T seek create. IIO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Object of my first desire, Jesus ! crucified for me, All to happiness aspire, Only to be found in Thee ' Thee to praise and Thee to know, Constitute our bliss below ; Thee to see, and Thee to love, Constitute our bliss above. Lord ! it is not life to live, If Thy presence Thou deny. Lord ! if Thou Thy presence give, 'Tis no longer death to die. Source and Giver of repose, Singly from Thy smile it flows ; Peace and happiness are Thine ; Mine they are, if Thou art mine. Whilst I feel Thy love to me, Every object teems with joy : Here, O may I walk with Thee, Then into Thy presence die ! Let me but Thyself possess, Total sum of happiness ! Real bliss I then shall prove, Heaven below, and heaven above. Toplady. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. HI LET THIS MIND BE IN YOU, WHICH WAS IN CHRIST JESUS.^ j|QRD, I feel a carnal mind, That hangs about me still, Vainly though I strive to bind My own rebellious will : — Is not haughtiness of heart The gulf between my God and me ? Meek Redeemer, now impart Thine own humility. Fain would I my Lord pursue, Be all my Saviour taught ; Do as Jesus bids me do, And think as Jesus thought : But His Thou must change my heart, The perfect gift must come from Thee : Meek Redeemer, now impart Thine own humility. Lord, I cannot, must not rest, Till I Thy mind obtain, Chase presumption from my breast, And all Thy mildness gain ! 112 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Give me, Lord, Thy gentle heart, Thy lowly mind my portion be : Meek Redeemer, now impart Thine own humility. Let Thy cross my will control, Conform me to my Guide ; In Thine image mould my soul, And crucify my pride : Give me, Lord, a contrite heart, A heart that always looks to Thee : Meek Redeemer, now impart Thine own humility. Tear away my every boast, My stubborn mind abase ; Saviour ! fix my only trust In Thy Redeeming grace : Give me a submissive heart, From pride and self-dependence free; Meek Redeemer, now impart Thine own humilitv ! Toplady. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. H3 " MY MEDITATION OF HIM SHALL BE SWEET. HEN languor and disease invade This trembling house of clay, 'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage, And long to soar away. Sweet to look inward, and attend The whispers of His love ; Sweet to look upward to the throne, Where Jesus pleads above. Sweet to look back, and see my name In life's fair book markM down ; Sweet to look forward, and behold Eternal joys my own. Sweet to reflect how grace divine My sins on Jesus laid ; Sw r eet to remember that His blood My debt of suffering paid. Sweet in His righteousness to stand, Which saves from second death ; Sweet to experience, day by day, His Spirit's quickening breath. 114 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Sweet on His faithfulness to rest, Whose love can never end ; Sweet on His covenant of grace For all things to depend. Sweet in the confidence of faith To trust His firm decrees ; Sweet to lie passive in His hand, And have no will but His. Sweet to rejoice in lively hope, That when my change shall come, Angels will hover round my bed, And waft my spirit home. There shall my dis-imprisonM soul Behold Him and adore; Be with His likeness satisfied, And grieve and sin no more : Shall see Him wear that very flesh On which my guilt was lain ; His love intense, His merit fresh, As though but newly slain. Soon, too, my slumbering dust shall hear The trumpet's quickening sound ! And by my Saviour's power rebuilt, At His right hand be found. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. H5 These eyes shall see Him in that day; The God that died for me ; And all my rising bones shall say, Lord, who is like to Thee ! If such the views which grace unfolds, Weak as it is below, What raptures must the Church above, In Jesu's presence, know ! If such the sweetness of the stream, What must that fountain be, Where saints and angels draw their bliss Immediately from Thee ! O may the unction of these truths For ever with me stay ; Till from her sinful cage dismissed, My spirit flies away ! Toplady. CHRIST IN YOU, THE HOPE OF GLORY. iUPREME High-Priest, the pilgrim's light, My heart for Thee prepare ; \ Thine image stamp, and deeply write Thy superscription there : Il6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Ah, let my forehead bear Thv seal, My arm Thy badge retain ; My heart the inward witness feel That I am born again ! Into Thy humble mansion come, Set up Thy dwelling here ; Possess my heart, and leave no room For sin to harbour there : Ah, give me, Lord, the single eye, Which aims at nought but Thee : I fain would live, and yet not I, But Jesus live in me. O that the penetrating sight And eaglets eye were mine ! Undazzled at the boundless light Of Majesty divine : That with the armies of the sky I, too, may sit and sing, Add, Saviour, to the eagle's eye, The dove's aspiring wing. Toplady. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. II 7 " GIVE ME UNDERSTANDING, ACCORDING TO THY WORD." THAT my heart was right with Thee, And loved Thee with a perfect love ! O that my Lord would dwell in me, And never from His seat remove ! Jesus, apply Thy pardoning blood, And make this bosom fit for God. Saviour, I dwell in awful night Until Thou in my heart appear ; Arise, propitious Sun, and light An everlasting morning there : Thy presence casts the shadows by; If Thou withdraw, how dark am I ! Lord, how should Thy servant see, Unless Thou give me seeing eyes? Well may I fall, if out of Thee ! If out of Thee, how should I rise ? 1 wander wide without Thy aid, And lose my way in midnight shade. Il8 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. O let my prayer acceptance find, And bring the mighty blessing down ; Eyesight impart, for I am blind ; And seal me Thine adopted son : A fallen, helpless creature take, And heir of Thy salvation make. Toplady. " WHAT SON IS HE WHOM THE FATHER CHASTENETH NOT ? " HE path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is un- known : No traveller ever reachM that blest abode, Who found not thorns and briars in his road. The world may dance along the flowery plain, CheerM as they go by many a sprightly strain ; Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread, With unshod feet they yet securely tread ; AdmonishM, scorn the caution and the friend, Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end : But He, who knew what human hearts would prove, How slow to learn the dictates of His love, That, hard by nature and of stubborn will, A life of ease would make them harder still, PERIOD OF GEORGE III. II9 In pity to the souls His grace designed To rescue from the ruins of mankind, CalPd for a cloud to darken all their years, And said, €C Go, spend them in the vale of tears ! " balmy gales of soul- reviving air ! O salutary streams, that murmur there ! These, flowing from the fount of grace above, Those, breathed from lips of everlasting love. The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys ; Chill blasts of trouble nip their springing joys ; An envious world will interpose its frown, To mar delights superior to its own * And many a pang, experienced still within, Reminds them of their hated inmate, Sin : But ills of every shape and every name, Transformed to blessings, miss their cruel aim ; And every moment's calm that soothes the breast Is given in earnest of eternal rest. Ah, be not sad, although thy lot be cast Far from the flock, and in a boundless waste ! No shepherds' tents within thy view appear, But the Chief Shepherd even there is near ; Thy tender sorrows and thy plaintive strain Flow in a foreign land, but not in vain ; 120 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Thy tears all issue from a source divine, And every drop bespeaks a Saviour thine : So once in Gideon's fleece the dews were found, And drought on all the drooping herbs around. Coiuper, " O THAT MY WAYS WERE DIRECTED TO KEEP THY STATUTES." H ! for a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame ; A light to shine upon the road That leads me to the Lamb ! "Where is the blessedness I knew When first I saw the Lord ? Where is the soul-refreshing view Of Jesus, and His word ? What peaceful hours I once enjoyed ! How sweet their memory still ! But they have left an aching void, The world can never fill. Return, O holy Dove, return, Sweet messenger of rest ! I hate the sins that made Thee mourn, And drove Thee from my breast. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 121 The dearest idol I have known, Whatever that idol be, Help me to tear it from Thy throne, And worship only Thee. So shall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame : So purer light shall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb. Coivper. WHEN THOU W^NTEST AFTER ME IN THE WILDERNESS." AR from the world, O Lord ! I flee, From strife and tumult far ; From scenes where Satan wages still His most successful war. The calm retreat, the silent shade, With prayer and praise agree, And seem by Thy sweet bounty made For those who follow Thee. There if Thy Spirit touch the soul, And grace her mean abode, Oh ! with what peace, and joy, and love, She communes with her God ! 122 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. There, like the nightingale, she pours Her solitary lays ; Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise. Author and Guardian of my life, Sweet source of life divine ; And — all harmonious names in one — My Saviour, Thou art mine ! What thanks I owe Thee, and what love ! A boundless, endless store, Shall echo through the realms above, When time shall be no more. Cowper. BUT HOW TO PERFORM THAT WHICH IS GOOD, I FIND NOT." EAK and irresolute is man ; The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away. The bow well bent, and smart the spring, Vice seems already slain ; But passion rudely snaps the string, And it revives again. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 1 23 Some foe to his upright intent Finds out his weaker part ; Virtue engages his assent, But pleasure wins his heart. 'Tis here the folly of the wise Through all his art we view ; And while his tongue the charge denies, His conscience owns it true. Bound on a voyage of awful length, And dangers little known, A stranger to superior strength, Man vainly trusts his own. But oars alone can ne'er prevail To reach the distant coast ; The breath of heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost. Cowper. I HID MY FACE FROM THEE FOR A MOMENT/' HEN darkness long has veilM my mind, And smiling day once more appears, Then, my Redeemer, then I find The folly of my doubts and fears. 124 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Straight I upbraid my wandering heart, And blush that I should ever be Thus prone to act so base a part, Or harbour one hard thought of Thee. Oh ! let me then at length be taught What I am still so slow to learn, That God is love, and changes not, Nor knows the shadow of a turn. Sweet truth, and easy to repeat ! But when my faith is sharply tried, I find myself a learner yet, Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide. But, O my Lord, one look from Thee Subdues the disobedient will ; Drives doubt and discontent away, And thy rebellious worm is still. Thou art as ready to forgive As I am ready to repine ; Thou, therefore, all the praise receive ; Be shame and self-abhorrence mine. Cowper. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 1 25 ASK, AND IT SHALL BE GIVEN YOU. HAT various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy- seat ! Yet who, that knows the worth of prayer, But wishes to be often there ? Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw ; Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw ; Gives exercise to faith and love ; Brings every blessing from above. Restraining prayer, we cease to fight ; Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright ; And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees. While Moses stood with arms spread wide, Success was found on IsraePs side ; But when through weariness they faiPd, That moment Amalek prevaiPd. Have you no words ? ah ! think again, Words flow apace when you complain, And fill your fellow- creature's ear With the sad tale of all your care. 126 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Were half the breath thus vainly spent, To heaven in supplication sent, Your cheerful song would oftener be, " Hear what the Lord has done for me." Cowper. WHO COMFORTETH US IN ALL OUR TRIBULATION." ^jONG plunged in sorrow, I resign My soul to that dear hand of Thine, Without reserve or fear ; That hand shall wipe my streaming eyes, Or into smiles of glad surprise Transform the falling tear ! My sole possession is Thy love ; In earth beneath, or heaven above, I have no other store ; And though with fervent suit I pray, And importune Thee night and day, I ask Thee nothing more. My hours, with undiminished force And speed, pursue their destined course Obedient to Thy will : PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 127 Nor would I murmur at my doom. Though still a sufferer from the womb, And doomM to suffer still. By Thy command, where'er I stray, Sorrow attends me all my way, A never-failing friend ; And if my sufferings may augment Thy praise, behold me well content, — Let sorrow still attend ! It costs me no regret, that she Who followed Christ, should follow me : And though, where'er she goes, Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet, I love her, and extract a sweet From all my bitter woes. Cowper,from Mad. Guion. MY SOUL IS EVEN AS A WEANED CHILD. UIET, Lord, my froward heart : Make me teachable and mild, Upright, simple, free from art ; Make me as a weaned child ; From distrust and envy free, Pleased with all that pleases Thee. 1^8 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. What Thou shalt to-day provide, Let me as a child receive ; What to-morrow may betide, Calmly to Thy wisdom leave : 'Tis enough that Thou wilt care, Why should I the burden bear ? As a little child relies On a care beyond his own ; Knows he's neither strong nor wise; Fears to stir a step alone ; Let me thus with Thee abide, As my Father, Guard, and Guide. Thus preserved from Satan's wiles, Safe from dangers, free from fears, May I live upon Thy smiles^ Till the promised hour appears, When the sons of God shall prove All their Father's boundless love. Newton. "a friend that sticketh closer than a BROTHER." NE there is, above all others, Well deserves the name of Friend ; PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 129 His is love beyond a brother* s, Costly,, free, and knows no end ! They who once His kindness prove Find it everlasting love. Which of all our friends, to save us, Could or would have shed his blood ? But our Jesus died to have us Reconciled in Him to God : This was boundless love indeed ! Jesus is a friend in need. When He lived on earth abased, Friend of sinners was His name ; Now, above all glory raised, He rejoices in the same : Still He calls them brethren, friends, And to all their wants attends. Could we bear from one another What He daily bears from us ? Yet this glorious Friend and Brother Loves us though we treat Him thus ! Though for good we render ill, He accounts us brethren still. 13° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Oh ! for grace our hearts to soften; Teach us, Lord, at length to love ; We, alas ! forget too often What a friend we have above : But, when home our souls are brought, We will love Thee as we ought. Newton. " ASK WHAT I SHALL GIVE THEE." 10 ME, my soul, thy suit prepare, Jesus loves to answer prayer; He himself has bid thee pray, Therefore will not say thee nay. Thou art coming to a King, Large petitions with thee brings For His grace and power are such, None can ever ask too much. With my burden I begin ; Lord ! remove this load of sin ! Let Thy blood, for sinners spilt, Set my conscience free from guilt. Lord, I come to Thee for rest, Take possession of my breast ; There Thy blood-bought right maintain, And without a rival reign. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 131 As the image in the glass Answers the beholder's face, Thus unto my heart appear, Print Thine own resemblance there. While I am a pilgrim here, Let Thy love my spirit cheer ; As my Guide, my Guard, my Friend, Lead me to my journey's end. Show me what I have to do ; Every hour my strength renew : Let me live a life of faith Let me die Thy people's death. Newton. THY JUDGMENTS ARE LIKE THE GREAT DEEP." "N every object here I see Something, O Lord, that leads to Thee : Firm as the rocks Thy promise stands, Thy mercies countless as the sands ; Thy love, a sea immensely wide, Thy grace, an ever-flowing tide. 9 * 132 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. In every object here I see Something, my heart, that points at Thee : Hard as the rocks that bound the strand, Unfruitful as the barren sand, Deep and deceitful as the ocean, And, like the tides, in constant motion. Newton. AND SUCH AN HIGH PRIEST BECAME US. ]HERE high the heavenly temple stands, The house of God not made with hands, A great High Priest our nature wears, The guardian of mankind appears. He who for men their surety stood, And pour'd on earth His precious blood, Pursues in heaven His mighty plan, The Saviour and the friend of man. - Though now ascended up on high, He bends on earth a brother's eye : Partaker of the human name, He knows the frailty of our frame. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 1 33 Our fellow- sufferer yet retains A fellow-feeling of our pains ; And still remembers in the skies His tears. His agonies, and cries. In every pang that rends the heart, The Man of Sorrows had a part ; He sympathizes with our grief, And to the sufferer sends relief. With boldness, therefore, at the throne, Let us make all our sorrows known, And ask the aid of heavenly power To help us in the evil hour. Bruce, published ly Logan, THE LORD OF HOSTS SHALL REIGN IN MOUNT ZION." EHOLD ! the mountain of the Lord In latter days shall rise ? On mountain tops, above the hills, And draw the wondering eyes. 134 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. To this the joyful nations round, All tribes and tongues, shall flow ; Up to the hill of God, they'll say, And to His house, we'll go. The beam that shines from Zion's hill Shall lighten every land ; The King who reigns in Salem's towers Shall all the world command. Among the nations He shall judge ; His judgments truth shall guide; His sceptre shall protect the just, And quell the sinner's pride. No strife shall vex Messiah's reign, Or mar the peaceful years ; To ploughshares men shall beat their swords, To pruning-hooks their spears. No longer hosts, encountering hosts, Shall crowds of slain deplore ; They hang the trumpet in the hall, And study war no more. Come then, O come from every land, To worship at His shrine, And, walking in the light of God, With holy beauties shine. Bruce, published by Logan. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 1 35 WHAT I DO THOU KNOWEST NOT NOW/' ^|^HE world can neither give nor take, Nor can it comprehend The peace of God, which Christ has bought ; The peace which knows no end. The burning bush was not consumed Whilst God remained there ; The threes when Jesus made the fourth. Found fire as soft as air. God^s furnace doth in Zion stand : But Zion*s God sits bv, As the refiner views his gold With an observant eve. His thoughts are high, His love is wise, His wounds a cure intend ; And, though He does not always smile, He loves unto the end. Countess of Huntingdon* I36 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. A MAN OF SORROWS. IAN of sorrows, and acquainted With our griefs, what shall we say ? Never yet hath language painted All the woes that on Thee lay. Had I seen Thee, clothed in weakness, Bearing our reproach with meekness, To attend Thee day and night Would have been my heart's delight. Oh that to this heavenly Stranger I had here my homage paid, * From His first sigh in the manger, Till He cried ">Tis Finished!" That first sigh had consecrated Me His own, and I had waited On Him from His infancy In a constant liturgy. Walking, speaking, in devotion, Far to fields or forests strayM, I had watched every motion, And my Lord my pattern made : PERIOD OF GEORGE III. More have angels ne'er desired, Than on Him, or far retired, Or at home, awake, asleep, FixM their wondering eyes to keep. Tell me, little flock beloved, Ye on whom shone Jesu's face, What within your souls then moved, When ye felt His kind embrace ! disciple, once most blessed, As a bosom friend caressed, Say, could e'er into thy mind Other objects entrance find ! Oft to prayer, by night retreated, See Him, from all search withdrawn ; Tearful eyes, and sighs repeated, Witnessed still the morning dawn : There, where He made intercession, 1 had pourM forth my confession • And where for my sins He wept, Praying, I the watch had kept. Should I thus to Thee have cleaved, 'Midst Thy poverty and woes, On Thee, as my Lord, believed — Or perhaps have joinM Thy foes ? 137 I38 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Ah ! Thy mercy I had spurned ; But Thyself my heart hast turned ; Now, Thou know'st, beneath, above. Nought compared with Thee I love. C. J. Latrohe,from Bishop Gregor, LAY NOT UP TREASURES UPON EARTH. ]HAT is this passing scene ? A peevish April-day ! A little sun, — a little rain, — And then night sweeps along the plain, And all things fade away: Man, soon discussed, Yields up his trust ; And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust ! And what is beauty^s power ? It flourishes and dies ; Will the cold earth its silence break, To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek Beneath its surface lies ? Mute, mute is all O'er beauty's fall ; Her praise resounds no more, when mantled in her pall. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. I39 The most beloved on earth Not long survives to-day ; So music past is obsolete, And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, But now 'tis gone away : Thus does the shade In memory fade, When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid ! Then since this world is vain And volatile and fleet, Why should I lay up earthly joys, Where rust corrupts and moth destroys. And cares and sorrows eat ? Why fly from ill With anxious skill, When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart lie still ? Kirke White. A MAN SHALL BE AS AN HIDING-PLACE/' I WAKE, sweet harp of Judah, wake, Retime thy strings for Jesus^ sake ; W. We sing the Saviour of our race, The Lamb, our shield and hiding-place. 140 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG When God's right hand is bared for war, And thunders clothe His cloudy car, Where, where, oh where, shall man retire, To 'scape the horrors of His ire ? 'Tis He, the Lamb, to Him we fly, While the dread tempest passes by ; God sees His well-beloved's face, And spares us in our hiding-place. Thus while we dwell in this low scene, The Lamb is our unfailing screen ; To Him, though guilty, still we run, And God still spares us for His Son. While yet we sojourn here below, Pollutions still our hearts overflow ; Fall'n, abject, mean, a sentenced race, We deeply need a hiding-place. Yet courage ! — days and years will glide, And we shall lay these clods aside; Shall be baptized in Jordan's flood, And washM in Jesus' cleansing blood. Then pure, immortal, sinless, freed, We through the Lamb shall be decreed ; Shall meet the Father face to face, And need no more a hiding-place, Kirke White. PERIOD OF GEORGE LI. I4 1 HERE HAVE WE NO CONTINUING CITY/ H) H ! when did wisdom covet length of days, Or seek its bliss in pleasure, wealth, or praise ? No : — wisdom views with an indifferent eye All finite joys, all blessings born to die. The soul on earth is an immortal guest, CompelPd to starve at an unreal feast : A spark that upward tends by nature's force ; A stream diverted from its parent source ; A drop dissevered from the boundless sea ; A moment^ parted from eternity ! A pilgrim,, panting for a rest to come ; An exile, anxious for his native home. Kirke White. YET IN MY FLESH SHALL I SEE GOD. HROUGH sorrow's night and danger's path, Amidst the deepening gloom, H 2 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. We, soldiers of an injured King, Are marching to the tomb. There, when the turmoil is no more, And all our powers decay, Our cold remains in solitude Shall sleep the years away. Our labours done, securely laid In this our last retreat, Unheeded, o'er our silent dust The storms of life shall beat. Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane. The vital spark shall lie ; For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise To see its kindred sky. These ashes, too, this little dust, Our Father's care shall keep, Till the last angel rise, and break The long and dreary sleep. Kirke White. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. Hi LESS THAN THE LEAST OF ALL SAINTS/ SAINT ! Oh would that I could claim The privileged, the honoured name, ! And confidently take my stand, Though lowest, in the saintly band ! Would, though it were in scorn applied, That term the test of truth could bide ! Like kingly salutations given In mockery to the King of Heaven. A Saint ! And what imports the name Thus bandied in derision's game? u Holy, and separate from sin ; To good, nay, even to God akin." Is such the meaning of a name, From which a Christian shrinks with shame ? Yes, dazzled with the glorious sight, He owns his crown is all too bright ! And ill might son of Adam dare Alone such honour's weight to bear ; But fearlessly he takes the load, United to the Son of God. 144 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. A Saint ! Oh give me but some sign, Some seal to prove the title mine, And warmer thanks thou shalt command, Than bringing kingdoms in thine hand* Oh for an interest in that name, When hell shall ope its jaws of flame, And scorners to their doom be hurPd, While scorned saints " shall judge the world ! ' How shall the name of saints be prized, Though now neglected and despised, When truth shall witness to the word, That none but saints " shall see the Lord ! " Marriott. MY SOUL IS EVEN AS A WEANED CHILD. ^ESUS, cast a look on me ; Give me sweet simplicity ; Make me poor and keep me low, Seeking only Thee to know. Weaned from my lordly self; Weaned from the miser's pelf ; PERIOD OF GEORGE III. I45 Weaned from the scorner's ways, Weaned from the lust of praise. All that feeds my busy pride, Cast it evermore aside ; Bid my will to Thine submit ; Lay me humbly at Thy feet. Make me like a little child ; Of my strength and wisdom spoiPd ; Seeing only in Thy light ; Walking only in Thy might. Leaning on Thy loving breast, Where a weary soul may rest ; Feeling well the peace of God, Flowing from Thy precious blood ! In this posture let me live, And Hosannas daily give ; In this temper let me die, And Hosannas ever cry ! Berridge. 10 I46 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. '* THE PRINCE OF PEACE. 3HEN Jordan hush'd his waters still, And silence slept on Sion hill ; When Bethlehem's shepherds through the night Watch' d o'er their flocks by starry light : Hark ! from the midnight hills around, A voice of more than mortal sound In distant Hallelujahs stole, Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul. Then swift to every startled eye, New streams of glory light the sky ; Heaven burst her azure gates to pour Her spirits to the midnight hour ! On wheels of light, on wings of flame, The glorious hosts of Sion came ; High heaven with songs of triumph rang ; While thus they struck their harps and sang, — " Oh, Sion ! lift thy raptured eye, The long-expected hour is nigh ; The joys of nature rise again, The Prince of Salem comes to reign! PERIOD OF GEORGE III. 147 See, Mercy from her golden urn Pours a rich stream to them that mourn ; Behold, she binds, with tender care, The bleeding bosom of despair ! He comes ! to cheer the trembling heart ; Bids Satan and his host depart ; Again the Day-star gilds the gloom, Again the bowers of Eden bloom ! Oh, Sion ! lift thy raptured eve, The long-expected hour is nigh; The joys of nature rise again, The Prince of Salem comes to reign." Camp I ell. Ci CLOUDS AND DARKNESS ARE ROUND ABOUT HIM." ] AIT, O my soul, thy Maker's will ; Tumultuous passions, all be still ! Nor let a murmuring thought arise ; His ways are just, His counsels wise. He in the thickest darkness dwells ; Performs His work, — the cause conceals, But though His methods are unknown, Judgment and truth support His throne. 10 * H% THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Wait, therij my sou], submissive wait, Prostrate before His awful seat : And 'midst the terrors of His rod, Trust in a wise and gracious God. Beddome. WHO ART THOU, THAT REPLIEST AGAINST GOD? " SPIRIT passM before me : I beheld The face of immortality unveiPd — ! Deep sleep came down on every eye save mine — And there it stood — all formless, but divine : Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake ; And as my damp hair stiffened, thus it spake, — " Is man more just than God ? is man more pure Than He who deems even Seraphs insecure ? Creatures of clay — vain dwellers in the dust ! The moth survives you, and are ye more just ? Things of a day ! you wither ere the night, Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light ! " Byron. PERIOD OF GEORGE III. I49 THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. HE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passM ; And the eyes of the sleepers waxM deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still ! And there lay the steed, with his nostril all wide, But through it there rollM not the breath of his pride ! J 5° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, &nd cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on bis mail : And the tents were all silent, the banners alone The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! Byron. FOURTH PART. MODERN: DECEASED WRITERS. FOURTH PART. HE HUMBLED HIMSELF, AND BECAME OBEDIENT UNTO DEATH." O conquer and to save, the Son of God Came to His own in great humility, Who wont to ride on cherub- wings abroad, And round Him wrap the mantle of the sky. The mountains bent their necks to form His road ; The clouds dropt down their fatness from on high ; Beneath His feet the wild waves softly flowed, And the wind kissM His garment tremblingly. The grave unbolted half his grisly door ; (For darkness and the deep had heard His fame, Nor longer might their ancient rule endure ;) The mightiest of mankind stood hush'd and tame ; And, trooping on strong wing, His angels came To work His will, and kingdom to secure : No strength He needed save His Father's name; Babes were His heralds, and His friends the poor. Heber. 154 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. LET US NOT SLEEP, AS DO OTHERS/ ENEATH our feet and o'er our head Is equal warning given; r Beneath us lie the countless dead, Above us is the heaven ! Their names are graven on the stone, Their bones are in the clay ; And ere another day is gone, Ourselves may be as they. Death rides on every passing breeze, He lurks in every flower ; Each season has its own disease, Its peril every hour ! Our eyes have seen the rosy light Of youth's soft cheek decay, And Fate descend in sudden night On manhood's middle dav. modern: deceased writers. T55 Our eyes have seen the steps of age Halt feebly towards the tomb ; And yet shall earth our hearts engage, And dreams of days to come ? Turn, mortal, turn ! thy danger know ; Where'er thy foot can tread, The earth rings hollow from below, And warns thee of her dead ! Turn, Christian, turn ! thy soul apply To truths divinely given ; The bones that underneath thee lie Shall live for hell or heaven ! Heler. THEM WHICH SLEEP IN JESUS WILL GOD BRING WITH HIM." ^|HOU art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encom- pass the tomb ; Thy Saviour has passed through its portal before thee, And the lamp of His love is thy guide through the o;loom. 156 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Thou art gone to the grave ! we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, for the Sinless hat! died. Thou art gone to the grave ! and, its mansion for- saking, Perchance thy weak spirit in fear lingered long ; But the sunshine of heaven beamM bright on thy waking, And the sound which thou heard'st was the Seraphim's song. Thou art gone to the grave ! but we will not de- plore thee, Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian, th} guide : He gave thee, He took thee and He will restore thee; And death hath no sting, for the Saviour hath died. Heber. modern: deceased writers. 157 r JOY AMONG THE ANGELS OF GOD." ^HERE was joy in heaven ! There was joy in heaven ! When this goodly world to frame The Lord of might and mercy came : Shouts of joy were heard on high, And the stars sang from the sky — " Glory to God in heaven ! " There was joy in heaven ! There was joy in heaven ! When the billows, heaving dark, Sank around the stranded ark ; Arid the rainbow' s watery span Spake of mercy, hope to man, And peace with God in heaven ! There was joy in heaven ! There was joy in heaven ! When of love the midnight beam Dawned on the towers of Bethlehem ; And along the echoing hill Angels sang, " On earth good will, And glory in the heaven ! 3) I58 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. There is joy in heaven ! There is joy in heaven ! When the sheep that went astray Turns again to Zion's way : When the soul, by grace subdued, Sobs its prayer of gratitude ; Then is joy in heaven ! Heber. u JESUS SAITH UNTO HIM, FOLLOW ME ! " HILD of man, whose seed below Must fulfil their race of woe ; Heir of want, and doubt, ana pain, Does thy fainting heart complain ? Oh ! in thought, one night recall, Night of grief in Herod's hall ; There I bore the vengeance due, Freely bore it all for you. Child of dust, corruption's son, By pride deceived, by pride undone, Willing captive, yet be free ; Take my yoke, and learn of Me : modern: deceased writers. 159 I, of heaven and earth the Lord, God with God; the eternal Word, I forsook My Father's side, ToiPd and wept, and bled and died. Child of doubt, does fear surprise, Vexing thoughts within thee rise; Wondering, murmuring, dost thou gaze, On evil men and evil days ? Oh ! if darkness round thee lour, Darker far My dying hour, Which bade that fearful cry awake, My God, My God ! dost Thou forsake ? Child of sin, by guilt oppressed, Heaves at last thy throbbing breast ; Hast thou felt the mourner's part ? Fear 5 st thou now thy failing heart ? Bear thee on, beloved of God ; Tread the path thy Saviour trod ; He the Tempter's power hath known, He hath pourM the garden groan. Child of heaven, by Me restored, Love thy Saviour, serve thy Lord \ SeaPd with that mysterious Name, Bear thy cross, and scorn the shame; 160 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Then, like Me, thy conflict o'er, Thou shalt rise to sleep no more; Partner of My purchased throne ! One in joy, in glory one. Bowdler. WHOM HAVE I IN HEAVEN BUT THEE ? " jjORD of earth ! Thy forming hand JjWell this beauteous frame hath planned: IWoods that wave, and hills that tower, Ocean rolling in his power,— All that strikes the gaze unsought, — All that charms the lonely thought, — Friendship, gem transcending price, — Love, a flower from Paradise : Yet, amidst this scene so fair, Should I cease Thy smile to share, What were all its joys to me ? Whom have I on earth but Thee ? Lord of heaven ! beyond our sight Rolls a world of purer light ; There, in love's unclouded reign, Parted hands shall clasp again ; MODERN : DECEASED WRITERS. Martyrs there, and prophets high, Blaze a glorious company ; While immortal music rings From unnumbered seraph-strings : Oh that world is passing fair; Yet if Thou wert absent there, What were all its joys to me ? Whom have I in heaven but Thee ? Lord of earth and heaven ! my breast Seeks in Thee its only rest : I was lost ; Thy accents mild Homeward lured Thy wandering child : I was blind ; Thy healing ray Charmed the long eclipse away : Source of every joy I know, Solace of my every woe, Oh if once Thy smile divine Ceased upon my soul to shine, What were earth or heaven to me ? Whom have I in each but Thee ? R. Grant. 161 11 \6]HERE is a safe and secret place Beneath the wings divine, Reserved for all the heirs of grace ;- Oh be that refuge mine ! The least and feeblest there may bide Uninjured and unawed • While thousands fall on every side, He rests secure in God. The angels watch him on his way And aid with friendly arm : And Satan, roaring for his prey, May hate, but cannot harm. He feeds in pastures large and fair Of truth and love divine ; O child of God ! O glory's heir, How rich a lot is thine ! A hand almighty to defend, An ear for every call, modern: deceased writers. 195 An honoured life, a peaceful end. And heaven to crown it all ! Lyte. THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD. j]LORIOUS Shepherd of the sheep, May I dare to call me Thine ? One whom Thou wilt tend and keep Safe beneath Thy wings divine ? Ah ! with Thee so kind and near, What have I to wish or fear ? Where the heavenly pastures grow, Where the living waters glide, Led and fed by Thee below, I have nought to ask beside ; Nought but thankfulness of heart To proclaim how good Thou art. Keep me in Thy righteous ways, Guide me with Thy holy wand, Through this life's perplexing maze, Through the vale of death beyond ; Gracious Thou, and happy I, With so great a Friend so nigh. 196 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. In the desert then Pm fed, Manna round me rains from high, Holy oil anoints my head, And my cruse is never dry ; Then from grace I pass to grace, Soon to meet Thee face to face. Lyte. "QUICKEN THOU ME, ACCORDING TO THY WORD." 3HEN at Thy footstool, Lord^ I bend, And plead with Thee for mercy there, Think of the sinner's dying Friend, And for His sake receive my prayer. O think not of my shame and guilt, My thousand stains of deepest dye : Think of the blood which Jesus spilt, And let that blood my pardon buy. Thinks Lord, how I am still Thy own, The trembling creature of Thy hand ; Think how my heart to sin is prone, And what temptations round me stand. O think upon Thy holy word, And every plighted promise there; modern: deceased writers. 