LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 Class > 
 
 GENERAL 
 
V 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 Microsoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/bookofpraisefromOOselbrich 
 
<Bol5en £reasurg Series 
 
 THE BOOK OF PRAISE 
 
First Edition printed October, 1862. 
 Reprinted November, December, 1862, 1863, with alteratio?is 1865, 
 1867, 1871, 1873, 1880, 1887, with alterations 1891. Reprinted 1898. 
 
THE 
 
 BOOK OF PRAISE 
 
 FROM THE BEST ENGLISH HYMN WRITERS 
 
 SELECTED AND ARRANGED BY 
 
 ROUNDELL PALMER 
 
 llil . 
 
 Honfcon 
 
 MACMILL/VN AND CO., Limited 
 
 NEW YORK : THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 1898 
 
■GENERM. 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The present is an attempt, not to add to the 
 great and constantly increasing multitude of 
 hymn-books intended for congregational use ; 
 but to present, under a convenient arrangement, 
 a collection of such examples of a copious 
 and interesting branch of popular literature, as, 
 after a study of the subject which for several 
 years has occupied part of his leisure hours, 
 have seemed to the Editor most worthy of 
 being separated from the mass to which they 
 belong. 
 
 A good hymn should have simplicity, fresh- 
 ness, and reality of feeling; a consistent ele- 
 vation of tone, and a rhythm easy and harmo- 
 nious, but not jingling or trivial. Its language 
 may be homely ; but should not be slovenly or 
 mean. Affectation or visible artifice is worse 
 than excess of homeliness : a hymn is easily 
 spoiled by a single falsetto note. Nor will the 
 b 
 
 101969 
 
ii Preface, 
 
 most exemplary soundness of doctrine atone 
 for doggrel, or redeem from failure a prosaic 
 didactic style. 
 
 There are many hymns in the English lan- 
 guage, which will bear the test of these rules, 
 as well, perhaps, as those of Germany, or of 
 the ancient Latin Church. But they are apt 
 to be presented in such company, or in such 
 a manner, as to detract much from their effect 
 From the operation of causes connected with 
 the nature of such compositions, it happens, 
 that writers, who do not in general rise above 
 mediocrity, sometimes produce beautiful hymns; 
 while, on the other hand, there is far more dross 
 than gold in the works of all voluminous hymn- 
 writers. Nor are the principles, on which 
 popular collections of hymns for congregational 
 use are formed, favourable to that kind of se- 
 lection, which is here attempted. In such 
 collections, as a general rule, the taste of the 
 compilers is regulated by their theology : they 
 seem to be very easily satisfied with all that 
 they think orthodox and edifying, or liturgically 
 appropriate ; they do not submit hymns, derived 
 from sources which they respect, to any free or 
 independent criticism ; and, on the other hand, 
 they reject, with morbid fastidiousness, every 
 sentiment and expression in which they think 
 
Preface. iii 
 
 they detect the traces of opinions which they 
 dislike. It is also their frequent habit to cut 
 down the compositions which they approve, 
 with little discrimination or judgment, to such 
 arbitrary dimensions, as suit their ideas of the 
 time which ought to be occupied, during Divine 
 service, by congregational singing. 
 
 The same regard to motives of (real, or 
 supposed,) convenience and edification has in- 
 troduced a system of tampering with the text 
 of hymns, which has now grown into so great 
 an abuse, that to meet with any author's genuine 
 text, in a book of this kind, is quite the exception. 
 Censurable as this practice is, in a literary point 
 of view, it must be confessed that those who 
 adopt it may plead, in their excuse, the examples 
 of many of the writers, whose compositions they 
 alter. The Wesleys altered the compositions of 
 George Herbert, Sandys, Austin, and Watts. 
 Toplady, Madan, and others, altered some of 
 Charles Wesley's hymns, much to his brother 
 John's discontent, as he testifies in the preface 
 to his Hymn-Book for Methodists. Toplady's 
 own hymns, even the "Rock of Ages," have 
 not escaped similar treatment. James Mont- 
 gomery complains much, in the preface to the 
 edition of his collected hymns published in 
 ^53j of his share in this peculiar cross of 
 b 2 
 
iv Preface, 
 
 hymn-writers, as he calls it. But he had him- 
 self, about thirty years before, altered the works 
 of other men, in his Christian Psalmist. Bishop 
 Heber, scholar as he was, and editor of Jeremy 
 Taylor's works, silently altered Taylor's Advent 
 Hymn in his own hymn-book ; and the hymns 
 of Heber himself, and of writers still living, 
 such as Keble, Milman, Alford, and Neale, are 
 met with every day in a variety of forms, which 
 their authors would hardly recognize. Perhaps, 
 when the masters of the art have taken such 
 liberties, it may be explained on the same 
 principle as that on which musicians, and par- 
 ticularly the composers of anthems, produce 
 variations from, and improvements upon, the 
 works of their predecessors : and, indeed, some 
 such variations of hymns are sufficiently good 
 to take rank as new compositions ; better than 
 those by which they were suggested. But this 
 is a rare felicity; and the result is widely dif- 
 ferent, when the work of alteration is under- 
 taken by incompetent hands. 
 
 In the present volume, while the Editor has 
 not thought it necessary to give the whole of 
 every composition, from which a selection of 
 parts might, in his judgment, more advan- 
 tageously be made, it has been his desire and 
 aim to adhere strictly, in all cases in which it 
 
Preface, v 
 
 could be ascertained, to the genuine uncorrupted 
 text of the authors themselves. Great pains 
 have been taken to trace out and ascertain the 
 true authorship of such hymns, as were either 
 without names of authors, or attributed to 
 authors by whom they were not really written, 
 in the books from which the Editor in the first 
 instance took them. This was a task, which he 
 could himself scarcely have undertaken, and in 
 which he certainly could not have hoped to 
 succeed, but for the assistance of Mr. Sedgwick, 
 of No. 8 1, Sun Street, Bishopsgate; who has 
 bestowed much time and attention on this 
 branch of literature, and has attained to a 
 knowledge of it, probably not possessed by 
 any other Englishman. By his valuable help, 
 the authorship of all but twelve of the com- 
 positions here collected has been traced, and 
 the text collated with the original works of 
 the authors. Thus aided, the Editor has been 
 enabled, before finally completing his selection, 
 to go through all, or almost all, the original 
 publications containing hymns or sacred poetry 
 of (amongst others), George Herbert, Sandys, 
 Wither, Quarles, Crashaw, John Austin, Baxter, 
 Bishop Taylor, Bishop Patrick, Bishop Ken, 
 John Mason, Thomas Shepherd, Samuel Cross- 
 man, and Lancelot Addison (of the seventeenth 
 century) ; Joseph Addison, Watts, Simon Browne, 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 Ralph Erskine, Doddridge, Hammond, John 
 and Charles Wesley, Cennick, Seagrave, Grigg, 
 Berridge, Olivers, William Williams, Toplady, 
 Cowper, John Newton, Anne Steele, Hart, 
 Gibbons, Michael Bruce, Logan, Byrom, Skelton, 
 Swain, Daniel Turner, Ryland, Stennett, Need- 
 ham, Beddome, Medley, Henry Moore, and 
 Mrs. Barbauld (of the eighteenth century); 
 Gisborne, Kirke White, Anne Flowerdew, 
 Drennan, Bowdler, Kelly, James Montgomery, 
 Sir Robert Grant, Bishop Heber, Bishop Mant, 
 Bathurst, Lyte, Edmeston, Bernard Barton, 
 Grinfield, and Chandler (of the present cen- 
 tury); besides other writers, still living, whom 
 it is unnecessary to name ; and many mis- 
 cellaneous collections, old and modern. Of 
 the names thus enumerated, several are not 
 represented at all in this collection; as the 
 Editor did not find anything in their works 
 which appeared to him to be suitable for his 
 purpose, and equal to the general standard of 
 merit, which he desired to maintain. But of 
 the great majority, as well as of some other 
 writers whose works are not accessible in a 
 collected form, specimens more or less numerous 
 will be found. A few examples of successful 
 variations or centoes (in all instances but two, 
 by known authors) from earlier compositions, 
 have also been included ; together with three 
 
Preface. vii 
 
 original hymns, out of several which have been 
 communicated to the Editor, by the kindness 
 of the authors, in manuscript. Upon the works 
 of living authors generally, the Editor has not 
 thought it expedient to draw with the same 
 freedom, as upon those of earlier generations ; 
 although he has not deemed it necessary to 
 forego altogether the advantage of including in 
 his book specimens of those works, especially 
 of such of them as have obtained general 
 currency in popular hymn-books. 
 
 The arrangement which has been adopted in 
 this volume (and upon which some care has been 
 bestowed), may be explained in a few words. 
 The Catholic Creeds, and the Lord's Prayer, 
 presenting in their simplest forms, and in their 
 natural order, all the fundamental points of 
 Christianity, both objective and subjective, 
 appeared to the Editor to be the best basis for 
 a classification of those hymns of faith and 
 devotion, which express feelings at all times 
 appropriate to a Christian profession. These 
 two groups of hymns constitute Parts I. and II. 
 of the Collection. The Third Part consists of 
 hymns distinguished chiefly from those of the 
 two former classes, by having a special refer- 
 ence to particular times and occasions. In the 
 Fourth Part will be found distributed, under 
 
viii Preface. 
 
 suitable heads, compositions of a kind inter- 
 mediate between hymns for general use and 
 private meditations; which (although the dis- 
 tinction is better marked in some cases than 
 in others) seem to breathe, upon the whole, the 
 accents of particular, rather than general, con- 
 sciousness and experience. On this account, thejr 
 are, for the most part, out of place in ordinary 
 hymn-books, and unfit to be sung by public 
 congregations; but their tone is not the less 
 spiritual and real; and those who know any- 
 thing of their own wants, and of the power of 
 religion, can scarcely fail to be impressed with, 
 their beauty and truth. 
 
 The Editor is not sure, whether it may not 
 appear to some to be an objection to this 
 classification, that, by bringing closely to- 
 gether a number of hymns on one subject, a 
 sense of repetition and monotony is created, 
 which might have been avoided by a different 
 method. The repetition, however, which will 
 undoubtedly be met with in the works, not onljr 
 of different, but even of the same hymn-writers, 
 is of a kind appropriate to such compositions ; 
 and, therefore, it ought not to be withdrawn 
 from observation. All lovers of Art are familiar 
 with the habitual repetition of Holy Families, 
 and other sacred subjects, by the early painters* 
 
Preface. ix 
 
 down to and including Raffaelle. The constant 
 enthusiastic contemplation of a few subjects, 
 dear to the universal heart of Christendom, and 
 embodying the highest conceptions of Divine 
 purity and beauty, produced a simplicity, refine- 
 ment, and spirituality of style, which never tires, 
 notwithstanding its limited range. These are 
 the hymns of painters, addressed to the sense of 
 sight. A similar law has always governed, and 
 to this day governs Christian Hymnody; bind* 
 ing together by the force of a central attraction, 
 more powerful than all causes of difference, 
 times ancient and modern, nations of various 
 race and language, Churchmen and Noncom 
 formists, Churches reformed and unreformed* 
 It is refreshing to turn aside from the divisions 
 of the Christian world, and to rest for a little 
 time in the sense of that inward unity, which, 
 after all, subsists among all good Christians, and 
 which (is it too much to hope?) may perhaps 
 receive some illustration, even from a volume 
 like this, 
 
 Throughout the volume, the names of the 
 authors, when known, are affixed to their hymns. 
 When more authors than one have been con- 
 cerned in the compositi: n of a hymn, or when 
 it is a cento or variation by one person from 
 the work of another, the names of all the 
 
x Preface. 
 
 writers concerned (so far as known) are given. 
 The dates added to the names signify, when 
 without brackets, the time at which each hymn 
 is believed to have been first composed or 
 published : when within brackets, the date of 
 the edition or copy, from which the text of a 
 hymn (known or believed to have been published 
 at an earlier date, not correctly ascertained) has 
 been taken by the Editor. The text has been 
 verified by collation with the original work of 
 the author, or an authentic copy, in every case, 
 except those specified in the notes at the end 
 of the volume. The notes also show in what 
 cases the text consists of any selected parts or 
 part, less than the whole, of an original work. 
 When a double date is appended to a single 
 name, it signifies that the work, published at 
 the earlier date, was afterwards altered by the 
 author himself, the text of the later date being 
 that adopted. 
 
 The Editor cannot conclude without returning 
 his thanks to many friends, and to some not 
 personally known to him, for the kind assistance, 
 and offers of assistance, which he has received 
 from them, while this work was in progress. 
 His obligations to some of them will be found 
 specially acknowledged in the notes. He has 
 also to thank the owners of copyrights in many 
 
Preface. xi 
 
 of the more modern hymns, which are included 
 in the volume, for the consent which they have, 
 in all cases when applied to, kindly given to 
 the use of their works. And if, in any instances, 
 he has, either through ignorance of the existence 
 of a copyright, or for want of means of com- 
 munication, made use of any work, in respect 
 of which a similar permission ought to have 
 been obtained, without actually obtaining it, 
 he ventures to hope that the oversight may be 
 excused, and the same liberality extended to 
 him, as if a request for permission had been 
 previously made. 
 
 In the present edition the number of hymns of 
 which the authors are unknown has been reduced 
 to seven : and thirty-six Hymns are added, which 
 did not appear in the "Book of Praise," as 
 originally published. Some of these came to the 
 Editor's knowledge too late to be included, and 
 some were undesignedly omitted, in the first 
 edition. Others, which were then intentionally 
 omitted, are now added, in deference to the judg- 
 ment of critics and friends, whose estimate of their 
 merit is higher than the Editor's own. 
 
 The absence, in this volume, of any selection from 
 the Old or New Version of the Psalms, having been 
 the subject of some remark, the Editor wishes to 
 observe, that such a selection would have been 
 foreign to his design. The " Psalms n (so called) 
 of Watts, Lyte^ Montgomery, and others, and the 
 
xii Preface. 
 
 Scotch "Paraphrases," which are included in the 
 " Book of Praise," are compositions, into which, 
 although founded (as many of the best Hymns in 
 all languages are) upon particular passages of 
 Scripture, other elements, for the most part, largely 
 enter. But the Authorized Versions of the Psalms 
 profess to be, in the strict sense of the words, 
 metrical renderings of Holy Scripture. As such, 
 whatever degree of merit they may possess, they 
 differ in kind from ordinary Hymns: and, being 
 universally known, and accessible in every Prayer- 
 Book, it did not seem to the Editor either necessary 
 or appropriate to associate any of them, in this 
 place, with compositions of a different class. 
 
 With respect to the translations from Latin and 
 German hymns, which are included in this collec- 
 tion, it also seems proper to explain, that the 
 choice has not been made with any reference to 
 the merits of the Latin or German originals ; but 
 solely because the labours of the translator had, 
 in each of these cases, resulted in the production 
 (according to the Editor's judgment) of a good 
 English hymn. From the unavoidable difficulties 
 of translation, this does not very often happen * 
 and the excellence or popularity of the original, in 
 in its own language, seems to be no reason for in- 
 cluding, in a collection of this kind, an unsuccessful 
 attempt to reproduce it, or even an attempt which, 
 if partially successful, may, nevertheless be wanting 
 in the simplicity, freedom, and ease, of a genuine 
 English composition. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART THE FIRST. 
 
 HYMNS ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THE SUBJECTS OF THE CREED. 
 
 I. The Holy Trinity 
 
 II. God the Creator 
 
 III. Christ Incarnate 
 
 IV. Christ Crucified 
 
 V. Christ Risen 
 
 VI. Christ Ascended 
 
 VII. Christ's Kingdom and Judg-1 
 
 ment J 
 
 VIII. God the Holy Ghost . . . . 
 
 IX. The Holy Catholic Church . . 
 
 X. The Communion of Saints . . 
 
 XI. The Forgiveness of Sins . . 
 
 XII. Resurrection and Eternal Life 
 
 
 HYMN 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. 
 
 to VII. 
 
 1 
 
 VIII. 
 
 to XXIX. . 
 
 7 
 
 XXX. 
 
 tO XLVII. . 
 
 32 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 tO LVII. 
 
 53 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 to LXIV. 
 
 (51 
 
 LXV. 
 
 to LXXIII . 
 
 69 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 to XCII. 
 
 83 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 to CVII. 
 
 104 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 to CXXIX. . 
 
 120 
 
 CXXX. 
 
 tO CXLI. 
 
 144 
 
 CXLII. 
 
 tO CXLVIII. 
 
 155 
 
 CXLIX. 
 
 tO CLXVIII. 
 
 162 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 HYMNS ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THE SUBJECTS OF THE LORD'S 
 PRAYER. 
 
 11 Lord, teach us to pray" . . 
 
 I. " Our Father, which art in! 
 
 heaven, hallowed he Thy> 
 
 Name" j 
 
 II. " Thy kingdom come "... 
 
 III. " Thy will he done in earthy 
 
 as it is in heaven " . . J 
 
 IV. " Give us this day our daily! 
 
 bread" ) 
 
 V. " And forgive us our tres-! 
 
 passes, as we forgive them > 
 
 that trespass against us" .) 
 
 VI. " And lead us not into tempta-! 
 
 tion; hut deliver us fromV 
 
 evil" ) 
 
 VII. " For Thine is the kingdom,! 
 the power, and the glory, \ 
 for ever and ever. Amen "J 
 
 CLXX. 
 
 tO CLXXIII. 
 
 J.OO 
 
 . 186 
 
 CLXXIV. 
 
 tO CLXXX. . 
 
 . 191 
 
 CLXXXI. 
 
 to CCIV. 
 
 . 198 
 
 CCV. 
 
 to CCXVIII. 
 
 . 222 
 
 CCXIX. 
 
 to CCXXVI. 
 
 . 234 
 
 CCXXVTI. tO CCXL11. . 
 
 CCXLIII. tO CCXLV. 
 
 £43 
 
 253 
 
Contents. 
 
 PART THE THIRD. 
 
 HYMNS FOR NATURAL AND SACRED SEASON3. 
 
 I. Day and Night .... 
 II. Seed Time and Harvest . 
 
 III. The Old and New Year . 
 
 IV. Baptism and Childhood . 
 V. Holy Communion . . . 
 
 VI. Holy Matrimony . . . 
 
 VII. The Burial of the Dead . 
 
 VIII. Church Dedication . . 
 
 IX. The Lord's Day .... 
 
 
 HYMN 
 
 TAGS 
 
 CCXLVI. 
 
 to CCLXVI. . 
 
 . 257 
 
 CCLXVII 
 
 to CCLXXIV. 
 
 . 28& 
 
 CCLXXV. 
 
 tO CCLXXX. 
 
 . 294 
 
 CCLXXXI 
 
 to CCXCI. . 
 
 . 299 
 
 CCXCII. 
 
 to ccxevni. 
 
 . 319 
 
 
 
 . 317 
 
 ceo. 
 
 to CCCVI. . 
 
 . 318 
 
 CCCVII. 
 
 to CCCIX. . 
 
 . 323 
 
 CCCX. 
 
 to CCCXXI. . 
 
 . 326 
 
 PART THE FOURTH. 
 
 SONGS OF THE HEART. 
 
 L The th < ;^Si.?9 e ) , : aneth } **rr¥ «*» — • 3 « 
 
 II. The Answer.— "I will arise,) 
 
 and go to my Father." - ccexxxv. to cccxliv. . 355 
 
 (Luke xv. 18) ) 
 
 III. Faith.—" Looking unto Jesus, \ 
 
 the Author and Finisher of \ cccxlv. to cccli. . . 365 
 
 our Faith." (Heb. xii. 2) J 
 IV. Love. — " If ye love'Me, keepj 
 
 my commandments." (John / ccclii. to ccclx. . . 375 
 
 xiv. 15) ) 
 
 V. Hope. — "Set your affections on") 
 
 things above ; not on things [ ccclxi. to ccclxxvi. . 387 
 
 on the earth." (Col. iii. 2) . j 
 VI. Joy. — " In whom, though now^ 
 
 ye see Him not, yet believ- | 
 
 ing, ye rejoice with joy \- ccclxxvii. to ccclxxxvi. 404 
 
 unspeakable, and full of 
 
 glory." (1 Pet. i. S) . . .) 
 VII. Discipline. — "Whom the Lord \ 
 
 loveth, He chasteneth."[cccLxxxvn. to cccxcix. . 414 
 
 (Heb. xii. 6) ) 
 
 VIII. Patience.— " Be patient, there- \ 
 
 fore, brethren, unto the! „„ r „, . „ ,.„„ Aact 
 
 coming of the Lord." cccc. to ccccxn. . 426 
 
 (James v. 7) J 
 
 ADDITIONAL HYMNS 449 
 
 NOTES 489 
 
 LIST OF AUTHORS 505 
 
 INDEX OF FIRST LINES 50» 
 
PART I. 
 
 HYMNS ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THE: 
 SUBJECTS OF THE CREED. 
 
e Itooh of |)ram 
 
 PART THE FIRST. 
 
 UN 'VERS/ T Y 
 
 THE HOLY TRINITY. 
 
 u The Catholic Faith is this: that we worship one God in 
 Trinity, and Trinity in Unity" 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty ! 
 
 Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee ; 
 Holy, holy, holy ! Merciful and Mighty ! 
 
 God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity ! 
 
 Holy, holy, holy ! all the saints adore Thee, 
 
 Casting down their golden crowns around the 
 glassy sea, 
 
 Cherubim and seraphim falling down before Thee, 
 Which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be. 
 
 Holy, holy, holy ! though the darkness hide Thee, 
 Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may 
 not see, 
 
 Only Thou art holy, there is none beside Thee, 
 Perfect in power, in love and purity. 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty ! 
 All Thy works shall praise Thy Name in eartl: 
 and sky and sea ; 
 Holy, holy, holy ! Merciful and Mighty ! 
 God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity ! 
 
 Bishop Regi7iald Heber. 1827* 
 B 
 
The Book of Praise, 
 
 ii. 
 Round the Lord in glory seated 
 
 Cherubim and seraphim 
 Fill'd His temple, and repeated 
 
 Each to each th' alternate hymn. 
 
 " Lord, Thy glory fills the heaven, 
 " Earth is with its fulness stor'd ; 
 
 " Unto Thee be glory given, 
 " Holy, holy, holy Lord!" 
 
 Heaven is still with glory ringing, 
 
 Earth takes up the angels' cry, 
 " Holy, holy, holy," singing, 
 
 " Lord of hosts, the Lord most High !" 
 
 With His seraph train before Him, 
 
 With His holy Church below, 
 Thus conspire we to adore Him, 
 
 Bid we thus our anthem flow : 
 
 " Lord, Thy glory fills the heaven, 
 " Earth is with its fulness stor'd ; 
 
 " Unto Thee be glory given, 
 "Holy, holy, holy Lord!" 
 
 Bishop Richard Mant. 1 8? 7 
 
 in. 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord, 
 
 God of hosts ! When heaven and earth 
 Out of darkness, at Thy word, 
 
 Issued into glorious birth, 
 All Thy works before Thee stood, 
 And Thine eye beheld them good, 
 While they sang, with one accord, 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord ! 
 
The Holy Trinity. 3 
 
 Holy, holy, holy ! Thee, 
 
 One Jehovah evermore, 
 Father, Son, and Spirit, we, 
 
 Dust and ashes, would adore . 
 Lightly by the world esteemed, 
 From that world by Thee redeemed, 
 Sing we here, with glad accord, 
 Holy, holy, holy Lord ! 
 
 Holy, holy, holy ! All 
 
 Heaven's triumphant choir shall sing, 
 When the ransomed nations fall 
 
 At the footstool of their King : 
 Then shall saints and seraphim, 
 Hearts and voices, swell one hymn, 
 Round the Throne with full accord, 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord ! 
 
 James Montgomery. 1853 
 
 IV. 
 
 Te Denm Landamns. 
 
 God eternal, Lord of all, 
 Lowly at Thy feet we fall, 
 All the earth doth worship Thee ; 
 We amidst the throng would be. 
 
 All the holy angels cry, 
 Hail, thrice holy, God most High 
 Lord of all the heavenly powers, 
 Be the same loud anthem ours. 
 
 Glorified apostles raise 
 , Night and day continual praise : 
 Hast Thou not a mission too 
 For Thy children here to do ' 
 B2 
 
The Book of Praise. 
 
 With Thy prophets' goodly line 
 We in mystic bond combine ; 
 For Thou hast to babes revealed 
 Things that to the wise were sealed. 
 
 Martyrs, in a noble host, 
 Of Thy cross are heard to boast ; 
 Since so bright the crown they wear, 
 Early we Thy cross would bear. 
 
 All Thy Church in heaven and earthy 
 Jesus ! hail Thy spotless birth ; 
 Own. the God, who all has made ; 
 And the Spirit's soothing aid. 
 
 Offspring of a Virgin's womb ; 
 Slain, and Victor o'er the tomb ; 
 Seated on the Judgment-throne, 
 Number us among Thine own ! 
 
 Day by day we magnify Thee, 
 And would evermore be nigh Thee : 
 Keep us from the Tempter's snare ; 
 Spare Thy people, Jesu, spare ! 
 
 James Elwin Millard, i £ 
 
 v. 
 
 Te Deum Laudamus. 
 
 Thee we adore, eternal Lord ! 
 We praise Thy Name with one accord ; 
 Thy saints, who here Thy goodness see, 
 Through all the world do worship Thee. 
 
 To Thee aloud all angels cry, 
 
 And ceaseless raise their songs on high, 
 
The Holy Trinity. 5 
 
 Both cherubin and seraphin, 
 .The heavens and all the powers therein. 
 
 The Apostles join the glorious throng ; 
 The Prophets swell the immortal song ; 
 The Martyrs' noble army raise 
 Eternal anthems to Thy praise. 
 
 Thee, Holy, holy, holy King ! 
 Thee, the Lord God of hosts, they sing : 
 Thus earth below, and heaven above, 
 Resound Thy glory and Thy love. 
 
 Thomas Cotterill. 1810. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I give immortal praise 
 
 To God the Father's love, 
 For all my comforts here 
 And better hopes above ; 
 He sent His own eternal Son 
 To die for sins that man had done. 
 
 To God the Son belongs 
 
 Immortal glory too, 
 Who bought us with His blood 
 From everlasting woe ; 
 And now He lives, and now He reigns, 
 And sees the fruit of all His pains. 
 
 To God the Spirit's name 
 Immortal worship give, 
 Whose new-creating power 
 Makes the dead sinner live ; 
 His work completes the great design, 
 And fills the soul with joy divine. 
 
The Book of Praise. 
 
 Almighty God, to Thee 
 
 Be endless honours done ; 
 The undivided Three, 
 And the mysterious One ! 
 Where reason fails with all her powers, 
 There faith prevails, and love adores. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
 VII. 
 
 O King of kings, before whose throne 
 
 The angels bow, no gift can we 
 Present that is indeed our own, 
 
 Since heaven and earth belong to Thee : 
 Yet this our souls through grace impart, 
 The offering of a thankful heart, 
 
 O Jesu, set at God's right hand, 
 
 With Thine eternal Father plead 
 For all Thy loyal-hearted band, 
 
 Who still on earth Thy succour need ; 
 For them in weakness strength provide, 
 And through the world their footsteps guide, 
 
 Holy Spirit, Fount of breath, 
 
 Whose comforts never fail nor fade, 
 Vouchsafe the life that knows no death, 
 
 Vouchsafe the light that knows no shade ; 
 And grant, that we through all our days 
 May share Thy gifts, and sing Thy praise. 
 
 Variation by Thomas Darling. 1857. 
 From John Quarles. 1654. 
 
God the Creator. 7 
 
 II. 
 
 GOD THE CREATOR. 
 
 ' / believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of 
 heaven and earth, and of all things visible and 
 invisible. " 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Psalm C. 
 
 Before Jehovah's awful throne, 
 Ye nations, bow with sacred joy ; 
 
 Know that the Lord is God alone, 
 He can create, and He destroy. 
 
 His sov'reign power, without our aid, 
 Made us of clay, and formed us men ; 
 
 And when like wandering sheep we stray'd, 
 He brought us to His fold again. 
 
 We'll crowd Thy gates with thankful songs, 
 High as the heavens our voices raise ; 
 
 And earth, with her ten thousand tongues, 
 Shall fill Thy courts with sounding praise. 
 
 Wide as the world is Thy command, 
 
 Vast as eternity Thy love ; 
 Firm as a rock Thy truth must stand, 
 W 7 hen rolling years shall cease to move. 
 Isaac Watts. 17 19. 
 Varied by John Wesley. 1737- 
 
The Book of Praise. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Psalm XCIII. 
 
 The Lord Jehovah reigns 
 
 And royal state maintains, 
 His head with awful glories crown'd ; 
 
 Arrayed in robes of light, 
 
 Begirt with sovereign might, 
 And rays of majesty around 
 
 Upheld by Thy commands, 
 
 The world securely stands, 
 And skies and stars obey Thy word : 
 
 Thy throne was fixed on high 
 
 Before the starry sky : 
 Eternal is Thy kingdom, Lord. 
 
 In vain the noisy crowd, 
 
 Like billows fierce and loud, 
 Against Thine empire rage and roar : 
 
 In vain, with angry spite, 
 
 The surly nations fight, 
 And dash like waves against the shore. 
 
 Let floods and nations rage, 
 
 And all their powers engage ; 
 Let swelling tides assault the sky : 
 
 The terrors of Thy frown 
 
 Shall beat their madness down : 
 Thy throne for ever stands on high. 
 
 Thy promises are true, 
 
 Thy grace is ever new ; 
 There fixed, Thy Church shall ne'er remove ; 
 
 Thy saints with holy fear 
 
 Shall in Thy courts appear, 
 And sing Thine everlasting love. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 
God the Creator. 
 
 Let all the world rejoice, 
 
 The great Jehovah reigns ; 
 The thunders are His awful voice ; 
 
 Our life His will ordains ; 
 
 The glories of His Name 
 The lightnings, floods, and hail proclaim. 
 
 He rules by sea and land, 
 
 O'er boundless realms He sways ; 
 He holds the oceans in His hand, 
 
 And mighty mountains weighs : 
 
 Unequalled and alone 
 In majesty He fills His throne. 
 
 The universe He made 
 
 By His prevailing might ; 
 The earth's foundations He hath laid, 
 
 And scattered ancient night ; 
 
 When heaven, and earth, and sea, 
 Proclaimed His awful majesty. 
 
 When the bright orb of day 
 
 First gleamed with ruddy light, 
 And yonder moon, with silver ray, 
 
 Marched up the vault of night ; 
 
 And stars bedecked the skies, 
 That seemed creation's thousand eyes ; 
 
 And earth's fair form was seen, 
 With flowers and blossoms drest ; 
 
 And trees, and fields, and meadows green, 
 Adorned her youthful breast, 
 Hung out in boundless space, 
 
 Amid the ocean's cool embrace ; 
 
io The Book of Praise. 
 
 Glad was the angel throng 
 
 To see His might prevail ; 
 And loud they sung a joyful song 
 
 This universe to hail, 
 
 While yet in youth it stood ; 
 The Maker, too, pronounced it good. 
 
 But this fair world shall die, 
 
 The creature of a day ; 
 Ln ashes and in ruins lie, 
 
 Its glory passed away : 
 
 As when before her birth, 
 Again shall be this mighty earth. 
 
 Soon shall the day be o'er 
 
 Of yonder brilliant sun ; 
 And he shall set to rise no more, 
 
 His race of glory run ; 
 
 And soon, alas ! all soon 
 Shall fade the stars, and yon pale moon. 
 
 But ever fix'd, the throne 
 
 Of the Eternal One 
 Shall stand, when all creation's gone, 
 
 Unequalled and alone ; 
 
 New worlds to make at will, 
 And His own wise designs fulfil. 
 
 John Hunt. 1853. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Psalm CXV. 
 
 Not unto us, Almighty Lord, 
 
 But to Thyself the glory be t 
 Created by Thy awful word, 
 
 We only live to honour Thee. 
 
God the Creator. 1 1 
 
 Where is their God ? the heathen cry, 
 And bow to senseless wood and stone ; 
 
 Our God, we tell them, fills the sky, 
 And calls ten thousand worlds his own. 
 
 Vain gods ! vain men ! the Lord alone 
 Is Israel's worship, Israel's friend ; 
 
 O fear His power, His goodness own, 
 And love Him, trust Him, to the end. 
 
 Who lean on Him, from strength to strength, 
 From light to light, shall onward move, 
 
 Till through the grave they pass at length, 
 To sing on high His saving love. 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1 834. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Psalm CXLVI. 
 
 Happy the man, whose hopes rely 
 On Israel's God ; He made the sky, 
 
 And earth and seas with all their train ; 
 His truth for ever stands secure, 
 He saves the opprest, He feeds the poor ; 
 
 And none shall find his promise vain. 
 
 The Lord hath eyes to give the blind ; 
 The Lord supports the sinking mind ; 
 
 He sends the labouring conscience peace ; 
 He helps the stranger in distress, 
 The widow and the fatherless, 
 
 And grants the prisoner sweet release. 
 
 I'll praise Him while He lends me breath, 
 And when my voice is lost in death 
 
12 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Praise shall employ my nobler powers : 
 My days of praise shall ne'er be past, 
 While life and thought and being last, 
 
 Or immortality endures. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 17 19. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Psalm XIX. 
 
 The spacious firmament on high, 
 
 With all the blue ethereal sky, 
 
 And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 
 
 Their great Original proclaim. 
 
 The unwearied sun, from day to day, 
 
 Does his Creator's power display, 
 
 And publishes to every land 
 
 The work of an Almighty hand. 
 
 Soon as the evening shades prevail, 
 The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
 And nightly to the listening earth 
 Repeats the story of her birth ; 
 Whilst all the stars that round her burn, 
 And all the planets in their turn, 
 Confirm the tidings, as they roll, 
 And spread the truth from pole to pole. 
 
 What, though in solemn silence all 
 Move round the dark terrestrial ball ; 
 What, though no real voice or sound 
 Amidst their radiant orbs be found ; 
 In reason's ear they all rejoice, 
 And utter forth a glorious voice, 
 For ever singing, as they shine, 
 "The hand that made us is Divine." 
 
 Joseph Addison. 17 12 
 
God the Creator. M 
 
 XIV. 
 
 There is a book, who runs may read, 
 
 Which heavenly truth imparts, 
 And all the lore its scholars need, 
 
 Pure eyes and Christian hearts. 
 