197 How prayer should evermore be heard. And how Thy glory is to spare. O think not of my doubts and fears, My strivings with Thy grace Divine : Think upon Jesus' woes and tears, And let His merits stand for mine. Thine eye, Thine ear, they are not dull, Thine arm can never shortened be ; Behold me here, my heart is full ! Behold, and spare, and succour me ! Lyte. ABIDE WITH US: FOR THE DAY IS FAR SPENT. fjBIDE with me ! Fast falls the eventide ; The darkness deepens : Lord, with me abide ! When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me ! Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ! Earth's joys grow dim ; its glories pass away : Change and decay in all around I see ; O Thou, who changest not, abide with me ! 198 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word ; But as Thou dwelPst with Thy disciples, Lord, Familiar, condescending, patient, free, Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me ! Come not in terrors, as the King of kings ; But kind, and good, with healing in Thy wings : Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea : Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide with me ! Thou on my head in early youth didst smile, And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile, Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee. On to the close, O Lord, abide with me ! I need Thy presence every passing hour : What but Thy grace can foil the Tempter's power T Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me ! I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless ; Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness : Where is death's sting ? where, grave, thy victory ? I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. Hold then Thy cross before my closing eyes ; Snine through the gloom, and point me to the skies : modern: deceased writers. 199 Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain sha- dows flee : In life and death, O Lord, abide with me ! Lyte. AN HOUSE NOT MADE WITH HANDS, ETERNAL IN THE HEAVENS." j RIEND after friend departs ; Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying, none were blest. Beyond the flight of time, — Beyond the reign of death, — There surely is some blessed clime Where life is not a breath ; Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upwards and expire. There is a world above, Where parting is unknown; A long eternity of love, Form'd for the good alone ; 200 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And faith beholds the dying, here, Translated to that glorious sphere ! Thus star by star declines, Till all are past away, As morning high and higher shines, To pure and perfect day : Nor sink those stars in empty night, But hide themselves in heaven's own light. Montgomery. AND I SAW A GREAT WHITE THRONE/- 7 PHE days and years of time are fled ; Sun, moon, and stars have shone their last; The earth and sea gave up their dead, Then vanished at the archangel's blast : All secret things have been reveaPd, Judgment is passM, the sentence seaPd, And man to all eternity What he is now henceforth must be. From Adam to his youngest heir, Not one escaped that muster-roll ; modern: deceased writers. 201 Each, as if he alone were there, Stood up, and won or lost his soul : These from the Judge's presence go Down into everlasting woe; Vengeance hath barr'd the gates of hell, The scenes within no tongue can tell. But lo ! far off the righteous pass To glory from the King's right hand ; In silence, on the sea of glass, Heaven's numbers without number stand ; While He who bore the cross lays down His priestly robe and victor-crown ; The mediatorial reign complete, All things are put beneath His feet. Then every eye in Him shall see, (While thrones and powers before him fall,) The fulness of the Deity, Where God Himself is all in all : O how eternity shall ring With the first note the ransom'd sing ! While in the strain all voices blend, Which once begun shall never end. In that unutterable song, Shall I employ immortal breath ? 202 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Or, with the wicked borne along, For ever die " the second death ? " Jesus ! my life, my light, Thou art ; Thy word is in my mouth, my heart : Lord, I believe, — my spirit save From sinking lower than the grave. Montgomery. BEHOLD ! HE PRAYETH ! " RAYER is the souPs sincere desire, Utter' d or unexpressed ; The motion of a hidden fire, That trembles in the breast. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near. Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try ; Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high. modern: deceased writers. 203 Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, Returning from his ways ; While angels in their songs rejoice, And cry, " Behold he prays ! " Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air; His watch-word at the gates of death ; He enters heaven with prayer. The saints in prayer appear as one, In word, in deed, and mind, While with the Father and the Son Sweet fellowship they find. Nor prayer is made on earth alone ; The Holy Spirit pleads, And Jesus, on the eternal throne, For sinners intercedes. O Thou, by whom we come to God, The life, the truth, the way ! The path of prayer Thyself hast trod : Lord, teach us how to pray ! Montgomery. 204 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. THOU COMPASSEST ME ON EVERY SIDE/ J GOD unseen, but not unknown, Thine eye is ever fiVd on me ; I dwell beneath Thy secret throne, Encompassed by Thy Deity. Throughout this universe of space To nothing am I long allied ; For flight of time, and change of place, My strongest, dearest bonds divide. Parents I had, but where are they ? Friends whom I knew, I know no more; Companions once that cheerM my way Have dropt behind or gone before. Now I am one amidst the crowd Of life and action hurrying round ; Now left alone, — for, like a cloud They came, they went, and are not found. Even from myself sometimes I part : Unconscious sleep is nightly death ; Yet surely by my couch Thou art, To prompt my pulse, inspire my breath. MODERN DECEASED WRITERS. 2 0" Of all that I have done or said, How little can I now recall ! Forgotten things to me are dead ; With Thee they live, Thou know^st them all. Thou hast been with me from the womb, Witness to ev*ry conflict here ; Nor wilt Thou leave me at the tomb, Before Thy bar I must appear. The moment comes, when strength must fail, When, health, and hope, and courage flown, I must go down into the vale And shade of death, with Thee alone. Alone with Thee ! — in that dread strife, Uphold me through mine agony, And gently be this dying life Exchanged for immortality. Then when the unbodied spirit lands Where flesh and blood have never trod, And in the unveiPd presence stands Of Thee, my Saviour, and my God ; Be mine eternal portion this, Since Thou wert always here with me, That I may view Thy face in bliss, And be for evermore with Thee. Montgoma-y. 206 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. et THERE REMAINETH A REST." j|H ! where shall rest be found, Rest for the weary soul ? 'Twere vain the ocean-depths to sound, Or pierce to either pole : The world can never give The bliss for which we sigh ; 'Tis not the whole of life to live, Nor all of death to die. Beyond this vale of tears There is a life above, Unmeasured by the flight of years ; And all that life is love : — There is a death, whose pang Outlasts the fleeting breath ; Oh what eternal horrors hang Around " the second death ! " Lord God of truth and grace, Teach us that death to shun ; Lest we be banish' d from Thy face, And evermore undone : modern: deceased writers. 2c; Here would we end our quest; Alone are found in Thee, The life of perfect love, — the rest Of immortality. Montgomery. " AND HE WAS NOT: FOR GOD TOOK HIM. r ERVANT of God, well done ! Rest from thy loved employ ; The battle fought, the victory won, Enter thy Master's joy." — The voice at midnight came, He started up to hear ■ A mortal arrow pierced his frame, He fell, — but felt no fear. Tranquil amidst alarms, It found him on the field ; A veteran slumbering on his arms, Beneath his red-cross shield. His sword was in his hand, Still warm with recent fight, Ready that moment, at command, Through rock and steel to smite. 208 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. It was a two-edged blade, Of heavenly temper, keen ; And double were the wounds it made, Where'er it glanced between : 'Twas death to sin, — 'twas life To all who mourn' d for sin ; It kindled, and it silenced, strife, Made war, and peace, within. Oft with its fiery force His arm had quell'd the foe, And laid, resistless in his course, The alien armies low. Bent on such glorious toils, The world to him was loss ; Yet all his trophies, all his spoils, He hung upon the Cross. At midnight came the cry, " To meet thy God prepare ! " He woke, — and caught his Captain's eye; Then, strong in faith and prayer, His spirit, with a bound, Left its encumbering clay ; His tent, at sun-rise, on the ground, A darkened ruin lay. modern: deceased writers. 209 The pains of death are past, Labour and sorrow cease; And, life's long warfare closed at last, His soul is found in peace. Soldier of Christ, well done ! Praise be thy new employ ; And while eternal ages run, Rest in thy Saviour's joy. Montgomery. LIKE A SHADOW THAT DEPARTETH. hi HIS shadow on the DiaPs face, That steals, from day to day, With slow, unseen, unceasing pace, Moments, and months, and years away ; This shadow which, in every clime, Since light and motion first began, Hath held its course sublime; — What is it? — mortal man ! It is the scythe of Time : — A shadow only to the eye ; Yet, in its calm career, It levels all beneath the sky; And still, through each succeeding year, 14 2IO THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Right onward, with resistless power, Its stroke shall darken every hour, Till Nature's race be run, And Time's last shadow shall eclipse the sun. Nor only o'er the Dial's face, This silent phantom, day by day, With slow, unseen, unceasing pace, Steals moments, months, and years away ; From hoary rock and aged tree, From proud Palmyra's mouldering walls, From Teneriffe, towering o'er the sea, From every blade of grass, it falls ; For still, where'er a shadow sweeps, The scythe of Time destroys, And man at every footstep weeps O'er evanescent joys ; Life's flowerets glittering with the dew of morn, Fair for a moment, then for ever shorn : — Ah ! soon, beneath the inevitable blow, I too shall lie, in dust and darkness low. Then Time, the conqueror, will suspend His scythe, a trophy, o'er my tomb, Whose moving shadow shall portend * Each frail beholder's doom : modern: deceased writers. an O'er the wide earth's illumined space. Though Time's triumphant flight be shown, — The truest index on its face Points from the churchyard- stone. Montgomery. LIKE RAIN UPON THE MOWN GRASS j AS SHOWERS THAT WATEB THE EARTH." flAIL to the Lord's Anointed ! Great David's greater Son ; Hail, in the time appointed, His reign on earth begun ! He comes to break oppression, To set the captive free, To take away transgression, And rule in equity. He comes with succour speedy To those who suffer wrong ; To help the poor and needy, And bid the weak be strong ; To give them songs for sighing, Their darkness turn to light ; Whose souls, condemn' d and dying, Were precious in His sight. 14 * 212 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. He shall come down like showers Upon the fruitful earth, And love, joy, hope, like flowers, Spring in His path to birth. Before Him, on the mountains, Shall Peace, the herald, go ; And Righteousness, in fountains, From hill to valley flow. Arabia's desert- ranger To Him shall bow the knee ; The Ethiopian stranger His glory come to see ; With offerings of devotion Ships from the isles shall meet, To pour the wealth of ocean In tribute at His feet. Kings shall fall down before Him And gold and incense bring ; All nations shall adore Him, His praise all people sing; For He shall have dominion O'er river, sea, and shore, Far as the eagle's pinion, Or dove's light wing, can soar. modern: deceased writers. 