 The works of God, above, below, 
 
 Within us and around, 
 Are pages in that book, to show 
 
 How God Himself is found. 
 
 The glorious sky, embracing all, 
 
 Is like the Maker's love, 
 Wherewith encompass'd, great and small 
 
 In peace and order move. 
 
 The moon above, the Church below, 
 
 A wondrous race they run ; 
 But all their radiance, all their glow, 
 
 Each borrows of its sun. 
 
 The Saviour lends the light and heat 
 
 That crowns His holy hill ; 
 The saints, like stars, around His seat 
 
 Perform their courses still. 
 
 The saints above are stars in Heaven ; 
 
 What are the saints on earth ? 
 Like trees they stand, whom God has given, 
 
 Our Eden's happy birth. 
 
 Faith is their fix'd unswerving root, 
 
 Hope their unfading flower ; 
 Fair deeds of charity their fruit, 
 
 The glory of their bower, 
 
14 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The dew of heaven is like Thy grace ; 
 
 It steals in silence down ; 
 But, where it lights, the favoured place 
 
 By richest fruits is known. 
 
 One name, above all glorious names, 
 
 With its ten thousand tongues 
 The everlasting sea proclaims, 
 
 Echoing angelic songs. 
 
 The raging fire, the roaring wind, 
 
 Thy boundless power display ; 
 But in the gentler breeze we find 
 
 Thy Spirit's viewless way. 
 
 Two worlds are ours : 'tis only sin 
 
 Forbids us to descry, 
 The mystic heaven and earth within, 
 
 Plain as the sea and sky. 
 
 Thou who hast given me eyes to see 
 
 And love this sight so fair, 
 Give me a heart to find out Thee, 
 
 And read Thee everywhere. 
 
 John Keble. 1827. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Psalm LXV. 
 
 On God the race of man depends, 
 Far as the earth's remotest ends, 
 Where the Creator's name is known 
 By nature's feeble light alone. 
 
 He bids the noisy tempests cease ; 
 He calms the raging crowd to peace. 
 
God the Creator. 15 
 
 When a tumultuous nation raves 
 Wild as the winds, and loud as waves. 
 
 Whole kingdoms, shaken by the storm, 
 He settles in a peaceful form ; 
 Mountains, establish'd by His hand, 
 Firm on their old foundations stand. 
 
 Behold His ensigns sweep the sky ; 
 New comets blaze, and lightnings fly ! 
 The heathen lands, with swift surprise, 
 From the bright horrors turn their eyes. 
 
 At His command the morning ray 
 Smiles in the east, and leads the day ; 
 He guides the sun's declining wheels 
 Over the tops of western hills. 
 
 Seasons and times obey His voice ; 
 The evening and the morn rejoice 
 To see the earth made soft with showers, 
 Laden with fruit, and drest in flowers, 
 
 'Tis from His watery stores on high 
 He gives the thirsty ground supply ; 
 He walks upon the clouds, and thence 
 Doth His enriching drops dispense. 
 
 The desert grows a fruitful field, 
 Abundant food the valleys yield ; 
 The valleys shout with cheerful voice, 
 And neighbouring hills repeat their joys. 
 
 Thy works pronounce Thy power divine ; 
 O'er every field Thy glories shine ; 
 Through every month thy gifts appear ; 
 Great God ! Thy goodness crowns the year ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. I7IQ. 
 
1 6 The Book of Praise. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Thy goodness, Lord, our souls confess, 
 
 Thy goodness we adore ; 
 A spring, whose blessings never fail, 
 
 A sea without a shore. 
 
 Sun, moon, and stars, Thy love attest 
 
 In every cheerful ray ; 
 Love draws the curtains of the night, 
 
 And love restores the day. 
 
 Thy bounty every season crowns 
 
 With all the bliss it yields, 
 With joyful clusters bend the vines, 
 
 With harvests wave the fields. 
 
 But chiefly Thy compassions, Lord, 
 
 Are in the Gospel seen ; 
 There, like the Sun, Thy mercy shines 
 
 Without a cloud between. 
 
 Thomas Gibbons. 1784. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 I sing th' almighty power of God, 
 That made the mountains rise, 
 
 That spread the flowing seas abroad, 
 And built the lofty skies. 
 
 f sing the wisdom that ordain'd 
 
 The sun to rule the day : 
 The moon shines full at His command, 
 
 And all the stars obey. 
 
God the Creator. 1 7 
 
 I sing the goodness of the Lord 
 
 That filled the earth with food ; 
 He formed the creatures with His word, 
 
 And then pronounced them good. 
 
 Lord, how Thy wonders are display^, 
 
 Where'er I turn my eye ; 
 If I survey the ground I tread, 
 
 Or gaze upon the sky ! 
 
 There's not a plant or flower below, 
 
 But makes Thy glories known ; 
 And clouds arise, and tempests blow, 
 
 By order from Thy throne. 
 
 Creatures, as numerous as they be, 
 
 Are subject to Thy care ; 
 There's not a place where we can flee 
 
 But God is present there. 
 
 Iji Heaven He shines with beams of love, 
 
 With wrath in hell beneath ; 
 'Tis on His earth I stand or move, 
 
 And 'tis His air I breathe. 
 
 His hand is my perpetual guard : 
 
 He keeps me with His eye : 
 Why should I then forget the Lord, 
 
 Who is for ever nigh ? 
 
 Isaac Watts. 17 15 
 
18 The Book of Praise. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 YeSy God is good ; in earth and sky, 
 From ocean-depths and spreading wood, 
 
 Ten thousand voices seem to cry, 
 " God made us all, and God is good." 
 
 The sun that keeps his trackless way, 
 And downward pours his golden flood, 
 
 Night's sparkling hosts, all seem to say 
 In accents clear, that God is good. 
 
 The merry birds prolong the strain, 
 Their song with every spring renewed ; 
 
 And balmy air, and falling rain, 
 
 Each softly whisper, " God is good." 
 
 I hear it in the rushing breeze ; 
 
 The hills that have for ages stood, 
 The echoing sky and roaring seas, 
 
 All swell the chorus, " God is good." 
 
 Yes, God is good, all Nature says, 
 
 By God's own hand with speech endued ; 
 
 And man, in louder notes of praise, 
 Should sing for joy that God is good. 
 
 For all Thy gifts we bless Thee, Lord ; 
 
 But chiefly for our heavenly food, 
 Thy pardoning grace, Thy quick'ning word ; 
 These prompt our song, that God is good. 
 John Hampden Gurney. 1 838 — 1 8 5 1 . 
 Varied from Eliza Lee Cabot. 1826. 
 
God the Creator, tg 
 
 XIX. 
 Nil laudibus nostris eges. 
 
 Our praise Thou need'st not ; but Thy love, 
 
 Our Father and our Friend, 
 Would have our prayers thus soar above, 
 
 In blessings to descend. 
 
 Thy secret judgments depths profound 
 
 Still sings the silent night ; 
 The day upon his golden round 
 
 Thy pity infinite. 
 
 The soul lost in astonishment 
 
 Would speechless wonder fill ; 
 But, in the ravish'd bosom pent, 
 
 Love cannot all be still. 
 
 Feeble and faint, she fain would tell 
 
 Of our great Father's love, 
 Tempering the ills that with us dwell, 
 
 And pledging good above. 
 
 Thither would our best thoughts aspire, 
 
 But chains on us abide ; 
 O quicken Thou our faint desire, 
 
 And to Thy presence guide ! 
 
 Isaac Williams. 1839, 
 
 XX. 
 
 Let all the world in every corner sing 
 My God and King ! 
 The heavens are not too high ; 
 His praise may thither fly : 
 c 2 
 
20 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The earth is not too low ; 
 His praises there may grow. 
 
 Let all the world in every corner sing 
 My God and King ! 
 The Church with psalms must shout ; 
 No door can keep them out : 
 But, above all, the heart 
 Must bear the longest part. 
 
 Let all the world in every corner sing 
 My God and King ! 
 
 George Herbert. 1632, 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Psalm CIV. 
 
 'O worship the King, 
 
 All glorious above ; 
 O gratefully sing 
 
 His power and His love ; 
 Our Shield and Defender, 
 
 The Ancient of days, 
 Pavilioned in splendour, 
 
 And girded with praise. 
 
 O tell of His might, 
 
 O sing of His grace, 
 Whose robe is the light, 
 
 Whose canopy space ; 
 His chariots of wrath 
 
 Deep thunder-clouds form, 
 And dark is His path 
 
 On the wings of the storm. 
 
God the Creato?-. 3 J 
 
 The earth, with its store 
 
 Of wonders untold, 
 Almighty, Thy power 
 
 Hath founded of old, 
 Hath stablish'd it fast 
 
 By a changeless decree, 
 And round it hath cast, 
 
 Like a mantle, the sea. 
 
 Thy bountiful care 
 
 What tongue can recite ? 
 It breathes in the air, 
 
 It shines in the light ; 
 It streams from the hills, 
 
 It descends to the plain, 
 And sweetly distils 
 
 In the dew and the rain. 
 
 Frail children of dust, 
 
 And feeble as frail, 
 In Thee do we trust, 
 
 Nor find Thee to fail : 
 Thy mercies how tender ! 
 
 How firm to the end ! 
 Our Maker, Defender, 
 
 Redeemer, and Friend ! 
 
 O measureless Might \ 
 
 Ineffable Love ! 
 While angels delight 
 
 To hymn Thee above, 
 The humbler creation, 
 
 Tho' feeble their lays, 
 With true adoration 
 
 Shall lisp to Thy praise. 
 
 Sir Robert Grant. [1S33.] 
 
22 The Book of Praise. 
 
 XXTI. 
 
 Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice, 
 From realm to realm the notes shall sound ; 
 
 And Heaven's exulting sons rejoice 
 To bear the full Hosanna round. 
 
 When, starting from the shades of night, 
 
 At dread Jehovah's high behest, 
 The Sun arrayed his limbs in light, 
 
 And Earth her virgin beauty drest; 
 
 Thy praise transported Nature sung 
 
 In pealing chorus loud and far ; 
 The echoing vault with rapture rung, 
 
 And shouted every morning star. 
 
 When, bending from His native sky, 
 The Lord of Life in mercy came, 
 
 And laid His bright effulgence by, 
 To bear on earth a human name ; 
 
 The song, by cherub voices raised, 
 
 Roll'd throygh the dark blue depths above ; 
 
 And Israel's shepherds heard amazed 
 The seraph notes of peace and love. 
 
 And shall not man the concert join, 
 For whom this bright creation rose ; 
 
 For whom the fires of morning shine, 
 And eve's still lamps, that woo repose ? 
 
 And shall not he the chorus swell, 
 Whose form tlie Incarnate Godhead wore ; 
 
 Whose guilt, whose fears, whose triumph tell 
 How deep the wounds his Saviour bore ? 
 
God the Creator. 23 
 
 Long as yon glittering arch shall bend, 
 
 Long as yon orbs in glory roll, 
 Long as the streams of life descend 
 
 To cheer with hope the fainting soul, 
 
 Thy praise shall fill each grateful voice, 
 Shall bid the song of rapture sound : 
 
 And heaven's exulting sons rejoice 
 To bear the full Hosanna round. 
 
 John Bowdler. 1814* 
 
 XXIIT. 
 
 Psalm CI 1 1. 
 
 Praise, my soul, the King of heaven ; 
 
 To His feet thy tribute bring ; 
 Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven, 
 
 Who like me His praise should sing ? 
 Praise Him ! praise Him ! 
 • Praise the everlasting King ! 
 
 Praise Him for His grace and favour, 
 
 To our fathers in distress ; 
 Praise Him, still the same for ever, 
 
 Slow to chide, and swift to bless ; 
 Praise Him ! praise him ! 
 
 Glorious in His faithfulness ! 
 
 Father-like He tends and spares us ; 
 
 Well our feeble frame he knows ; 
 In His hands He gently bears us, 
 
 Rescues us from all our foes : 
 Praise Him ! praise him ! 
 
 Widely as His mercy flows ! 
 
24 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Angels, help us to adore Him, 
 Ye behold Him face to face ; 
 Sun and moon, bow down before Him, 
 Dwellers all in time and space, 
 
 Praise Him ! praise Him ! 
 Praise with us the God of grace ! 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1 834. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Psalm CL. 
 
 Praise the Lord, His glories show, 
 Saints within His courts below, 
 Angels round His throne above, 
 All that see and share His love. 
 Earth to heaven, and heaven to earth, 
 Tell his wonders, sing his worth ; 
 Age to age, and shore to shore, 
 Praise Him, praise Him, evermore ! 
 
 Praise the Lord, His mercies trace ; 
 Praise His providence and grace, 
 All that He for man hath done, 
 All He sends us through His Son : 
 Strings and voices, hands and hearts, 
 In the concert bear your parts ; 
 All that breathe, your Lord adore, 
 Praise Him, praise Him, evermore ! 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1 834. 
 
God the Creator, 25 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Psalm CXLVIII. 
 
 Praise the Lord of Heaven, praise Him in the 
 
 height, 
 Praise Him, all ye angels, praise Him, stars and 
 
 light ; 
 Praise Him, skies, and waters, which above the skies, 
 When His word commanded, 'stablished did arise. 
 
 Praise the 'Lord, ye fountains of the deeps and seas, 
 Rocks and hills and mountains, cedars and all trees ; 
 Praise Him, clouds and vapours, snow, and hail, and 
 
 fire, 
 Stormy wind, fulfilling only His desire. 
 
 Praise Him, fowls and cattle, princes and all kings, 
 Praise Him, men and maidens, all created things ; 
 For the Name of God is excellent alone ; 
 Over earth His footstool, over heaven His throne. 
 Thomas Bag?iall Baker, 1 844. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Hark, my soul, how every thing 
 Strives to serve our bounteous King ; 
 Each a double tribute pays, 
 Sings its part, and then obeys. 
 
 Nature's chief and sweetest quire 
 Him with cheerful notes admire ; 
 Chanting every day their lauds, 
 While the grove their song applauds. 
 
26 The Book of Praise, 
 
 Though their voices lower be, 
 Streams have too their melody ; 
 Night and day they warbling run, 
 Never pause, but still sing on. 
 
 All the flowers that gild the spring 
 Hither their still music bring ; 
 If Heaven bless them, thankful they 
 Smell more sweet, and look more gay. 
 
 Only we can scarce afford 
 This short office to our Lord ; 
 We, on whom His bounty flows, 
 All things gives, and nothing owes. 
 
 Wake, for shame, my sluggish heart, 
 Wake, and gladly sing thy part ; 
 Learn of birds, and springs, and flowers, 
 How to use thy nobler powers. 
 
 Call whole nature to thy aid, 
 Since 'twas He whole nature made ; 
 Join in one eternal song, 
 Who to one God all belong. 
 
 Live for ever, glorious Lord ! 
 Live, by all Thy works ador'd ! 
 One in Three, and Three in One, 
 Thrice we bow to Thee alone ! 
 
 John Austin. 1668. 
 
God the Creator. 27 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Come, O come ! in pious lays 
 Sound we God Almighty's praise ; 
 Hither bring, in one consent, 
 Heart, and voice, and instrument . 
 Music add of every kind, 
 Sound the trump, the cornet wind, 
 Strike the viol, touch the lute, 
 Let not tongue nor string be mute ; 
 Nor a creature dumb be found 
 That hath either voice or sound. 
 
 Let those things which do not live 
 In still music praises give ; 
 Lowly pipe, ye worms that creep 
 On the earth or in the deep : 
 Loud aloft your voices strain, 
 Beasts and monsters of the main ; 
 Birds, your warbling treble sing ; 
 Clouds, your peals of thunder ring ; 
 Sun and moon, exalted higher, 
 And bright stars, augment the choir. 
 
 Come, ye sons of human race, 
 In this chorus take your place, 
 And amid the mortal throng 
 Be you masters of the song : 
 Angels and supernal powers, 
 Be the noblest tenor yours : 
 Let, in praise of God, the sound 
 Run a never-ending round, 
 That our song of praise may be 
 Everlasting, as is He. 
 
28 The Book of Praise. 
 
 From earth's vast and hollow womb, 
 Music's deepest base may come ; 
 Seas and floods, from shore to shore, 
 Shall their counter-tenors roar : 
 To this concert, when we sing, 
 Whistling winds your descants bring ; 
 That our song may over-climb 
 All the bounds of place and time, 
 And ascend, from sphere to sphere, 
 To the great Almighty's ear. 
 
 So from Heaven on earth He shall 
 Let His gracious blessings fall ; 
 And this huge wide orb we see 
 Shall one choir, one temple be ; 
 Where in such a praiseful tone 
 We will sing what He hath done, 
 That the cursed fiends below 
 Shall thereat impatient grow : 
 Then, O come, in pious lays 
 Sound we God Almighty's praise ! 
 
 George Wither. 1641. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 To God, ye choir above, begin 
 
 A hymn so loud and strong, 
 That all the universe may hear 
 
 And join the grateful song. 
 
 Praise Him, thou sun, Who dwells unseen 
 
 Amidst transcendent light, 
 Where thy refulgent orb would seem 
 
 A spot, as dark as night. 
 
God the Creator. 29 
 
 Thou silver moon, ye host of stars, 
 
 The universal song 
 Through the serene and silent night 
 
 To listening worlds prolong. 
 
 Sing Him, ye distant worlds and suns, 
 
 From whence no travelling ray 
 Hath yet to us, through ages past, 
 
 Had time to make its way. 
 
 Assist, ye raging storms, and bear 
 
 On rapid wings His praise, 
 From north to south, from east to west, 
 
 Through heaven, and earth, and seas. 
 
 Exert your voice, ye furious fires 
 
 That rend the watery cloud, 
 And thunder to this nether world 
 
 Your Maker's words aloud. 
 
 Ye works of God, that dwell unknown 
 
 Beneath the rolling main ; 
 Ye birds, that sing among the groves, 
 
 And sweep the azure plain ; 
 
 Ye stately hills, that rear your heads, 
 
 And towering pierce the sky ; 
 Ye clouds, that with an awful pace 
 
 Majestic roll on high ; 
 
 Ye insects small, to which one leaf 
 
 Within its narrow sides 
 A vast extended world displays, 
 
 And spacious realms provides ; 
 
30 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Ye race, still less than these, with which 
 
 The stagnant water teems, 
 To which one drop, however small, 
 
 A boundless ocean seems ; 
 
 Whate'er ye are, where'er ye dwell, 
 
 Ye creatures great or small, 
 Adore the wisdom, praise the power, 
 
 That made and governs all. 
 
 And if ye want or sense or sounds, 
 
 To swell the grateful noise, 
 Prompt mankind with that sense, and they 
 
 Shall find for you a voice. 
 
 From all the boundless realms of space 
 
 Let loud Hosannas sound ; 
 Loud send, ye wondrous works of God, 
 
 The grateful concert round. 
 
 Philip Skelton. 1 784. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 The strain upraise of joy and praise, 
 
 To the glory of their King 
 Shall the ransomed people sing, 
 
 Alleluia ! 
 Alleluia ! 
 
 And the choirs that dwell on high 
 Shall re-echo through the sky, 
 
 Alleluia ! 
 They through the fields of Paradise who roam, 
 The blessed ones, repeat through that bright home, 
 
 Alleluia I 
 
God the Creator. 3 1 
 
 The planets glittering on their heavenly way, 
 The shining constellations, join and say, 
 
 Alleluia ' 
 Ye clouds that onward sweep, 
 Ye winds on pinions light, 
 Ye thunders, echoing loud and deep, 
 Ye lightnings, wildly bright, 
 Tn sweet consent unite your Alleluia! 
 Ye floods and ocean billows, 
 Ye storms and winter snow, 
 Ye days of cloudless beauty, 
 Hoar frost and summer glow ; 
 Ye groves that wave in spring, 
 And glorious forests, sing 
 
 Alleluia ! 
 First let the birds, with painted plumage gay, 
 Exalt their great Creator's praise, and say 
 
 Alleluia! 
 Then let the beasts of earth, with varying strain, 
 Join in creation's hymn, and cry again, 
 
 Alleluia 
 Here let the mountains thunder forth sonorous, 
 
 Alleluia 
 There let the valleys sing in gentler chorus, 
 
 Alleluia 
 Thou jubilant abyss of ocean, cry 
 
 Ye tracts of earth and continents, reply 
 
 Alleluia 
 Alleluia 
 
 To God, Who all creation made, 
 The frequent hymn be duly paid ; 
 
 Alleluia 
 This is the strain, the eternal strain, the Lord 
 Almighty loves ; 
 
 Alleluia 
 
32 The Book of Praise. 
 
 This is the song, the heavenly song, that Christ 
 Himself approves ; 
 
 Alleluia ! 
 Wherefore we sing, both heart and voice awaking, 
 
 Alleluia ! 
 And children's voices echo, answer making, 
 
 Alleluia.! 
 Now from all men be outpoured 
 Alleluia to the Lord ; 
 With Alleluia evermore 
 The Son and Spirit we adore. 
 Praise be done to the Three in One, 
 Alleluia ! Alleluia ! Alleluia ! Alleluia ! 
 
 John Mason Neale. 185 1. 
 
 CHRIST INCARNATE. 
 III. 
 
 "And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only -begotten Son 
 of God, begotten of His Father before all ivorlds, God 
 of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, 
 Begotten, not made, being of one Substance with the 
 Father, by Whom all things wei'e made: 
 
 ' ' Who for us men, and for our salvation, came down 
 from Heaven, and was Lncamate by the Holy Ghost 
 of the Virgin Mary, and was made man. " 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Jam desinant susftiria? 
 
 Away with sorrow's sigh, 
 Our prayers are heard on high ; 
 And through Heaven's crystal door 
 On this our earthly floor 
 Comes meek-eyed Peace to walk with poor mortality. 
 
Christ Incarnate. 33 
 
 In dead of night profound, 
 There breaks a seraph sound 
 Of never-ending morn ; 
 The Lord of glory born 
 Within a holy grot on this our sullen ground. 
 
 Now with that shepherd crowd 
 If it might be allowed, 
 We fain would enter there 
 With awful hastening fear, 
 And kiss that cradle chaste in reverend worship 
 bowed. 
 
 O sight of strange surprise 
 That fills our gazing eyes : 
 A manger coldly strew'd, 
 And swaddling bands so rude, 
 A leaning mother poor, and child that helpless lies. 
 
 Art Thou, O wondrous sight, 
 Of lights the very Light ; 
 Who holdest in Thy hand 
 The sky and sea and land ; 
 Who than the glorious heavens art more exceeding 
 bright ? 
 
 'Tis so ; faith darts before, 
 And, through the cloud drawn o'er, 
 She sees the God of all, 
 Where angels prostrate fall, 
 Adoring tremble still, and trembling still adore. 
 
 No thunders round Thee break ; 
 Yet doth Thy silence speak 
 From that, Thy Teacher's seat, 
 To us around Thy feet, 
 To shun what flesh desires, what flesh abhors to seek. 
 
 D 
 
34 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Within us, Babe divine, 
 Be born, and make us Thine ; 
 Within our souls reveal 
 Thy love and power to heal ; 
 Be born, and make our hearts Thy cradle and Thy 
 shrine. 
 
 Isaac Williams. 1839. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 What sudden blaze of song 
 
 Spreads o'er the expanse of Heaven ? 
 In waves of light it thrills along, 
 Th' angelic signal given : 
 Glory to God ! from yonder central fire 
 Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry quire. 
 
 Like circles widening round 
 
 Upon a clear blue river, 
 Orb after orb, the wondrous sound 
 Is echoed on for ever: 
 " Glory to God on high, on earth be peace, 
 And love towards men of love, salvation and 
 release ! " 
 
 Yet stay, before thou dare 
 
 To join that festal throng ; 
 Listen, and mark what gentle air 
 First stirred the tide of song : 
 'Tis not, " the Saviour born in David's home, 
 To whom for power and health obedient worlds 
 should come." 
 
 'Tis not, "the Christ the Lord :" 
 With fixed adoring look 
 
Christ Incarnate. 35 
 
 The quire of angels caught the word, 
 Nor yet their silence broke : 
 But when they heard the sign, where Christ 
 should be, 
 In sudden light they shone, and heavenly harmony. 
 
 Wrapped in His swaddling bands, 
 
 And in His manger laid, 
 The Hope and Glory of all lands 
 Is come to the world's aid : 
 No peaceful home upon His cradle smil'd ; 
 Guests rudely went and came, where slept the royal 
 Child. 
 
 But where Thou dwellest, Lord, 
 No other thought should be, 
 Once duly welcomed and ador'd. 
 How should I part with Thee ? 
 Bethlehem must lose Thee soon ; but Thou wilt 
 grace 
 The single heart to be Thy sure abiding place. 
 
 Thee, on the bosom laid 
 Of a pure virgin mind, 
 In quiet ever and in shade 
 Shepherd and sage may find ; 
 They, who have bowed untaught to Nature's 
 sway, 
 And they, who follow Truth along her star-paved 
 way. 
 
 The pastoral spirits first 
 
 Approach Thee, Babe divine ; 
 For they in lowly thoughts are nurst, 
 
 Meet for Thy lowly shrine : 
 
 D2 
 
36 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Sooner than they .should miss where Thou dost 
 dwell, 
 Angels from Heaven will stoop to guide them to 
 Thy cell. 
 
 Still, as the day comes round 
 
 For Thee to be reveal'd, 
 By wakeful shepherds Thou art found 
 Abiding in the field : 
 All though the wintry heaven and chill night air 
 In music and in light Thou dawnest on their prayer. 
 
 O faint not ye for fear ! 
 
 What though your wandering sheep, 
 Reckless of what they see and hear 
 Lie lost in wilful sleep ? 
 High Heaven, in mercy to your sad annoy, 
 Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal joy. 
 
 Think on the eternal home 
 The Saviour left for you ; 
 Think on the Lord most Holy, come 
 To dwell with hearts untrue : 
 So shall ye tread untired His pastoral ways, 
 And in the darkness sing your carol of high praise. 
 
 John Keble. 1827. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 'Tis come, the time so oft foretold, 
 The time eternal love forecast ; 
 
 Four thousand years of hope have rolled, 
 And God hath sent His Son at last ; 
 
 Let heaven, let earth, adore the plan ; 
 
 Glory to God, and grace to man ! 
 
Christ Incarnate. 37 
 
 To swains that watch'd their nightly fold, 
 
 Of lowly lot, of lowly mind, 
 To these the tidings first were told, 
 
 That told of hope for lost mankind ; 
 God gives His Son ; no more He can ; 
 Glory to God, and grace to man ! 
 
 And well to shepherds first 'tis known, 
 The Lord of angels comes from high, « 
 
 In humblest aspect like their own, 
 Good Shepherd, for His sheep to die : 
 
 O height and depth, which who shall span ? 
 
 Glory to God, and grace to man ! 
 
 Fain with those meek, those happy swains, 
 Lord, I would hear that angel quire ; 
 
 Till, ravished by celestial strains, 
 My heart responds with holy fire ; 
 
 (That holy fire Thy breath must fan ;) 
 
 Glory to God, and grace to man ! 
 
 Tho7nas Grinfield. 1836. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 While shepherds watched their flocks by night 
 
 All seated on the ground, 
 The angel of the Lord came down, 
 
 And glory shone around. 
 
 " Fear not,'' said he ; (for mighty dread 
 Had seized their troubled mind ;) 
 
 " Glad tidings of great joy I bring 
 " To you and all mankind. 
 
38 The Book of Praise, 
 
 " To you, in David's town, this day 
 
 " Is born of David's line 
 " The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord ; 
 
 " And this shall be the sign. 
 
 " The heavenly Babe you there shall find 
 
 " To human view displayed, 
 u All meanly wrapt in swathing bands, 
 
 ? And in a manger laid." 
 
 Thus spake the Seraph ; and forthwith 
 
 Appeared a shining throng 
 Of angels, praising God, and thus 
 
 Address'd their joyful song. 
 
 " All glory be to God on high, 
 
 " And to the earth be peace ; 
 " Good will henceforth from Heaven to men 
 
 " Begin, and never cease ! " 
 
 Naham Tate, 1698. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Hark ! how all the welkin rings 
 Glory to the King of kings ! 
 Peace on earth, and mercy mild, 
 God and sinners reconciled ! 
 Joyful, all ye nations, rise, 
 Join the triumph of the skies ; 
 Universal nature say, 
 Christ the Lord is born to-day ! 
 
 Christ, by highest Heaven adored $ 
 Christ, the Everlasting Lord ; 
 Late in time behold Him come, 
 Offspring of a Virgin's womb : 
 
Christ Incarnate. 39 
 
 Veiled in flesh the Godhead see ; 
 Hail, th' Incarnate Deity, 
 Pleased as man with men to appear, 
 Jesus, our Immanuel here ! 
 
 Hail ! the heavenly Prince of Peace ! 
 Hail ! the Sun of Righteousness ! 
 Light and life to all He brings, 
 Risen with healing in His wings. 
 Mild He lays His glory by, 
 Born that man no more may die, 
 Born to raise the sons of earth, 
 Born to give them second birth. 
 
 Come, Desire of nations, come, 
 
 Fix in us Thy humble home ! 
 
 Rise, the Woman's conquering Seed, 
 
 Bruise in us the Serpent's head ! 
 
 Now display Thy saving power, 
 
 Ruined nature now restore, 
 
 Now in mystic union join 
 
 Thine to ours, and ours to Thine ! 
 
 Adam's likeness, Lord, efface ; 
 Stamp Thy image in its place ; 
 Second Adam from above, 
 Reinstate us in Thy love ! 
 Let us Thee, though lost, regain, 
 Thee, the Life, the Heavenly Man : 
 O ! to all Thyself impart, 
 Formed in each believing heart ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1739. 
 
40 The Book of Praise. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 We'll sing, in spite of scorn : 
 
 Our theme is come from Heaven : 
 To us a Child is born, 
 To us a Son is given ; 
 The sweetest news that ever came 
 We'll sing, though all the world should blame. 
 
 The long-expected morn 
 
 Has dawn'd upon the earth ; 
 The Saviour Christ is born, 
 And angels sing His birth : 
 We'll join the bright seraphic throng, 
 We'll share their joys, and swell their song. 
 
 O ! 'tis a lofty theme, 
 
 Supplied by angels' tongues ! 
 All other objects seem 
 Unworthy of our songs. 
 This sacred theme has boundless charms, 
 It fills, it captivates, it warms. 
 
 Now sing of peace divine, 
 Of grace to guilty man ; 
 No wisdom, Lord, but Thine 
 Could form the wondrous plan ; 
 Where peace and righteousness embrace, 
 And justice goes along with grace. 
 
 Give praise to God on high, 
 
 With angels round His throne ; 
 Give praise to God with joy, 
 Give praise to God alone ! 
 'Tis meet His saints their songs should raise, 
 And give the Saviour endless praise. 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1806 — 1836. 
 
Christ Incarnate. \l 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 The scene around me disappears, 
 
 And, borne to ancient regions, 
 While time recalls the flight of years, 
 
 I see angelic legions 
 Descending in an orb of light : 
 Amidst the dark and silent night 
 
 I hear celestial voices. 
 
 Tidings, glad tidings from above 
 
 To every age and nation ! 
 Tidings, glad tidings ! God is Love, 
 
 To man He sends salvation ! 
 His Son beloved, His only Son, 
 The work of mercy hath begun ; 
 
 Give to His Name the glory ! 
 
 Through David's city I am led ; 
 
 Here all around are sleeping ; 
 A Light directs to yon poor shed ; 
 
 There lonely watch is keeping : 
 I enter ; ah ! what glories shine ! 
 Is this Immanuel's earthly shrine, 
 
 Messiah's infant Temple ? 
 
 It is, it is ; and I adore 
 
 This Stranger meek and lowly, 
 As saints and angels bow before 
 
 The throne of God thrice Holy ! 
 Faith through the veil of flesh can see 
 The Face of Thy Divinity, 
 
 My Lord, my God, my Saviour ! 
 
 James Montgomery. 1825. 
 
42 The Book of Praise. 
 
 xxxvn. 
 
 Though rude winds usher thee, sweet day, 
 
 Though clouds thy face deform, 
 Though nature's grace is swept away 
 Before thy sleety storm ; 
 EVn in thy sombrest wintry vest, 
 Of blessed days thou art most blest. 
 
 Nor frigid air nor gloomy morn 
 
 Shall check our jubilee ; 
 Bright is the day when Christ was born, 
 No sun need shine but He ; 
 Let roughest storms their coldest blow, 
 With love of Him our hearts shall glow. 
 
 Inspired with high and holy thought, 
 
 Fancy is on the wing ; 
 It seems as to mine ear it brought 
 Those voices carolling, 
 Voices through heaven and earth that ran, 
 Glory to God, good will to man. 
 
 I see the shepherds gazing wild 
 At those fair spirits of light ; 
 I see them bending o'er the Child 
 With that untold delight 
 Which marks the face of those who view 
 Things but too happy to be true. 
 
 There, in the lowly manger laid, 
 
 Incarnate God they see ; 
 He stoops to take, through spotless maid, 
 Our frail humanity : 
 Son of high God, creation's Heir, 
 He leaves His Heaven to raise us there. 
 
Christ Incarnate. 43 
 
 Through Him, Lord, we are born anew, 
 
 Thy children once again ; 
 Oh ! day by day our hearts renew, 
 That Thine we may remain, 
 And, angel-like, may all agree, 
 One sweet and holy family. 
 
 Oft, as this joyous morn doth come 
 
 To speak our Saviour's love, 
 Oh, may it bear our spirits home, 
 Where He now reigns above ; 
 That day which brought Him from the skies, 
 And man restores to Paradise ! 
 
 Then let winds usher thee, sweet day, 
 
 Let clouds thy face deform ; 
 Though nature's grace is swept away 
 Before thy sleety storm ; 
 Ev'n in thy sombrest wintry vest 
 Of blessed days thou art most blest. 
 
 Sam uel Rickards. 1 8 25 . 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 It came upon the midnight clear, 
 
 That glorious song of old, 
 From angels bending near the earth 
 
 To touch their harps of gold : 
 " Peace on the earth, goodwill to men 
 
 From Heaven's all-gracious King:" 
 The world in solemn stillness lay 
 
 To hear the angels sing. 
 
 Still through the cloven skies they come 
 With peaceful wings unfurl'd ; 
 
44 The Book of Praise. 
 
 And still their heavenly music floats 
 
 O'er all the weary world : 
 Above its sad and lowly plains 
 
 They bend on hovering wing, 
 And ever o'er its Babel sounds 
 
 The blessed angels sing. 
 
 But with the woes of sin and strife 
 
 The world has suffered long ; 
 Beneath the angel-strain have rolled 
 
 Two thousand years of wrong ; 
 And man, at war with man, hears not 
 
 The love-song which they bring : 
 Oh ! hush the noise, ye men of strife, 
 
 And hear the angels sing ! 
 
 And ye, beneath life's crushing load 
 
 Whose forms are bending low, 
 Who toil along the climbing way 
 
 With painful steps and slow ; 
 Look now ! for glad and golden hours 
 
 Come swiftly on the wing : 
 Oh ! rest beside the weary road, 
 
 And hear the angels sing ! 
 
 For lo ! the days are hastening on, 
 
 By prophet-bards foretold, 
 When with the ever-circling years 
 
 Comes round the age of gold ; 
 When Peace shall over all the earth 
 
 Its ancient splendours fling, 
 And the whole world send back the song 
 
 Which now the angels sing. 
 
 Edm und Hamilton Sears. [1850.] 
 
Christ Incarnate. 45 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 The race that long in darkness pined 
 
 Have seen a glorious Light ; 
 The people dwell in Day, who dwelt 
 
 In Death's surrounding night. 
 
 To hail Thy rise, Thou better Sun, 
 
 The gathering nations come, 
 Joyous as when the reapers bear 
 
 The harvest-treasures home. 
 
 For Thou our burden hast removed, 
 And quell'd th' oppressor's sway, • 
 
 Quick as the slaughtered squadrons fell 
 In Midian's evil day. 
 
 To us a Child of Hope is born, 
 
 To us a Son is given ; 
 Him shall the tribes of earth obey, 
 
 Him all the hosts of heaven. 
 
 His Name shall be the Prince of Peace, 
 
 For evermore adored, 
 The Wonderful, the Counsellor, 
 
 The great and mighty Lord. 
 
 His power increasing still shall spread, 
 
 His reign no end shall know : 
 Justice shall guard His throne above, 
 
 And Peace abound below. 
 
 John Morrison. 1781 
 
46 The Book of Praise. 
 
 XL. 
 
 Bright was the guiding star that led 
 
 With mild benignant ray 
 The Gentiles to the lowly shed, 
 
 Where the Redeemer lay. 
 
 But lo ! a brighter, clearer light 
 
 Now points to His abode ; 
 It shines through sin and sorrow's night, 
 
 To guide us to our God. 
 
 O haste to follow where it leads ; 
 
 TJie gracious call obey ; 
 Be rugged wilds, or flowery meads, 
 
 The Christian's destined way. 
 
 O gladly tread the narrow path 
 While light and grace are given ! 
 
 Who meekly follow Christ on earth, 
 Shall reign with Him in heaven. 
 
 Harriett A titer. 1 829. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 As with gladness men of old 
 Did the guiding star behold ; 
 As with joy they hailed its light, 
 Leading onward, beaming bright ; 
 So, most gracious God, may we 
 Evermore be led to Thee. 
 
 As with joyful steps they sped 
 To that lowly manger-bed ; 
 There to bend the knee before 
 Him whom heaven and earth adore ; 
 
Christ Incarnate. 47 
 
 So may we with willing feet 
 Ever seek Thy mercy-seat. 
 
 As they offered gifts most rare 
 At that manger rude and bare ; 
 So may we with holy joy, 
 Pure, and free from sin's alloy, 
 All our costliest treasures bring, 
 Christ, to Thee, our heavenly King. 
 
 Holy Jesus ! every day 
 Keep us in the narrow way ; 
 And, when earthly things are past, 
 Bring our ransomed souls at last 
 Where they need no star to guide, 
 Where no clouds Thy glory hide. 
 
 In the heavenly country bright 
 Need they no created light ; 
 Thou its Light, its Joy, its Crown, 
 Thou its Sun, which goes not down : 
 There for ever may we sing 
 Alleluias to our King. 
 
 William Chatterton Dix. i860. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Hark, the glad sound ! the Saviour comes, 
 
 The Saviour promised long ; 
 Let every heart prepare a throne, 
 
 And every voice a song ! 
 
 He comes, the prisoners to release 
 
 In Satan's bondage held ; 
 The gates of brass before Him burst, 
 
 The iron fetters yield. 
 
48 The Book of Praise. 
 
 He comes, from thickest films of vice 
 
 To clear the mental ray, 
 And on the eye-balls of the blind 
 
 To pour celestial day. 
 
 He comes, the broken heart to bind, 
 
 The bleeding soul to cure, 
 And with the treasures of His grace 
 
 To enrich the humble poor. 
 
 Our glad Hosannas, Prince of Peace, 
 
 Thy welcome shall proclaim, 
 And heaven's eternal arches ring 
 
 With thy beloved name. 
 
 Ph Hip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 XLIIT. 
 
 Lo ! He comes ! let all adore Him ! 
 
 'Tis the God of grace and truth ! 
 Go ! prepare the way before Him, 
 
 Make the rugged places smooth ! 
 Lo ! He comes, the mighty Lord ! 
 Great His work, and His reward. 
 
 Let the valleys all be raised ; 
 
 Go, and make the crooked straight ; 
 Let the mountains be abased ; 
 
 Let all nature change its state ; 
 Through the desert mark a road, 
 Make a highway for our God. 
 
 Through the desert God is going, 
 Through the desert waste and wild, 
 
 Where no goodly plant is growing, 
 Where no verdure ever smiled ; 
 
Christ Incarnate. 49 
 
 But the desert shall be glad, 
 And with verdure soon be clad. 
 
 Where the thorn and briar flourish'd, 
 Trees shall there be seen to grow, 
 
 Planted by the Lord and nourish' d, 
 Stately, fair, and fruitful too ; 
 
 They shall rise on every side, 
 
 They shall spread their branches wide. 
 
 From the hills and lofty mountains 
 
 Rivers shall be seen to flow, 
 There the Lord will open fountains, 
 
 Thence supply the plains below ; 
 As He passes, every land 
 Shall confess His powerful hand* 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1 809. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Psalm XCVIII. 
 
 Joy to the world, the Lord is come ; 
 
 Let earth receive her King ; 
 Let every heart prepare Him room, 
 
 And heaven and nature sing. 
 
 Joy to the earth ! the Saviour reigns ; 
 
 Let men their songs employ ; 
 While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains 
 
 Repeat the sounding joy. 
 
 No more let sins and sorrows grow, 
 
 Nor thorns infest the ground : 
 He comes to make His blessings flow 
 
 Far as the curse is found. 
 E 
 
$o The Book of Praise. 
 
 He rules the world with truth and grace. 
 
 And makes the nations prove 
 The glories of His righteousness, 
 
 And wonders of His love. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709, 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Thus saith God of His Anointed ; 
 
 He shall let My people go ; 
 'Tis the work for Him appointed, 
 
 'Tis the work that He shall do ; 
 And My city 
 He shall found, and build it too. 
 
 He whom man with scorn refuses, 
 
 /Whom the favoured nation hates, 
 He it is Jehovah chooses, 
 
 Him the highest place awaits ; 
 Kings and princes 
 Shall do homage at His gates. 
 
 He shall humble all the scorners, 
 He shall fill His foes with shame ; 
 
 He shall raise and comfort mourners 
 By the sweetness of His Name ; 
 To the captives 
 
 He shall liberty proclaim. 
 
 He shall gather those that wandeiM ; 
 
 When they hear the trumpet's sound* 
 They shall join the sacred standard, 
 They shall come and flock around ; 
 
 He shall save them, 
 They shall be with glory crown'd. 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1809. 
 
Christ Incarnate. 5 1 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 O for a thousand tongues to sing 
 
 My dear Redeemer's praise, 
 The glories of my God and King, 
 
 The triumphs of His grace ! 
 
 My gracious Master and my God, 
 
 Assist me to proclaim, 
 To spread, through all the earth abroad, 
 
 The honours of Thy Name. 
 
 Jesus, the Name that charms our fears, 
 
 That bids our sorrows cease ; 
 'Tis music in the sinner's ears, 
 
 'Tis life, and health, and peace ! 
 
 He speaks, and, listening to His voice, 
 
 New life the dead receive ; 
 The mournful, broken hearts rejoice, 
 
 The humble poor believe. 
 
 Hear Him, ye deaf; His praise, ye dumb, 
 Your loosened tongues employ ; 
 
 Ye blind, behold your Saviour come, 
 And leap, ye lame, for joy ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1743. 
 
 XLVlL 
 
 Mow sweet the Name of jestts sounds 
 
 In a believer's ear! 
 tt soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, 
 
 And drives away his fear ! 
 E ? 
 
52 The Book of Praise. 
 
 It makes the wounded spirit whole, 
 And calms the troubled breast ; 
 
 'Tis manna to the hungry soul, 
 And to the weary rest. 
 
 Dear Name ! the rock on which I build, 
 
 My shield and hiding-place, 
 My never-failing treasury, fill'd 
 
 With boundless stores of grace, 
 
 By Thee my prayers acceptance gain, 
 
 Although with sin defiled ; 
 Satan accuses me in vain, 
 
 And I am owned a child. 
 
 Jesus, my Shepherd, Husband, Friend, 
 My Prophet, Priest, and King, 
 
 My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End, 
 Accept the praise I bring. 
 
 Weak is the effort of my heart, 
 And cold my warmest thought ; 
 
 But, when I see Thee as Thou art, 
 I'll praise Thee as I ought. 
 
 Till then, I would Thy love proclaim 
 
 With every fleeting breath ; 
 And may the music of Thy Name 
 
 Refresh my soul in death ! 
 
 John Newton. 1779. 
 
Christ Crucified. 53 
 
 IV. 
 
 { And was Crucified for us under Pontius Pilate ; He 
 suffered, and was buried." 
 
 XLV1II. 
 
 When I survey the wondrous cross 
 On which the Prince of glory died, 
 
 My richest gain I count but loss, 
 And pour contempt on all my pride. 
 
 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast 
 Save in the death of Christ, my God ; 
 
 All the vain things that charm me most 
 I sacrifice them to His blood. 
 
 See from His head, His hands, His feet, 
 Sorrow and love flow mingled down ! 
 
 Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, 
 Or thorns compose so rich a crown ? 
 
 Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
 That were a present far too small ; 
 
 Love so amazing, so divine, 
 
 Demands my soul, my life, my all. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 We sing the praise of Him Who died, 
 Of Him Who died upon the cross ; 
 
 The sinner's hope let men deride. 
 For this we count the world but loss. 
 
54 The Book of Praise, 
 
 Inscribed upon the cross we see 
 In shining letters, God is Love ; 
 
 He bears our sins upon the tree, 
 He brings us mercy from above. 
 
 The Cross ! it takes our guilt away ; 
 
 It holds the fainting spirit up ; 
 It cheers with hope the gloomy day, 
 
 And sweetens every bitter cup ; 
 
 It makes the coward spirit brave, 
 And nerves the feeble arm for fight ; 
 
 It takes its terror from the grave, 
 And gilds the bed of death with light ; 
 
 The balm of life, the cure of woe, 
 The measure and the pledge of love, 
 
 The sinner's refuge here below, 
 The angels' theme in heaven above. 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1 8 1 5 . 
 
 L. 
 
 Lord Jesu, when we stand afar 
 And gaze upon Thy Holy Cross, 
 
 In love of Thee and scorn of self, 
 Oh ! may we count the world as loss. 
 
 When we behold Thy bleeding wounds, 
 And the rough way that Thou hast trod, 
 
 Make us to hate the load of sin 
 That lay so heavy on our God. 
 
 Oh holy Lord ! uplifted high 
 
 With outstretched arms, in mortal woe, 
 Embracing in Thy wondrous love 
 
 The sinful world that lies below. 
 
Christ Crucified. 55 
 
 Give us an ever living faith 
 To gaze beyond the things we see ; 
 
 And in the mystery of Thy Death 
 Draw us and all men unto Thee ! 
 
 William Walsham How. [1854, 
 
 Li. 
 
 Beneath Thy cross I lay me down, 
 And mourn to see Thy bloody crown ; 
 Love drops in blood from every vein ; 
 Love is the spring of all His pain. 
 
 Here, Jesus, I shall ever stay, 
 And spend my longing hours away, 
 Think on Thy bleeding wounds and pain, 
 And contemplate Thy woes again. 
 
 The rage of Satan and of sin, 
 Of foes without, and fears within, 
 Shall ne'er my conquering soul remove 
 Or from Thy cross, or from Thy love. 
 
 Secured from harms beneath Thy shade, 
 Here death and hell shall ne'er invade ; 
 Nor Sinai, with its thundering noise, 
 Shall e'er disturb my happier joys. 
 
 O unmolested happy rest ! 
 Where inward fears are all supprest ; 
 Here I shall love, and live secure, 
 And patiently my cross endure. 
 
 William Williams. 1772, 
 
56 The Book of Praise, 
 
 LII. 
 
 Plunged in a gulf of dark despair 
 
 We wretched sinners lay, 
 Without one cheerful beam of hope, 
 
 Or spark of glimmering day. 
 
 With pitying eyes the Prince of Grace 
 
 Beheld our helpless grief : 
 He saw, and oh ! amazing love ! 
 
 He ran to our relief. 
 
 Down from the shining seats above 
 
 With joyful haste He fled ; 
 Entered the grave in mortal flesh, 
 
 And dwelt among the dead. 
 
 Oh ! for this love, let rocks and hills 
 
 Their lasting silence break, 
 And all harmonious human tongues 
 
 The Saviour's praises speak ! 
 
 Angels, assist our mighty joys ; 
 
 Strike all your harps of gold ! 
 But, when you raise your highest notes, 
 
 His love can ne'er be told. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
 Li 1 1. 
 
 Psalm VIII. 
 
 O Lord, how good, how great art Thou, 
 In heaven and earth the same ! 
 
 There angels at Thy footstool bow, 
 Here babes Thy grace proclaim , 
 
Christ Crucified. 57 
 
 When glorious in the nightly sky 
 
 Thy moon and stars I see, 
 O, what is man ! I wondering cry, 
 
 To be so loved by Thee ! 
 
 To him Thou hourly deign'st to give 
 
 New mercies from on high ; 
 Didst quit Thy Throne with him to live, 
 
 For him in pain to die. 
 
 Close to Thine own bright seraphim 
 
 His favoured path is trod ; 
 And all beside are serving him, 
 
 That he may serve his God. 
 
 O Lord, how good, how great art Thou, 
 
 In heaven and earth the same ! 
 There angels at Thy footstool bow, 
 
 Here babes Thy grace proclaim. 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1834. 
 
 Liv. 
 
 Blow ye the trumpet, blow, 
 
 The gladly solemn sound ; 
 Let all the nations know, 
 To earth's remotest bound ; 
 The year of Jubilee is come ; 
 Return, ye ransomed sinners, home. 
 
 Jesus, our great High Priest, 
 Hath full atonement made ; 
 Ye weary spirits, rest ; 
 
 Ye mournful souls, be glad : 
 The year of Jubilee is come ; 
 Return, ye ransomed sinners, home. 
 
58 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Extol the Lamb of God, 
 
 The all-atoning Lamb ; 
 Redemption in His blood 
 Throughout the world proclaim : 
 The year of Jubilee is come ; 
 Return, ye ransomed sinners, home. 
 
 Ye slaves of sin and hell, 
 
 Your liberty receive ; 
 And safe in Jesus dwell, 
 And blest in Jesus live : 
 The year of Jubilee is come ; 
 Return, ye ransomed sinners, home. 
 
 Ye, who have sold for nought 
 
 Your heritage above, 
 Shall have it back unbought, 
 The gift of Jesus' love ; 
 The year of Jubilee is come ; 
 Return, ye ransomed sinners, home. 
 
 The Gospel Trumpet hear, 
 
 The news of heavenly grace ; 
 And, saved from earth, appear 
 Before your Saviour's face : 
 The year of Jubilee is come ; 
 Return, ye ransomed sinners, home. 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1751. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Now let us join with hearts and tongues, 
 And emulate the angels' songs ; 
 Yea, sinners may address their King 
 In songs that angels cannot sing. 
 
Christ Crucified. 50 
 
 They praise the Lamb who once was slain ; 
 But we can add a higher strain ; 
 Not only say, He suffered thus, 
 But that He suffered all for us. 
 
 Jesus, who pass'd the angels by, 
 Assumed our flesh to bleed and die ; 
 And still He makes it His abode ; 
 As man He fills the throne of God* 
 
 Our next of kin, our Brother now, 
 Is He to whom the angels bow ; 
 They join with us to praise His Name, 
 But we the nearest interest claim. 
 
 But ah ! how faint our praises rise ! 
 Sure 'tis the wonder of the skies, 
 That we, who share His richest love, 
 So cold and unconcern'd should prove. 
 
 O glorious hour ! it comes with speed, 
 When we, from sin and darkness freed, 
 Shall see the God who died for man, 
 And praise Him more than angels can. 
 
 John Newton. 1779 
 
 LVI. 
 
 O Saviour, may we never rest 
 
 Till Thou art form'd within ; 
 Till Thou hast calm'd our troubled breast, 
 
 And crush'd the power of sin. 
 
 O may we gaze upon Thy cross, 
 
 Until the wondrous sight 
 Makes earthly treasures seem but dross, 
 
 And earthly sorrows light. 
 
60 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Until, releas'd from carnal ties, 
 
 Our spirit upward springs, 
 And sees true peace above the skies, 
 
 True joy in heavenly things. 
 
 There as we gaze, may we become 
 
 United, Lord, to Thee ; 
 And in a fairer, happier home, 
 
 Thy perfect beauty see. 
 
 William Hiley BathursL 1831. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Saviour, I lift my trembling eyes 
 
 To that bright seat, where, placed on high, 
 The great, the atoning Sacrifice, 
 
 For me, for all, is ever nigh. 
 
 Be Thou my guard on peril's brink ; 
 
 Be Thou my guide through weal or woe ; 
 And teach me of Thy cup to drink, 
 
 And make me in Thy path to go. 
 
 For what is earthly change or loss ? 
 
 Thy promises are still my own : 
 The feeblest frame may bear Thy cross, 
 
 The lowliest spirit share Thy Throne. 
 
 Anon. " M. G. T" 1831. 
 
Christ Risen. 61 
 
 CHRIST RISEN. 
 
 ^ And the third day He rose again, according to the 
 Scriptures. " 
 
 LVIIT. 
 
 Again the Lord of Life and Light 
 
 Awakes the kindling ray, 
 Unseals the eyelids of the morn, 
 
 And pours increasing day. 
 
 O what a night was that which wrapt 
 
 The heathen world in gloom ! 
 O what a sun, which broke this day 
 
 Triumphant from the tomb ! 
 
 This day be grateful homage paid, 
 
 And loud hosannas sung ; 
 Let gladness dwell in every heart, 
 
 And praise on every tongue. 
 
 Ten thousand differing lips shall join 
 
 To hail this welcome morn, 
 Which scatters blessings from its wings 
 
 To nations yet unborn. 
 
 The powers of darkness leagued in vain 
 
 To bind His Soul in death ; 
 He shook their kingdom, when He fell, 
 
 With His expiring breath. 
 
62 The Book of Praise. 
 
 And now His conquering chariot wheels 
 
 Ascend the lofty skies ; 
 While broke beneath His powerful cross 
 
 Death's iron sceptre lies. 
 
 Exalted high at God's right hand, 
 
 The Lord of all below, 
 Through Him is pardoning love dispens'd, 
 
 And boundless blessings flow. 
 
 And still for erring guilty man 
 
 A Brother's pity flows ; 
 And still His bleeding heart is touch'd 
 
 With memory of our woes. 
 
 To Thee, my Saviour and my King, 
 
 Glad homage let me give ; 
 And stand prepared like Thee to die, 
 
 With Thee that I may live ! 
 
 Anna Lcetitia Barbauld. 1773. 
 
 LlX. 
 
 Christ the Lord is risen to-day, 
 Sons of men and angels say : 
 Raise your joys and triumphs high, 
 Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply. 
 
 Love's redeeming work is done, 
 Fought the fight, the battle won : 
 Lo ! our Sun's eclipse is o'er ; 
 Lo ! He sets in blood no more. 
 
 Vain the stone, the watch, the seal ; 
 Christ hath burst the gates of hell I 
 
Christ kisen. &$ 
 
 t)eath in vain forbids His rise ; 
 Christ hath open'd Paradise ! 
 
 Lives again our glorious King : 
 Where, O Death, is now thy sting ? 
 Once He died, our souls to save : 
 Where thy victory, O Grave ? 
 
 Soar we now where Christ has led, 
 Following our exalted Head ; 
 Made like Him, like Him we rise ; 
 Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. 
 
 What though once we perish' d all, 
 Partners in our parents' fall ? 
 Second life we all receive, 
 In our Heavenly Adam live. 
 
 Risen with Him, we upward move ; 
 Still we seek the things above ; 
 Still pursue, and kiss the Son 
 Seated on His Father's Throne. 
 
 Scarce on earth a thought bestow, 
 Dead to all we leave below ; 
 Heav'n our aim, and loved abode, 
 Hid our life with Christ in God : 
 
 Hid, till Christ our Life appear 
 Glorious in His members here ; 
 Join'd to Him, we then shall shine, 
 All immortal, all divine. 
 
 Hail the Lord of Earth and Heaven ! 
 Praise to Thee by both be given I 
 Thee we greet triumphant now I 
 Hail, the Resurrection Thou I 
 
64 The Book of Praise. 
 
 King of glory, Soul of bliss ! 
 Everlasting life is this, 
 Thee to know, Thy power to prove, 
 
 Thus to sing, and thus to love ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1743. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Jesus Christ is risen to-day, Hallelujah ! 
 
 Our triumphant holy day, Hallelujah ! 
 
 Who did once upon the cross Hallelujah ! 
 
 Suffer to redeem our loss ; Hallelujah ! 
 
 Hymns of praises let us sing Hallelujah ! 
 
 Unto Christ our heavenly King, Hallelujah ! 
 
 Who endured the cross and grave, Hallelujah ! 
 
 Sinners to redeem and save ; Hallelujah ! 
 
 But the pain that He endured, 
 Our salvation has procured : 
 Now above the sky He's king, 
 Where the angels ever sing 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 Hallelujah ! 
 Hallelujah ! 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 Sing we to our God above Hallelujah ! 
 
 Praise eternal as His love ; Hallelujah ! 
 
 Praise Him, all ye heavenly host, Hallelujah ! 
 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ; Hallelujah ! 
 
 Anon. [1708. J 
 {Last stanza by Charles Wesley.) 
 
 LXI. 
 Ad temftla nos rnrsns vocat 
 
 Now morning lifts her dewy veil 
 With new-born blessings crown'd : 
 
 Oh ! haste we then her light to hail 
 In courts of holy ground ! 
 
Christ Risen. 65 
 
 But Christ, triumphant o'er the grave, 
 
 Shines more divinely bright : 
 Oh ! sing we then His power to save, 
 
 And walk we in His light ! 
 
 When from the swaddling bands of shade, 
 
 Sprang forth the world so fair, 
 In robes of brilliancy arrayed, 
 
 Oh, what a Power was there ! 
 
 When He, who gave His guiltless Son 
 
 A guilty world to spare, 
 Restored to life the Holy One, 
 
 Oh, what a Love was there ! 
 
 When forth from its Creator's hand 
 
 The earth in beauty stood, 
 All decked with light at His command, 
 
 He saw, and called it good. 
 
 But still more lovely in His sight, 
 
 The earth still fairer stood, 
 When the Holy Lamb had wash'd it white 
 
 In His atoning blood. 
 
 Still, as the morning rays return, 
 
 To the pious soul 'tis given 
 In fancy's mirror to discern 
 
 The radiant domes of Heaven. 
 
 But now that our eternal Sun 
 
 Hath shed His beams abroad, 
 In Him we see the Holy One, 
 
 And mount at once to God. 
 F 
 
66 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Oh, holy, blessed Three in One ! 
 May Thy pure light be given, 
 That we the paths of death may shun, 
 And keep the road to Heaven ! 
 
 John Chandler. 1837. 
 Variation from Isaac Williams. 1834. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 The Son of God ! the Lord of Life ! 
 
 How wondrous are His ways ! 
 O for a harp of thousand strings, 
 
 To sound abroad his praise ! 
 How passing strange, to leave the seat 
 
 Of Heaven's eternal throne, 
 And hosts of glittering Seraphim, 
 
 For guilty man alone ! 
 
 And did He bow His sacred head, 
 
 And die a death of shame ? 
 Let men and angels magnify 
 
 And bless His holy name ! 
 O let us live in peace and love, 
 
 And cast away our pride, 
 And crucify our sins afresh. 
 
 As He was crucified ! 
 
 He rose again ; then let us rise 
 
 From sin, and Christ adore, 
 And dwell in peace with all mankind, 
 
 And tempt the Lord no more : 
 The Son of God ! the Lord of Life ! 
 
 How wondrous are His ways ! 
 O for a harp of thousand strings 
 
 To sound abroad His praise ! 
 
 George Mogridge. [ 1 85 1 .] 
 
Christ Risen. 67 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Salvation ! oh ! the joyful sound ! 
 
 'Tis pleasure to our ears ! 
 A sovereign balm for every wound, 
 
 A cordial for our fears ! 
 
 Buried in sorrow and in sin, 
 
 At hell's dark door we lay ; 
 But we arise, by grace Divine, 
 
 To see a heavenly day. 
 
 Salvation ! let the echo fly 
 
 The spacious earth around, 
 While all the armies of the sky 
 
 Conspire to raise the sound ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 The foe behind, the deep before, 
 
 Our hosts have dared and past the sea : 
 And Pharaoh's warriors strew the shore, 
 And Israel's ransom'd tribes are free. 
 Lift up, lift up your voices now ! 
 The whole wide world rejoices now ! 
 The Lord hath triumph' d gloriously ! 
 The Lord shall reign victoriously ! 
 Happy morrow, 
 Turning sorrow 
 
 Into peace and mirth ! 
 Bondage ending, 
 Love descending 
 O'er the earth ! 
 F 2 
 
68 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Seals assuring, 
 Guards securing, 
 
 Watch His earthly prison : 
 Seals are shattered, 
 Guards are scattered, 
 
 Christ hath risen ! 
 
 No longer must the mourners weep, 
 
 Nor call departed Christians dead ; 
 For death is hallowed into sleep 
 And every grave becomes a bed. 
 Now once more, 
 Eden's door 
 Open stands to mortal eyes ; 
 For Christ hath risen, and men shall rise : 
 Now at last, 
 Old things past, 
 Hope and joy and peace begin : 
 For Christ hath won, and man shall win. 
 
 It is not exile, rest on high : 
 
 It is not sadness, peace from strife : 
 To fall asleep is not to die ; 
 
 To dwell with Christ is better life. 
 Where our banner leads us, 
 
 We may safely go : 
 Where our Chief precedes us, 
 
 We may face the foe. 
 His right arm is o'er us, 
 
 He will guide us through ; 
 Christ hath gone before us ; 
 Christians ! follow you ! 
 
 John Mason Neale. 1851 
 
Christ Ascended. 69 
 
 VI. 
 
 CHRIST ASCENDED. 
 
 u And ascended into Heaven ; and sitteth on the right 
 hand of the Father" 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Thou art gone up on high 
 
 To mansions in the skies, 
 And round Thy throne unceasingly 
 
 The songs of praise arise. 
 But we are lingering here 
 
 With sin and care oppress'd ; 
 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 agony 
 
 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. 
 Oh ! by Thy saving power 
 
 So make us live and die, 
 That we may stand, in that dread-hour, 
 
 At Thy right hand on high ! 
 
 Emma Toke. 1 851. 
 
jo The Book of Praise. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Thou, who didst stoop below 
 
 To drain the cup of woe 
 Wearing the form of frail mortality, 
 
 Thy blessed labours done, 
 
 Thy crown of victory won, 
 Hast pass'd from earth, pass'd to Thy home on 
 high. 
 
 It was no path of flowers 
 
 Through this dark world of ours, 
 Beloved of the Father, Thou didst tread : 
 
 And shall we in dismay 
 
 Shrink from the narrow way, 
 When clouds and darkness are around it spread ? 
 
 O Thou, who art our life, 
 
 Be with us through the strife ! 
 Thy holy head by earth's fierce storms was bowed ; 
 
 Raise Thou our eyes above, 
 
 To see a Father's love 
 Beam, like the bow of promise, through the cloud. 
 
 E'en through the awful gloom 
 Which hovers o'er the tomb, 
 That light of love our guiding star shall be : 
 Our spirits shall not dread 
 The shadowy way to tread, 
 Friend, Guardian, Saviour ! which doth lead to 
 Thee. 
 
 Sarah Appleton Miles. [1840.] 
 
Christ Ascended. j\ 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 To Him, who for our sins was slain, 
 To Him, for all His dying pain, 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah j 
 To Him, the Lamb our sacrifice, 
 Who gave His soul our ransom-price, 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 
 To Him, who died that we might die 
 To sin, and live with Him on high, 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 To Him, who rose that we might rise 
 And reign with Him beyond the skies, 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 
 To Him, who now for us doth plead 
 And helpeth us in all our need, 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 To Him, who doth prepare on high 
 Our home in immortality, 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 
 To Him be glory evermore ; 
 
 Ye heavenly hosts, your Lord adore ; 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 One God most great, our joy and boast, 
 
 Sing we Hallelujah ! 
 
 Arthur Tozer Russell. 1 85 1 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Saviour, when in dust to Thee 
 Low we bend the adoring knee ; 
 When repentant to the skies 
 Scarce we lift our weeping eyes ,• 
 
72 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Oh ! by all the pains and woe 
 Suffer'd once for man below, 
 Bending from Thy throne on high, 
 Hear our solemn Litany ! 
 
 By Thy helpless infant years, 
 By Thy life of want and tears, 
 By Thy days of sore distress 
 In the savage wilderness ; 
 By the dread mysterious hour 
 Of the insulting tempter's power ; 
 Turn, oh ! turn a favouring eye, 
 Hear our solemn Litany ! 
 
 By the sacred griefs that wept 
 O'er the grave where Lazarus slept ; 
 By the boding tears that flowed 
 Over Salem's lov'd abode ; 
 By the anguish'd sigh that told 
 Treachery lurk'd within Thy fold ; 
 From Thy seat above the sky, 
 Hear our solemn Litany ! 
 
 By Thine hour of dire despair ; 
 By Thine agony of prayer ; 
 By the cross, the nail, the thorn, 
 Piercing spear, and torturing scorn ; 
 By the gloom that veil'd the skies 
 O'er the dreadful sacrifice ; 
 Listen to our humble cry, 
 Hear our solemn Litany ! 
 
 By Thy deep expiring groan ; 
 By the sad sepulchral stone ; 
 By the vault, whose dark abode 
 Held in vain the rising God ; 
 
Christ Ascended. 73 
 
 Oh ! from earth to heaven restored, 
 Mighty re-ascended Lord, 
 Listen, listen to the cry 
 Of our solemn Litany ! 
 
 Sir Robert Grant. 1 8 1 5 . 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Saviour, who, exalted high 
 In Thy Father's majesty, 
 Yet vouchsaf'st Thyself to show 
 To Thy faithful flock below • 
 Foretaste of that blissful sight, 
 When, arrayed in glorious light, 
 Beaming with paternal grace, 
 They shall see Thee face to face : 
 Saviour, though this earthly shroud 
 Now my mortal vision cloud, 
 Still Thy presence let me see, 
 Manifest Thyself to me ! 
 
 Son of God, to Thee I cry : 
 
 By the holy mystery 
 
 Of Thy dwelling here on earth, 
 
 By thy pure and holy birth, 
 
 Offspring of the Virgin's womb ; 
 
 By the light, through midnight gloom 
 
 Bursting on the shepherds' gaze ; 
 
 By the angels' song of praise : 
 
 By the leading of the star, 
 
 The Eastern sages' guide from far ; 
 
 By their gifts, with worship meet 
 
 Offer'd at thy infant feet : 
 
 Lord, Thy presence let me see, 
 
 Manifest Thyself to me ! 
 
 Man of sorrows, hear me cry ! 
 By Thy great humility ; 
 
74 The Book of Praise. 
 
 By Thy meekly-bowed head ; 
 
 By Thy gentle spirit, fled 
 
 To the mansions of the dead ; 
 
 By the wound, whence issuing flow'd 
 
 Water mingled with Thy blood ; 
 
 By Thy breathless body, laid 
 
 In the rock's sepulchral shade, 
 
 Where man ne'er before reposed, 
 
 Straightly watch'd, securely closed ; 
 
 Lord, Thy presence let me see, 
 
 Manifest Thyself to me ! 
 
 Lord of Glory, God most high, 
 Man exalted to the sky, 
 God and man, to Thee I cry ! 
 With Thy love my bosom fill, 
 Prompt me to perform Thy will ; 
 Grant me, what Thou bidd'st, to do ; 
 What Thou proffer'st to pursue : 
 So may He, the Sire above, 
 Guard me with a Parent's love ! 
 So may He, the Spirit blest, 
 Whisper comfort, hope, and rest ! 
 So mayst Thou, my Saviour, come, 
 Make this fro ward heart Thy home, 
 And manifest Thyself to me 
 In the Triune Deity ! 
 
 Bishop Richard Mant. 1 828. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 Jesu ! behold, the Wise from far, 
 Led to Thy cradle by a star, 
 
 Bring gifts to Thee, their God and King ! 
 O guide us by Thy light, that we 
 The way may find, and still to Thee 
 
 Our hearts, our all, for tribute bring ! 
 
Christ Ascended. 75 
 
 Jesu ! the pure, the spotless Lamb, 
 Who to the Temple humbly came, 
 
 Duteous, the legal rites to pay ! 
 O make our proud, our stubborn will 
 All Thy wise, gracious laws fulfil, 
 
 Whate'er rebellious nature say ! 
 
 Jesu ! who on the fatal wood 
 
 Pour'dst out Thy life's last drop of blood, 
 
 Nailed to the accursed shameful cross ! 
 O may we bless Thy love, and be 
 Ready, dear Lord, to bear for thee 
 
 All shame, all grief, all pain, and loss ! 
 
 Jesu ! who, by Thine own love slain, 
 By Thine own Power took'st life again, 
 
 And Conqueror from the grave didst rise ! 
 O may Thy death our souls revive, 
 And ev'n on earth a new life give, 
 
 A glorious life, that never dies ! 
 