213 For Him shall prayer unceasing. And daily vows ascend ; His kingdom still increasing, A kingdom without end : The mountain-dews shall nourish A seed, in weakness sown, Whose fruit shall spread and flourish, And shake like Lebanon. O'er every foe victorious He on his throne shall rest, From age to age more glorious, All blessing and all blest. The tide of time shall never His covenant remove : His Name shall stand for ever ; That Name to us is Love. Montgomery. IT WAS NOT POSSIBLE THAT HE SHOULD BE HOLDEN OF IT." ^yOME, see the place where Jesus lies; The last sad rite is done ! With aching hearts and weeping eyes, The faithful few are gone. 214 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. They washed with tears each bloody trace, On those dear limbs that lay ■ Then spread the napkin o'er His face, And turn'd and went their way. By the seaPd stone with grounded spears The guards their vigil keep ; They wist not other eyes than theirs Watch o'er the Saviour's sleep. All Heaven above, all Hell beneath, — Bright hope, and blank dismay, — Look on, to see if grisly Death Can hold his mighty prey. Now, grisly Death, thy powers combine ! Now gird thee to the strife ! Yet needs there stronger arm than thine To keep the Lord of Life. 'Tis done ! O Death, thy Victor-guest Hath smoothed thy visage grim ! O Grave, thou blessed place of rest To all who sleep in Him ! Hankinson. MODERN: DECEASED WRITERS. 215 HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP. PSALM CXXVII. 2. *|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 or grace, surpassing this — " He giveth His beloved, sleep?" What do we give to our beloved ? — The hero's heart, to be unmoved, The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep, The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse, The monarch's crown, to light the brows ? " He giveth His beloved, sleep ! " What do we give to our beloved ? — A. little faith all undisproved, A little dust to overweep, And better memories to make The whole earth blasted for our sake : " He giveth His beloved, sleep ! " 2l6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. " Sleep soft, beloved!" we sometimes say, But have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep. But never doleful dream again Shall break the happy slumber when " He giveth His beloved, sleep." O earth, so full of dreary noises ! O men, with wailing in your voices ! O delved gold, the wailers heap ! strife, O curse, that o'er it fall ! God strikes a silence through it all, And giveth His beloved, sleep. His dews drop mutely on the hill ; His cloud above it saileth still ; Though on its slope men sow and reap : More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, a He giveth His beloved, sleep." Ay, men may wonder while they scan A living, thinking, feeling man Confirmed in such a rest to keep ; But angels say, and through the word 1 think their happy smile is heard, " He giveth His beloved, sleep." MODERN: DECEASED WRITERS. 2L' For me, my heart, that erst did go, Most like a tired child at a show, That sees through tears the mummers leap, Would now its wearied vision close, Would childlike on His love repose Who giveth His beloved, sleep. And friends, dear friends, when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And round my bier ye come to weep, Let one, most loving of you all, Say, "Not a tear must o'er her fall, " He giveth His beloved, sleep." E. B. Browning. THE LOOK. HE Saviour look'd on Peter. Ay, no word, No gesture of reproach ! the Heavens serene Though heavy with arm'd justice, did not lean Their thunders that way : the forsaken Lord Look'd only on the traitor : None record What that look was, none guess ; for those who have seen Wrong' d lovers loving through a death-pang keen, 21 8 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Or pale-cheek' d martyrs smiling to a sword, Have miss'd Jehovah at the judgment-call. And. Peter, from the height of blasphemy, " I never knew this man/' — did quail and fall, As knowing straight that God ; and turned free And went out speechless from the face of all, And fllPd the silence, weeping bitterly. THE MEANING. I think that look of Christ might seem to say — " Thou, Peter, art thou then a common stone Which I at last must break my heart upon, For God's charge to His high angels may Guard my foot better ? Did I yesterday Wash thy feet, my belov'd, that they should run Quick to deny me 'neath the morning sun ? And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray ? The cock crows coldly. Go and manifest A late contrition, but no bootless fear ! For when thy final need is dreariest, Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here ; My voice, to God and angels, shall attest, ( Because I know this man, let him be clear.'" E. B. Browning. modern: deceased writers. 219 cowper's grave. ^var^ T is a place where poets crowned may feel the heart's decaying ; It is a place where happy saints may weep amid their praying : Yet let the grief and humbleness, as low as silence, languish : Earth surely now may give her calm to whom she gave her anguish. O poets, from a maniac's tongue was pour'd the deathless singing : O Christians, at your cross of hope a hopeless hand was clinging : O men, this man in brotherhood your weary paths beguiling, GroanM inly while he taught you peace, and died while you were smiling ! And now, what time ye all may read through dim- ming tears his story, How discord on the music fell, and darkness on the glory : 220 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And how, when, one by one, sweet sounds and wandering lights departed, He wore no less a loving face, because so broken- hearted. He shall be strong to sanctify the poefs high vocation, And bow the meekest Christian down in meeker adoration • Nor ever shall he be, in praise, by wise or good forsaken, Named softly as the household name of one whom God hath taken. With quiet sadness, and no gloom, I learn to think upon him ; With meekness that is gratefulness to God whose heaven hath won him, Who suffered once the madness-cloud to His own love to blind him, But gently led the blind along where breath and bird could find him; And wrought within his shattered brain such quick poetic senses, As hills have language for, and stars, harmonious influences ; MODERN i DECEASED WRITERS. 221 The pulse of dew upon the grass, kept his within its number, And silent shadows from the trees, refreshed him like a slumber. Wild hares were drawn from woods and glades, to share his home caresses, Uplooking to his human eyes with sylvan tender- nesses : The very world, by God's constraint, from false- hood's ways removing, Its women and its men became, beside him, true and loving. And though, in blindness, he remained uncon- scious of the guiding, And things provided came without the sweet sense of providing, He testified this solemn truth, while frenzv-desolated — Nor man nor nature satisfy, whom only God created. Like a sick child, that knoweth not his mother while she blesses, And drops upon his burning brow the coolness of her kisses, — 222 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. That turns his fever' d eyes around, cc My mother ! whereas my mother ? *' As if such tender words and deeds could come from any other ; — The fever gone, with leaps of heart, he sees her bending o'er him, Her face all pale with watchful love, — the unweary love she bore him ! Thus, woke the poet from the dream his life's long fever gave him, Beneath those deep pathetic Eyes which closed in death to save him. Thus ? — oh not thus I no type of earth can image that awaking Wherein he scarcely heard the chant, of seraphs round him breaking; Or felt the new immortal throb of soul from body parted, But felt those Eyes alone, and knew, " My Saviour ! not deserted ! " Deserted ! Who hath dreamt that when the cross in darkness rested Upon the Victim's hidden face, no love was mani- fested ? MODERN : DECEASED WRITERS. 223 What frantic hands outstretched have e'er the atoning drops averted ? What tears have wash'd them from the soul, that one should be deserted ? Deserted ! God could separate from His own es- sence rather ; And Adam's sins have swept between the righteous Son and Father : Yea, once, Immanuel's orphan' d cry His universe hath shaken, — It went up single, echoless, " My God, I am for- saken !" It went up from the Holy's lips, amid His lost cre- ation, That, of the lost, no son should use those words of desolation ! That earth's worst frenzies, marring hope, should mar not hope's fruition, And I, on Cowper's grave, should see his rapture in a vision. E. B. Browning. 224 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. FOR YOUR SAKES HE BECAME POOR; THAT YE THROUGH HIS POVERTY MIGHT BE RICH." HEN this passing world is done, When has sunk yon glaring sun, When we stand with Christ in glory, Looking o'er life's finished story, Then, Lord, shall I fully know — Not till then — how much I owe. When I hear the wicked call On the rocks and hills to fall, When I see them start and shrink On the fiery deluge-brink, Then, Lord, shall I fully know — Not till then — how much I owe. When I stand before the throne, Dress'd in beauty not my own, When I see Thee as Thou art, Love Thee with unsinning heart, Then, Lord, shall I fully know — Not till then — how much I owe. MODERN : DECEASED WRITERS. 22^ When the praise of heaven I hear, Loud as thunder to the ear, Loud as many waters' noise, Sweet as harp's melodious voice, Then, Lord, shall I fully know — Not till then — how much I owe. Even on earth, as through a glass, Darkly, let Thy glory pass, Make forgiveness feel so sweet, Make Thy Spirit's help so meet; Even on earth, Lord, make me know Something of how much I owe. Chosen, not for good in me ; Waken' d up from wrath to flee ; Hidden in the Saviour's side, By thy Spirit sanctified; Teach me, Lord, on earth to show, By my love, how much I owe. Oft T walk beneath the cloud, Dark as midnight's gloomv shroud ; But when fear is at the height, Jesus comes, and all is light : Blessed Jesus, bid me show T Doubting saints how much I owe. 15 226 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. When in flowery paths I tread Oft by sin Pm captive led; Oft I fall, but still arise, — The Spirit ! comes, the Tempter flies : Blessed Spirit ! bid me show Weary sinners all I owe. Oft the nights of sorrow reign — Weeping, sickness, sighing, pain • But a night Thine anger burns, Morning comes and joy returns : God of comfort, bid me show To Thy poor how much I owe. Mc Cheyne. FIFTH PART. MODERN : LIVING AND ANONYMOUS WRITERS. FIFTH PART. O WRETCHED MAN THAT I AM, WHO SHALL DELIVER ME FROM THE BODY OF THIS DEATH ? OORD, many times I am a-weary quite Of mine own self, my sin, my vanity : Yet be not Thou, or I am lost outright, 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 perverse We know of our own selves, they also knew : Lord, Holy One ! if Thou, who know'st worse, Shouldst loathe us too ! Trench. ^3° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. I KNOW BOTH HOW TO BE ABASED AND I KNOW HOW TO ABOUND." EOME murmur, when their sky is clear oK^Sl And wholly bright to view, If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue. And some with thankful love are filPd If but one streak of light, One ray of God*s good mercy, gild The darkness of their night. In palaces are hearts that ask, In discontent and pride, Why life is such a dreary task, And all good things denied ? And hearts in poorest huts admire How love has to their aid, — Love that not ever seems to tire, — Such rich provision made. Trench, modern: living writers. 231 " THAT YE SORROW NOT, EVEN AS OTHERS, WHICH HAVE NO HOPE/ 5 IpROTHER, thou art gone before us, M And thv saintlv soul is flown W Where tears are wiped from every eye, And sorrow is unknown : From the burthen of the flesh, And from care and fear released, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. The toilsome way thou'st travelld o'er, And borne the heavy load, But Christ hath taught thy languid feet To reach His blest abode. Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus Upon his father's breast, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. Sin can never taint thee now, Nor doubt thy faith assail, Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ And the Holy Spirit fail. 232 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And there thou'rt sure to meet the good, Whom on earth thou lovedst best, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. " Earth to earth/' and " Dust to dust/* The solemn priest hath said, So we lay the turf above thee now, And we seal thy narrow bed : But thy spirit, brother, soars away Among the faithful blest, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. And when the Lord shall summon us, Whom thou hast left behind, May we, untainted by the world, As sure a welcome find ; May each, like thee, depart in peace, To be a glorious guest, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. Milman. modern: living writers. ^33 HIS COMPASSIONS FAIL NOT : THEY ARE NEW EVERY MORNING." TUES of the rich unfolding morn, That, ere the glorious sun be born, By some soft touch invisible Around his path are taught to swell ; — Thou rustling breeze so fresh and gay, That dancest forth at opening day, And brushing by with joyous wing, Wakenest each little leaf to sing; — Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam, By which deep grove and tangled stream Pay, for soft rains in season given, Their tribute to the genial heaven ; — Why waste your treasures of delight Upon our thankless, joyless sight; Who day by day to sin awake, Seldom of heaven and you partake ? Oh ! timely happy, timely wise, Hearts that with rising morn arise ! 234 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Eyes that the beam celestial view, Which ever more 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. 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 to espy Their God, in all themselves deny. Oh 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 ! modern: living writers. 235 The trivial round, the common task, Would furnish all we ought to ask; 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 and every day, To live more nearly as we pray ! Keble. abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent." HIS 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. In darkness and in weariness The traveller on his way must press, 2$6 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. No gleam to watch on tree or tower, Wiling 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 the light Thy words disclose, Watch Time's full river as it flows, Scanning Thy precious 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 mv 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 Saviours breast ! modern: living writers. 237 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 wintry sea We are in port if we have Thee. If some poor wandering child of Thine Have spurn'd, 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 store : Be every mourners sleep to-night, Like infant's 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. Keble. 238 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. SLEEPING, BETWEEN TWO SOLDIERS, BOUND WITH TWO CHAINS." HOU thrice denied, yet thrice beloved, Watch by Thine own forgiven friend ; In sharpest perils faithful proved, Let his soul love Thee to the end. The prayer is heard — else why so deep His slumber on the eve of death ? And wherefore smiles he in his sleep As one who drew celestial breath ? He loves and is beloved again — Can his soul choose but be at rest ? Sorrow hath fled away, and pain Dares not invade the guarded nest. He dearly loves, and not alone : For his wingM thoughts are soaring high Where never yet frail heart was known To breathe in vain affection' s sigh. He loves and weeps — but more than tears Have seaPd Thy welcome and his love — One look lives in him, and endears Crosses and wrongs where'er he rove : MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 239 That gracious chiding look. Thy call To win him to himself and Thee, Sweetening the sorrow of his fall, Which else were rued too bitterly. Even through the veil of sleep it shines, The memory of that kindly glance ; — The Angel watching by, divines And spares awhile his blissful trance. His dream is changed — the Tyrant's voice Calls to that last of glorious deeds— But as he rises to rejoice, Not Herod but an Angel leads. He dreams he sees a lamp flash bright, Glancing around his prison-room — But 'tis a gleam of heavenly light That fills up all the ample gloom. The flame, that in a few short years Deep through the chambers of the dead Shall pierce, and dry the fount of tears, Is waving o'er his dungeon-bed. Touch' d he upstarts — his chains unbind — Through darksome vault, up massy stair, 24O THE BOOK OF SACRED SOXG. His dizzy, doubting footsteps wind To freedom and cool moonlight air. Then all himself, all joy and calm, Though for a while his hand forego, Just as it touchM, the martyr's palm, He turns him to his task below : The pastoral staff, the keys of heaven, To wield awhile in grey-hairM might, Then from his cross to spring forgiven And follow Jesus out of sight. Keble. PETER SEETH THE DISCIPLE WHOM JESUS LOVED." ^jjORD, and what shall this man do ? " ||f|/| Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy m friend ? If his love for Christ be true, Christ hath told thee of his end : This is he whom God approves, This is he whom Jesus loves. modern: living writers. 24T Ask not of him more than this, Leave it in his Saviour's breast, Whether, early calPd to bliss, He in youth shall find his rest, Or armed in his station wait, Till his Lord be at the gate : Whether in his lonely course (Lonely, not forlorn) he stay, Or with love's supporting force Cheat the toil and cheer the way : Leave it all in His high hand, Who doth hearts as streams command. Gales from heaven, if so He will, Sweeter melodies can wake In the lonely mountain rill, Than the meeting waters make : Who hath the Father and the Son, — May be left, but not alone. Sick or healthful, slave or free, Wealthy, or despised and poor — What is that to him or thee, So his love to Christ endure ? When the shore is won at last, Who will count the billows past ? 16 242 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Only, since our souls will shrink At the touch of natural grief, When our earthly loved ones sink, Lend us, Lord, Thy sure relief; Patient hearts, their pain to see, And Thy grace, to follow Thee. Kelle. A SOUND, AS OF A RUSHING MIGHTY WIND. \ 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 HoverM His holy Dove. MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 243 The fires, that rush'd on Sinai down, In sudden torrents dread, Now gently light, a glorious crown, On every sainted head. Like arrows went those lightnings forth, WingM with the sinner's doom : But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth, Proclaiming life to come. And, as on Israel's awe- struck ear The voice exceeding loud, The trump, that Angels quake to hear, ThiilPd 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 the appalling tone, 'Tis echo'd in the heart. It fills the Church of God ; it fills The sinful world around ; Only in stubborn hearts and wills No place for it is found. 16 * 244 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. To other strains our souls are set : A giddy world of sin Fills ear and brain, and will not let Heaven's harmonies come in. Come, Lord ! come, Wisdom, Love, and Power ; Open our ears to hear; Let us not miss the accepted hour ; Save, Lord, by love or fear ! Keble. AND HE, CASTING AWAY HIS MANTLE, CAME TO JESUS." UST as I am, without one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me, And that Thou bidd'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 toss'd about With many a conflict, many a doubt, Fightings and fears within, without, O Lamb of God, I come ! modern: deceased writers. 245 Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind, Sight, riches, healing of the mind, Yea, all I need, in Thee to find, O Lamb of God, I come ! 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 ! Just as I am, of that free love, The breadth, length, depth, and height to prove, Here for a season, then above, O Lamb of God, I come ! Charlotte Elliott. THE SABBATH WAS MADE FOR MAN/ DAY of rest and gladness, O day of joy and light, O balm of care and sadness, Most beautiful, most bright; u5 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. On thee, the high and lowly, Bending before the Throne, Sing, Holy, Holy, Holy, To the Great Three in One. On thee, at the creation, The light first had its birth ; On thee for our salvation Christ rose from depths of earth ; On thee, our Lord victorious The Spirit sent from heaven, And thus on thee, most glorious, A triple Light was given. Thou art a port protected From storms that round us rise; A garden intersected With streams of Paradise ; Thou art a cooling fountain In lifers dry, dreary sand ; From thee, our Pisgah mountain, We view the Promised Land. Thou art a holy ladder, Where angels go and come ; Each Sunday finds us gladder, Nearer to heaven our home. MODERN t LIVING WRITERS. -47 A day of sweet refection, Thou art a day of love ; A day of resurrection From earth to things above. To-day on weary nations The heavenly manna falls \ To holy convocations The silver trumpet calls^ Where gospel light is glowing With pure and radiant beams^ And living water flowing With soul-refreshing streams. New graces ever gaining From this our day of fest, We reach the Rest remaining To spirits of the blest : To Holy Ghost be praises, To Father and to Son ; The Church her voice upraises To Thee, blest Three in One. Christopher Wordsworth. 248 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 'EVEN SO COME, LORD JESUS." ]ESUS, Thy Church with longing eyes For Thy expected coming waits ; When will the promised light arise, And glory beam from Zion's gates? Ev'n now, when tempests round us fall, And wintry clouds overcast the sky, Thy words with pleasure we recall, And deem that our redemption's nigh. Come, gracious Lord, our hearts renew, Our foes repel, our wrongs redress, Man's rooted enmity subdue, And crown Thy Gospel with success. O come, and reign o'er every land ; Let Satan from his throne be hurPd ; All nations bow to Thy command, And grace revive a dying world ! Yes, Thou wilt speedily appear ! The smitten earth already reels ; And not far off we seem to hear The thunder of Thv chariot-wheels. MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 249 Teach us in watchfulness and prayer To wait for the appointed hour ; And fit us by Thy grace to share The triumphs of Thy conquering power. Bat hurst. " HE HATH BEEN DEAD FOUR DAYS !" i]HEN Lazarus left his charnel-cave, And home to Mary's house returned, Was this demanded, — if he yearnM To hear her weeping by his grave ? " Where wert thou, brother, those four days ? " There lives no record of reply, Which telling what it is to die, Had surely added praise to praise. From every house the neighbours met, The streets were fillM with joyful sound; A solemn gladness even crown' d The purple brows of Olivet. Behold a man raised up by Christ ! The rest remaineth unreveaPd ; He told it not ; or something seaPd The lips of that Evangelist. Tennyson. 250 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. LAZARUS WAS ONE OF THEM THAT SAT AT THE TABLE WITH HIM." 1ER eyes are homes of silent prayer, Nor other thought her mind admits, But, — a he was dead and there he sits, And He that brought him back is there." Then one deep love doth supersede All other, when her ardent gaze Roves from the living brother's face, And rests upon the Life indeed. All other thought, all curious fears, Borne down by gladness so complete, She bows, she bathes the Saviour's feet With costly spikenard and with tears. Thrice blest whose lives are faithful prayers, Whose loves in higher love endure ; What souls possess themselves so pure, Or is there blessedness like theirs ? Tennyson, modern: living writers. 251 "thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me. 'jY Father and my God, O set this spirit free ! Td gladly kiss the rod That drove my trembling soul to Thee, And made it Thine eternally. Sweet were the bitterest smart, That; with the bended knee, Would bow this broken heart; For who, my Saviour, who could be A sufferer long, that flies to Thee ? The tears we shed for sin, When Heaven alone can see, Leave truer peace within Than worldly smiles — which cannot be Lit up, my God, with smiles from Thee. Then give me any lot, I'll bless Thy just decree, So Thou art not forgot, And I may ne'er dependent be On any friend, my God, but Thee ! MonselL 2^2 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 3IRDS have their quiet nest, Foxes their holes, and man his peaceful bed ; All creatures have their rest, — But Jesus had not where to lay His head. Winds have their hour of calm, And waves to slumber on the voiceless deep ; Eve has its breath of balm, To hush all scenes and sounds to sleep. The wild deer hath its lair, The homeward flocks the shelter of their shed ; All have their rest from care, — But Jesus had not where to lay His head. And yet He came to give The weary, heavy-laden, rest, To bid the sinner live, And soothe our griefs to slumber on His breast. What then, am I, my God, Permitted thus the path of peace to tread ; Peace purchased by the blood Of Him who had not where to lay His head ? modern: living writers. 