 Jesu ! who to Thy heaven again 
 Return'dst in triumph, there to reign, 
 
 Of men and angels sovereign king ! 
 O may our parting souls take flight 
 Up to that land of joy and light, 
 
 And there for ever grateful sing ! 
 
 All glory to the sacred Three, 
 One undivided Deity ! 
 
 All honour, power, and love, and praise ! 
 Still may Thy blessed Name shine bright 
 In beams of uncreated light, 
 
 Crown'd with its own eternal rays ! 
 
 Variation from Joh?i Austin. 1668. 
 By John Wesley, 1739. 
 
y6 The Book of Praise. 
 
 LXXT. 
 
 Hail, Thou once despised Jesus, 
 
 Hail, thou Galilean king ! 
 Thou didst suffer to release us, 
 
 Thou didst free salvation bring : 
 Hail, Thou agonizing Saviour, 
 
 Bearer of our sin and shame ; 
 By Thy merits we find favour ; 
 
 Life is given through Thy Name ! 
 
 Paschal Lamb, by God appointed; 
 
 All our sins were on Thee laid ; 
 By Almighty Love anointed, 
 
 Thou hast full atonement made : 
 All Thy people are forgiven 
 
 Through the virtue of Thy Blood ; 
 Opened is the gate of Heaven ; 
 
 Peace is made 'twixt man and God. 
 
 Jesus, hail ! enthroned in glory, 
 
 There for ever to abide ; 
 All the heavenly hosts adore Thee, 
 
 Seated at Thy Father's side. 
 There for sinners Thou art pleading ; 
 
 There Thou dost our place prepare ; 
 Ever for us interceding 
 
 Till in glory we appear. 
 
 Worship, honour, power, and blessing, 
 
 Thou art worthy to receive ; 
 Loudest praises, without ceasing. 
 
 Meet it is for us to give ! 
 Help, ye bright angelic spirits, 
 
 Bring your sweetest, noblest lays ; 
 Help to sing our Saviour's merits, 
 
 Help to chant Immanuel's praise ! 
 
Christ Ascended. 77 
 
 Soon we shall, with those in glory, 
 
 His transcendent grace relate ; 
 Gladly sing th ! amazing story 
 
 Of His dying love so great : 
 In that blessed contemplation 
 
 We for evermore shall dwell, 
 Crown'd with bliss and consolation, 
 
 Such as none below can tell. 
 
 John Bakewell. 1 760. 
 
 LXXII 
 
 Join all the glorious names 
 
 Of wisdom, love, and power, 
 
 That ever mortals knew, 
 
 That angels ever bore ; 
 All are too mean to speak His worth, 
 Too mean to set my Saviour forth. 
 
 But oh ! what gentle terms, 
 
 What condescending ways, 
 
 Doth our Redeemer use 
 
 To teach His heavenly grace ! 
 Mine eyes with joy and wonder see 
 What forms of love He bears for me. 
 
 Array'd in mortal flesh 
 
 He like an Angel stands, 
 
 And holds the promises 
 
 And pardons in His hands ; 
 Commission'd from His Father's throne 
 To make His grace to mortals known. 
 
 Great Prophet of my God, 
 
 My tongue would bless Thy Name ; 
 
 By Thee the joyful news 
 
 Of our salvation came ; 
 
78 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The joyful news of sins forgiven, 
 
 Of hell subdued, and peace with Heaven. 
 
 Be Thou my Counsellor, 
 My Pattern, and my Guide ; 
 And through this desert land 
 Still keep me near Thy side : 
 Oh, let my feet ne'er run astray, 
 Nor rove, nor seek the crooked way ! 
 
 I love my Shepherd's voice ; 
 
 His watchful eyes shall keep 
 
 My wandering soul among 
 
 The thousands of His sheep : 
 He feeds His flock, He calls their names, 
 His bosom bears the tender lambs. 
 
 To this dear Surety's hand 
 
 Will I commit my cause ; 
 
 He answers and fulfils 
 
 His Father's broken laws : 
 Behold my soul at freedom set ; 
 My Surety paid the dreadful debt. 
 
 Jesus, my great High Priest, 
 
 Offer d His Blood and died ; 
 
 My guilty conscience seeks 
 
 No sacrifice beside : 
 His powerful Blood did once atone, 
 And now it pleads before the Throne. 
 
 My advocate appears 
 
 For my defence on high ; 
 
 The Father bows His ears 
 
 And lays His thunder by : 
 Not all that hell or sin can say 
 Shall turn His heart, His love away. 
 
Christ Ascended. 79 
 
 My dear Almighty Lord, 
 
 My Conqueror and my King, 
 
 Thy sceptre and Thy sword, 
 
 Thy reigning grace, I sing : 
 Thine is the power : behold I sit 
 In willing bonds before Thy feet ! 
 
 Now let my soul arise, 
 
 And tread the Tempter down ; 
 
 My Captain leads me forth 
 
 To conquest and a crown ; 
 A feeble saint shall win the day, 
 Though death and hell obstruct the way 
 
 Should all the hosts of death 
 
 And powers of hell unknown 
 
 Put their most dreadful forms 
 
 Of rage and mischief on, 
 I shall be safe ; for Christ displays 
 Superior power, and guardian grace. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1 709. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 Beyond the glittering starry globe 
 
 Far as th' eternal hills, 
 There, in the boundless worlds of light, 
 
 Our great Redeemer dwells. 
 
 Immortal angels, bright and fair, 
 
 In countless armies shine, 
 At His right hand, with golden harps, 
 
 To offer songs divine. 
 
 m Hail ! Prince," they cry, " for ever hail ! 
 
 Whose unexampled love 
 Moved Thee to quit these glorious realms 
 
 And royalties above !" 
 
8o The Book of Praise. 
 
 While Thou didst condescend on earth 
 
 To suffer rude disdain, 
 They cast their honours at Thy feet, 
 
 And waited on Thy train- 
 
 Blest Angels, who adoring wait 
 Around the Saviour's Throne, 
 
 Oh ! tell us, for your eyes have seen. 
 The wonders He has done. 
 
 Ye saw Him, when the heavens and earth. 
 
 A chaos first, He made, 
 And night involved the formless deep 
 
 In her tremendous shade. 
 
 And when, amidst the darksome void, 
 
 He bade the light arise, 
 And kindled up those shining orbs 
 
 That now adorn the skies, 
 
 Ye saw ; — and in melodious song 
 
 Your powerful voices raise, 
 While all the new-born worlds resound 
 
 Their great Creator's praise. 
 
 And, when on earth He deign'd to dwell, 
 
 In mortal flesh array'd, 
 Ye wondering saw the Holy Child 
 
 In Bethlehem's stable laid. 
 
 W f hile in the lowly crib reposed, 
 
 His Mother's tender care, 
 Ye stood around His homely bed, 
 
 And watch' d His slumbers there. 
 
Christ Ascended. £ 
 
 When fasting in the desert long 
 
 His spotless soul was tried, 
 Ye saw Him there the Tempter foil, 
 
 And soon His wants supplied. 
 
 Ye heard what gracious words He spoke, 
 
 The hearts of men to win ; 
 And saw, well pleased, the listening crowd 
 
 Drink the sweet doctrine in ; 
 
 Beheld diseases, tempests, death, 
 
 His sovereign word obey, 
 And how, on dark benighted minds, 
 
 He poured eternal day. 
 
 Saw Him, from busy scenes retired 
 
 To spend the midnight hours, 
 While pure devotion fill'd His soul 
 
 With all her rapturous powers. 
 
 When on the sacred mount He shone, 
 
 In His own light array' d, 
 Ye saw, and own'd your Sovereign there, 
 
 And your just homage paid ; 
 
 Saw, when o'er Salem's fearful doom 
 
 He shed the tender tear ; 
 And how, to all His gracious calls, 
 
 She turned the deafened ear. 
 
 In all his toils, and dangers too, 
 
 Ye did His steps attend ; 
 Oft paused, and wondered, how at last 
 
 This scene of love would end. 
 G 
 
82 The Book of Praise. 
 
 And when the Powers of Hell combined 
 
 To fill His cup of woe, 
 Your pitying eyes beheld His tears 
 
 In bloody anguish flow. 
 
 As on the torturing Cross He hung, 
 
 And darkness veil'd the sky, 
 Ye saw, aghast, that awful sight, 
 
 The Lord of Glory die ! 
 
 Astonish'd, here ye search and learn 
 High Heaven's mysterious ways, 
 
 That thus to guilty dying man 
 Immortal life conveys. 
 
 Anon He bursts the gates of death, 
 
 Subdues the tyrant's power : 
 Ye saw th' illustrious Conqueror rise, 
 
 And hailed the blissful hour, 
 
 Tended His chariot up the sky, 
 And bore Him to His Throne ; 
 
 Then swept your golden harps, and cried 
 "The glorious work is done !" 
 
 My soul the joyful triumph feels, 
 And thinks the moments long, 
 
 Ere she her Saviour's glory sees, 
 And joins your rapturous song. 
 
 James Fanch and Daniel Turner. [1791. 
 
Christ 'j Kingdom and Judgment. 83' 
 
 VII. 
 
 CHRIST'S KINGDOM AND JUDGMENT. 
 
 " And He shall come again with Glory \ to judge both the 
 quick and the dead ; whose Kingdom shall have no 
 end. n 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Now is the hour of darkness past ; 
 
 Christ has assumed His reigning power; 
 Behold the great accuser cast 
 
 Down from the skies to rise no more. 
 
 'Twas by Thy Blood, immortal Lamb, 
 Thine armies trod the Tempter down ; 
 
 'Twas by Thy word and powerful Name 
 They gained the battle and renown. 
 
 Rejoice, ye heavens ! let every star 
 Shine with new glories round the sky ! 
 
 Saints, while ye sing the heavenly war, 
 Raise your Deliverer's Name on high ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Rejoice, the Lord is King, 
 
 Your Lord and King adore ; 
 Mortals, give thanks and sing, 
 And triumph evermore : 
 Lift up your heart, lift up your voice ; 
 Rejoice, again I say, rejoice. 
 G 2 
 
84 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Jesus the Saviour reigns, 
 
 The God of truth and love ; 
 When he had purged our stains, 
 He took His seat above : 
 Lift up your heart, lift up your voice ; 
 Rejoice, again I say, rejoice. 
 
 His kingdom cannot fail ; 
 
 He rules o'er earth and Heaven ; 
 The keys of death and hell 
 Are to our Jesus given : 
 Lift up your heart, lift up your voice ; 
 Rejoice, again I say, rejoice. 
 
 He sits at God's right hand, 
 
 Till all His foes submit, 
 And bow to His command, 
 And fall beneath His feet : 
 Lift up your heart, lift up your 1 voice ; 
 Rejoice, again I say, rejoice. 
 
 He all His foes shall quell, 
 Shall all our sins destroy, 
 And every bosom swell 
 With pure seraphick joy : 
 Lift up your heart, lift up your voice, 
 Rejoice, again I say, Rejoice. 
 
 Rejoice in glorious hope ; 
 
 Jesus the Judge shall come, 
 And take His servants up 
 To their eternal home : 
 We soon shall hear th' archangel's voice, 
 The Trump of God shall sound, rejoice. 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1745 
 
Christ's Kingdom and Judgment. 8S 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 The Lord is King ! lift up thy voice, 
 O earth, and all ye heavens, rejoice ! 
 From world to world the joy shall ring, 
 The Lord Omnipotent is King. 
 
 The Lord is King ! who then shall dare 
 Resist His will, distrust His care, 
 Or murmur at His wise decrees, 
 Or doubt His royal promises ? 
 
 The Lord is King ! Child of the dust, 
 The Judge of all the earth is just : 
 Holy and true are all His ways : 
 Let every creature speak His praise. 
 
 He reigns ! ye saints, exalt your strains ; 
 Your God is King, your Father reigns ; 
 And He is at the Father's side, 
 The Man of Love, the Crucified. 
 
 Come, make your wants, your burdens known, 
 He will present them at the Throne ; 
 And angel bands are waiting there 
 His messages of love to bear. 
 
 O, when His wisdom can mistake, 
 His might decay, His love forsake. 
 Then may His children cease to sing, 
 The Lord Omnipotent is King. 
 
 Alike pervaded by His eye, 
 
 All parts of His dominion lie ; 
 
 This world of ours, and worlds unseen ; 
 
 And thin the boundary between. 
 
86 The Book of Praise, 
 
 One Lord, one empire, all secures ; 
 He reigns, and life and death are yours : 
 Through earth and heaven one song shall ring, 
 The Lord Omnipotent is King. 
 
 Josiah Conder, 1856. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 He, Who on earth as man was known, 
 
 And bore our sins and pains, 
 Now, seated on th' eternal Throne, 
 
 The God of Glory reigns. 
 
 His hands the wheels of Nature guide 
 
 With an unerring skill, 
 And countless worlds, extended, wide, 
 
 Obey His sovereign will. 
 
 While harps unnumbered sound His praise 
 
 In yonder world above, 
 His saints on earth admire His ways 
 
 And glory in His love. 
 
 His Righteousness, to faith reveal'd, 
 Wrought out for guilty worms, 
 
 Affords a hiding-place and shield 
 From enemies and storms. 
 
 This land, through which His pilgrims go, 
 
 Is desolate and dry ; 
 But streams of grace from Him o'erflow, 
 
 Their thirst to satisfy. 
 
 When troubles, like a burning sun, 
 
 Beat heavy on their head, 
 To this Almighty Rock they run, 
 
 And find a pleasing shade. 
 
Christ y s Kingdom and Judgment. 87 
 
 How glorious He ! how happy they 
 
 In such a glorious Friend ! 
 Whose love secures them all the way, 
 
 And crowns them at the end. 
 
 John Newton, 1779. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 The Head that once was crown'd with thorns, 
 
 Is crown'd with glory now ; 
 A royal diadem adorns 
 
 The mighty Victor's brow. 
 
 The highest place that Heaven affords 
 
 Is His, is His by right, 
 The King of kings, and Lord of lords, 
 
 And Heaven's eternal Light. 
 
 The joy of all who dwell above, 
 
 The joy of all below, 
 To whom He manifests His love, 
 
 And grants His Name to know. 
 
 To them the Cross, with all its shame, 
 
 With all its grace, is given ; 
 Their name an everlasting name, 
 
 Their joy the joy of Heaven. 
 
 They suffer with their Lord below, 
 
 They reign with Him above, 
 Their profit and their joy to know 
 
 The mystery of His love. 
 
 The cross He bore is life and health, 
 Though shame and death to Him : 
 
 His people's hope, His people's wealth, 
 Their everlasting theme. 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1820. 
 
88 The Book of Praise, 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Hosanna ! raise the pealing hymn 
 
 To David's Son and Lord ; 
 With Cherubim and Seraphim 
 
 Exalt the Incarnate Word. 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord, our feeble tongue 
 
 No lofty strains can raise : 
 But Thou wilt not despise the young, 
 
 Who meekly chant Thy praise. 
 
 Hosanna ! Sovereign, Prophet, Priest, 
 How vast Thy gifts, how free ! 
 
 Thy Blood, our life ; Thy word, our feast ; 
 Thy Name, our only plea. 
 
 Hosanna ! Master, lo ! we bring 
 Our offerings to Thy Throne ; 
 
 Not gold, nor myrrh, nor mortal thing, 
 But hearts to be Thine own. 
 
 Hosanna ! once Thy gracious ear 
 
 Approved a lisping throng ; 
 Be gracious still, and deign to hear 
 
 Our poor but grateful song. 
 
 O Saviour, if, redeem'd by Thee, 
 
 Thy temple we behold, 
 Hosannas through eternity 
 
 Well sing to harps of gold. 
 
 William Henry HavergaL 1833. 
 
Christ's Kingdom and Judgment. 
 
 89 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Psalm LXXII. 
 
 Hail to the Lord's Anointed, 
 
 Great David's greater Son ! 
 Hail, in the time appointed, 
 
 His reign on earth begun ! 
 He comes to break oppression, 
 
 To let 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. 
 
 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 : 
 
 OF THE 
 
90 The Book of Praise. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 J awies Montgomery. 1822:. 
 
Christ 's Kingdom and Judgment, 91 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 Behold ! the Mountain of the Lord 
 
 In latter days shall rise 
 On mountain tops, above the hills, 
 
 And draw the wondering eyes. 
 
 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 hill 
 
 Shall lighten every land ; 
 The King who reigns in Salem's towers 
 
 Shall all the world command. 
 
 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 
 
 Their millions 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. 
 
 Michael Bruce, 1768. 
 
92 The Book of Praise 
 
 LXXXIL 
 
 Psalm LXXII. 
 
 Jesus shall reign where'er the sun 
 Does his successive journeys run ; 
 His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, 
 Till moons shall wax and wane no more. 
 
 For Him shall endless prayer be made, 
 And praises throng to crown His Head ; 
 His Name, like sweet perfume, shall rise 
 With every morning sacrifice. 
 
 People and realms of every tongue 
 Dwell on His love with sweetest song, 
 And infant voices shall proclaim 
 Their early blessings on His Name. 
 
 Blessings abound where'er He reigns ; 
 The prisoner leaps to lose his chains ; 
 The weary find eternal rest, 
 And all the sons of want are blest. 
 
 Where He displays His healing power, 
 Death and the curse are known no more ; 
 In Him the tribes of Adam boast 
 More blessings than their father lost. 
 
 Let every creature rise, and bring 
 Peculiar honours to our King ; 
 Angels descend with songs again, 
 And earth repeat the long Amen ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 
Christ's Kingdom and Judgment. 93 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 Psalm LXXIL 
 
 Great God, Whose universal sway 
 The known and unknown worlds obey, 
 Now give the kingdom to Thy Son, 
 Extend His power, exalt His throne. 
 
 As rain on meadows newly mown, 
 So shall He send His influence down ; 
 His grace on fainting souls distils 
 Like heavenly dew on thirsty hills. 
 
 The heathen lands, that lie beneath 
 The shade of overspreading death, 
 Revive at His first dawning light, 
 And deserts blossom at the sight. 
 
 The saints shall flourish in His days, 
 Dress'd in the robes of joy and praise ; 
 Peace, like a river, from His Throne 
 Shall flow to nations yet unknown. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 From Greenland's icy mountains, 
 
 From India's coral strand, 
 Where Afric's sunny fountains 
 
 Roll down their golden sand, 
 From many an ancient river, 
 
 From many a palmy plain, 
 They call us to deliver 
 
 Their land from error's chain. 
 
94 The Book of Praise. 
 
 What though the spicy breezes 
 
 Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle ; 
 Though every prospect pleases. 
 
 And only man is vile ; 
 In vain with lavish kindness 
 
 The gifts of God are strown ; 
 The heathen in his blindness 
 
 Bows down to wood and stone. 
 
 Can we, whose souls are lighted 
 
 With wisdom from on high, 
 Can we to men benighted 
 
 The lamp of life deny ? 
 Salvation ! O salvation ! 
 
 The joyful sound proclaim, 
 Till each remotest nation 
 
 Has learnt Messiah's Name. 
 
 Waft, waft, ye winds, His story, 
 
 And you, ye waters, roll, 
 Till like a sea of glory 
 
 It spreads from pole to pole ; 
 Till o'er our ransomed nature 
 
 The Lamb for sinners slain, 
 Redeemer, King, Creator, 
 
 In bliss returns to reign. 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1823, 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 On the mountain's top appearing, 
 Lo ! the sacred herald stands, 
 
 Welcome news to Zion bearing, 
 
 Zion long in hostile lands ; 
 
 Mourning captive ! 
 
 God Himself will loose thy bands. 
 
Christ's Kingdom and Judgment. 95 
 
 Has thy night been long and mournful ? 
 
 Have thy friends unfaithful proved ? 
 Have thy foes been proud and scornful, 
 
 By thy sighs and tears unmoved ? 
 Cease thy mourning ! 
 Zion still is well beloved ! 
 
 God, thy God, will now restore thee ; 
 
 He Himself appears thy friend ; 
 All thy foes shall flee before thee ; 
 
 Here their boasts and triumphs end ; 
 Great deliverance 
 Zion's King vouchsafes to send ! 
 
 Enemies no more shall trouble ; 
 
 All thy wrongs shall be redress'd ; 
 For thy shame thou shalt have double, 
 In thy Makers favour bless'd ; 
 AH thy conflicts 
 End in everlasting rest ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1804 
 
 LXXXVI. 1 
 
 O house of Jacob, come, 
 
 And walk with us in light : 
 
 No more bewildered roam 
 
 Like wanderers in the night ; 
 The Hope of Israel calls you near, 
 And Abraham's Shield, and Isaac's Fear. 
 
 O thou by tempests toss'd, 
 
 Reviled, distress'd, trod down, 
 
 In every region cross'd, 
 
 With grief familiar grown, 
 Scattered and abject, peePd, forlorn, 
 Thy name a taunt, thyself a scorn ; 
 
96 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Though thou art fill'd, alas ! 
 And drunk with misery, 
 That cup begins to pass 
 To them that hated thee : 
 But know, we honour Israel's name, 
 Our God and Abraham's is the same. 
 
 Rise, Jacob, from thy woes, 
 
 And thy Messiah see ; 
 
 He, Who thy fathers chose, 
 
 Has not forgotten thee : 
 At His command, we bid you come ; 
 Her Israel Zion welcomes home. 
 
 William Hum. 1813. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 The Lord of Might from Sinai's brow 
 Gave forth His voice of thunder; 
 
 And Israel lay on earth below, 
 Outstretch'd in fear and wonder : 
 
 Beneath His feet was pitchy night, 
 
 And at His left hand and His right 
 The rocks were rent asunder. 
 
 The Lord of Love on Calvary, 
 A meek and suffering stranger, 
 
 Upraised to heaven His languid eye 
 In nature's hour of danger ; 
 
 For us He bore the weight of woe, 
 
 For us He gave His blood to flow, 
 And met His Father's anger. 
 
Christ \s Kingdom and Judgment. 97 
 
 The Lord of Love, the Lord of Might, 
 
 The King of all created, 
 Shall back return to claim His right 
 
 On clouds of glory seated ; 
 With trumpet-sound, and angel-song, 
 And hallelujahs loud and long, 
 
 O'er death and hell defeated. 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827 
 
 LXXXVIIT. 
 
 See, the ransomed millions stand, 
 Palms of conquest in their hand ; 
 This before the Throne their strain ; 
 " Hell is vanquish'd ; death is slain ; 
 " Blessing, honour, glory, might, 
 " Are the Conqueror's native right ; 
 " Thrones and powers before Him fall ; 
 u Lamb of God, and Lord of all ! " 
 
 Hasten, Lord ! the promised hour ; 
 Come in glory and in power ; 
 Still Thy foes are unsubdued ; 
 Nature sighs to be renewed : 
 Time has nearly reach' d its sum, 
 All things with Thy Bride say, Come ; 
 Jesus, whom all worlds adore, 
 Come, and reign for evermore ! 
 
 Josiah Conder. 1837 — 1856, 
 
 Thou Judge of quick and dead, 
 Before whose bar severe 
 With holy joy, or guilty dread, 
 We all shall soon appear ; 
 H 
 
98 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Our cautioned souls prepare 
 For that tremendous Day, 
 And fill us now with watchful care, 
 And stir us up to pray. 
 
 To pray, and wait the hour, 
 
 The awful hour unknown, 
 When, robed in majesty and power, 
 
 Thou shalt from Heaven come down, 
 
 The immortal Son of Man, 
 
 To judge the human race, 
 With all Thy Father's dazzling train, 
 
 With all Thy glorious grace. 
 
 To damp our earthly joys, 
 To increase our gracious fears, 
 
 For ever let the Archangel's voice 
 Be sounding in our ears ; 
 The solemn midnight cry, 
 " Ye Dead, the Judge is come ! 
 
 " Arise, and meet Him in the sky, 
 " And meet your instant doom ! n 
 
 O may we thus be found, 
 
 Obedient to His word, 
 Attentive to the trumpet's sound, 
 
 And looking for our Lord : 
 
 O may we thus insure 
 
 Our lot among the blest, 
 And watch a moment, to secure 
 
 An everlasting rest ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1749. 
 
Christ y s Kingdom and Judgment. 99 
 
 xc. 
 
 Lo ! He comes, with clouds descending, 
 
 Once for favoured sinners slain : 
 Thousand thousand saints attending 
 
 Swell the triumph of His train : 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 God appears, on earth to reign ! 
 
 Every eye shall now behold Him, 
 
 Robed in dreadful majesty ; 
 Those who set at nought and sold Him, 
 
 Pierced, and nailed Him to the Tree, 
 Deeply wailing, 
 
 Shall the true Messiah see. 
 
 Every island, sea, and mountain, 
 Heaven and earth shall flee away ; 
 
 All who hate Him must, confounded, 
 Hear the trump proclaim the day ; 
 
 Come to judgment ! 
 Come to judgment, come away ! 
 
 Now Redemption, long expected, 
 
 See in solemn pomp appear ! 
 All His saints, by man rejected, 
 
 Now shall meet Him in the air ? 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 See the day of God appear ! 
 
 Answer Thine own Bride and Spirit ; 
 
 Hasten, Lord, the general doom ; 
 The new Heaven and earth t' inherit 
 Take Thy pining exiles home : 
 
 All creation 
 Travails, groans, and bids Thee come I 
 H 2 
 
too The Book of Praise. 
 
 Yea, Amen ! let all adore Thee, 
 
 High on Thine eternal throne : 
 Saviour, take the power and glory ; 
 Claim the kingdom for Thine own : 
 
 O, come quickly, 
 Everlasting God, come down ! 
 
 Variation by Martin Madan. 1 760. 
 From Cha7'les Wesley. 1758. 
 And John Cennick. 1752. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Lo ! He comes with clouds descending ! 
 
 Hark ! the trump of God is blown, 
 And th' Archangel's voice attending 
 
 Makes the high procession known ; 
 Sons of Adam ! 
 Rise, and stand before your God ! 
 
 Crowns and sceptres fall before Him, 
 Kings and conquerors own His sway ; 
 
 Haughtiest monarchs now adore Him, 
 While they see His lightnings play : 
 How triumphant 
 
 Is the world's Redeemer now ! 
 
 Hear His voice, as mighty thunder 
 
 Sounding in eternal roar, 
 While its echo rends in sunder 
 
 Rocks and mountains, sea and shore : 
 Hark ! His accents 
 Through th' unfathomed deep resound ! 
 
 " Come, Lord Jesus ! O come quickly r 
 
 Oft has prayed the mourning Bride : 
 u Lo !" He answers, " I come quickly !" 
 
Christ s s Kingdom and Judgment 101 
 
 Who Thy coming may abide ? 
 All who loved Him, 
 All who long'd to see His day. 
 
 " Come," He saith, " ye heirs of glory ; 
 
 " Come, ye purchase of my blood ; 
 " Claim the Kingdom now before you, 
 
 " Rise, and fill the mount of God, 
 " Fix'd for ever 
 " Where the Lamb on Sion stands." 
 
 See i ten thousand burning seraphs 
 From their thrones as lightnings fly ; 
 
 " Take,'' they cry, " your seats above us, 
 " Nearest Him that rules the sky !" 
 Patient sufferers, 
 
 How rewarded are ye now ! 
 
 Now their trials all are ended : 
 
 Now the dubious warfare's o'er ; 
 Joy no more with sorrow blended, 
 
 They shall sigh and weep no more ; 
 God for ever 
 Wipes the tear from every eye. 
 
 Through His passion all victorious 
 
 Now they drink immortal wine ; 
 In Emmanuel's likeness glorious 
 
 As the firmament they shine ; 
 Shine for ever, 
 With the bright and morning Star. 
 
 Shout aloud, ye ethereal choirs ! 
 
 Triumph in Jehovah's praise ! 
 Kindle all your heavenly fires, 
 
 All your palms of victory raise ! 
 Shout His conquests, 
 Shout salvation to the Lamb ! 
 
102 The Book of Praise. 
 
 In full triumph see them marching 
 Through the gates of massy light, 
 
 While the City walls are sparkling 
 With meridian glory bright ; 
 O how lovely 
 
 Are the dwellings of the Lamb ! 
 
 Hosts angelic all adore Him 
 
 Circling round His orient seat ; 
 Elders cast their crowns before Him, 
 
 Fall and worship at His feet ; 
 O how holy 
 And how reverend is Thy Name ! 
 
 Hail, Thou Alpha and Omega ! 
 First and Last, of all alone ! 
 He that is, and was, and shall be, 
 And beside whom there is none ! 
 Take the Glory, 
 Great Eternal Three in One ! 
 
 Thomas Olivers. [1757.] 
 
 XCii. 
 
 Dies iro?, dies ilia. 
 
 Day of anger, that dread Day 
 Shall the Sign in Heaven display, 
 And the Earth in ashes lay. 
 
 O what trembling shall appear, 
 When His coming shall be near, 
 Who shall all things strictly clear ! 
 
 When the Trumpet shall command 
 Through the tombs of every land 
 All before the Throne to stand. 
 
Christ's Kingdom and Judgment. 103 
 
 Death shall shrink and Nature quake, 
 When all creatures shall awake, 
 Answer to their God to make. 
 
 See the Book divinely penn'd, 
 In which all is found contain'd, 
 Whence the world shall be arraign'd ! 
 
 When the Judge is on His Throne, 
 All that's hidden shall be shown, 
 Nought unpublish'd or unknown ! 
 
 What shall I before Kim say ? 
 How shall I be safe that day, 
 When the righteous scarcely may ? 
 
 King of awful majesty, 
 Saving sinners graciously, 
 Fount of mercy, save Thou me ! 
 
 Leave me not, my Saviour, one 
 For whose soul Thy course was run 5 
 Lest I be that day undone. 
 
 Thou didst toil my soul to gain ; 
 Didst redeem me with Thy pain ; 
 Be such labour not in vain ! 
 
 Thou just Judge of wrath severe, 
 Grant my sins remission here, 
 Ere Thy reckoning day appear. 
 
 My transgressions grievous are ; 
 Scarce look up for shame I dare ; 
 Lord, Thy guilty suppliant spare ! 
 
104 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Thou didst heal the sinner's grief. 
 And didst hear the dying thief : 
 Even I may hope relief. 
 
 All unworthy is my prayer ; 
 Make my soul Thy mercy's care, 
 And from fire eternal spare ! 
 
 Place me with Thy sheep, that band 
 
 Who shall separated stand 
 
 From the goats, at Thy right hand ! 
 
 When Thy voice in wrath shall say, 
 Cursed ones, depart away ! 
 Call me with the blest, I pray ! 
 
 Lord, Thine ear in mercy bow ! 
 Broken is my heart and low : 
 Guard of my last end be Thou ! 
 
 In that day, that mournful day, 
 When to judgment wakes our clay, 
 Show me mercy, Lord, I pray ! 
 
 Henry A l/ord. 1 84 " 
 
 VIII. 
 " And / believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and 
 Giver of Life; who proceedeth from the Father 
 %nd the Son; who with the Father and the Son 
 \ogether is worshipped and glorified; who spake 
 by the Prophets" 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 When God of old came down from Heaven, 
 
 In power and wrath He came ; 
 Before His feet the clouds were riven, 
 
 Half darkness and half flame. 
 
God the Holy Ghost. 105 
 
 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, 
 
 Hover'd His holy Dove. 
 
 The fires, that rush'd on Sinai down 
 
 In sudden torrents dread, 
 Now gently light, a glorious crown, 
 
 On every sainted head. 
 
 Like arrows went those lightnings forth, 
 Wing'd with the sinner's doom : 
 
 But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth, 
 Proclaiming life to come. 
 
 And, as on Israel's awe-struck ear 
 
 The voice exceeding loud, 
 The trump, that angels quake to hear, 
 
 Thrill' d from the deep dark cloud ; 
 
 So, when the Spirit of our God 
 Came down, His flock to find, 
 
 A voice from heaven was heard abroad, 
 A rushing mighty wind. 
 
 Nor doth the outward ear alone 
 
 At that high warning start ; 
 Conscience gives back th' appalling tone , 
 
 'Tis echoed in the heart. 
 
106 The Book of Praise. 
 
 It fills the Church of God, it fills 
 The sinful world around ; 
 
 Only in stubborn hearts and wills 
 No place for it is found. 
 
 To other strains our souls are set ; 
 
 A giddy whirl of sin 
 Fills ear and brain, and will not let 
 
 Heav'n's harmonies come in. 
 
 Come, Lord ! come Wisdom, Love, and Power ; 
 
 Open our ears to hear ! 
 Let us not miss the accepted hour ; 
 
 Save, Lord, by love or fear ! 
 
 John KebU. 1827 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Vent Creator Spiritus. 
 
 Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, 
 And lighten with celestial fire ; 
 Thou the Anointing Spirit art, 
 Who dost Thy sevenfold gifts impart. 
 Thy blessed unction from above 
 Is comfort, life, and fire of love : 
 Enable with perpetual light 
 The dulness of our blinded sight ; 
 Anoint and cheer our soiled face 
 With the abundance of Thy grace ; 
 Keep far our foes ; give peace at home ; 
 Where Thou art guide, no ill can come ; 
 Teach us to know the Father, Son, 
 And Thee of Both, to be but One : 
 
God the Holy Ghost. 107 
 
 That, through the ages all along, 
 This may be our endless song, 
 " Praise to Thy Eternal merit, 
 " Father, Son, and Holy Spirit ! " 
 Amen ! 
 Bishop John Cosin. 1627. 
 
 xcv. 
 
 Vent Creator Spiritus. 
 
 Holy Spirit, gently come, 
 Raise us from our fallen state, 
 Fix Thy everlasting home 
 In the hearts Thou didst create ! 
 
 Gift of God most High ! 
 Visit every troubled breast : 
 Light and Life and Love supply ; 
 Give our spirits perfect rest ! 
 
 Heavenly Unction from above, 
 Comforter of weary saints, 
 Fountain, Life, and Fire of Love, 
 Hear, and answer our complaints ! 
 
 Thee we humbly pray, 
 Finger of the Living God, 
 Now Thy sevenfold grace display, 
 Shed our Saviour's love abroad ! 
 
 Now Thy quickening influence bring, 
 On our spirits sweetly move ; 
 Open every mouth to sing 
 Jesus' everlasting love ! 
 Lighten every heart ; 
 Drive our enemies away ; 
 Joy and peace to us impart ; 
 Lead us in the heavenly way ! 
 
io8 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Take the things of Christ and show 
 What our Lord for us hath done ; 
 May we God the Father know 
 Only in and through the Son : 
 
 Nothing will we fear, 
 Though to wilds and deserts driven, 
 While we feel Thy Presence near, 
 Witnessing our sins forgiven. 
 
 Glory be to God alone, 
 God, whose hand created all ! 
 Glory be to God the Son, 
 Who redeem'd us from our fall ! 
 
 To the Holy Ghost 
 Equal praise and glory be, 
 When the course of time is lost, 
 Lost in wide eternity ! 
 
 William Hammond. 1 745 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, 
 My sinful maladies remove ; 
 Be Thou my Light, be Thou my Guide, 
 O'er every thought and step preside. 
 
 The light of truth to me display, 
 That I may know and choose my way ; 
 Plant holy fear within mine heart, 
 That I from God may ne'er depart. 
 
 Conduct me safe, conduct me far 
 From every sin and hurtful snare ; 
 Lead me to God, my final Rest, 
 In His enjoyment to be blest. 
 
God the Holy Ghost. 109 
 
 Lead me to Christ, the Living Way, 
 Nor let me from His pastures stray : 
 Lead me to Heaven, the seat of bliss, 
 Where pleasure in perfection is. 
 
 Lead me to holiness, the road 
 That I must take to dwell with God ; 
 Lead to Thy Word, that rules must give, 
 And sure directions how to live. 
 
 Lead me to means of grace, where I 
 May own my wants, and seek supply : 
 Lead to Thyself, the Spring from whence 
 To fetch all quickening influence. 
 
 Thus I, conducted still by Thee, 
 Of God a child beloved shall be, 
 Here to His family pertain, 
 Hereafter with Him ever reign. 
 
 Simon Browne. 172a 
 
 XCVIT. 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, 
 With all Thy quickening powers, 
 
 Kindle a flame of sacred love 
 In these cold hearts of ours. 
 
 Look how we grovel here below, 
 
 Fond of these trifling toys ; 
 Our souls can neither fly nor go 
 
 To reach eternal joys ! 
 
 In vain we tune our formal songs, 
 
 In vain we strive to rise ; 
 Hosannas languish on our tongues, 
 
 And our devotion dies. 
 
I io The Book of Praise. 
 
 Dear Lord, and shall we ever lie 
 
 At this poor dying rate ? 
 Our love so faint, so cold to Thee, 
 
 And Thine to us so great ! 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, 
 With all Thy quickening powers ! 
 
 Come, shed abroad a Saviour's love, 
 And that shall kindle ours. 
 
 Isaac Watts 1709. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit, come 
 Let Thy bright beams arise, 
 Dispel the darkness from our minds, 
 And open all our eyes. 
 
 Cheer our desponding hearts, 
 Thou heavenly Paraclete ; 
 Give us to lie, with humble hope 
 At our Redeemer's feet. 
 
 Revive our drooping faith, 
 Our doubts and fears remove; 
 And kindle in our breasts the flame 
 Of never-dying love. 
 
 Convince us of our sin, 
 Then lead to Jesus' blood, 
 And to our wondering view reveal 
 The secret love of God. 
 
 Show us that loving Man 
 That rules the courts of bliss, 
 The Lord of hosts, the Mighty God, 
 The Eternal Prince of Peace. 
 
God the Holy Ghost. 1 1 1 
 
 Tis Thine to cleanse the heart, 
 To sanctify the soul, 
 To pour fresh life in every part, 
 And new-create the whole. 
 
 Dwell therefore in our hearts, 
 Our minds from bondage free ; 
 Then we shall know, and praise, and love 
 The Father, Son, and Thee ! 
 
 Joseph Hart. 1759 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Lord God the Holy Ghost, 
 
 In this accepted hour, 
 As on the day of Pentecost, 
 
 Descend in all Thy power ! 
 
 We meet with one accord 
 
 In our appointed place, 
 And wait the promise of our Lord, 
 
 The Spirit of all grace. 
 
 Like mighty rushing wind 
 
 Upon the waves beneath, 
 Move with one impulse every mind, 
 
 One soul, one feeling breathe : 
 
 The young, the old, inspire 
 
 With wisdom from above, 
 And give us hearts and tongues of fire 
 
 To pray, and praise, and love. 
 
 Spirit of Light, explore 
 And chase our gloom away, 
 With lustre shining more and more 
 Unto the perfect day ! 
 
1 1 2 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Spirit of Truth, be Thou 
 In life and death our Guide ! 
 Spirit of adoption, now 
 May we be sanctified ! 
 
 James Mori tgomery. 1 8 1 9. 
 
 c. 
 
 O du allersitste Freude. (Paul Gerhardt.) 1653. 
 
 Holy Ghost, dispel our sadness, 
 
 Pierce the clouds of sinful night ; 
 Come, Thou source of sweetest gladness, 
 
 Breathe Thy Life, and spread Thy Light ! 
 Loving Spirit, God of Peace ! 
 Great Distributor of grace ! 
 
 Rest upon this congregation, 
 
 Hear, O hear our supplication ! 
 
 From that height which knows no measure 
 
 As a gracious shower descend, 
 Bringing down the richest treasure 
 
 Men can wish, or God can send ! 
 O Thou Glory, shining down 
 From the Father and the Son, 
 
 Grant us Thy illumination ! 
 
 Rest upon this congregation ! 
 
 Known to Thee are all recesses 
 Of the earth and spreading skies ; 
 
 Every sand the shore possesses 
 Thy Omniscient Mind descries. 
 
 Holy Fountain ! wash us clean 
 
 Both from error and from sin ! 
 Make us fly what Thou refusest, 
 And delight in what Thou choosest / 
 
God the Holy Ghost 1 13 
 
 Manifest Thy love for ever ; 
 
 Fence us in on every side ; 
 In distress be our reliever, 
 
 Guard and teach, support and guide ! 
 Let Thy kind effectual grace 
 Turn our feet from evil ways ; 
 
 Show Thyself our new Creator, 
 - And conform us to Thy Nature ! 
 
 Be our Friend on each occasion, 
 
 God ! omnipotent to save ! 
 When we die, be our salvation, 
 
 When we're buried, be our grave ! 
 And, when from the grave we rise, 
 Take us up above the skies, 
 
 Seat us with Thy saints in glory, 
 
 There for ever to adore Thee ! 
 
 Variation by Augustus M. Top lady. 1776. 
 From John Christian Jacobi. 1725. 
 
 CI. 
 
 Holy Spirit, in my breast 
 Grant that lively Faith may rest, 
 And subdue each rebel thought 
 To believe what Thou hast taught. 
 
 When around my sinking soul 
 Gathering waves of sorrow roll, 
 Spirit blest, the tempest still, 
 And with Hope my bosom fill. 
 
1 1 4 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Holy Spirit, from my mind 
 Thought and wish and will unkind, 
 Deed and word unkind remove, 
 And my bosom fill with love. 
 
 Faith, and Hope, and Charity, 
 Comforter, descend from Thee J 
 Thou the Anointing Spirit art, 
 These Thy gifts to us impart, 
 
 Till our faith be lost in sight, 
 Hope be swallowed in delight, 
 And love return to dwell with Thee, 
 In the threefold Deity ! 
 
 Bishop Richard Maui. 1828. 
 
 CIL 
 
 Full of weakness and of sin, 
 
 We look to Thee for life : 
 Lord, Thy gracious work begin, 
 
 And calm the inward strife ! 
 
 Though our hearts are prone to stray, 
 
 Be Thou a constant Friend : 
 Though we know not how to pray, 
 
 Thy saving mercy send ! 
 
 Let Thy Spirit, gracious Lord, 
 
 Our souls with love inspire, 
 Strength and confidence afford, 
 
 And breathe celestial fire ! 
 
 Teach us first to feel our need, 
 
 Then all that need supply ; 
 When we hunger, deign to feed. 
 
 And hear us when we cry ! 
 
God the Holy Ghost. 1 1 5 
 
 When we cleave to earthly things, 
 
 Send Thy reviving grace ; 
 Raise our souls, and give them wings, 
 
 To reach Thy holy place ! 
 
 William Hiley Bathurst. 1831, 
 
 cm. 
 
 There is a River, deep and broad, 
 
 Its course no mortal knows ; 
 It fills with joy the Church of God, 
 
 And widens as it flows. 
 
 Clearer than crystal is the stream, 
 
 And bright with endless day ; 
 The waves with every blessing teem, 
 
 And life and health convey. 
 
 Where'er they flow, contentions cease, 
 
 And love and meekness reign ; 
 The Lord Himself commands the peace, 
 
 And foes conspire in vain. 
 
 Along the shores, angelic bands 
 
 Watch every moving wave ; 
 With holy joy their breast expands, 
 
 When men the waters crave. 
 
 To them distressed souls repair, 
 
 The Lord invites them nigh ; 
 They leave their cares and sorrows there, 
 
 They drink, and never die. 
 
 Flow on, sweet Stream, more largely flow, 
 
 The earth with glory fill ; 
 Flow on, till all the Saviour know, 
 
 And all obey His will. 
 
 William H urn. 18 1.3. 
 
n6 The Book of Praise. 
 
 civ. 
 
 There is a Stream, which issues forth 
 
 From God's eternal Throne, 
 And from the Lamb, a living stream 
 
 Clear as the crystal stone. 
 
 The stream doth water Paradise ; 
 
 It makes the angels sing ; 
 One cordial drop revives my neart ; 
 
 Hence all my joys do spring. 
 
 Such joys as are unspeakable, 
 
 And full of glory too ; 
 Such hidden manna, hidden pearls, 
 
 As worldlings do not know. 
 
 Eye hath not seen, nor ear hath heard, 
 
 From fancy 'tis concealed, 
 What Thou, Lord, hast laid up for Thine, 
 
 And hast to me revealed. 
 
 I see Thy face, I hear Thy voice, 
 
 I taste Thy sweetest love : 
 My soul doth leap : but O for wings, 
 
 The wings of Noah's dove ! 
 
 Then should I flee far hence away, 
 
 Leaving this world of sin ! 
 Then should my Lord put forth His hand, 
 
 And kindly take me in ! 
 
 Then should my soul with angels feast 
 
 On joys that always last ! 
 Blest be my God, the God of joy, 
 
 Who gives me here a taste. 
 
 John Mason. 1683 
 
God the Holy Ghost. 117 
 
 CV. 
 
 Ye sons of earth, prepare the plough, 
 
 Break up your fallow ground ; 
 The Sower is gone forth to sow, 
 
 And scatter blessings round. 
 
 The seed that finds a stony soil 
 
 Shoots forth a hasty blade ; 
 But ill repays the sower's toil, 
 
 Soon wither'd, scorch'd, and dead. 
 
 The thorny ground is sure to balk 
 
 AIL hopes of harvest there ; 
 We find a tall and sickly stalk, 
 
 But not the fruitful ear. 
 
 The beaten path and highway side 
 
 Receive the trust in vain ; 
 The watchful birds the spoil divide, 
 
 And pick up all the grain. 
 
 But when the Lord of grace and power 
 
 Has bless'd the happy field, 
 How plenteous is the golden store 
 
 The deep-wrought furrows yield ! 
 
 Father of mercies ! we have need 
 
 Of Thy preparing grace : 
 Let the same Hand, that gives the seed, 
 
 Provide a fruitful place ! 
 
 William Cow per. 1779 
 
The Book of Praise. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 Psalm XIX. 
 
 Behold, the morning sun 
 Begins his glorious way ; 
 His beams through all the nations run, 
 And life and light convey. 
 
 But where the gospel comes, 
 It spreads diviner light, 
 It calls dead sinners from their tomos, 
 And gives the blind their sight. 
 
 How perfect is Thy word ! 
 And all Thy judgments just ! 
 For ever sure Thy promise, Lord ; 
 And men securely trust. 
 
 While with my heart and tongue 
 I spread Thy praise abroad, 
 Accept the worship and the song, 
 My Saviour and my God { 
 
 Isaac Watts 17 19. 
 
 CVII. 
 
 Psalm XIX. 
 
 The starry firmament on high, 
 And all the glories of the sky, 
 Yet shine not to Thy praise, O Lord, 
 So brightly as Thy written word ; 
 The hopes that holy word supplies, 
 Its truths divine, and precepts wise, 
 In each a heavenly beam I see, 
 And every beam conducts to Thee, 
 
God the Holy Ghost. 1 19 
 
 When, taught by painful proof to know 
 That all is vanity below, 
 The sinner roams from comfort far, 
 And looks in vain for sun or star ; 
 Soft gleaming then those lights divine 
 Through all the cheerless darkness shine, 
 And sweetly to the ravish'd eye 
 Disclose the Day-spring from on high. 
 
 The heart, in sensual fetters bound, 
 And barren as the wintry ground, 
 Confesses, Lord, Thy quickening ray ; 
 Thy word can charm the spell away ; 
 With genial influence can beguile 
 The frozen wilderness to smile * 
 Bid living waters o'er it flow, 
 And all be paradise below. 
 
 Almighty Lord, the sun shall fail, 
 The moon forget her nightly tale, 
 And deepest silence hush on high 
 The radiant chorus of the sky ; 
 But, fix'd for everlasting years, 
 Unmoved amid the wreck of spheres, 
 Thy word shall shine in cloudless day, 
 When heaven and earth have pass'd away, 
 Sir Robert Grant. 1839. 
 
120 The Book of Praise. 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH. 
 
 <c And I believe one Catholic and Apostolic Church" 
 CVIII. 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home, 
 
 When shall I come to thee ? 
 When shall my sorrows have an end, 
 
 Thy joys when shall I see ? 
 
 O happy harbour of the saints ! 
 
 O sweet and pleasant soil ! 
 In thee no sorrow may be found, 
 
 No grief, no care, no toil. 
 
 There lust and lucre cannot dwell, 
 
 There envy bears no sway ; 
 There is no hunger, heat, nor cold, 
 
 But pleasure every way. 
 
 Thy walls are made of precious stones. 
 Thy bulwarks diamonds square ; 
 
 Thy gates are of right orient pearl, 
 Exceeding rich and rare. 
 
 Thy turrets and thy pinnacles 
 
 With carbuncles do shine ; 
 Thy very streets are paved with gold, 
 
 Surpassing clear and fine. 
 
 A.h, my sweet home, Jerusalem, 
 
 Would God I were in thee ! 
 Would God my woes were at an end, 
 
 Thy joys that I might see ! 
 
The Holy Catholic Cnurch. ] 
 
 Thy saints are crown'd with glory great ; 
 
 They see God face to face ; 
 They triumph still, they still rejoice, 
 
 Most happy is their case. 
 
 We that are here in banishment 
 
 Continually do moan, 
 We sigh, and sob, we weep, and wail, 
 
 Perpetually we groan. 
 
 Our sweet is mix'd with bitter gall, 
 
 Our pleasure is but pain. 
 Our joys scarce last the looking on, 
 
 Our sorrows still remain. 
 
 But there they live in such delight, 
 
 Such pleasure and such play, 
 As that to them a thousand years 
 
 Doth seem as yesterday. 
 
 Thy gardens and thy gallant walks 
 
 Continually are green, 
 There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers 
 
 As nowhere else are seen. 
 
 Quite through the streets, with silver sound, 
 
 The flood of Life doth flow ; 
 Upon whose banks on every side 
 
 The wood of Life doth grow. 
 
 There trees for evermore bear fruit, 
 
 And evermore do spring ; 
 There evermore the angels sit, 
 
 And evermore do sing. 
 
The Book of Praise* 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home, 
 
 Would God I were in thee ! 
 Would God my woes were at an end, 
 
 Thy joys that I might see ! 
 
 Anon."F.B.P. n fi6i6.] 
 
 cix. 
 
 Sweet place, sweet place alone ! 
 The court of God most High, 
 The Heaven of Heavens, the Throne 
 Of spotless majesty ! 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 The stranger homeward bends, 
 And sigheth for his rest : 
 Heaven is my home, my friends 
 Lodge there in Abraham's breast : 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 Earth's but a sorry tent 
 Pitch' d for a few frail days, 
 A short-leas'd tenement ; 
 Heaven's still my song, my praise. 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. 1 23 
 
 No tears from any eyes 
 Drop in that holy quire ; 
 But Death itself there dies, 
 And sighs themselves expire. 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 There should temptations cease, 
 My frailties there should end ; 
 There should I rest in peace 
 In the arms of my best Friend 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee^ 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 Jerusalem on high 
 My song and City is, 
 My home whene'er I die, 
 The centre of my bliss : 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 Thy walls, sweet city, thine, 
 With pearls are garnished ; 
 Thy gates with praises shine. 
 Thy streets with gold are spread ; 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
124 The Book of Praise. 
 
 No sun by day shines there. 
 Nor moon by silent night ; 
 Oh no ! these needless are ; 
 The Lamb's the city's Light : 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 There dwells my Lord, my King, 
 Judged here unfit to live ; 
 There angels to Him sing, 
 And lowly homage give : 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 The Patriarchs of old 
 There from their travels cease ; 
 The Prophets there behold 
 Their long'd-for Prince of Peace ; 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 The Lamb's Apostles there 
 I might with joy behold, 
 The Harpers I might hear 
 Harping on harps of gold ; 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. 125 
 
 The bleeding Martyrs, they 
 Within those courts are found, 
 Clothed in pure array, 
 Their scars with glory crown'd : 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 Ah me ! Ah me ! that I 
 In Kedar's tents here stay ! 
 No place like this on high ! 
 Thither, Lord ! guide my way ! 
 O happy place ! 
 When shall I be, 
 My God, with Thee, 
 To see Thy face ? 
 
 Samuel Cross man. 1664 
 
 CX. 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home, 
 
 Name ever dear to me ! 
 When shall my labours have an end, 
 
 In joy and peace, and thee ? 
 
 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls, 
 
 And pearly gates behold ? 
 Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, 
 
 And streets of shining gold ? 
 
 There happier bowers than Eden's bloom, 
 
 Nor sin nor sorrow know : 
 Blest seats ! through rude and stormy scenes 
 
 I onward press to you. 
 
126 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Why should I shrink from pain and woe, 
 
 Or feel at death dismay ? 
 I've Canaan's goodly land in view, 
 
 And realms of endless day. 
 
 Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there 
 
 Around my Saviour stand ; 
 And soon my friends in Christ below 
 
 Will join the glorious band. 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home ! 
 
 My soul still pants for thee : 
 Then shall my labours have an end, 
 
 When I thy joys shall see. 
 
 Anon. [1801.] 
 
 CXI. 
 
 Rev. VII. 13—17. 
 
 What are these in bright array, 
 
 This innumerable throng, 
 Round the altar, night and day, 
 
 Hymning one triumphant song ? 
 " Worthy is the Lamb, once slain, 
 
 Blessing, honour, glory, power, 
 Wisdom, riches, to obtain, 
 
 New dominion every hour." 
 
 These through fiery trials trod ; 
 
 These from great affliction came ; 
 Now, before the Throne of God, 
 
 Seal'd with His Almighty Name, 
 Clad in raiment pure and white, 
 
 Victor-palms in every hand, 
 Through their dear Redeemer's might, 
 
 More than conquerors they stand. 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. \z*j 
 
 Hunger, thirst, disease unknown, 
 
 On immortal fruits they feed ; 
 Them the Lamb amidst the Throne 
 
 Shall to living fountains lead ; 
 Joy and gladness banish sighs ; 
 
 Perfect love dispels all fear ; 
 And for ever from their eyes 
 
 God shall wipe away the tear. 
 
 James Montgomery. 1819. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 Rev. VII. 13-17. 
 
 Exalted high at God's right hand, 
 Nearer the throne than cherubs stand, 
 With glory crown'd, in white array, 
 My wondering soul says, who are they ? 
 
 These are the saints beloved of God, 
 Wash'd are their robes in Jesus' blood, 
 More spotless than the purest white 
 They shine in uncreated light. 
 
 Brighter than angels, lo ! they shine, 
 Their glories great, and all divine : 
 Tell me their origin, and say, 
 Their order what, and whence came they ? 
 
 Through tribulation great they came, 
 They bore the cross, and scorn'd the shame : 
 Within the Living Temple blest, 
 In God they dwell, and on Him rest. 
 
 And does the cross thus prove their gain ? 
 And shall they thus for ever reign, 
 Seated on sapphire thrones, to praise 
 The wonders of Redeeming grace ? 
 
128 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Hunger they ne'er shall feel again, 
 Nor burning thirst shall they sustain : 
 To wells of living water led, 
 By God the Lamb for ever fed. 
 
 Unknown to mortal ears, they sing 
 The secret glories of their King : 
 Tell me the subject of their lays, 
 And whence their loud exalted praise ? 
 
 Jesus, the Saviour, is their theme ; 
 They sing the wonders of His Name ; 
 To Him ascribing power and grace, 
 Dominion, and eternal praise. 
 
 Amen ! they cry, to Him alone, 
 Who dares to fill His Father's throne ; 
 They give Him glory, and again 
 Repeat His praise, and say, Amen ! 
 
 Rowland Hill. 1783. 
 
 cxrn. 
 
 O happy saints, who dwell in light, 
 And walk with Jesus, clothed in white ; 
 Safe landed on that peaceful shore, 
 "Where pilgrims meet to part no more. 
 
 Released from sin, and toil, and grief- 
 Death was their gate to endless life ; 
 An open'd cage, to let them fly 
 And build their happy nest on high. 
 
 And now they range the heavenly plains, 
 And sing their hymns in melting strains ; 
 And now their souls begin to prove 
 The heights and depths of Jesus' love. 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. 1 29 
 
 He cheers them with eternal smile ; 
 They sing hosannas all the while ; 
 Or, overwhelm'd with rapture sweet, 
 Sink down adoring at His feet. 
 
 Ah ! Lord ! with tardy steps I creep, 
 And sometimes sing, and sometimes weep ; 
 Yet strip me of this house of clay, 
 And I will sing as loud as they. 
 
 John Berridge. 1 785. 
 
 CXIV, 
 
 Rev. VII. 13—17. 
 
 How bright these glorious spirits shine : 
 Whence all their white array ? 
 
 How came they to the blissful seats 
 Of everlasting day ? 
 
 Lo ! these are they from sufferings great 
 
 Who came to realms of light ; 
 And in the blood of Christ have wash'd 
 [ Those robes which shine so bright. 
 
 Now with triumphal palms they stand 
 
 Before the throne on high, 
 And serve the God they love, amidst 
 
 The glories of the sky. 
 
 His presence fills each heart with joy. 
 
 Tunes every mouth to sing ; 
 By day, by night, the sacred courts 
 
 With glad hosannas ring. 
 K 
 
130 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Hunger and thirst are felt no more, 
 
 Nor suns with scorching ray ; 
 God is their Sun, whose cheering beams 
 
 Diffuse eternal day. 
 
 The Lamb, which dwells amidst the throne, 
 
 Shall o'er them still preside, 
 Feed them with nourishment divine, 
 
 And all their footsteps guide. 
 
 'Mong pastures green He'll lead His flock, 
 
 Where living streams appear ; 
 And God the Lord from every eye 
 Shall wipe off every tear. 
 
 William Cameron. 1781. 
 (Variation from Isaac Watts. 1709.) 
 
 CXV. 
 
 Rev. VII. 13 — 17. 
 
 Palms of glory, raiment bright, 
 Crowns that never fade away, 
 Gird and deck the saints in light, 
 Priests, and kings, and conquerors they. 
 
 Yet the conquerors bring their palms 
 To the Lamb amidst the throne, 
 And proclaim in joyful psalms 
 Victory through His cross alone. 
 
 Kings for harps their crowns resign, 
 Crying, as they strike the chords, 
 " Take the kingdom, it is Thine, 
 King of kings, and Lord of lords ! 9 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. 131 
 
 Round the altar priests confess, 
 If their robes are white as snow, 
 'Twas the Saviour's righteousness, 
 And His blood, that made them so. 
 
 Who were these ? on earth they dwelt ; 
 Sinners once, of Adam's race ; 
 Guilt, and fear, and suffering felt ; 
 But were saved by sovereign grace. 
 
 They were mortal, too, like us : 
 Ah ! when we, like them, must die, 
 May our souls, translated thus, 
 Triumph, reign, and shine on high ! 
 
 James Montgomery. [1853.] 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 Psalm LXXXVII. 
 
 Glorious things of thee are spoken, 
 
 Zion, city of our God ; 
 He, whose word cannot be broken, 
 
 Form'd thee for His own abode : 
 On the Rock of Ages founded, 
 
 What can shake thy sure repose ? 
 With salvation's walls surrounded, 
 
 Thou mayst smile at all thy foes. 
 
 See, the streams of living waters, 
 
 Springing from eternal love, 
 Well supply thy sons and daughters, 
 
 And all fear of want remove : 
 Who can faint, while such a river 
 
 Ever flows their thirst to assuage ; 
 Grace, which, like the Lord the giver, 
 
 Never fails from age to age ? 
 K 2 
 
1 3 2 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Round each habitation hovering, 
 
 See the cloud and fire appear, 
 For a glory and a covering ; 
 
 Showing that the Lord is near. 
 Thus deriving from their banner 
 
 Light by night, and shade by day, 
 Safe they feed upon the manna, 
 
 Which He gives them when they pray. 
 
 Saviour, if of Zion's city 
 
 I, through grace, a member am, 
 Let the world deride or pity, 
 
 I will glory in Thy Name : 
 Fading is the worldling's pleasure, 
 
 All his boasted pomp and show ; 
 Solid joys and lasting treasure 
 
 None but Zion's children know. 
 
 John Newton. 1779. 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 The Son of God goes forth to war, 
 
 A kingly crown to gain ; 
 His blood-red banner streams afar : 
 
 Who follows in His train ? 
 
 Who best can drink His cup of woe, 
 
 Triumphant over pain, 
 Who patient bears His cross below, 
 
 He follows in his train. 
 
 The martyr, first, whose eagle eye 
 Could pierce beyond the grave ; 
 
 Who saw his Master in the sky, 
 And call'd on Him to save. 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. 133 
 
 Like Him, with pardon on his tongue, 
 
 In midst of mortal pain, 
 He prayed for them that did the wrong : 
 
 Who follows in his train ? 
 
 A glorious band, the chosen few, 
 
 On whom the Spirit came ; 
 Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew, 
 
 And mock'd the cross and flame. 
 
 They met the tyrant's brandish' d steel, 
 
 The lion's gory mane ; 
 They bow'd their necks the death to feel : 
 
 Who follows in their train ? 
 
 A noble army, men and boys, 
 
 The matron and the maid, 
 Around the Saviour's throne rejoice, 
 
 In robes of light arrayed. 
 
 They climb'd the steep ascent of heaven, 
 
 Through peril, toil, and pain ; 
 O God ! to us may grace be given 
 
 To follow in their train ! 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 Ye servants of the Lord, 
 Each in his office wait, 
 Observant of His heavenly word, 
 And watchful at His gate. 
 
 Let all your lamps be bright, 
 And trim the golden flame ; 
 Gird up your loins, as in His sight, 
 For awful is His name. 
 
134 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Watch ; 'tis your Lord's command ; 
 And, while we speak, He's near ; 
 Mark the first signal of His hand, 
 And ready all appear. 
 
 O happy servant he, 
 In such a posture found ! 
 He shall his Lord with rapture see, 
 And be with honour crown'd. 
 
 Christ shall the banquet spread 
 With His own Royal hand ; 
 And raise that favourite servant's head 
 Amid the angelic band. 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 A soldier's course, from battles won 
 
 To new-commencing strife ; 
 A pilgrim's, restless as the sun 
 
 Behold the Christian's life ! 
 
 Prepared the trumpet's call to greet, 
 
 Soldier of Jesus, stand ! 
 Pilgrim of Christ, with ready feet 
 
 Await thy Lord's command. 
 
 The hosts of Satan pant for spoil ; 
 
 How can thy warfare close ? 
 Lonely, thou tread'st a foreign soil ; 
 
 How canst thou hope repose ? 
 
 Seek, soldier ! pilgrim ! seek thine home, 
 
 Reveal'd in sacred lore ; 
 The land, whence pilgrims never roam, 
 
 Where soldiers war no more : 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. 135 
 
 Where grief shall never wound, nor death 
 
 Disturb the Saviour's reign ; 
 Nor sin, with pestilential breath, 
 
 His holy realm profane : 
 
 The land, where, (suns and moons unknown, 
 
 And night's alternate sway,) 
 Jehovah's ever-burning throne 
 
 Upholds unbroken day : 
 
 The land, (for Heaven its bliss unseen 
 
 Bids earthly types suggest,) 
 Where healing leaves and fadeless green 
 
 Fruit-laden groves invest : 
 
 Where founts of life their treasures yield 
 
 In streams that never cease ; 
 Where everlasting mountains shield 
 
 Vales of eternal peace : 
 
 Where they who meet shall never part ; 
 
 Where grace achieves its plan ; 
 And God, uniting every heart, 
 
 Dwells face to face with man. 
 
 Thomas Gisborne. 1803. 
 
 cxx. 
 
 Hark, 'tis a martial sound ! 
 
 To arms, ye saints, to arms ! 
 
 Your foes are gathering round, 
 
 And peace has lost its charms : 
 Prepare the helmet, sword, and shield ; 
 The trumpet calls you to the field. 
 
 No common foes appear 
 To dare you to the fight, 
 But such as own no fear 
 And glory in their might : 
 
136 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The Powers of Darkness are at hand ; 
 Resist, or bow to their command. 
 
 An arm of flesh must fail 
 
 In such a strife as this ; 
 
 He only can prevail 
 
 Whose arm immortal is : 
 Tis Heaven itself the strength must yield, 
 And weapons fit for such a field. 
 
 And Heaven supplies them too : 
 
 The Lord, who never faints, 
 
 Is greater than the foe, 
 
 And He is with His saints : 
 Thus arm'd, they venture to the fight ; 
 Thus arm'd, they put their foes to flight. 
 
 And, when the conflict's past, 
 
 On yonder peaceful shore 
 
 They shall repose at last, 
 
 And see their foes no more ; 
 The fruits of victory enjoy, 
 And never more their arms employ. 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1809 
 
 CXXI. 
 O Israel, to thy tents repair : 
 
 Why thus secure on hostile ground ? 
 Thy King commands thee to beware, 
 
 For many foes thy camp surround- 
 
 The trumpet gives a martial strain : 
 O Israel, gird thee for the fight ! 
 
 Arise, the combat to maintain, 
 And put thine enemies to flight I 
 
The Holy Catholic Chuuh. 137 
 
 Thou shouldst not sleep, as others do ; 
 
 Awake ; be vigilant ; be brave ! 
 The coward, and the sluggard too, 
 
 Must wear the fetters of the slave. 
 
 A nobler lot is cast for thee ; 
 
 A kingdom waits thee in the skies : 
 With such a hope, shall Israel flee, 
 
 Or yield, through weariness, the prize ? 
 
 No ! let a careless world repose 
 And slumber on through life's short day, 
 
 While Israel to the conflict goes, 
 And bears the glorious prize away ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1806 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 Much in sorrow, oft in woe, 
 Onward, Christians, onward go ; 
 Fight the fight, and, worn with strife, 
 Steep with tears the Bread of Life. 
 
 Onward, Christians, onward go ; 
 Join the war, and face the foe ; 
 Faint not ! much doth yet remain ; 
 Dreary is the long campaign. 
 
 Shrink not, Christians ! will ye yield ? 
 Will ye quit the painful field ? 
 Will ye flee in danger's hour ? 
 Know ye not your Captain's power ? 
 
 Let your drooping hearts be glad ; 
 March, in heavenly armour clad ; 
 Fight, nor think the battle long ; 
 Victory soon shall tune your song. 
 
138 . The Book of Praise. 
 
 Let not sorrow dim your eye, 
 Soon shall every tear be dry ; 
 Let not woe your course impede ; 
 Great your strength, if great your need. 
 
 Onward then to battle move ; 
 More than conquerors ye shall prove ; 
 Though opposed by many a foe, 
 Christian soldiers, onward go. 
 
 Fragment by Henry Kirke White. 1 806. 
 Completed by Fanny Fuller Maitland. 1827. 
 
 CXXIII. 
 Come, we that love the Lord, 
 And let our joys be known ; 
 Join in a song with sweet accord, 
 And thus surround the throne. 
 
 Let those refuse to sing 
 That never knew our God ; 
 But favourites of the Heavenly King 
 May speak their joys abroad. 
 
 The men of grace have found 
 Glory begun below ; 
 Celestial fruits on earthly ground 
 From faith and hope may grow. 
 
 The hill of Zion yields 
 A thousand sacred sweets, 
 Before we reach the heavenly fields. 
 Or walk the golden streets. 
 
 Then let our songs abound, 
 And every tear be dry : 
 We're marching through Emmanuel's ground 
 To fairer worlds on high. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709, 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. 139 
 
 cxxiv. 
 
 From Egypt lately come, 
 Where death and darkness reign, 
 We seek our new, our better home, 
 Where we our rest shall gain. 
 Hallelujah ! 
 We are on our way to God ! 
 
 To Canaan's sacred bound 
 We haste with songs of joy, 
 Where peace and liberty are found, 
 And sweets that never cloy. 
 Hallelujah ! 
 We are on our way to God ! 
 
 There sin and sorrow cease, 
 And every conflict's o'er ; 
 There we shall dwell in endless peace, 
 And never hunger more : 
 Hallelujah ! 
 We are on our way to God ! 
 
 There in celestial strains 
 Enraptured myriads sing ; 
 There love in every bosom reigns, 
 For God Himself is King. 
 Hallelujah ! 
 We are on our way to God ! 
 
 We soon shall join the throng, 
 Their pleasures we shall share, 
 And sing the everlasting song 
 With all th^ ransom'd there. 
 Hallelujah ! 
 We are on our way to God \ 
 
140 The Book of Praise. 
 
 How sweet the prospect is ! 
 It cheers the pilgrim's breast ! 
 We're journeying through the wilderness^ 
 But soon shall gain our rest ! 
 Hallelujah J 
 We are on our way to God ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1812. 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 When Israel, by Divine command, 
 
 The pathless desert trod, 
 They found, though 'twas a barren land, 
 
 A sure resource in God. 
 
 A cloudy pillar mark'd their road, 
 And screen'd them from the heat ; 
 
 From the hard rocks their water flow'd, 
 And manna was their meat. 
 
 Like them, we have a rest in view, 
 
 Secure from adverse powers ; 
 Like them, we pass a desert too ; 
 
 And Israel's God is ours. 
 
 His Word a light before us spreads 
 
 By which our path we see ; 
 His Love, a banner o'er our heads, 
 
 From harm preserves us free. 
 