253 I, who once made Him grieve, I, who once bid His gentle spirit mourn, Whose hand essayed to weave, For His meek brow, the cruel crown of thorn, — Oh why should I have peace, Why, but for that unchanged, undying love, Which could not rest nor cease, Until it made me heir of joys above ? Yes, but for pardoning grace, I feel I never should in glory see The brightness of that face, That once was pale and agonized for me. Let the birds seek their nest, Foxes their holes, and men their peaceful bed ; Come, Saviour, on my breast, Deign to repose Thy oft-rejected head. Come, give me rest, and take The only rest on earth Thou lov'st; within A heart that, for Thy sake 5 Lies bleeding, broken, penitent for sin. MonselL 254 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. 'AND WHERE I AM ; THERE SHALL MY SERVANTS BE." I&IOON and for ever, — such promise our trust, Tho' ashes to ashes, and dust unto dust ; Soon and for ever, — our union shall be Made perfect, our glorious Redeemer, in Thee. When the sins and the sorrows of time shall be o'er, Its pangs and its partings remembered no more ; Where life cannot fail, and where death cannot sever, Christians with Christ shall be, soon and for ever. Soon and for ever, — the breaking of day Shall drive all the night-clouds of sorrow away; Soon and for ever, — we'll see as we're seen, And learn the deep meaning of things that have been. When fightings without us and fears from within, Shall weary no more in the warfare of sin ; Where tears and where fears and where death shall be never, Christians with Christ shall be, soon and for ever. modern: living writers. 255 Soon and for ever, — the work shall be done, The warfare accomplished, the victory won : Soon and for ever, — the soldier lays down His sword for a harp, and his cross for a crown : Then droop not in sorrow, despond not in fear, A glorious to-morrow is brightening and near; When, blessed reward for each faithful endeavour ! Christians with Christ shall be, soon and for ever. Monsell. HE THAT DWELLETH IN LOVE, DWELLETH IN GOD, AND GOD IN HIM." O love, where love is shown to me, With smile a smile to greet — Where tempers, tastes, and thoughts agree, In friendship's bonds to meet — To light at others' torch the flame, And burn, one common fire — To list the chord, and strike the same On a responsive wire — This were not hard, 'twere but to own The force of nature's might, Who ever wakes a kindred tone, Where harmonies unite. ^56 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. But for the living torch to burn. Though all around be chill — Where kindly acts meet no return, To feed love's fervours still — To keep the heart in tune, despite A war of jarring sounds — Still to preserve the affections right, And love, where hate abounds — This, this is hard, for nature spurns To render good for ill, And hot the angry spirit burns, Harsh rules the ungovernM will 'Tis grace alone can mould the heart This gentle power to prove — 'Tis grace alone can grace impart, And teach the soul to love. O Thou, who art the Source and Spring Of our new nature's birth, Love brought Thee down, that Thou might'st bring Love to this wretched earth. modern: living writers. 257 Light Thou my torch by Thine own flame ; So shall it ever glow, A light to mark from whence it came, Through all the fogs below. Light Thou my torch, a living sign, While through this world I rove, A child of love, a child of Thine — For Thou, my God, art Love ! Lairohe. THE SOUTH WIND BLEW, AND WE CAME TO PUTEOLI." AIR sea ! whose lines of rolling wave Flash back the gladsome day, l\ And seem, as the broad beach they lave, In murmurs soft to say, Is there a wanderer on my breast ? — Pll bear him gently to his rest, And soothe his cares away ; Here where sweet flowers of thousand hues The welcome of their balm diffuse/ 17 258 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Not thus, — not thus thine accents broke On PauPs awakenM ear, When hoarse thy boiling waters spoke, And mockM the seaman's fear ! Thrice rose the sun, yet flung his light Idly upon that triple night, Wrought by thy wrestlings drear ; Whilst on thy fickle breast of foam, Man found nor refuge nor a home ! Rude sea ! hadst thou no sealed charge, That fearful crew to spare, To mark, when sank the fragile barge, Thy Lord's beloved there ? Yea, though thou foam above, below, Thy bounds are set — thus far may'st go, Farther thou may'st not dare : In vain thy billows course their way — Saved are the souls ! Disgorge thy prey ! And yet, methinks, when Paul once more Sought thy rude waves to greet, The rippling waters coursed the shore, To kiss his sainted feet — modern: living writers. 259 But he nor trusted thee, nor feared ; Not at thy pleasure safe he steer'd, Or 'gainst thy scowlings beat : He knew Jehovah ruled, as slaves, Thy myriad host of wanton waves. for a faith ! the faith of Paul, — To rise above things seen ; To cease to feel and mourn that all Are not as might have been : That ocean, air, the land, the fire, Might aye celestial thoughts inspire, And from earth's pleasures wean — Then all I think, or hear, or see, Were token from my God to me. And thou, fair sea ! — for be thy form, As spread before my sight, Or heaved and froth' d abroad by storm, Or gemm'd with twinklings bright — 1 love thee for thy Maker's sake, And hail the thoughts thy waves awake, Thoughts clothed in mystic might, That He, who rules in heaven above, Loves me, His child, — for He is Love, 17 * 260 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. One hour upon this lonely shore. Where Paul before me trod, Hath lent me wings in hope to soar, And commune with my God : Oh would this freshening southern breeze, That murmurs gently through the trees, And spreads their scents abroad, Bear hither, as my longings rise, The loaded gales of Paradise ! What is Life's course, by day and night, But an unstable sea, Now wrestling in malicious might, Now froth' d in sportive glee — Why should I heed its restless wiles, Its heaving wrath, or twinkling smiles. Its frowns or revelry ? — I heed nor blame — it has its hour — The tool of an Almighty power. O give me grace, my gracious King, To take, as from Thine hand The woes its boisterous tempests bring, The comforts of its strand — Then every breeze shall echo, ' Come/ And every billow waft me home, To Canaan's blissful land ; modern: living writers. 261 Where rolling thunders cease to roar, And the tossM soul rests evermore ! Latrole. HORA NOVISSIMA. ^H|AR down the ages now, K)|| Her journey well-nigh done, 1111 The pilgrim Church pursues her way, In haste to reach the crown. The story of the past Comes up before her view ; How well it seems to suit her still, Old, and yet ever new. 'Tis the same story still Of sin and weariness, — Of grace and love still flowing down To pardon and to bless. 'Tis the old sorrow still, The brier and the thorn ; And 'tis the same old solace yet, — The hope of coming morn. l6l THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. No wider is the gate, No broader is the way, No smoother is the ancient path That leads to light and day. No lighter is the load Beneath whose weight we cry, No tamer grows the rebel flesh, No less our enemy. No sweeter is the cup, Nor less our lot of ill ; 'Twas tribulation ages since, *Tis tribulation still. No greener are the rocks, No fresher flow the rills, No roses in the wilds appear, No vines upon the hills. Still dark the sky above, And sharp the desert air ; *Tis wide, bleak desolation round, And shadow everywhere. Dawn lingers on yon cliff; But, oh, how slow to spring ! modern: living writers. 263 Morning still nestles on yon wave. Afraid to try its wing. No slacker grows the fight, No feebler is the foe, No less the need of armour tried, Of shield and spear and bow : Nor less we feel the blank Of earth's still absent King ; Whose presence is of all our bliss The everlasting spring. Thus onward still we press, Through evil and through good, Through pain and poverty and want, Through peril and through blood. Still faithful to our God, And to our Captain true ; We follow where He leads the way, The kingdom in our view. Bonar. 264 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. SHEW ME THF WAY, O LORD, TEACH ME THY PATH." HY way, not mine, Lord, However dark it be ! * Lead me by Thine own hand, Choose out the path for me. Smooth let it be or rough, It will be still the best ; Winding or straight, it matters not, It leads me to Thy rest. I dare not choose my lot ; I would not, if I might ; Choose Thou for me, my God, So shall I walk aright. The kingdom that I seek Is Thine; so let the way That leads to it be Thine ; Else I must surely stray. Take Thou my cup, and it With joy or sorrow fill, modern: living writers. 265 As best to Thee may seem; Choose Thou my good and ill : Choose Thou for me my friends, My sickness or my health ; Choose Thou my cares for me, My poverty or wealth. Not mine, not mine the choice, In things or great or small ; Be Thou my guide, my strength, My wisdom, and my all. Bonar. COME UNTO ME, ALL YE THAT LABOUR AND ARE HEAVY LADEN. " HEARD the voice of Jesus say, . " Come unto me and rest ; Lay down, thou weary one, lay down, Thy head upon my breast." I came to Jesus as I was, Weary, and worn, and sad ; I found in Him a resting-place, And He has made me glad. l66 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. I heard the voice of Jesus say, "Behold, I freely give The living water, thirsty one, Stoop down and drink and live." I came to Jesus, and I drank Of that life-giving stream ; My thirst was quench' d, ray soul revived, And now I live in Him. I heard the voice of Jesus say, " I am this dark world's light; Look unto me, thy morn shall rise And all thy day be bright." I lookM to Jesus, and I found In him my Star, my Sun, And in that light of life Til walk Till travelling days are done. Bojiar. THE MEETING PLACE. HERE the faded flower shall freshen,- Freshen never more to fade ; Where the shaded sky shall brighten,- Brighten never more to shade : modern: living writers. 267 here the sun- blaze never scorches ; Where the star-beams cease to chill; Where no tempest stirs the echoes Of the wood or wave or hill : Where the morn shall wake in gladness, And the noon the joy prolong • Where the daylight dies in fragrance, 'Mid the burst of holy song :— - Brother, we shall meet and rest 'Mid the holy and the blest. Where no shadow shall bewilder; Where life's vain parade is o'er ; Where the sleep of sin is broken, And the dreamer dreams no more ; Where the bond is never sever' d ; — Partings, claspings, sob and moan, Midnight waking, twilight weeping, Heavy noontide — all are done : Where the child has found its mother, Where the mother finds the child, Where dear families are gather'd That were scatter' d on the wild : — Brother, we shall meet and rest 'Mid the holy and the blest. 268 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Where the hidden wound is healed, Where the blighted life re-blooms, Where the smitten heart the freshness Of its buoyant youth resumes : Where the love that here we lavish On the withering leaves of time, Shall have fadeless flowers to fix on, In an ever spring-bright clime : Where we find the joy of loving As we never loved before, Loving on, unchilPd, unhindered, Loving once and evermore : — Brother, we shall meet and rest 'Mid the holy and the blest. Where a blasted world shall brighten Underneath a bluer sphere, And a softer, gentler sunshine Shed its healing splendour here ; Where earth's barren vales shall blossom, Putting on their robe of green, And a purer, fairer Eden, Be where only wastes have been : Where a King in kingly glory, Such as earth has never known, modern: living writers. 