 Jesus, the Bread of Life, is given 
 
 To be our daily food ; 
 We drink a wondrous stream from Heaven, 
 
 'Tis water, wine, and blood. 
 
 Lord ! 'tis enough ! I ask no more, 
 
 These blessings are Divine ; 
 I envy not the worldling's store, 
 
 If Christ and Heaven *are mine. 
 
 John Newton. 1779. 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. \\\ 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 Children of the Heavenly King, 
 As ye journey, sweetly sing ; 
 Sing your Saviour's worthy praise, 
 Glorious in His works and ways ! 
 
 We are travelling home to God, 
 In the way the Fathers trod ; 
 They are happy now ; and we 
 Soon their happiness shall see. 
 
 O ye banish'd seed, be glad ! 
 Christ our Advocate is made ; 
 Us to save, our flesh assumes ; 
 Brother to our souls becomes. 
 
 Shout, ye little flock, and blest ! 
 You on Jesus' Throne shall rest ; 
 There your seat is now prepared, 
 There your kingdom and reward. 
 
 Lift your eyes, ye sons of Light ! 
 Zion's city is in sight : 
 There our endless home shall be, 
 There our Lord we soon shall see. 
 
 Fear not, brethren ; joyful stand 
 On the borders of your land ; 
 Jesus Christ, your Father's Son, 
 Bids you undismayed go on. 
 
 Lord ! obediently we go, 
 Gladly leaving all below : 
 Only Thou our Leader be, 
 And we still will follow Thee ! 
 
142 The Book of Praise, 
 
 Seal our love, our labours end ; 
 Let us to Thy bliss ascend ; 
 Let us to Thy kingdom come ; 
 Lord ! we long to be at home. 
 
 John Cennick. 1742. 
 
 cxxvn. 
 
 Awake, and sing the song 
 Of Moses and the Lamb, 
 Wake every heart and every tongue 
 To praise the Saviour's Name. 
 
 Sing of His dying love ; 
 Sing of His rising power ; 
 Sing how He intercedes above 
 For those whose sins He bore. 
 
 Sing, till we feel our hearts 
 Ascending with our tongues ; 
 Sing, till the love of sin departs, 
 And grace inspires our songs. 
 
 Sing on your heavenly way, 
 Ye ransom'd sinners, sing ; 
 Sing on, rejoicing every day 
 In Christ the eternal King. 
 
 Soon shall ye hear Him say, 
 Ye blessed children, come ; 
 Soon will He call you hence away, 
 And take his wanderers home. 
 
 Variation from William Hammond. 1745. 
 By Martin Madan. 1760. 
 
The Holy Catholic Church. 143 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 " Te lata, mundi Conditor? 
 
 Thou, great Creator, art possest, 
 And Thou alone, of endless rest ; 
 To angels only it belongs 
 To lift to Thee their ceaseless songs. 
 
 But we must toil and toil again 
 With ceaseless woe and endless pain ; 
 How then can we, in exile drear, 
 Lift the glad song of glory here ! 
 
 Oh Thou, who wilt forgiving be 
 To all who truly turn to Thee, 
 Grant us to mourn the heavy cause 
 Of all our woe, Thy broken laws : 
 
 Then to such salutary grief 
 Let Faith and Hope bring due relief ; 
 And we, too, soon shall be possest 
 Of ceaseless songs and endless rest. 
 
 John Chandler. 1837. 
 
 cxxix. 
 
 Praise to the radiant Source of. bliss, 
 Who gives the blind their sight, 
 
 And scatters round their wond'ring eyes 
 A flood of sacred light. 
 
 In paths unknown He leads them on 
 
 To His Divine abode, 
 And shows new miracles of grace 
 
 Through all the heavenly road. 
 
1 44 The Book of Praise, 
 
 The ways all rugged and perplex'd 
 He renders smooth and straight, 
 
 And strengthens every feeble knee 
 To march to Zion's gate. 
 
 Through all the path I'll sing His Name, 
 
 Till I the Mount ascend, 
 Where toils and storms are known no more, 
 
 And anthems never end ! 
 
 Philifr. Doddridge. 1 75 5 . 
 
 X. 
 
 THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS, 
 
 " The Communion of Saints " {Apostles* Creed). 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 When Christ the Lord would come on earth, 
 His messenger before Him went, 
 
 The greatest born of mortal birth 
 
 And charged with words of deep intent. 
 
 The least of all that here attend 
 Hath honour greater far than he ; 
 
 He was the Bridegroom's joyful friend, 
 His Body and His Spouse are we. 
 
 A higher race, the sons of light, 
 
 Of water and the Spirit born ; 
 He the last star of parting night, 
 
 And we the children of the morn. 
 
The Communion of Saints. 145 
 
 And, as he boldly spake Thy word, 
 
 And joyed to hear the Bridegroom's voice, 
 
 Thus may Thy pastors teach, O Lord ! 
 And thus Thy hearing Church rejoice.- * 
 
 Henry A Iford. 1 845. 
 
 CXXXT. 
 
 How rich Thy favours, God of grace, 
 
 How various and Divine ! 
 Full as the ocean they are pour'd, 
 
 And bright as Heaven they shine. 
 
 He to eternal glory calls, 
 
 And leads the wondrous way 
 To His own Palace, where He reigns 
 
 In uncreated day. 
 
 Jesus, the Herald of His love, 
 
 Displays the radiant prize, 
 And shows the purchase of His Blood 
 
 To our admiring eyes. 
 
 He perfects what His hand begins, 
 
 And stone on stone he lays, 
 Till firm and fair the building rise 
 
 A temple to His praise. 
 
 The songs of everlasting years 
 
 That mercy shall attend, 
 Which leads, through sufferings of an hour, 
 
 To joys that never end. 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
146 The Book of Praise. 
 
 cxxxn. 
 
 Psalm LXXXIV. 
 
 Pleasant are Thy courts above 
 In the land of light and love ; 
 Pleasant are thy courts below 
 In this land of sin and woe. 
 O, my spirit longs and faints 
 For the converse of Thy saints, 
 For the brightness of Thy face, 
 For Thy fulness, God of grace ! 
 
 Happy birds that sing and fly 
 Round Thy altars, O Most High ! 
 Happier souls that find a rest 
 In a Heavenly Father's breast ! 
 Like the wandering dove, that found 
 No repose on earth around, 
 They can to their ark repair, 
 And enjoy it ever there. 
 
 Happy souls! their praises flow 
 Even in this vale of woe ; 
 Waters in the desert rise, 
 Manna feeds them from the skies : 
 On they go from strength to strength, 
 Till they reach Thy throne at length, 
 At Thy feet adoring fall, 
 Who hast led them safe through all. 
 
 Lord ! be mine this prize to win ! 
 Guide me through a world of sin : 
 Keep me by Thy saving grace ; 
 Give me at Thy side a place : 
 
The Communion of Saints, 147 
 
 Sun and Shield alike Thou art ; 
 Guide and guard my erring heart ! 
 Grace and glory flow from Thee ; 
 Shower, O shower them, Lord, on me ! 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1834. 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 Psalm LXXXIV. 
 
 Lord of the worlds above, 
 How pleasant and how fair 
 The dwellings of Thy love, 
 Thy earthly temples, are ! 
 To Thine abode 
 My heart aspires 
 With warm desires 
 To see my God. 
 
 O happy souls that pray 
 Where God appoints to hear ! 
 O happy men that pay 
 Their constant service there ! 
 They praise Thee still ; 
 And happy they 
 That love the way 
 To Sion's hill. 
 
 They go from strength to strength 
 Through this dark vale of tears, 
 Till each arrives at length, 
 Till each in Heaven appears : 
 O glorious seat, 
 When God our King 
 Shall thither bring 
 Our willing feet ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 L 2 
 
148 The Book of Praise. 
 
 cxxxiv, 
 
 Tis Heaven begun below 
 
 To hear Christ's praises flow 
 In Zion, where His Name is known : 
 
 What will it be above 
 
 To sing redeeming love, 
 And cast our crowns before His throne ! 
 
 When we adore Him there, 
 
 We shall be void of fear, 
 Nor faith, nor hope, nor patience need : 
 
 Love will absorb us quite, 
 
 Love in the midst of light, 
 On God's eternal love shall feed. 
 
 Oh ! what sweet company 
 
 We then shall hear and see ! 
 What harmony will there abound ! 
 
 When souls unnumber'd sing 
 
 The praise of Zion's King, 
 Nor one dissenting voice is found ! 
 
 With everlasting joy, 
 
 Such as will never cloy, 
 We shall be fill'd, nor wish for more ; 
 
 Bright as meridian day, 
 
 Calm as the evening ray, 
 Full as a sea without a shore. 
 
 Till that blest period come, 
 
 Zion shall be my home ; 
 And may I never thence remove, 
 
 Till from the Church below 
 
 To heaven at once I go, 
 And there commune in perfect love ! 
 
 Joseph Swain. 1792. 
 
The Communion of Saints. j^q 
 
 cxxxv, 
 
 Lo ! God is here ! Let us adore, 
 And own, how dreadful is this place ! 
 
 Let all within us feel His power, 
 And silent bow before His face ! 
 
 Who know His power, His grace who prove, 
 
 Serve Him with awe, with reverence love. 
 
 Lo ! God is here ! Him day and night 
 
 Th' united quires of angels sing : 
 To Him, enthroned above all height, 
 
 Heaven's hosts their noblest praises bring : 
 Disdain not, Lord, our meaner song, 
 Who praise Thee with a stammering tongue ! 
 
 Gladly the toys of earth we leave, 
 Wealth, pleasure, fame, for Thee alone : 
 
 To Thee our will, soul, flesh, we give ; 
 O take, O seal them for Thine own ! 
 
 Thou art the God ! Thou art the Lord ! 
 
 Be Thou by all Thy works adored ! 
 
 Being of beings, may our praise 
 
 Thy courts with grateful fragrance fill ; 
 
 Still may we stand before Thy face, 
 Still hear and do Thy sovereign will ! 
 
 To Thee may all our thoughts arise, 
 
 Ceaseless, accepted sacrifice ! 
 
 In Thee we move ; all things of Thee 
 Are full, Thou source and life of all J 
 
 Thou vast, unfathomable Sea ! 
 Fall prostrate, lost in wonder fall, 
 
 Ye sons of men ; for God is Man ! 
 
 All may we lose, so Thee we gain ! 
 
150 The Book of Praise. 
 
 As flowers their opening leaves display, 
 
 And glad drink in the solar fire, 
 So may we catch Thy every ray, 
 
 So may Thy influence us inspire ; 
 Thou Beam of the eternal Beam, 
 Thou purging Fire ; Thou quickening Flame ! 
 John Wesley. 1739. 
 From Gerhard Tersteegen. 
 
 CXXXVI. 
 
 Jesus, where'er Thy people meet, 
 There they behold Thy mercy-seat ; 
 Where'er they seek Thee, Thou art found, 
 And every place is hallowed ground. 
 
 For Thou, within no walls confined, 
 Inhabitest the humble mind ; 
 Such ever bring Thee where they come, 
 And going take Thee to their home. 
 
 Dear Shepherd of Thy chosen few, 
 Thy former mercies here renew ; 
 Here to our waiting hearts proclaim 
 The sweetness of Thy saving Name. 
 
 Here may we prove the power of prayer 
 To strengthen faith, and sweeten care, 
 To teach our faint desires to rise, 
 And bring all Heaven before our eyes. 
 
 Behold, at Thy commanding word, 
 We stretch the curtain and the cord ; 
 Come Thou, and fill this wider space, 
 And bless us with a large increase. 
 
The Communion of Saints. 151 
 
 Lord, we are few, but Thou art near ; 
 Nor short Thine arm, nor deaf Thine ear •, 
 O rend the heavens, come quickly down, 
 And make a thousand hearts Thine own ! 
 
 William Cowper. 1779. 
 
 CXXXVII. 
 
 The heaven of heavens cannot contain 
 
 The Universal Lord ; 
 Yet He in humble hearts will deign 
 
 To dwell and be adored. 
 
 Where'er ascends the sacrifice 
 
 Of fervent praise and prayer, 
 Or on the earth, or in the skies, 
 
 The Heaven of God is there. 
 
 His presence there is spread abroad 
 Through realms, through worlds unknown ; 
 
 Who seeks the mercies of his God 
 Is ever near His Throne. 
 
 William Drennan. 18 15. 
 
 cxxxvn 1. 
 
 How blest the sacred tie that binds, 
 In union sweet, according minds ; 
 How swift the heavenly course they run, 
 Whose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are one ! 
 
 To each the soul of each how dear ! 
 What jealous love, what holy fear ! 
 How doth the generous flame within 
 Refine from earth, and cleanse from sin ! 
 
152 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Their streaming tears together flow 
 For human guilt and mortal woe ; 
 Their ardent prayers together rise 
 Like mingling flames in sacrifice. 
 
 Together both they seek the place 
 Where God reveals His awful face ; 
 How high, how strong, their raptures swell, 
 There's none but kindred souls can tell. 
 
 Nor shall the glowing flame expire, 
 When nature droops her sickening fire ; 
 Then shall they meet in realms above ; 
 A heaven of joy, because of love. 
 
 Anna Lcetitia Ba?-bauld. [1773. 
 
 CXXXIX. 
 
 O quam juvat fratres, Deus. 
 O Lord, how joyful 'tis to see 
 The brethren join in love to Thee ; 
 On Thee alone their heart relies, 
 Their only strength Thy grace supplies. 
 
 How sweet, withia Thy holy place, 
 With one accord to sing Thy grace, 
 Besieging Thine attentive ear 
 With all the force of fervent prayer. 
 
 O may we love the house of God, 
 Of peace and joy the blest abode ; 
 O may no angry strife destroy 
 That sacred peace, that holy joy. 
 
 The world without may rage, but we 
 Will only cling more close to Thee, 
 With hearts to Thee more wholly given, 
 More wean'd from earth, more fix'd on Heaven. 
 
The Communion of Saints. 153 
 
 Lord, shower upon us from above 
 The sacred gift of mutual love ; 
 Each other's wants may we supply, 
 And reign together in the sky. 
 
 John Chandler, 1837, 
 
 CXL. 
 
 Come, let us join our friends above, 
 
 That have obtain'd the prize, 
 And on the eagle wings of love 
 
 To joy celestial rise. 
 Let all the saints terrestrial sing 
 
 With those to glory gone, 
 For all the servants of our King, 
 
 In earth and Heaven, are one. 
 
 One family, we dwell in Him, 
 
 One Church, above, beneath. 
 Though now divided by the stream, 
 
 The narrow stream of death. 
 One army of the living God, 
 
 To His command we bow ; 
 Part of His host hath cross' d the flood, 
 
 And part is crossing now. 
 
 Ten thousand to their endless home 
 
 This solemn moment fly ; 
 And we are to the margin come, 
 
 And we expect to die ; 
 His militant embodied host 
 
 With wishful looks we stand, 
 And long to see that happy coast, 
 
 And reach that heavenly land. 
 
154 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Our old companions in distress 
 
 We haste again to see, 
 And eager long for our release 
 
 And full felicity : 
 Even now by faith we join our hands 
 
 With those that went before, 
 And greet the blood-besprinkled bands 
 
 On the eternal shore. 
 
 Our spirits too shall quickly join, 
 
 Like theirs with glory crown'd, 
 And shout to see our Captain's sign, 
 
 To hear His trumpet sound. 
 Oh ! that we now might grasp our Guide ! 
 
 Oh ! that the word were given ! 
 Come, Lord of hosts ! the waves divide, 
 
 And land us all in Heaven ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1759. 
 
 CXLI. 
 Hosanna to the Living Lord ! 
 Hosanna to the Incarnate Word ! 
 To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, 
 Let earth, let Heaven, Hosanna sing. 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
 " Hosanna," Lord, Thine angels cry ; 
 " Hosanna," Lord, Thy saints reply : 
 Above, beneath us, and around, 
 The dead and living swell the sound. 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
 O Saviour, with protecting care 
 Return to this Thy house of prayer, 
 Assembled in Thy sacred Name, 
 Where we Thy parting promise claim. 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
The Forgiveness of Sins . 155 
 
 But, chiefest, in our cleansed breast, 
 Eternal, bid Thy Spirit rest ; 
 And make our secret soul to be 
 A temple pure, and worthy Thee. 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
 So, in the last and dreadful day, 
 When earth and Heaven shall melt away, 
 Thy flock, redeem'd from sinful stain, 
 Shall swell the sound of praise again. 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1 8 1 1 . 
 
 XL 
 
 THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS. 
 " I acknowledge one Baptism for the Remission of Sins" 
 
 CXLII. 
 
 Psalm CIII. 
 
 My soul, repeat His praise 
 Whose mercies are so great, 
 Whose anger is so slow to rise, 
 So ready to abate. 
 
 High as the heavens are raised 
 Above the ground we tread, 
 So far the riches of His grace 
 Our highest thoughts exceed. 
 
 His power subdues our sins ; 
 And His forgiving love, 
 Far as the east is from the west, 
 Doth all our guilt remove. 
 
156 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The pity of the Lord 
 To those that fear His Name, 
 Is such as tender parents feel ; 
 He knows our feeble frame. 
 
 Our days are as the grass, 
 Or like the morning flower ; 
 If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field, 
 It withers in an hour. 
 
 But Thy compassions, Lord, 
 To endless years endure, 
 And children's children ever find 
 Thy words of promise sure. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719 
 
 CXLIII. 
 
 There is a fountain fill'd with blood 
 Drawn from Emmanuel's veins ; 
 
 And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, 
 Lose all their guilty stains. 
 
 The dying thief rejoiced to see 
 
 That fountain in his day ; 
 And there have I, as vile as he, 
 
 Wash'd all my sins away. 
 
 Dear dying Lamb ! Thy precious Blood 
 
 Shall never lose its power, 
 Till all the ransom'd Church of God 
 
 Be saved, to sin no more. 
 
 E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream 
 
 Thy flowing wounds supply, 
 Redeeming love has been my theme, 
 
 And shall be till I die. 
 
The Forgiveness of Sins. 1 5 7 
 
 Then in a nobler, sweeter song 
 
 I'll sing Thy power to save, 
 When this poor lisping, stammering tongue 
 
 Lies silent in the grave. 
 
 Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared, 
 
 Unworthy though I be, 
 For me a blood-bought free reward, 
 
 A golden harp for me : 
 
 'Tis strung, and tuned for endless years, 
 
 And form'd by power divine, 
 To sound in God the Father's ears, 
 
 No other Name but Thine. 
 
 William Cowper. 1779. 
 
 CXLIV. 
 
 Jesu, Thou art my Righteousness, 
 
 For all my sins were Thine ; 
 Thy death hath bought of God my peace, 
 
 Thy life hath made Him mine. 
 
 Spotless and just in Thee I am ; 
 
 I feel my sins forgiven ; 
 I taste salvation in Thy Name, 
 
 And antedate my heaven. 
 
 For ever here my rest shall be, 
 
 Close to Thy bleeding side ; 
 This all my hope, and all my plea, 
 
 For me the Saviour died ! 
 
 My dying Saviour and my God, 
 
 Fountain for guilt and sin, 
 Sprinkle me ever with Thy Blood, 
 
 And cleanse and keep me clean ! 
 
158 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Wash me, and make me thus Thine own ; 
 
 Wash me, and mine Thou art ! 
 Wash me, but not my feet alone : 
 
 My hands, my head, my heart ! 
 
 Th' atonement of Thy Blood apply, 
 
 Till faith to sight improve ; 
 Till hope in full fruition die, 
 
 And all my soul be love. 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1740. 
 
 CXLV. 
 
 Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
 
 Let me hide myself in Thee ! 
 
 Let the water and the blood, 
 
 From Thy riven side which flowed, 
 
 Be of sin the double cure, 
 
 Cleanse me from its guilt and power. 
 
 Not the labours of my hands 
 Can fulfil Thy law's demands ; 
 Could my zeal no respite know, 
 Could my tears for ever flow, 
 All for sin could not atone ; 
 Thou must save, and Thou alone. 
 
 Nothing in my hand I bring ; 
 Simply to Thy Cross I cling ; 
 Naked, come to Thee for dress ; 
 Helpless, look to Thee for grace ; 
 Foul, I to the Fountain fly ; 
 Wash me, Saviour, or I die ! 
 
The Forgiveness of Sins. 159 
 
 While I draw this fleeting breath, 
 When my eyestrings break in death, 
 When I soar through tracts unknown, 
 See Thee on Thy judgment-throne ; 
 Rock of Ages, cleft for me, 
 Let me hide myself in Thee ! 
 
 Augustus Montague Toplady. 1776 
 
 CXLVI. 
 
 God of my salvation, hear, 
 And help me to believe ; 
 
 Simply do I now draw near, 
 Thy blessing to receive. 
 
 Full of guilt, alas ! I am, 
 But to Thy wounds for refuge flee ; 
 
 Friend of sinners ! spotless Lamb ! 
 Thy Blood was shed for me. 
 
 Standing now as newly slain, 
 To Thee I lift mine eye ; 
 
 Balm of all my grief and pain, 
 Thy Blood is always nigh ; 
 
 Now as yesterday the same 
 Thou art, and wilt for ever be ; 
 
 Friend of sinners ! spotless Lamb ! 
 Thy Blood was shed for me. 
 
 Nothing have I, Lord, to pay, 
 Nor can Thy grace procure ; 
 
 Empty send me not away, 
 
 For I, Thou know'st, am poor : 
 
 Dust and ashes is my name, 
 My all is sin and misery ; 
 
 Friend of sinners ! spotless Lamb ! 
 Thy Blood was shed for me. 
 
160 The Book of Praise. 
 
 No good work, or word, or thought, 
 
 Bring I to gain Thy grace ; 
 Pardon I accept unbought, 
 
 Thy proffer I embrace ; 
 Coming, as at first I came, 
 To take, and not bestow on Thee ; 
 Friend of sinners ! spotless Lamb ! 
 
 Thy Blood was shed for me. 
 
 Saviour ! from Thy wounded side 
 
 I never will depart ; 
 Here will I my spirit hide 
 
 When I am pure in heart : 
 
 Till my place above I claim, 
 
 This only shall be all my plea, 
 
 Friend of sinners ! spotless Lamb ! 
 Thy Blood was shed for me. 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1742. 
 
 CXLVII. 
 
 Just 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 ! 
 
The Forgiveness of Sins, 161 
 
 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. 1836. 
 
 CXLVIII. 
 
 When wounded sore the stricken soul 
 
 Lies bleeding and unbound, 
 One only hand, a pierced hand, 
 
 Can salve the sinner's wound. 
 
 When sorrow swells the laden breast, 
 
 And tears of anguish flow, 
 One only heart, a broken heart, 
 
 Can feel the sinner's woe. 
 
 When penitence has wept in vain 
 
 Over some foul dark spot, 
 One only stream, a stream of blood, 
 
 Can wash away the blot. 
 
 'Tis Jesus' blood that washes white, 
 His hand that brings relief, 
 M 
 
1 62 The Book of Praise. 
 
 His heart that's touch'd with all our joys 
 And feeleth for our grief. 
 
 Lift up Thy bleeding hand, O Lord ; 
 
 Unseal that cleansing tide ; 
 We have no shelter from our sin, 
 
 But in Thy wounded side. 
 
 Cecil Frances A lexander. [1858.] 
 
 XII. 
 RESURRECTION AND ETERNAL LIFE. 
 
 " And I look for the Resurrection of the dead, and the 
 Life oj the ivorld to come. Amen. " 
 
 CXLIX. 
 
 Earth to earth, and dust to dust, 
 Lord, we own the sentence just ; 
 Head and tongue, and hand and heart, 
 All in guilt have borne their part ; 
 Righteous is the common doom, 
 All must moulder in the tomb. 
 
 Like the seed in spring-time sown, 
 Like the leaves in autumn strown, 
 Low these goodly frames must lie, 
 All our pomp and glory die ; 
 Soon the Spoiler seeks his prey, 
 Soon he bears us all away. 
 
 Yet the seed, upraised again, 
 Clothes with green the smiling plain ; 
 Onward as the seasons move, 
 Leaves and blossoms deck the grove ; 
 And shall we forgotten lie, 
 Lost for ever, when we die ? 
 
Resurrection arid Eternal Life. 163 
 
 Lord, from Nature's gloomy night 
 Turn we to the Gospel's light ; 
 Thou didst triumph o'er the grave, 
 Thou wilt all Thy people save ; 
 Ransom'd by Thy Blood, the just 
 Rise immortal from the dust. 
 
 John Hampden Gumey. 1838. 
 
 CL. 
 
 O God, Thy grace and blessing give 
 To us, who on thy Name attend, 
 
 That we this mortal life may live 
 Regardful of our journey's end. 
 
 Teach us to know that Jesus died, 
 And rose again, our souls to save ; 
 
 Teach us to take Him as our Guide, 
 Our Help from childhood to the grave. 
 
 Then shall not death with terror come, 
 But welcome as a bidden guest, 
 
 The herald of a better home, 
 The messenger of peace and rest 
 
 And, when the awful signs appear 
 Of Judgment, and the Throne above 
 
 Our hearts still fix'd, we shall not fear, 
 God is our trust ; and God is Love. 
 
 Anon. [1853.] 
 
 en. 
 
 Dearest of names, our Lord, our King ! 
 Jesus, Thy praise we humbly sing : 
 In cheerful songs we'll spend our breath, 
 And in Thee triumph over death. 
 M 2 
 
164 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Death is no more among our foes, 
 Since Christ, the mighty Conqueror, rose ; 
 Both power and sting the Saviour broke ; 
 He died, and gave the finish'd stroke. 
 
 Saints die, and we should gently weep ; 
 Sweetly in Jesus' arms they sleep ; 
 Far from this world of sin and woe, 
 Nor sin, nor pain, nor grief, they know. 
 
 Death no terrific foe appears ; 
 An angel's lovely form he wears ; 
 A friendly messenger he proves 
 To every soul whom Jesus loves. 
 
 Death is a sleep ; and O ! how sweet 
 To souls prepared its stroke to meet ! 
 Their dying beds, their graves are blest, 
 For all to them is peace and rest. 
 
 Their bodies sleep ; their souls take wing ; 
 Uprise to Heaven, and there they sing 
 With joy" before the Saviour's face, 
 Triumphant in victorious grace. 
 
 Soon shall the earth's remotest bound 
 Feel the Archangel's trumpet sound ; 
 Then shall the grave's dark caverns shake, 
 And joyful all the saints shall wake. 
 
 Bodies»and souls shall then unite, 
 Arrayed in glory, strong and bright ; 
 And all His saints will Jesus bring 
 His face to see, His love to sintf. 
 
Resurrection and Eternal I Jfe. 165 
 
 may I live, with Jesus nigh, 
 And sleep in Jesus when I die ! 
 Then, joyful, when from death I wake, 
 
 1 shall eternal bliss partake. 
 
 Samuel Medley. 1 800. 
 
 CLII. 
 
 We sing His love, Who once was slain, 
 Who soon o'er death revived again, 
 That all His saints through Him might have 
 Eternal conquests o'er the grave. 
 
 Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we 
 
 Shall rise to immortality. 
 
 The saints, who now with Jesus sleep, 
 His own Almighty power shall keep, 
 Till dawns the bright illustrious day 
 When death itself shall die away : 
 
 Soon shall the trumpet sound, and w*v 
 
 Shall rise to immortality. 
 
 How loud shall our glad voices sing, 
 When Christ His risen saints shall bring 
 From beds of dust, and silent clay, 
 To realms of everlasting day ! 
 
 Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we 
 
 Shall rise to immortality. 
 
 When Jesus we in glory meet, 
 Our utmost joys shall be complete ; 
 When landed on that heavenly shore, 
 Death and the curse will be no more : 
 
 Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we 
 
 Shall rise to immortality. 
 
1 66 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Hasten, dear Lord, the glorious day, 
 And this delightful scene display, 
 When all Thy saints from death shall rise 
 Raptured in bliss beyond the skies ! 
 
 Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we 
 
 Shall rise to immortality. 
 
 Rowland Hill. 1796. 
 
 CLIII. 
 
 My life's a shade, my days 
 Apace to death decline ; 
 My Lord is Life, He'll raise 
 My dust again, ev'n mine. 
 
 Sweet truth to me ! 
 
 I shall arise, 
 
 And with these eyes 
 
 My Saviour see. 
 
 My peaceful grave shall keep 
 My bones till that sweet day : 
 I wake from my long sleep 
 And leave my bed of clay. 
 
 Sweet truth to me ! 
 
 I shall arise, 
 
 And with these eyes 
 
 My Saviour see. 
 
 My Lord His angels shall 
 Their golden trumpets sound, 
 At whose most welcome call 
 My grave shall be unbound. 
 
 Sweet truth to me ! 
 
 I shall arise, 
 
 And with these eyes 
 
 My Saviour see. 
 
Resurrection and Eternal Life. 167 
 
 I said sometimes with tears, 
 Ah me ! I'm loth to die ! 
 Lord, silence Thou these fears : 
 My life's with Thee on high. 
 
 Sweet truth to me ! 
 
 I shall arise, 
 
 And with these eyes 
 
 My Saviour see. 
 
 What means my trembling heart, 
 To be thus shy of death ? 
 My Life and I sha'nt part, 
 Though I resign my breath. 
 
 Sweet truth to me ! 
 
 I shall arise, 
 
 And with these eyes 
 
 My Saviour see. 
 
 Then welcome, harmless grave ! 
 By thee to heaven I'll go : 
 My Lord His death shall save 
 Me from the flames below. 
 
 Sweet truth to me ! 
 
 I shall arise, 
 
 And with these eyes 
 
 My Saviour see. 
 
 Samuel Crossman. 1664. 
 
 CLIV. 
 
 Why do we mourn departing friends, 
 Or shake at death's alarms ? 
 
 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends 
 To call them to His arms. 
 
1 68 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Are we not tending upward too, 
 
 As fast as time can move ? 
 Nor would we wish the hours more slow 
 
 To keep us from our love. 
 
 Why should we tremble to convey 
 
 Their bodies to the tomb ? 
 There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, 
 
 And left a long perfume. 
 
 The graves of all His saints He bless'd, 
 
 And softened every bed : 
 Where should the dying members rest, 
 
 But with the dying Head ? 
 
 Thence He arose, ascending high, 
 And showed our feet the way ; 
 
 Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly 
 At the great rising day. 
 
 Then let the last loud trumpet sound, 
 
 And bid our kindred rise : 
 Awake, ye nations under ground ! 
 
 Ye saints, ascend the skies ! 
 
 Isaac Wat is. 1709. 
 
 CLV. 
 
 Spirit ! leave thine house of clay ! 
 
 Lingering dust, resign thy breath ! 
 Spirit ! cast thy chains away ! 
 
 Dust, be thou dissolved in death ! 
 Thus the Almighty Saviour speaks, 
 
 While the faithful Christian dies ; 
 Thus the bonds of life he breaks, 
 
 And the ransomed captive flies. 
 
Resurrection and Eternal Life. 
 
 Prisoner, long detained below ; 
 
 Prisoner, now with freedom blest ; 
 Welcome from a world of woe, 
 
 Welcome to a Land of Rest ! 
 Thus the choir of angels sing, 
 
 As they bear the soul on high, 
 While with hallelujahs ring 
 
 All the regions of the sky. 
 
 Grave, the guardian of our dust ! 
 
 Grave, the treasury of the skies f 
 Every atom of thy trust 
 
 Rests in hope again to rise. 
 Hark ! the Judgment trumpet calls : 
 
 Soul, rebuild thy house of clay, 
 Immortality thy walls, 
 
 And Eternity thy day ! 
 
 Variation. [1812.] 
 From y antes Montgomery. 1803, 
 
 CLVI. 
 
 Deathless principle, arise ! 
 Soar, thou native of the skies ; 
 Pearl of price, by Jesus bought, 
 To His glorious likeness wrought ! 
 
 Go, to shine before His throne ; 
 Deck his mediatorial crown ; 
 Go, His triumphs to adorn ; 
 Made for God, to God return ! 
 
 Lo, He beckons from on high ! 
 Fearless to His presence fly ! 
 Thine the merit of His Blood ; 
 Thine the Righteousness of God. 
 
170 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Angels, joyful to attend, 
 Hovering round thy pillow, bend, 
 Wait to catch the signal given, 
 And escort thee quick to Heaven. 
 
 Is thy earthly house distrest, 
 Willing to retain her guest ? 
 'Tis not thou, but she, must die ; 
 Fly, celestial tenant, fly ! 
 
 Burst thy shackles, drop thy clay, 
 Sweetly breathe thyself away ; 
 Singing, to thy crown remove, 
 Swift of wing, and fired with love. 
 
 Shudder not to pass the stream ; 
 Venture all thy care on Him : 
 Him, whose dying love and power 
 Still'd its tossing, hush'd its roar. 
 
 Safe is the expanded wave, 
 Gentle as a summer's eve ; 
 Not one object of His care 
 Ever suffered shipwreck there. 
 
 See the haven full in view ; 
 Love Divine shall bear thee through ; 
 Trust ^o that propitious gale ; 
 Weigh thy anchor, spread thy sail. 
 
 Saints, in glory perfect made, 
 
 Wait thy passage through the shade : 
 
 Ardent for thy coming o'er, 
 
 See, they throng the blissful shore ! 
 
Resurrection and Eternal Life. 171 
 
 Mount, their transports to improve ; 
 Join the longing choir above ; 
 Swiftly to their wish be given ; 
 Kindle higher joy in Heaven ! 
 
 Such the prospects that arise 
 To the dying Christian's eyes ; 
 Such the glorious vista faith 
 Opens through the shades of death. 
 
 A ugustus Mon tague Toplady . 1777* 
 
 CLVII. 
 
 Happy soul ! thy days are ended, 
 
 All thy mourning days below ; 
 Go, by angel guards attended, 
 
 To the sight of Jesus go ! 
 Waiting to receive thy spirit, 
 
 Lo, the Saviour stands above, 
 Shews the purchase of His merit, 
 
 Reaches out the crown of love ! 
 
 Struggle through thy latest passion 
 
 To thy dear Redeemer's breast, 
 To His uttermost salvation, 
 
 To His everlasting rest ! 
 For the joy He sets before thee, 
 
 Bear a momentary pain ; 
 Die, to live the life of glory ; 
 
 Suffer, with thy Lord to reign ! 
 
 Charles Wesley, ij '49. 
 
172 The Book of Praise, 
 
 CLVIII. 
 
 The waves of trouble, how they rise, 
 
 How loud the tempests roar ! 
 But death shall land our weary souls 
 
 Safe on the heavenly shore. 
 
 There, to fulfil His sweet commands, 
 
 Our speedy feet shall move ; 
 No sin shall clog our winged zeal, 
 
 Or cool our burning love. 
 
 There shall we sit, and sing, and tell 
 
 The wonders of His grace, 
 Till heavenly raptures fire our hearts, 
 
 And smile in every face. 
 
 For ever His dear sacred Name 
 
 Shall dwell upon our tongue, 
 And Jesus p.nd salvation be 
 
 The close of every song. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
 CLIX. 
 Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell, 
 
 With all your feeble light : 
 Farewell, thou ever-changing moon, 
 
 Pale empress of the night. 
 
 And thou, refulgent orb of day. 
 
 In brighter flames array'd ; 
 My soul, that springs beyond thy sphere, 
 
 Nq more demands thine aid. 
 
Resurrection and Eternal Life. 1 73 
 
 Ye stars are but the shining dust 
 
 Of my divine abode, 
 The pavement of those heavenly courts 
 
 Where I shall reign with God. 
 
 The Father of eternal light 
 
 Shall there His beams display, 
 Nor shall one moment's darkness mix 
 
 With that unvaried day. 
 
 No more the drops of piercing grief 
 
 Shall swell into mine eyes ; 
 Nor the meridian sun decline 
 
 Amid those brighter skies. 
 
 There all the millions of His saints 
 
 Shall in one song unite, 
 And each the bliss of all shall view 
 
 With infinite delight. 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 CLX. 
 Far from these narrow scenes of night 
 
 Unbounded glories rise, 
 And realms of infinite delight, 
 
 Unknown to mortal eyes. 
 
 Fair distant land ; could mortal eyes 
 
 But half its joys explore, 
 How would our spirits long to rise, 
 
 And dwell on earth no more ! 
 
174 The Booh of Praise. 
 
 There pain and sickness never come, 
 And grief no more complains : 
 
 Health triumphs in immortal bloom, 
 And endless pleasure reigns. 
 
 No cloud those blissful regions know, 
 
 For ever bright and fair ; 
 For sin, the source of mortal woe, 
 
 Can never enter there. 
 
 There no alternate night is known, 
 
 Nor sun's faint sickly ray ; 
 But glory from the sacred Throne 
 
 Spreads everlasting day. 
 
 The glorious monarch there displays 
 His beams of wondrous grace ; 
 
 His happy subjects sing His praise, 
 And bow before His face. 
 
 O may the heavenly prospect fire 
 
 Our hearts with ardent love, 
 Till wings of faith and strong desire 
 
 Bear every thought above ! 
 
 Prepare us, Lord, by grace divine, 
 For Thy bright courts on high ; 
 
 Then bid our spirits rise, and join 
 The chorus of the sky. 
 
 Anne Steele. 1760. 
 
Resurrection and Eternal Life. 1 75 
 
 CLXI. 
 
 There is a land of pure delight, 
 
 Where saints immortal reign, 
 Infinite day excludes the night, 
 
 And pleasures banish pain. 
 
 There everlasting spring abides, 
 
 And never withering flowers ; 
 Death, like a narrow sea, divides 
 
 This heavenly land from ours. 
 
 Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 
 
 Stand dress'd in living green : 
 So to the Jews old Canaan stood, 
 
 While Jordan roll'd between. 
 
 But timorous mortals start and shrink 
 
 To cross this narrow sea, 
 And linger shivering on the brink, 
 
 And fear to launch away. 
 
 O ! could we make our doubts remove, 
 
 These gloomy doubts that rise, 
 And see the Canaan that we love 
 
 With unbeclouded eyes ; 
 
 Could we but climb where Moses stood, 
 
 And view the landscape o'er ; 
 Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, 
 
 Should fright us from the shore. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
176 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CLXII. 
 
 There is a blessed Home 
 
 Beyond this land of woe, 
 Where trials never come, 
 
 Nor tears of sorrow flow ; 
 Where faith is lost in sight, 
 
 And patient hope is crown'd, 
 And everlasting light 
 
 Its glory throws around. 
 
 There is a land of peace, 
 
 Good angels know it well ; 
 Glad songs that never cease 
 
 Within its portals swell ; 
 Around its glorious Throne 
 
 Ten thousand saints adore 
 Christ, with the Father One, 
 
 And Spirit, evermore. 
 
 O joy all joys beyond, 
 
 To see the Lamb who died, 
 And count each sacred wound 
 
 In hands, and feet, and side ; 
 To give to Him the praise 
 
 Of every triumph won, 
 And sing through endless days 
 
 The great things He hath- done. 
 
 Look up, ye saints of God, 
 
 Nor fear to tread below 
 The path your Saviour trod 
 
 Of daily toil and woe ; 
 Wait but a little while 
 
 In uncomplaining love, 
 His own most gracious smile 
 
 Shall welcome yOu above. 
 
 Sir Henry Williams Baker. 186 1. 
 
Resurrection and Eternal Life. i yy 
 
 CLXTII. 
 
 The roseate hues of early dawn, 
 
 The brightness of the day, 
 The crimson of the sunset sky, 
 
 How fast they fade away ! 
 Oh ! for the pearly gates of heaven ! 
 
 Oh ! for the golden floor ! 
 Oh ! for the Sun of Righteousness 
 
 That setteth nevermore ! 
 
 The highest hopes we cherish here, 
 
 How fast they tire and faint ! 
 How many a spot defiles the robe 
 
 That wraps an earthly saint ! 
 Oh ! for a heart that never sins ! 
 
 Oh ! for a soul wash'd white ! 
 Oh ! for a voice to praise our King, 
 
 Nor weary day or night ! 
 
 Here faith is ours, and heavenly hope, 
 
 And grace to lead us higher : 
 But there are perfectness and peace 
 
 Beyond our best desire. 
 Oh ! by Thy love and anguish, Lord ! 
 
 Oh ! by Thy life laid down ! 
 Oh ! that we fall not from Thy grace. 
 
 Nor cast away our crown ! 
 
 Cecil Frances Alexander. [1853.] 
 
 CLXIV. 
 
 Friend after friend departs ; 
 
 Who hath not lost a friend ? 
 There is no union here of hearts, 
 
 N 
 
178 The Book of Praise. 
 
 That finds not here an end : 
 Were this frail world our only rest, 
 Living or dying, none were blest. 
 
 Beyond the flight of time, 
 
 Beyond this vale of death, 
 There surely is some blessed clime. 
 
 Where life is not a breath, 
 Nor life s affections transient fire, 
 Whose sparks fly upwards to expire. 
 
 There is a world above, 
 Where parting is unknown ; 
 
 A whole eternity of love, 
 Form'd for the good alone : 
 
 And faith beholds the dying here 
 
 Translated to that happier sphere. 
 
 Thus star by star declines 
 
 Till all are pass'd away, 
 As morning high and higher shines 
 
 To pure and perfect day ; 
 Nor sink those stars in empty night ; 
 They hide themselves in heaven's own light. 
 James Mont go?nery. 1824. 
 
 CLXV. 
 
 Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings, 
 
 Thy better portion trace ; 
 Rise from transitory things 
 
 Towards 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. 
 
Resurrection and Eternal Life. 1 79 
 
 Rivers to the ocean run, 
 
 Nor stay in all their course ; 
 Fire ascending seeks the sun ; 
 
 Both speed them to their source : 
 So my soul, derived from God, 
 Pants to view His glorious face, 
 Forward tends to His abode, 
 
 To rest in His embrace. 
 
 Fly me Riches, fly me Cares, 
 
 Whilst I that coast explore ; 
 Flattering world, with all thy snares, 
 
 Solicit me no more ! 
 Pilgrims fix not here their home ; 
 Strangers tarry but a night ; 
 When the last dear morn is come, 
 
 They'll rise to joyful light. 
 
 Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn ; 
 
 Press onward to the prize ; 
 Soon our Saviour will return 
 
 Triumphant in the skies. 
 Yet a season, and you know 
 Happy entrance will be given, 
 All our sorrows left below, 
 
 And earth exchanged for heaven. 
 
 Robert Seagrave. 1 748. 
 
 N 7 
 
180 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CLXVI. 
 
 We seek a rest beyond the skies, 
 
 In everlasting day ; 
 Through floods and flames the passage lies, 
 
 But Jesus guards the way : 
 The swelling flood, and raging flame, 
 
 Hear and obey His word ; 
 Then let us triumph in His Name ; 
 
 Our Saviour is the Lord !. 
 
 John Newton. 1 779 
 
 CLXVII. 
 
 There is an hour, when I must part 
 With all I hold most dear ; 
 
 And life, with its best hopes, will then 
 As nothingness appear. 
 
 There is an hour, when I must lie 
 
 Low on affliction's bed, 
 And anguish, pain, and tears become 
 
 My bitter daily bread. 
 
 There is an hour, when I must sink 
 Beneath the stroke of death, 
 
 And yield to Him, who gave it first, 
 My struggling vital breath. 
 
 There is an hour, when I must stand 
 
 Before the judgment seat, 
 And all my sins, and all my foes, 
 
 In awful vision meet. 
 
Resurrection and Eternal Life, 1 8 1 
 
 There is an hour, when I must look 
 
 On one eternity, 
 And nameless woe, or blissful life, 
 
 My endless portion be. 
 
 O Saviour, then, in all my need, 
 
 Be near, be near to me ; 
 And let my soul, in stedfast faith, 
 
 Find life and Heaven in Thee ! 
 
 Andrew Reed. 1842. 
 
 CLXVIII. 
 
 Psalm XC. 
 
 Our God, our help in ages past, 
 Our hope for years to come, 
 
 Our shelter from the stormy blast, 
 And our eternal home : 
 
 Under the shadow of Thy Throne 
 Thy saints have dwelt secure ; 
 
 Sufficient is Thine arm alone, 
 And our defence is sure. 
 
 Before the hills in order stood, 
 Or earth received her frame, 
 
 From everlasting Thou art God, 
 To endless years the same. 
 
 A thousand ages in Thy sight 
 
 Are like an evening gone ; 
 Short as the watch that ends the night 
 
 Before the rising sun. 
 
1 82 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The busy tribes of flesh and blood, 
 With all their lives and cares, 
 
 Are carried downwards by Thy flood, 
 And lost in following years. 
 
 Time, like an ever-rolling stream, 
 
 Bears all its sons away ; 
 They fly forgotten, as a dream 
 
 Dies at the opening day. 
 
 Our God, our help in ages past ; 
 
 Our hope for years to come ; 
 Be Thou our guard while troubles last, 
 
 And our eternal home ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719, 
 
 END OF PART L 
 
PART II. 
 
 HYMNS ARRANGED ACCORDING TO THE 
 SUBJECTS OF THE LORD'S PRAYER. 
 
t §0ok of ^XWl&L 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 "LORD, TEACH US TO PRAY." 
 
 {Luke xi. i.) 
 
 CLXTX. 
 
 Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, 
 
 Utter'd, -or unexpress'd ; 
 The motion of a hidden fire 
 
 That trembles in the breast. 
 
 Prayer is the burthen of a sigh, 
 
 The falling of a tear, 
 The upward glancing of the eye, 
 
 When none but God is near. 
 
 Prayer is the simplest form of speech 
 
 That infant lips can try ; 
 Prayer the sublimest strains that reach 
 
 The Majesty on high. 
 
 Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice 
 
 Returning from his ways, 
 While angels in their songs rejoice, 
 
 And cry, Behold, he prays ! 
 
1 86 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, 
 
 The Christian's native air ; 
 His watchword at the gates of death ; 
 
 He enters Heaven with prayer. 
 
 The saints, in prayer, appear as one 
 In word, and deed, and mind ; 
 
 While with the Father and the Son 
 Sweet fellowship they find. 
 
 Nor prayer is made by man alone : 
 
 The Holy Spirit pleads ; 
 And Jesus, on the eternal Throne, 
 
 For mourners 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 ! 
 
 James Montgomery. 1819. 
 
 "OUR FATHER, WHICH ART IN HEAVEN; 
 HALLOWED BE THY NAME." 
 
 CLXX. 
 
 Psalm LXIII. 
 
 O God, Thou art my God alone ; 
 
 Early to Thee my soul shall cry ; 
 A pilgrim in a land unknown, 
 
 A thirsty land whose springs are dry. 
 
" Our Father, which art in Heaven! 7 187 
 
 Oh ! that it were as it hath been ! 
 
 When, praying in the holy place, 
 Thy power and glory I have seen, 
 
 And marked the footsteps of Thy grace ! 
 
 Yet, through this rough and thorny maze, 
 I follow hard on Thee, my God : 
 
 Thine hand unseen upholds my ways ; 
 I safely tread where Thou hast trod. 
 
 Thee, in the watches of the night, 
 
 When I remember on my bed, 
 Thy Presence makes the darkness light, 
 
 Thy guardian wings are round my head. 
 
 Better than life itself Thy love, 
 
 Dearer than all beside to me : 
 For whom have I in Heaven above, 
 
 Or what on earth compared to Thee ? 
 
 Praise with my heart, my mind, my voice, 
 
 For all Thy mercy I will give ; 
 My soul shall still in God rejoice ; 
 
 My tongue shall bless Thee while I live. 
 James Montgomery. 1822. 
 
 CLXXT. 
 
 Psalm CXLV. 
 
 My God, my King, Thy various praise 
 Shall fill the remnant of my days ; 
 Thy grace employ my humble tongue, 
 Till death and glory raise the song. 
 
1 88 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The wings of every hour shall bear 
 Some thankful tribute to Thine ear, 
 And every setting sun shall see 
 New works of duty done for Thee. 
 
 Thy truth and justice I'll proclaim ; 
 Thy bounty flows, an endless stream ; 
 Thy mercy swift, Thine anger slow, 
 But dreadful to the stubborn foe. 
 
 But who can speak Thy wondrous deeds ? 
 Thy greatness all our thoughts exceeds ; 
 Vast and unsearchable Thy ways, 
 Vast and immortal be Thy praise ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 
 CLXXII. 
 
 Psalm CXXXIX. 
 
 Lord, Thou hast form'd mine every part, 
 Mine inmost thought is known to Thee ; 
 
 Each word, each feeling of my heart, 
 Thine ear doth hear, Thine eye can see. 
 
 Though I should seek the shades of night, 
 
 And hide myself in guilty fear, 
 To Thee the darkness seems as light, 
 
 The midnight as the noonday clear. 
 
 The heavens, the earth, the sea, the sky, 
 All own Thee ever present there ; 
 
 Where'er I turn, Thou still art nigh, 
 Thy Spirit dwelling everywhere. 
 
 Oh may that Spirit, ever blest, 
 
 Upon my soul in radiance shine, 
 Till, welcomed to eternal rest, 
 
 I taste Thy Presence, Lord Divine ! 
 
 Robert Allan Scott. 1839. 
 
" Our Father, which art in Heaven? 189 
 
 CLXXIII. 
 
 When all Thy mercies, O my God, 
 
 My rising soul surveys, 
 Transported with the view, I'm lost 
 
 In wonder, love, and praise. 
 
 O how shall words with equal warmth 
 
 The gratitude declare, 
 That glows within my ravish'd heart ! 
 
 But Thou canst read it there. 
 
 Thy Providence my life sustain' d, 
 
 And all my wants redrest, 
 When in the silent womb I lay, 
 
 And hung upon the breast. 
 
 To all my weak complaints and cries 
 
 Thy mercy lent an ear, 
 Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt 
 
 To form themselves in prayer. 
 
 Unnumbered comforts to my soul 
 
 Thy tender care bestowed, 
 Before my infant heart conceived 
 
 From whence these comforts flowed. 
 
 When in the slippery paths of youth 
 
 With heedless steps I ran, 
 Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe, 
 
 And led me up to man. 
 
190 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, 
 
 It gently clear'd my way ; 
 And through the pleasing snares of vice, 
 
 More to be fear'd than they. 
 
 When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou 
 With health renew'd my face ; 
 
 And, when in sins and sorrows sunk, 
 Revived my soul with grace. 
 
 Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss 
 
 Has made my cup run o'er ; 
 And in a kind and faithful friend 
 
 Has doubled all my store. 
 
 Ten thousand thousand precious gifts 
 
 My daily thanks employ ; 
 Nor is the least a cheerful heart 
 
 That tastes those gifts with joy. 
 
 Through every period of my life 
 
 Thy goodness I'll pursue ; 
 And after death, in distant worlds, 
 
 The glorious theme renew. 
 
 When nature fails, and day and night 
 
 Divide thy works no more, 
 My ever-grateful heart, O Lord, 
 
 Thy mercy shall adore. 
 
 Through all eternity to Thee 
 
 A joyful song I'll raise : 
 But O ! eternity's too short 
 
 To utter all Thy praise ! 
 
 Joseph A ddison. 1712. 
 
" Thy Kingdom corned 191 
 
 II. 
 
 "THY KINGDOM COME.'' 
 
 CLXXIV. 
 
 Lord ! come away ! 
 Why dost Thou stay ? 
 Thy road is ready ; and Thy paths made straight 
 
 With longing expectation wait 
 The consecration of Thy beauteous feet ! 
 Ride on triumphantly ! Behold, we lay 
 Our lusts and proud wills in Thy way ! 
 
 Hosanna ! Welcome, to our hearts ! Lord, here 
 Thou hast a temple too ; and full as dear 
 As that of Sion, and as full of sin : 
 Nothing but thieves and robbers dwell therein : 
 Enter, and chase them forth, and cleanse the floor ! 
 Crucify them, that they may never more 
 Profane that holy place 
 Where Thou hast chose to set Thy face . : 
 And then, if our stiff tongues shall be 
 Mute in the praises of Thy Deity, 
 The stones out of the temple wall 
 Shall cry aloud, and call 
 Hosanna ! and Thy glorious footsteps greet ! Amen ! 
 Bishop Jeremy Taylor. 1655. 
 
 CLXXV. 
 
 Jesus, Thy Church with longing eyes 
 For Thy expected coming waits ; 
 
 When will the promised light arise, 
 And glory beam from Zion's gates ? 
 
192 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Ev'n now, when tempests round us fall, 
 And wintry clouds o'ercast 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 hurl'd ; 
 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 Thy chariot wheels. 
 
 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. 
 
 William Hiley Bat hurst, 1831 
 
 CLXXVI. 
 
 Light of the lonely pilgrim's heart, 
 
 Star of the coming day ! 
 Arise, and with Thy morning beams 
 
 Chase all our griefs away ! 
 
" Thy Kingdom comer 1 93 
 
 Come, blessed Lord ! let every shore 
 
 And answering island sing 
 The praises of Thy royal name, 
 
 And own Thee as their King. 
 
 Bid the whole earth, responsive now 
 
 To the bright world above, 
 Break forth in rapturous strains of joy 
 
 In memory of Thy love. 
 
 Lord, Lord ! Thy fair creation groans 
 
 The air, the earth, the sea, 
 In unison with all our hearts, 
 
 And calls aloud for Thee. 
 
 Thine was the Cross, with all its fruits 
 
 Of grace and peace divine : 
 Be Thine the crown of glory now, 
 
 The palm of victory Thine ! 
 
 Sir Edward Denny* 1 848 . 
 
 CLXXVII. 
 
 O Saviour ! is Thy promise fled t 
 Nor longer might Thy grace endure 
 
 To heal the sick, and raise the dead, 
 And preach the Gospel to the poor ? 
 
 Come, Jesus, come ! return again ; 
 
 With brighter beam Thy servants bless, 
 Who long to feel Thy perfect reign, 
 
 And share Thy kingdom's happiness ! 
 
 A feeble race, by passion driven, 
 In darkness and in doubt we roam, 
 
 And lift our anxious eyes to Heaven, 
 Our hope, our harbour, and our home. 
 o 
 
194 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Yet, 'mid the wild and wintry gale, 
 When death rides darkly o'er the sea, 
 
 And strength and earthly daring fail, 
 Our prayers, Redeemer ! rest on Thee. 
 
 Come, Jesus, come ! and as of yore 
 The prophet went to clear Thy way, 
 
 A harbinger Thy feet before, 
 A dawning to Thy brighter day ; 
 
 So now may grace, with heavenly shower, 
 Our stony hearts for truth prepare ; 
 
 Sow in our souls the seed of power, 
 
 Then come, and reap Thy harvest there ! 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1 8 1 1 
 
 CLXXVTII. 
 
 O Spirit of the living God ! 
 
 In all Thy plenitude of grace, 
 Where'er the foot of man hath trod, 
 
 Descend on our apostate race ! 
 
 Give tongues of fire and hearts of love 
 To preach the reconciling word ; 
 
 Give power and unction from above, 
 Whene'er the joyful sound is heard. 
 
 Be darkness, at Thy coming, Light ; 
 
 Confusion, order in Thy path ; 
 Souls without strength inspire with might ; 
 
 Bid mercy triumph over wrath. 
 
 O Spirit of the Lord ! prepare , 
 
 All the round earth her God to meet ; 
 
 Breathe Thou abroad like morning air. 
 Till hearts of stone begin to beat. 
 
" Thy Kingdom come" 195 
 
 Baptize the nations far and nigh ; 
 
 The triumphs of Thy Cross record ; 
 The name of Jesus glorify, 
 
 Till every kindred call Him Lord. 
 
 James Montgomery. 1825. 
 
 CLXXIX. 
 
 Speed Thy servants, Saviour, speed them ! 
 
 Thou art Lord of winds and waves : 
 They were bound, but Thou hast freed them ; 
 
 Now they go to free the slaves : 
 Be Thou with them ! 
 
 'Tis Thine arm alone that saves. 
 
 Friends and home and all forsaking, 
 Lord ! they go, at Thy command ; 
 
 As their stay Thy promise taking, 
 While they traverse sea and land : 
 
 O be with them ! 
 Lead them safely by the hand ! 
 
 Speed them through the mighty ocean, 
 
 In the dark and stormy day, 
 When the waves in wild commotion 
 
 Fill all others with dismay : 
 Be Thou with them ! 
 
 Drive their terrors far away. 
 
 When they reach the land of strangers, 
 
 And the prospect dark appears, 
 Nothing seen but toils and dangers, 
 
 Nothing felt but doubts and fears ; 
 Be Thou with them ! 
 
 Hear their sighs, and count their tears. 
 
 O 2 
 
xg6 The Book of Praise. 
 
 When they think of home, now dearer 
 
 Than it ever seem'd before, 
 Bring the promised glory nearer ; 
 
 Let them see that peaceful shore, 
 Where Thy people 
 
 Rest from toil, and weep no more ! 
 
 Where no fruit appears to cheer them, 
 
 And they seem to toil in vain, 
 Then in mercy, Lord, draw near them, 
 
 Then their sinking hopes sustain; 
 Thus supported, 
 
 Let their zeal revive again ! 
 
 In the midst of opposition 
 
 Let them trust, O Lord, in Thee : 
 
 When success attends their mission, 
 Let Thy servants humbler be : 
 
 Never leave them, 
 Till Thy face in Heaven they see ; 
 
 There to reap, in joy for ever, 
 
 Fruit that grows from seed here sown ; 
 There to be with Him, Who never 
 Ceases to preserve His own, 
 
 And with triumph 
 Sing a Saviour's grace alone ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1836. 
 
' Thy Kingdom come ." 197 
 
 CLXXX. 
 
 Thou, Whose Almighty word 
 Chaos and darkness heard, 
 
 And took their flight ; 
 Hear us, we humbly pray ; 
 And, where the gospel's day 
 Sheds not its glorious ray, 
 
 Let there be light ! 
 
 Thou, Who didst come to bring 
 On Thy redeeming wing 
 
 Healing and sight, 
 Health to the sick in mind, 
 Sight to the inly blind, 
 Oh, now to all mankind 
 
 Let there be light ! 
 
 Spirit of truth and love, 
 Life-giving, holy Dove, 
 
 Speed forth Thy flight ! 
 Move on the waters' face 
 Bearing the lamp of grace, 
 And in earth's darkest place 
 
 Let there be light ! 
 
 Holy and blessed Three, 
 Glorious Trinity, 
 
 Wisdom, Love, Might ! 
 Boundless as ocean's tide 
 Rolling in fullest pride, 
 Through the earth, far and wide, 
 
 Let there be light ! 
 
 John Marriott.- 1 8 1 3 
 
198 The Book of Praise. 
 
 III. 
 
 "THY WILL BE DONE." 
 
 if Thy will be done, in earth, as it is in Heaven" 
 
 CLXXXI. 
 
 Come, 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 bring ; 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
-Thy Will be doner 199 
 
 Shew 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. 
 
 John Newt 07i. 1 779. 
 
 CLXXXII. 
 
 My faith looks up to Thee, 
 Thou Lamb of Calvary, 
 
 Saviour divine ! 
 Now hear me while I pray ; 
 Take all my guilt away ; 
 O let me from this day 
 
 Be wholly Thine ! 
 
 May Thy rich grace impart 
 Strength to my fainting heart, 
 
 My zeal inspire ! 
 As Thou hast died for me, 
 O may my love to Thee 
 Pure, warm, and changeless be, 
 
 A living fire ! 
 
 While life's dark maze I tread, 
 And griefs around me spread, 
 
 Be Thou my Guide ! 
 Bid darkness turn to day, 
 Wipe sorrow's tears away, 
 Nor let me ever stray 
 
 From Thee aside. 
 
The Book of Praise. 
 
 When ends life's transient dream, 
 When death's cold sullen stream 
 
 Shall o'er me roll ; 
 Blest Saviour ! then in love 
 Fear and distrust remove ; 
 O bear me safe above, 
 
 A ransom'd soul ! 
 
 Ray Palmer. [1830.] 
 
 CLXXXIIT. 
 
 Psalm CXVI. 
 
 Redeem'd from guilt, redeem" d from fears, 
 My soul enlarged, and dried my tears, 
 What can I do, O Love Divine, 
 What, to repay such gifts as Thine ? 
 
 What can I do, so poor, so weak, 
 But from Thy hands new blessings seek, 
 A heart to feel Thy mercies more, 
 A soul to know Thee, and adore ? 
 
 O teach me at Thy feet to fall, 
 And yield Thee up myself, my all ! 
 Before Thy saints my debts to own, 
 And live and die to Thee alone ! 
 
 Thy Spirit, Lord, at large impart, 
 Expand and raise and fill my heart ! 
 So may I hope my life shall be 
 Some faint return, O Lord, to Thee. 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1834. 
 
" Thy Will be doner 201 
 
 CLXXXIV. 
 
 Psalm CI. 
 
 Lord, when I lift my voice to Thee, 
 
 To whom all praise belongs, 
 Thy justice and Thy love shall be 
 
 The subject of my songs. 
 
 Let wisdom o'er my heart preside, 
 
 To lead my steps aright, 
 And make Thy perfect law my guide, 
 
 Thy service my delight. 
 
 All sinful ways I will abhor, 
 
 All wicked men forsake ; 
 And only those, who love Thy law, 
 
 For my companions take. 
 
 Lord ! that I may not go astray, 
 
 Thy constant grace impart : 
 When wilt Thou come to point my way, 
 
 And fix my roving heart ? 
 
 William Hiley Bathurst. 1831 
 
 CLXXXV. 
 
 Forth in Thy Name, O Lord, I go, 
 
 My daily labour to pursue, 
 Thee, only Thee, resolved to know, 
 
 In all I think, or speak, or do. 
 
 The task Thy wisdom hath assign'd 
 
 O let me cheerfully fulfil ; 
 In all my works Thy presence find, 
 
 And prove Thine acceptable will. 
 
202 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Preserve me from my calling's snare, 
 And hide my simple heart above, 
 
 Above the thorns of choking care, 
 The gilded baits of worldly love. 
 
 Thee may I set at my right hand, 
 
 Whose eyes mine inmost substance see, 
 
 And labour on at Thy command, 
 And offer all my works to Thee. 
 
 Give me to bear Thy easy yoke, 
 And every moment watch and pray ; 
 
 And still to things eternal look, 
 And hasten to Thy glorious day. 
 
 For Thee delightfully employ 
 
 Whate'er Thy bounteous grace hath given, 
 And run my course with even joy, 
 
 And closely walk with Thee to Heaven. 
 Charles Wesley. 1749. 
 
 CLXXXVI. 
 
 Now it belongs not to my care 
 
 Whether I die or live ; 
 To love and serve Thee is my share, 
 
 And this Thy grace must give. 
 
 If death shall bruise this springing seed 
 
 Before it come to fruit, 
 The will with Thee goes for the deed. 
 
 Thy life was in the root. 
 
 Would I long bear my heavy load, 
 And keep my sorrows long? 
 
 Would I long sin against my God, 
 And His dear mercy wrona ? 
 
•< Thy Will be done? 203 
 
 How much is sinful flesh my foe, 
 
 That doth my soul pervert 
 To linger here in sin and woe, 
 
 And steals from God my heart ! 
 
 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 hath made me meet 
 
 Thy blessed face to see ; 
 For, if Thy work on earth be sweet, 
 
 What will Thy glory be ? 
 
 Then I shall 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 it's enough that Christ knows all, 
 
 And I shall be with Him. 
 
 Richard Baxter. 1681 
 
 CLXXXVII. 
 
 O Thou, who earnest from above, 
 The pure celestial fire to impart, 
 
 Kindle a flame of sacred love 
 On the mean altar of my heart. 
 
2©4 The Book of Praise. 
 
 There let it for Thy glory burn 
 
 With inextinguishable blaze ; 
 And, trembling, to its source return, 
 
 In humble prayer and fervent praise. 
 
 Jesus ! confirm my heart's desire 
 
 To work, and speak, and think for Thee ; 
 
 Still let me guard the holy fire ; 
 And still stir up Thy gift in me ; 
 
 Ready for all Thy perfect will, 
 My acts of faith and love repeat ; 
 
 Till death Thy endless mercies seal, 
 And make my sacrifice complete. 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1762. 
 
 CLXXXVIII. 
 
 Psalm XXXI. 
 
 My spirit on Thy care, 
 Blest Saviour, I recline ; 
 Thou wilt not leave me to despair, 
 For Thou art Love divine. 
 
 In Thee I place my trust, 
 On Thee I calmly rest ; 
 I know Thee good, I know Thee just, 
 And count Thy choice the best. 
 
 Whate'er events betide, 
 Thy will they all perform ; 
 Safe in Thy breast my head I hide, 
 Nor fear the coming storm. 
 
* Thy Will be doner 205 
 
 Let good or ill befal, 
 It must be good for me ; 
 Secure of having Thee in all, 
 Of having all in Thee. 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1 834. 
 
 CLXXXIX. 
 
 Blest be Thy love, dear Lord, 
 That taught us this sweet way, 
 Only to love Thee for Thyself, 
 And for that love obey. 
 
 O Thou, our souls' chief hope ! 
 We to Thy mercy fly ; 
 Where'er we are, Thou canst protect, 
 Whate'er we need, supply. 
 
 Whether we sleep or wake, 
 To Thee we both resign ; 
 By night we see, as well as day, 
 If Thy light on us shine. 
 
 Whether we live or die, 
 Both we submit to Thee ; 
 In death we live, as well as life, 
 If Thine in death we be. 
 
 John Austin. 1668. 
 
 CXC. 
 
 O Lord, my best desire fulfil, 
 
 And help me to resign 
 Life, health, and comfort to Thy will, 
 
 And make Thy pleasure mine. 
 
2o6 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Why should I shrink from Thy command, 
 Whose love forbids my fears, 
 
 Or tremble at the gracious hand 
 That wipes away my tears ? 
 
 No, rather let me freely yield 
 
 What most I prize to Thee, 
 Who never hast a good withheld, 
 
 Or wilt withhold, from me. 
 
 Thy favour, all my journey through, 
 Thou art engaged to grant ; 
 
 What else I want, or think I do, 
 Tis better still to want. 
 
 But ah ! my inward spirit cries, 
 
 Still bind me to Thy sway ! 
 Else the next cloud that veils the skies, 
 
 Drives all these thoughts away. 
 
 William Cow per. 1779 
 
 CXCI, 
 
 O for an heart to praise my God, 
 An heart from sin set free ! 
 
 An heart that always feels Thy Blood, 
 So freely spilt for me ! 
 
 : An heart resign'd, submissive, meek, 
 
 My dear Redeemer's throne ; 
 Where only Christ is heard to speak, 
 Where Jesus reigns alone. 
 
 An humble, lowly, contrite heart, 
 Believing, true, and clean : 
 
 Which neither life nor death can part 
 From Him that dwells within : 
 
. " Thy Will be doner 2 oy 
 
 An heart in every thought renew'd, 
 
 And full of love divine ; 
 Perfect, and right, and pure, and good, 
 
 A copy, Lord, of Thine. 
 
 Thy nature, gracious Lord, impart ; 
 
 Come quickly from above ; 
 Write Thy new Name upon my heart, 
 
 Thy new, best Name of Love. 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1742. 
 
 CXCII. 
 
 Oh what, if we are Christ's, 
 Is earthly shame or loss ? 
 Bright shall the crown of glory be, 
 When we have borne the cross. 
 
 Keen was the trial once, 
 Bitter the cup of woe, 
 When martyr'd saints, baptized in blood, 
 Christ's sufferings shared below. 
 
 Bright is their glory now, 
 Boundless their joy above, 
 Where, on the bosom of their God, 
 They rest in perfect love. 
 
 Lord ! may that grace be ours ; 
 Like them in faith to bear 
 All that of sorrow, grief, or pain. 
 May be our portion here ! 
 
 Enough, if Thou at last 
 The word of blessing give, 
 And let us rest beneath Thy feet, 
 Where saints and angels live t 
 
2o8 The Book of Praise, 
 
 All glory, Lord, to Thee, 
 Whom Heaven and earth adore ; 
 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 One God for evermore. 
 
 Sir Henry Williams Baker. [1852.] 
 
 CXCIII. 
 
 My God and Father, while I stray 
 Far from my home, on life's rough way, 
 
 teach me from my heart to say, 
 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Though dark my path and sad my lot, 
 Let me be still and murmur not, 
 Or breathe the prayer divinely taught, 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 What though in lonely grief I sigh 
 For friends beloved, no longer nigh, 
 Submissive still would I reply, 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Though Thou hast call'd me to resign 
 What most I prized, it ne'er was mine f 
 
 1 have but yielded what was Thine ; 
 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Should grief or sickness waste away 
 My life in premature decay, 
 My Father ! still I strive to say, 
 Thy will be done. 
 