269 Shall assume the righteous sceptre, Claim and wear the holy crown : — Brethren, we shall meet and rest 'Mid the holy and the blest. Bonar. ' HOW LONG, O LORD \" Y God, it is not fretfulness That makes me say u How long ? ' It is not heaviness of heart That hinders me in song ; 'Tis not despair of truth and right, Nor coward dread of wrong. But how can I, with such a hope Of glory and of home ; With such a joy before my eyes, Not wish the time were come, — Of years the jubilee, — of days The sabbath and the sum ? These years, what ages they have been ! This life, how long it seems ! And how can I, in evil days, 'Mid unknown hills and streams, 27° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. But sigh for those of home and heart, And visit them in dreams ? Yet, peace, my heart, and hush, my tongue; Be calm, my troubled breast ; Each restless hour is hastening on The everlasting rest; Thou knowest that th? time thy God Appoints for thee, is best. Let faith, not fear nor fretfulness, Awake the cry — " How long ?" Let not faint-heartedness of soul Damp thy aspiring song : Right comes ; truth dawns ; the night departs Of error and of wrong. Bonar. u HE IS NOT ASHAMED TO CALL THEM BRETHREN." ES, for me, for me, He careth, With a brother's tender care ; Yes, with me, with me, He shareth, Every burden, every fear. MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. Yes, o'er me, o'er me, He watcheth, Ceaseless watcheth, night and day • Yes, even me, even me, He snatcheth From the perils of the way. Yes, for me He standeth pleading At the mercy- seat above ; Ever for me interceding, Constant in untiring love. Yes, in me abroad He sheddeth Joys unearthly, — love and light; And to cover me He spreadeth His paternal wing of might. Yes, in me, in me, He dwelleth, — I in Him, and He in me ; And my empty soul he filleth, Here, and through eternity. Thus I wait for His returning, Singing all the way to heaven ; Such the joyful song of mornings Such the tranquil hymn of even. 271 Bonar 272 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. A BETTER COUNTRY • THAT IS, AN HEAVENLY/ h OR 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 ; Is medicine in sickness, And love, and life, and rest. Brief 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 ! That we should look, poor wanderers, To have our home on high ! That worms should seek for dwellings Beyond the starry sky ! Oh ! one and only mansion ! O Paradise of joy ! MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 273 Where tears are ever banished, And smiles have no alloy. Jerusalem the golden. With milk and honey blest, Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice oppressed : I know not, O I know not^ What social joys are there ! What radiancy of glory, What light beyond compare ! And when I fain would sing them, My spirit falls and faints, And vainly would it image The assembly of the saints. They stand, those halls of Sion, Conjubilant with song, And bright with many an angel, And all the martyr-throng : The Prince is ever in them ; The day-light is serene : The pastures of the Blessed Are deckM in glorious sheen. There is the throne of David, And there, from care released, The shout of them that triumph, The song of them that feast ; is 274 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And they who, with their Leader, Have conquered in the fight, For ever and for ever Are clad in robes of white. Jerusalem the glorious, The joy of the elect, O dear and future vision, That eager hearts expect ! Even now by faith I see thee, Even here thy walls discern, For thee my thoughts are kindled, And strive and pant and yearn. Jerusalem, the only That look' st from heaven below, In thee is all my glory, In me is all my woe. And though my body may not, My spirit seeks thee fain, Till flesh and earth return me To earth and flesh again. O none can tell thy bulwarks, How gloriously they rise : O none can tell thy capitals Of beautiful device. MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 2] 5 O fields that know no sorrow ! O state that fears no strife ! princely bowers ! O land of flowers ! realm and home of life ! Jerusalem, exulting, On that securest shore, 1 hope thee, wish thee, sing thee, And love thee ever more ! I ask not, for my merit ; 1 seek not to deny My merit is destruction, A child of wrath am I. Yet grace, sweet grace celestial, Shall all its love display, And David's royal Fountain Purge every sin away. Exult, O dust and ashes, The Lord shall be thy part : His only, His for ever, Thou shalt be, and thou art. Neale [from the Latin). 18* 276 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. EVENING HYMN OF THE GREEKS. [HE day is past and over; All thanks, O Lord, to Thee ! I pray Thee that offenceless The hours of dark may be. O Jesu, keep me in Thy sight, And save me through the coming night ! The toils of day are over : I raise the hymn to Thee ; And ask that free from peril The hours of dark may be. O Jesu, keep me in Thy sight, And guard me through the coming night ! Lighten mine eyes, O Saviour, Or sleep in death shall I • And he, my wakeful Tempter, Triumphantly shall cry : " He could not make their darkness light, Nor guard them through the hours of night!' modern: living writers. 277 Be Thou my souPs preserver, O God, for Thou dost know How many are the perils Through which I have to go : Lover of men ! O hear my call, — And guard and save me from them all ! Neale {from Analolins). IT IS I : BE NOT AFRAID. IERCE was the wild billow; dark was the night ; IJ Oars laboured heavily; foam glimmered white ; Trembled the mariners ; peril was nigh ; Then said the Son of God, " Peace ! it is I \" Ridge of the mountain-wave, lower thy crest ! Wail of Euroclydon, be thou at rest ! Peril can never be, — sorrow must fly, — Where saith the Light of Light, €C Peace! it is I \" Jesus, deliverer ! come Thou to me : Soothe Thou my voyaging over Life's sea ' 27** THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Thou, when the storm of Death roars, sweeping by, Whisper, O Truth of Truth ! " Peace ! it is I ! " Neale [from Anatolius). COME UNTO ME, ALL YE THAT LABOUR AND ARE HEAVY LADEN." gS^HRT thou weary ? art thou languid ? ^^^^ Art thou sore distrest ? BBagi "Come to Me," saith One, "and coming, Be at rest!" Hath He marks to lead me to Him, If He be my Guide ? " In His feet and hands are wound-prints, And His side." Is there diadem, as monarch, That His brow adorns ? " Yea, a crown in very surety, But of thorns ! " If I find Him, if I follow, What His guerdon here ? " Many a sorrow, many a labour, Many a tear." modern: living writers. 279 If I still hold closely to Him, What hath He at last ? " Sorrow vanquished, labour ended, Jordan past f ,J If I ask Him to receive me, Will He say me nay ? " Not till earth, and not till heaven Pass away V* Tending, following, keeping, struggling, Is He sure to bless ? " Angels, martyrs, prophets, pilgrims, Answer, Yes." Neale [from Stephen of Saba) . THE SPIRIT AND THE BRIDE SAY, COME. 7|WEET is the Spirits strain Breathed by soft pleadings inly heard, By all the heart's deep fountains stirr'd ; By conscience, and the written Word ; — Come, wanderers, home again ! 280 THE BOOK OF SACRED SCKG. 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. 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 ; 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 ! Anstice. mm modern: living writers. *z8i •' THAT WHERE I AM, YE MAY BE ALSO. HOU art gone up on high To realms above the skies. And round Thy throne unceasingly The songs of praise arise. But we are lingering here With sin and care oppressed ; Lord ! send Thy promised Comforter, And lead us to Thy rest ! Thou art gone up on high : But Thou didst first come down, Through earth's most bitter misery To pass unto Thy crown : And girt with griefs and fears Our onward course must be ; But only let that path of tears Lead us, at last, to Thee ! Thou art gone up on high : But Thou shalt come again With all the bright ones of the sky Attendant in Thy train. 282 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Lord ! by Thy saving power So make us live and die, That we may stand, in that dread hour, A.t Thy right hand on high. J. D. Burns. " DESPISE NOT THE CHASTENING OF THE LORD, NOR FAINT WHEN THOU ART REBUKED OF HIM." THOU, whose tender feet have trod The thorny path of woe, Forbid that I should slight the rod, Or faint beneath the blow. My spirit to its chastening stroke I meekly would resign ; Nor murmur at the heaviest yoke That tells me I am Thine. Give me the spirit of Thy trust, To suffer as a son, — To say, though lying in the dust, My Father's will be done ! I know that trial works for ends Too high for sense to trace; MODERN : LIVING WRITERS. 283 That oft in dark attire, He sends Some embassy of grace. May none depart till I have gainM The blessing which it bears, And learn, though late, I entertained An angel unawares. So shall I bless the hour that sent The mercy of the rod, And build an altar by the tent Where I have met with God. J. D. Burns, MY TIMES ARE IN THY HANDS. RATHER, I know that all my life Is portioned out for me, Sf And the changes that are sure to come I do not fear to see ; But I ask Thee for a present mind, Intent on pleasing Thee. I ask Thee for a thoughtful love, Through constant watching wise, To meet the glad with joyful smiles And wipe the weeping eyes ; 284 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And a heart at leisure from itself, To soothe and sympathize. I would not have the restless will That hurries to and fro ; Seeking for some great thing to do, Or secret thing to know ; I would be treated as a child, And guided where I go. Wherever in the world I am, In whatsoever estate, I have a fellowship with hearts To keep and cultivate, And a work of lowly love to do For the Lord on whom I wait. So I ask Thee for the daily strength To none that ask denied, And a mind to blend with outward life, While keeping at Thy side ; Content to fill a little space, If Thou be glorified. And if some things I do not ask In my cup of blessing be, I would have my spirit fillM the more With grateful love to Thee; modern: living writers. -285 More careful, not to serve Thee much, But to please Thee perfectly. There are briars besetting every path That call for patient care; There is a cross in every lot, And an earnest need for prayer ; But a lowly heart, that leans on Thee, Is happy anywhere. In a service which Thy will appoints There are no bonds for me ; For my inmost heart is taught the truth That makes Thy children free; And a life of self-renouncing love Is a life of liberty. Anna L. Waring, " THERE WAS LEANING ON JESUS* BOSOM ONE OF HIS DISCIPLES." yORD, a happy child of Thine, Patient through the love of Thee, In the light, the life divine, Lives and walks at liberty. 286 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Leaning on Thy tender care, Thou hast led my soul aright; Fervent was my morning prayer, Joyful is my song to-night. O my Saviour, Guardian true, All my life is Thine to keep At Thy feet my work I do ; In Thy arms I fall asleep. Tender mercies ! on my way Falling softly like the dew, Sent me freshly every day, I will bless the Lord for you. Though I have not all I would, Though to greater bliss I go, Every present gift of good To Eternal Love I owe. Source of all that comforts me, Well of joy for which I long, Let the song I sing to Thee Be an everlasting song. Anna L. Waring. modern: living writers. 287 HE LEADETH ME BESIDE THE STILL WATERS. "N heavenly love abiding, No change my heart shall fear; And safe is such confiding, For nothing changes here. The storm may roar without me, My heart may low be laid ; But God is round about me, And can I be dismayM ? Wherever He may guide me, No want shall turn me back, My Shepherd is beside me, And nothing can I lack : His wisdom ever waketh ; His sight is never dim ; He knows the way He taketh, And I will walk with Him. Green pastures are before me, Which yet I have not seen ; Bright skies will soon be o'er me, Where the dark clouds have been 288 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. My hope I cannot measure ; My path to life is free ; My Saviour is my treasure, And He will walk with me. Anna A. Waring. THE LORD IS THE PORTION OF MY INHERIT- ANCE/" HOUGH some good things of lower worth My heart is calPd on to resign, Of all the gifts in heaven and earth, The best, the very best is mine : The love of God in Christ made known, The love that is enough alone, My Father's love is all my own. My souPs Restorer, let me learn In that deep love to live and rest ; Let me the precious things discern, Of which I am indeed possessed. My treasure let me feel and see, And let my moments, as they flee, Unfold my endless life in Thee. modern: living writers. 289 Let me Thy power, Thy beauty see, So shall my vain aspirings cease. And my freed heart shall follow Thee, Through paths of everlasting peace; My strength Thv gift, my life Thy care, I shall forget to seek elsewhere The joy to which my soul is heir. Anna L. Waring. "THERE SHALL IX NO WISE ENTER INTO IT ANYTHING THAT DEFILETH." ^c^t? HE roseate hues of early dawn, The brightness of the dav, ^-