 Let but my fainting heart be blest 
 With Thy sweet Spirit for its guest, 
 My God, to Thee I leave the rest ; 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
" Thy Will be doner 209 
 
 Renew my will from day to day ; 
 Blend it with Thine ; and take away 
 All that now makes it hard to say, 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Then, when on earth I breathe no more, 
 The prayer, oft mix'd with tears before, 
 I'll sing upon a happier shore, 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Charlotte Elliott 1834. 
 
 cxciv. 
 
 O Lord, Thy heavenly grace impart, 
 And fix my frail inconstant heart ; 
 Henceforth my chief desire shall be 
 To dedicate myself to Thee, 
 
 To Thee, my God, to Thee ! 
 
 Whate'er pursuits my time employ, 
 One thought shall fill my soul with joy ; 
 That silent, secret thought shall be, 
 That all my hopes are fix'd on Thee, 
 On Thee, my God, on Thee ! 
 
 Thy glorious eye pervadeth space ; 
 Thou'rt present, Lord, in every place ; 
 And, wheresoe er my lot may be, 
 Still shall my spirit cleave to Thee, 
 To Thee, my God, to Thee ! 
 
 Renouncing every worldly thing, 
 Safe 'neath the covert of Thy wing, 
 My sweetest thought henceforth shall be, 
 That all I want I find in Thee, 
 In Thee, my God, in Thee ! 
 
 Mrs. Daniel Wilson. 1830. 
 From John Frederic Oberlin. 1820. 
 P 
 
2 1 o The Book of Prat's e. 
 
 cxcv. 
 
 When I survey life's varied scene, 
 
 Amid the darkest hours 
 Sweet rays of comfort shine between, 
 
 And thorns are mix'd with flowers. 
 
 Lord, teach me to adore Thy hand, 
 From whence my comforts flow, 
 
 And let me in this desert land 
 A glimpse of Canaan know. 
 
 And O ! whate'er of earthly bliss 
 
 Thy sovereign hand denies, 
 Accepted at Thy throne of grace 
 
 Let this petition rise : 
 
 Give me a calm, a thankful heart, 
 
 From every murmur free ; 
 The blessings of Thy grace impart, 
 
 And let me live to Thee. 
 
 Let the sweet hope, that Thou art mine, 
 
 My path of life attend, 
 Thy presence through my journey shine, 
 
 And bless its happy end ! 
 
 Anne Steele. 1760. 
 
- M Thy Will be done: 21 r 
 
 cxcvi. 
 
 Father of Love, our Guide and Friend, 
 
 Oh lead us gently on, 
 Until life's trial-time shall end, 
 
 And heavenly peace be won ! 
 We know not what the path may be 
 
 As yet by us untrod ; 
 But we can trust our all to Thee, 
 
 Our Father and our God ! 
 
 If call'd, like Abraham's child, to climb 
 
 The hill of sacrifice, 
 Some angel may be there in time; 
 
 Deliverance shall arise : 
 Or, if some darker lot be good, 
 
 Oh, teach us to endure 
 The sorrow, pain, or solitude, 
 
 That make the spirit pure ! 
 
 Christ by no flowery pathway came ; 
 
 And we, His followers here, 
 Must do Thy will and praise Thy Name, 
 
 In hope, and love, and fear. 
 And, till in Heaven we sinless bow, 
 
 And faultless anthems raise, 
 O Father, Son, and Spirit, now 
 
 Accept our feeble praise ! 
 
 William J osiah Irons. 1853. 
 
 P2 
 
The Book of Praise. 
 
 cxcvn. 
 
 Thy 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 leads 
 
 Right onward 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, 
 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 ! 
 
 Horatius Bonar. 1856. 
 
"Thy Will be doner 213 
 
 CXCVIII. 
 
 Father, I know that all my life 
 
 Is portion'd out for me, 
 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 ; 
 
 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 whatsoe'er 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. 
 
ii4 The Book of Praisd. 
 
 And if some things I do not ask 
 In my cup of blessing be, 
 
 I would have my spirit fill'd the more 
 With grateful love to Thee ; 
 
 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&titia Waring, 1850 — 1860. 
 
 CXCIX. 
 Psalm CXXXI. 
 
 Quiet, Lord, my fro ward 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 
 
" Thy Will be done!' 215 
 
 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, preserv'd 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 I 
 
 John Newton. 1 779. 
 
 cc. 
 Psalm CXXXI. 
 
 Jesus, 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, 
 Weaned from the scorner's ways, 
 Weaned from the lust of praise. 
 
2 1 6 The Book 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 spoil'd, 
 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 ! 
 
 John Ber ridge. 1785. 
 Variation from Charles Wesley. 1743. 
 
 CCI. 
 
 Lord, 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 gulph between my God and me ? 
 
 Meek Redeemer ! now impart 
 Thine own humility ! 
 
"Thy Will be doner 217 
 
 Fain would I my Lord pursue, 
 
 Be all my Saviour taught, 
 Do as Jesus bade me do, 
 
 And think as Jesus thought : 
 But 'tis 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 : 
 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 the manger lay my soul, 
 
 And crucify my pride ! 
 Give me, Lord, a contrite heart, 
 An 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 humility ! 
 
 Augustus Montague Top lady. 1759. 
 
218 The Book of Praise. 
 
 ecu. 
 
 Gracious Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 I myself would gracious be, 
 And with words that help and heal 
 Would Thy life in mine reveal, 
 And with actions bold and meek 
 Would for Christ my Saviour speak. 
 
 Truthful Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 I myself would truthful be, 
 And with wisdom kind and clear 
 Let Thy life in mine appear, 
 And with actions brotherly 
 Speak my Lord's sincerity. 
 
 Tender Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 I myself would tender be, 
 Shut my heart up like a flower 
 At temptation's darksome hour, 
 Open it when shines the sun, 
 And His love by fragrance own. 
 
 Silent Spirit, dwell with me ; • 
 
 I myself would quiet be, 
 
 Quiet as the growing blade 
 
 Which through earth its way has made, 
 
 Silently, like morning light, 
 
 Putting mists and chills to flight. 
 
 Mighty Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 I myself would mighty be, 
 Mighty so as to prevail 
 Where unaided man must fail, 
 Ever by a mighty hope 
 Pressing on and bearing up. 
 
" Thy Will be done}' 219 
 
 Holy Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 
 I myself would holy be ; 
 
 Separate from sin, I would 
 
 Choose and cherish all things good , 
 
 And whatever I can be 
 
 Give to Him, who gave me Thee ! 
 
 Thomas Toke Lynch. 1855. 
 
 CCIII. 
 
 Matt. V. 3 — 10. 
 
 There is a dwelling-place above ; 
 Thither, to meet the God of love, 
 
 The poor in spirit go ; 
 There is a paradise of rest ; 
 For contrite hearts and souls distrest 
 
 Its streams of comfort flow. 
 
 There is a goodly heritage, 
 
 Where earthly passions cease to rage ; 
 
 The meek that haven gain : 
 There is a board, where they who pine, 
 Hungry, athirst, for grace divine, 
 
 May feast, nor crave again. 
 
 There is a voice to mercy true ; 
 To them who mercy's path pursue 
 
 That voice shall bliss impart ; 
 There is a sight from man concealed : 
 That sight, the face of God revealed ; 
 
 Shall bless the pure in heart. 
 
220 The Book of Praise. 
 
 There is a name, in heaven bestow' d ; 
 That name, which hails them sons of God, 
 
 The friends of peace shall know : 
 There is a kingdom in the sky, 
 Where they shall reign with God on high, 
 
 Who serve Him best below. 
 
 Lord ! be it mine like them to choose 
 The better part, like them to use 
 
 The means Thy love hath given ! 
 Be holiness my aim on earth, 
 That death be welcomed as a birth 
 
 To life and bliss in Heaven ! 
 
 Bishop Richard ManL 1 828. 
 
 CCIV. 
 
 Matthew V. 3 — 10. 
 
 Blest are the humble souls that see 
 Their emptiness and poverty ; 
 Treasures of grace to them are given, 
 And crowns of joy laid up in Heaven. 
 
 Blest are the men of broken heart 
 Who mourn for sin with inward smart ; 
 The Blood of Christ divinely flows, 
 A healing balm for all their woes. 
 
 Blest are the meek, who stand afar 
 From rage and passion, noise and war ; 
 God will secure their happy state, 
 And plead their cause against the great. 
 
" Thy Will be doner 221 
 
 Blest are the souls that thirst for grace, 
 Hunger and long for righteousness ; 
 They shall be well supplied and fed 
 With living streams and living bread. 
 
 Blest are the men whose bowels move 
 And melt with sympathy and love ; 
 From Christ the Lord shall they obtain 
 Like sympathy and love again. 
 
 Blest are the pure, whose hearts are clean 
 From the defiling power of sin ; 
 With endless pleasure they shall see 
 A God of spotless purity. 
 
 Blest are the men of peaceful life, 
 Who quench the coals of growing strife ; 
 They shall be calPd the heirs of bliss, 
 The sons of God, the God of peace. 
 
 Blest are the sufferers, who partake 
 Of pain and shame for Jesus' sake ; 
 Their souls shall triumph in the Lord, 
 Glory and joy are their reward. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
The Book of Praise. 
 
 IV. 
 
 "GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD." 
 
 CCV. 
 
 Lord of my life, whose tender care 
 
 Hath led me on till now, 
 Here lowly at the hour of prayer 
 
 Before Thy throne I bow ; 
 I bless Thy gracious hand, and pray 
 Forgiveness for another day. 
 
 Oh ! may I daily, hourly, strive 
 
 In heavenly grace to grow ; 
 To Thee and to Thy glory live, 
 
 Dead else to all below ; 
 Tread in the path my Saviour trod, 
 Though thorny, yet the path to God ! 
 
 With prayer my humble praise I bring 
 
 For mercies day by day ; 
 Lord, teach my heart Thy love to sing, 
 
 Lord, teach me how to pray ! 
 All that I have, I am, to Thee 
 I offer through Eternity ! 
 
 Anon. [1838. J 
 
 CCVI. 
 
 Lord, in the day Thou art about 
 The paths wherein I tread ; 
 
 And in the night, when I lie down, 
 Thou art about my bed. 
 
"Give us this day our Daily Bread? 223 
 
 While others in God's prisons lie, 
 
 Bound with affliction's chain, 
 I walk at large, secure and free 
 
 From sickness and from pain. 
 
 'Tis Thou dost crown my hopes and plans 
 
 With good success each day ; 
 This crown, together with myself, 
 
 At Thy blest feet I lay. 
 
 O let my house a temple be, 
 That I and mine may sing 
 Hosanna to Thy Majesty, 
 And praise our heavenly King ! 
 Cento by John Hampden Gurney. 1838 — 1851. 
 From John Mason. 1683. 
 
 ccvu. 
 
 Shine on our souls, eternal God, 
 With rays of beauty shine ! 
 
 O let Thy favour crown our days, 
 And all their round be thine ! 
 
 Did we not raise our hands to Thee, 
 Our hands might toil in vain ; 
 
 Small joy success itself could give, 
 If Thou Thy love restrain. 
 
 With Thee let every week begin, 
 With Thee each day be spent ; 
 
 For Thee each fleeting hour improv'd, 
 Since each by Thee is lent. 
 
224 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Thus cheer us through this desert road, 
 
 Till all our labours cease, 
 And Heaven refresh our weary souls 
 
 With everlasting peace ! 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 CCVIII. 
 
 O how kindly hast Thou led me, 
 
 Heavenly Father, day by day ! 
 Found my dwelling, clothed and fed me, 
 
 Furnish'd friends to cheer my way ! 
 Didst Thou bless me, didst Thou chasten, 
 
 With Thy smile, or with Thy rod, 
 'Twas that still my step might hasten 
 
 Homeward, heavenward, to my God ! 
 
 O how slowly have I often 
 
 Follow'd where Thy hand would draw ! 
 How Thy kindness fail'd to soften ! 
 
 How Thy chastening fail'd to awe ! 
 Make me for Thy rest more ready 
 
 As Thy path is longer trod ; 
 Keep me in Thy friendship steady, 
 
 Till Thou call me home, my God ! 
 
 Thomas Grinfield. 1836. 
 
 CCIX. 
 
 Heavenly Father, to Whose eye 
 Future things unfolded lie, 
 Through the desert where I stray, 
 Let Thy counsels guide my way. 
 
u Give as this day our Daily Bread? 225 
 
 Lord, uphold me day by day ; 
 Shed a light upon my way ; 
 Guide me through perplexing snares ; 
 Care for me in all my cares. 
 
 All I ask for is, enough ; 
 Only, when the way is rough, 
 Let Thy rod and staff impart 
 Strength and courage to my heart. 
 
 Should Thy wisdom, Lord, decree 
 Trials long and sharp for me, 
 Pain or sorrow, care or shame, 
 Father ! glorify Thy Name ! 
 
 Let me neither faint nor fear, 
 Feeling still that Thou art near, 
 In the course my Saviour trod, 
 Tending still to Thee, my God. 
 
 Josiah Conder. 1837. 
 
 ccx. 
 
 Sovereign Ruler of the skies, 
 Ever gracious, ever wise, 
 All my times are in Thy hand, 
 All events at Thy command. 
 
 His decree, who form'd the earth, 
 Fix'd my first and second birth ; 
 Parents, native place, and time, 
 All appointed were by Him. 
 Q 
 
226 The Book of Praise. 
 
 He that form'd me in the womb, 
 He shall guide me to the tomb ; 
 All my times shall ever be 
 Order'd by His wise decree; 
 
 Times of sickness, times of health, 
 Times of penury and wealth ; 
 Times of trial and of grief, 
 Times of triumph and relief; 
 
 Times the Tempter's power to prove, 
 Times to taste a Saviour's love ; 
 All must come, and last, and end, 
 As shall please my heavenly Friend. 
 
 Plagues and deaths around me fly ; 
 Till He bids, I cannot die : 
 Not a single shaft can hit 
 Till the God of love sees fit. 
 
 Thou Gracious, Wise, and Just ! 
 In Thy hands my life I trust : 
 Have I something dearer still ? 
 
 1 resign it to Thy will- 
 May I always own Thy hand ; 
 Still to the surrender stand ; 
 Know, that Thou art God alone ; 
 I and mine are all Thy own. 
 
 Thee at all times will I bless ; 
 Having Thee, I all possess ; 
 How can I bereaved be, 
 Since I cannot part with Thee ? 
 
 7o/m Ryland* 1777. 
 
" Give us this day our Daily Bread" 227 
 
 CCXi. 
 
 Lord, I would delight in Thee, 
 And on Thy care depend ; 
 
 To Thee in every trouble flee, 
 My best, my only Friend. 
 
 When all created streams are dried, 
 
 Thy fulness is the same ; 
 May I with this be satisfied, 
 
 And glory in Thy Name ! 
 
 Why should the soul a drop bemoan, 
 
 Who has a fountain near ; 
 A fountain, which will ever run 
 
 With waters sweet and clear ? 
 
 No good in creatures can be found, 
 But may be found in Thee ; 
 
 1 must have all things, and abound, 
 While God is God to me. 
 
 Oh ! that I had a stronger faith, { 
 
 To look within the veil ! 
 To credit what my Saviour saith, 
 
 Whose word can never fail ! 
 
 He that has made my heaven secure, 
 
 Will here all good provide ; 
 While Christ is rich, can I be poor ? 
 
 What can I want beside ? 
 
 O Lord, I cast my care on Thee ; 
 
 I triumph and adore : 
 Henceforth my great concern shall be 
 
 To love and please Thee more. 
 
 John Ry land, 1777, 
 
 Q2 
 
228 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCXII. 
 
 How gentle God's commands, 
 How kind His precepts are ! 
 Come, cast your burdens on the Lord, 
 And trust His constant care. 
 
 While Providence supports, 
 Let saints securely dwell ; 
 That Hand, which bears all Nature up, 
 Shall guide His children well. 
 
 Why should this anxious load 
 Press down your weary mind ? 
 Haste to your heavenly Father's throne, 
 And sweet refreshment find. 
 
 His goodness stands approved 
 Down to the present day : 
 I'll drop my burden at His feet, 
 And bear a song away. 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 CCXIII. 
 
 O God of Bethel, by whose hand 
 
 Thy people still are fed, 
 Who through this weary pilgrimage 
 
 Hast all our fathers led ; 
 
 Our vows, our prayers, we now present 
 Before Thy throne of grace ; 
 
 God of our fathers ! be the God 
 Of their succeeding race. 
 
Give us this day our Daily Bread" 229 
 
 Through each perplexing path of life 
 Our wandering footsteps guide ; 
 
 Give us each day our daily bread, 
 And raiment fit provide. 
 
 O spread Thy covering wings around 
 
 Till all our wanderings cease, 
 And at our Father's loved abode 
 
 Our souls arrive in peace ! 
 
 Such blessings from Thy gracious hand 
 
 Our humble prayers implore ; 
 And Thou shalt be our chosen God, 
 And portion evermore. 
 
 Variation by John Logan. 1 770. 
 From Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 CCXIV. 
 
 O King of earth, and air, and sea ! 
 The hungry ravens cry to Thee ; 
 To Thee the scaly tribes, that sweep 
 The bosom of the boundless deep : 
 To Thee the lions roaring call ; 
 The common Father, kind to all : 
 Then grant Thy servants, Lord, we pray, 
 Our daily bread from day to day. 
 
 The fishes may for food complain, 
 The ravens spread their wings in vain, 
 The roaring lions lack and pine ; 
 But, God, Thou carest still for Thine : 
 Thy bounteous hand with food can bless 
 The bleak and lonely wilderness ; 
 And Thou hast taught us, Lord, to pray 
 For daily bread from day to day. 
 
230 The Book of Praise. 
 
 And oh ! when through the wilds we roam 
 That part us from our heavenly home ; 
 When, lost in danger, want, and woe, 
 Our faithless tears begin to flow ; 
 Do Thou the gracious comfort give, 
 By which alone the soul may live ; 
 And grant Thy servants, Lord, we pray, 
 The bread of life from day to day ! 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827. 
 
 ccxv. 
 
 Jesus, the Shepherd of the sheep, 
 
 Thy little flock in safety keep, 
 
 The flock for which Thou cam'st from Heaver 
 
 The flock for which Thy life was given. 
 
 Thou saw'st them wandering far from Thee 
 Secure, as if from danger free ; 
 Thy love did all their wanderings trace, 
 And brought them to a wealthy place. 
 
 O guard Thy sheep from beasts of prey, 
 And guide them that they never stray ; 
 Cherish the young, sustain the old, 
 Let none be feeble in Thy fold ! 
 
 Secure them from the scorching beam. 
 And lead them to the living stream ; 
 In verdant pastures let them lie, 
 And watch them with a Shepherd's eye ! 
 
 Oh, may Thy sheep discern Thy voice, 
 And in its sacred sound rejoice ; 
 From strangers may they ever flee, 
 And know no other guide but Thee ! 
 
" Give us this day our Daily Bread? 231 
 
 Lord, bring Thy sheep that wander yet, 
 And let the number be complete : 
 Then let Thy flock from earth remove, 
 And occupy the fold above. 
 
 Th omas Kelly. 1 804- 1 83 6. 
 
 ccxvr. 
 Psalm XXIII. 
 The 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, 
 Thy bounty shall my wants beguile ; 
 The barren wilderness shall smile 
 With sudden greens and herbage crown'd, 
 And streams shall murmur all around. 
 
 Joseph A ddison. 1 7 1 2. 
 
232 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCXVII. 
 
 Psalm XXIII. 
 
 My Shepherd will supply my need, 
 
 Jehovah is His Name ; 
 In pastures fresh He makes me feed 
 
 Beside the living stream. 
 
 He brings my wandering spirit back 
 
 When I forsake His ways, 
 And leads me, for His mercy's sake, 
 
 In paths of truth and grace. 
 
 When I walk through the shades of death, 
 
 Thy presence is my stay : 
 A word of Thy supporting breath 
 
 Drives all my fears away. 
 
 Thy hand, in spite of all my foes, 
 
 Doth still my table spread ; 
 My cup with blessings overflows, 
 
 Thine oil anoints my head. 
 
 The sure provisions of my God 
 
 Attend me all my days ; 
 O may Thy house be mine abode, 
 
 And all my work be praise ! 
 
 There would I find a settled rest, 
 
 While others go and come ; 
 No more a stranger or a guest, 
 
 But like a child at home. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 
" Give us this day our Daily Bread." 233 
 
 CCXVTII. 
 
 Psalm XXIII. 
 
 The Lord my Shepherd is, 
 I shall be well supplied ; 
 Since He is mine, and I am His, 
 What can I want beside ? 
 
 He leads me to the place 
 Where heavenly pasture grows, 
 Where living waters gently pass, 
 And full salvation flows. 
 
 If e'er I go astray, 
 He doth my soul reclaim, 
 And guides me in His own right way 
 For His most holy Name. 
 
 While He affords His aid, 
 I cannot yield to fear ; 
 Though I should walk through death's dark shade, 
 My Shepherd's with me there. 
 
 In spite of all my foes 
 Thou dost my table spread ; 
 My cup with blessings overflow 
 
 [y cup with blessings overflows, 
 And joy exalts my head. 
 
 The bounties of Thy love 
 Shall crown my following days ; 
 Nor from Thy house will I remove, 
 Nor cease to speak Thy praise. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 
234 The Book oj Praise. 
 
 V. 
 
 AND FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES. 
 
 ( And forgive us our trespasses ; as we forgive them thai 
 trespass against ;/j*." 
 
 CCXTX. 
 
 Approach, my soul, the mercy-seat 
 
 Where Jesus, answers prayer ; 
 There humbly fall before His feet, 
 
 For none can perish there. 
 
 Thy promise is my only plea, 
 
 With this I venture nigh ; 
 Thou callest burden'd souls to Thee, 
 
 And such, O Lord, am I. 
 
 Bow'd down beneath a load of sin, 
 
 By Satan sorely prest, 
 By war without, and fears within, 
 
 I come to Thee for rest. 
 
 Be Thou my shield and hiding-place, 
 
 That, shelter'd near Thy side, 
 1 may my fierce accuser face, 
 
 And tell him, Thou hast died ! 
 
 O wondrous love ! to bleed and die, 
 
 To bear the cross and shame, 
 That guilty sinners, such as I, 
 
 Might plead Thy gracious Name ! 
 
 John Newton. 1779. 
 
" And forgive us our Trespasses? 235 
 
 ccxx. 
 
 Almighty God, Thy piercing eye 
 
 Strikes through the shades of night ; 
 
 And our most secret actions lie 
 All open to Thy sight. 
 
 There's not a sin that we commit, 
 
 Nor wicked word we say, 
 But in Thy dreadful book 'tis writ 
 
 Against the judgment-day. 
 
 And must the crimes that I have done 
 
 Be read and publish'd there, 
 Be all expos'd before the sun, 
 
 While men and angels hear ? 
 
 Lord ! at Thy foot ashamed I lie, 
 
 Upward I dare not look ; 
 Pardon my sins before I die, 
 
 And blot them from Thy book ! 
 
 Remember all the dying pains 
 
 That my Redeemer felt, 
 And let His Blood wash out my stains, 
 
 And answer for my guilt ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 171 5. 
 
 CCXXI. 
 
 Mercy alone can meet my case ; 
 
 For mercy, Lord, I cry : 
 Jesus ! Redeemer ! show Thy face 
 
 In mercy, or I die. 
 
236 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Save me, for none beside can save ; 
 
 At Thy command I tread 
 With failing step life's stormy wave ; 
 
 The wave goes o'er my head. 
 
 I perish, and my doom were just ; 
 
 But wilt Thou leave me ? No : 
 I hold Thee fast, my hope, my trust ; 
 
 I will not let Thee go ! 
 
 Still sure to me Thy promise stands, 
 
 And ever must abide ; 
 Behold it written on Thy hands, 
 
 And graven in Thy side ! 
 
 To this, this only, will I cleave ; 
 
 Thy word is all my plea ; 
 Thy word is truth, and I believe : 
 
 Have mercy, Lord, on me ! 
 
 James Montgomery. \ 
 
 CCXXII. 
 
 O Jesus, Saviour of the lost, 
 My Rock and Hiding-place, 
 
 By storms of sin and sorrow tost, 
 I seek Thy sheltering grace. 
 
 Guilty, forgive me, Lord ! I cry ; 
 
 Pursued by foes I come ; 
 A sinner, save me, or I die ; 
 
 An outcast, take me home. 
 
 Once safe in Thine almighty arms, 
 Let storms come on amain ; 
 
 There danger never, never harms ; 
 There death itself is gain. 
 
" And forgive us our Trespasses!' 237 
 
 And when I stand before Thy throne, 
 
 And all Thy glory see, 
 Still be my righteousness alone 
 
 To hide myself in Thee. 
 
 Edward Henry Bickersteth. 1858- 
 
 CCXX1II. 
 
 When at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend, 
 And plead with Thee for mercy there, 
 
 Think of the sinner's dying friend, 
 And for His sake receive my prayer. 
 
 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. 
 
 Think, Lord, how I am still Thy own, 
 The trembling creature of Thy hand ; 
 
 Think how my heart to sin is prone, 
 And what temptations round me stand. 
 
 O think upon Thy holy word, 
 And every plighted promise there ; 
 
 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 shorten'd be ; 
 Behold me here ; my heart is full ; 
 
 Behold, and spare, and succour me ! 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1833. 
 
238 The Book of Praise. 
 
 ccxxiv. 
 As o'er the past my memory strays, 
 
 Why heaves the secret sigh ? 
 Tis that I mourn departed days, 
 
 Still unprepared to die. 
 
 The world, and worldly things beloved, 
 My anxious thoughts employed, 
 
 And time unhallow'd, unimproved, 
 Presents a fearful void. 
 
 Yet, holy Father, wild despair 
 Chase from my labouring breast ! 
 
 Thy grace it is, which prompts the prayer \ 
 That grace can do the rest. 
 
 My life's brief remnant all be Thine ! 
 
 And, when Thy sure decree 
 Bids me this fleeting breath resign, 
 
 O, speed my soul to Thee ! 
 Bishop Thomas Fanshaw Middleton. [1822. "I 
 
 ccxxv. 
 Forth from the dark and stormy sky, 
 Lord ! to Thine altar's shade we fly : 
 Forth from the world, its hope and fear. 
 Saviour ! we seek Thy shelter here : 
 Weary and weak, Thy grace we pray : 
 Turn not, O Lord, Thy guests away ! 
 
 Long have we roam'd in want and pain ; 
 Long have we sought Thy rest in vain ; 
 Wilder'd in doubt, in darkness lost, 
 Long have our souls been tempest-tost : 
 Low at Thy feet our sins we lay ; 
 Turn not, O Lord, Thy guests away ! 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827. 
 
(t And forgive us our Trespasses." 239 
 
 CCXXVI. 
 
 O Lord, turn not Thy face away 
 
 From them that lowly lie, 
 Lamenting sore their sinful life 
 
 With tears and bitter cry ; 
 Thy mercy-gates are open wide 
 
 To them that mourn their sin ; 
 O shut them not against us, Lord, 
 
 But let us enter in. 
 
 We need not to confess our fault, 
 
 For surely Thou canst tell ; 
 What we have done, and what we are, 
 
 Thou knowest very well ; 
 Wherefore, to beg and to entreat, 
 
 With tears we come to Thee, 
 As children that have done amiss 
 
 Fall at their father's knee. 
 
 And need we then, O Lord, repeat 
 
 The blessing which we crave, 
 When Thou dost know, before we speak, 
 
 The thing that we would have ? 
 Mercy, O Lord, mercy we ask, 
 
 This is the total sum ; 
 For mercy, Lord, is all our prayer ; 
 
 O let Thy mercy come ! 
 
 Variation by Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827. 
 From John Mardley. 1562 
 
240 The Book of Praise. 
 
 VI. 
 
 "AND LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION; 
 BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL." 
 
 CCXXVII. 
 
 Lead us, heavenly Father, lead us 
 
 O'er the world's tempestuous sea ; 
 Guard us, guide us, keep us, feed us, 
 For we have no help but Thee ; 
 Yet possessing 
 Every blessing, 
 If our God our Father be. 
 
 Saviour, breathe forgiveness o'er us ; 
 All our weakness Thou dost know ; 
 Thou didst tread this earth before us, 
 Thou didst feel its keenest woe ; 
 Lone and dreary, 
 Faint and weary, 
 Through the desert Thou didst go. 
 
 Spirit of our God, descending, 
 
 Fill our hearts with heavenly joy ; 
 Love with every passion blending, 
 Pleasure that can never cloy : 
 Thus provided, 
 Pardon'd, guided, 
 Nothing can our peace destroy. 
 
 James Edmestou. 1 82a 
 
" Lead us not into Temptation'' 2Ai 
 
 CCXXVIII. 
 
 Jesu ! guide our way 
 
 To eternal day ! 
 So shall we, no more delaying, 
 Follow Thee, Thy voice obeying ; 
 
 Lead us by Thy hand 
 
 To our Father s land ! 
 
 When we danger meet, 
 
 Stedfast make our feet ! 
 Lord, preserve us uncomplaining 
 'Mid the darkness round us reigning ! 
 
 Through adversity 
 
 Lies our way to Thee. 
 
 Order all our way 
 Through this mortal day ; 
 In our toil with aid be near us ; 
 In our need with succour cheer us ; 
 When life's course is o'er, 
 Open Thou the door ! 
 
 Arthur Tozer Russell. 1851. 
 From Louis, Count Zinzendorf. 1721. 
 
 CCXXIX. 
 
 Star of morn and even, 
 Sun of Heaven's heaven, 
 Saviour high and dear, 
 Toward us turn Thine ear ; 
 Through whate'er may come 
 Thou canst lead us home, 
 R 
 
242 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Though the gloom be grievous, 
 Those we leant on leave us, 
 
 Though the coward heart 
 
 Quit its proper part, 
 
 Though the Tempter come, 
 
 Thou wilt lead us home. 
 
 Saviour pure and holy, 
 Lover of the lowly, 
 
 Sign us with Thy sign, 
 
 Take our hands in Thine, 
 
 Take our hands and come, 
 
 Lead Thy children home ! 
 
 Star of morn and even, 
 Shine on us from Heaven, 
 
 From Thy glory-throne 
 
 Hear Thy very own ! 
 
 Lord and Saviour, come, 
 
 Lead us to our home ! 
 
 Frajia's Tinner Palgrave. 1 862 
 
 cexxx. 
 
 O Thou, to whose all-searching sight 
 The darkness shineth as the light, 
 Search, prove my heart ; it pants for Thee ; 
 O, burst these bands, and set it free ! 
 
 Wash out its stains, refine its dross ; 
 Nail my affections to the cross ; 
 Hallow each thought ; let all within 
 Be clean, as Thou, my Lord, art clean. 
 
" Lead us not into Temptation ." 243 
 
 If in this darksome wild I stray, 
 
 Be Thou my Light, be Thou my Way ; 
 
 No foes, no violence I fear, 
 
 No fraud, while Thou, my God, art near. 
 
 When rising floods my soul o'erfiow, 
 When sinks my heart in waves of woe, 
 Jesu, Thy timely aid impart, 
 And raise my head, and cheer my heart. 
 
 Saviour ! where'er Thy steps I see, 
 Dauntless, untired, I follow Thee : 
 O let Thy hand support me still, 
 And lead me to Thy holy hill ! 
 
 If rough and thorny be the way, 
 My strength proportion to my day ; 
 Till toil, and grief, and pain shall cease 
 Where all is calm and joy and peace. 
 
 John Wesley. 1739 — J 743- 
 From the German. 
 
 CCXXXI. 
 
 Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah ! 
 
 Pilgrim through this barren land ; 
 I am weak, but Thou art mighty; 
 
 Hold me with Thy powerful hand ! 
 Bread of Heaven ! Bread of Heaven ! 
 Feed me now and evermore ! 
 
 Open now the crystal Fountain, 
 
 Whence the healing streams do flow ; 
 Let the fiery cloudy pillar 
 
 Lead me all my journey through ; 
 Strong Deliverer ! Strong Deliverer ! 
 Be Thou still my Strength and Shield I 
 & 2 
 
244 The Book of Praise. 
 
 When I tread the verge of Jordan, 
 
 Bid my anxious fears subside ; 
 Death of death, and Hell's Destruction, 
 Land me safe on Canaan's side ; 
 Songs of praises, Songs of praises, 
 I will ever give to Thee ! 
 
 William Williams. 1774. 
 
 CCXXXII. 
 
 Jesus ! lead us with Thy power 
 
 Safe unto the promised Rest ; 
 Hide our souls within Thy bosom ; 
 
 Let us slumber on Thy breast ; 
 Feed us with the heavenly manna, 
 
 Bread that angels eat above ; 
 Let us drink from the holy Fountain 
 
 Draughts of everlasting Love ! 
 
 Throughout the desert wild conduct us 
 
 With a glorious pillar bright, 
 In the day a cooling comfort, 
 
 And a cheering fire by night ; 
 Be our guide in every peril, 
 
 Watch us hourly night and day ; 
 Otherwise we'll err and wander 
 
 From Thy Spirit far away. 
 
 In Thy Presence we are happy ; 
 
 In Thy Presence we're secure ; 
 In Thy Presence all afflictions 
 
 We will easily endure ; 
 In Thy Presence we can conquer, 
 
 We can suffer, we can die ; 
 Far from Thee, we faint and languish : 
 
 Lord, our Saviour, keep us nigh ! 
 
 Willia?n Williams. 1772. 
 
" Lead us not into Temptation? 245 
 
 CCXXXIII. 
 
 Psalm CXXL 
 
 Up to the hills I lift mine eyes, 
 The eternal hills beyond the skies ; 
 Thence all her help my soul derives, 
 There my Almighty Refuge lives. 
 
 He lives, the everlasting God, 
 That built the world, that spread the flood ; 
 The heavens with all their hosts He made, 
 And the dark regions of the dead. 
 
 He guides our feet, He guards our way ; 
 His morning smiles bless all the day ; 
 He spreads the evening veil, and keeps 
 The silent hours while Israel sleeps. 
 
 Israel, a name divinely blest, 
 May rise secure, securely rest ; 
 Thy holy Guardian's wakeful eyes 
 Admit no slumber nor surprise. 
 
 No sun shall smite thy head by day, 
 Nor the pale moon with sickly ray 
 Shall blast thy couch ; no baleful star 
 Dart his malignant fire so far. 
 
 Should earth and hell with malice burn, 
 Still thou shalt go, and still return, 
 Safe in the Lord ; His heavenly care 
 Defends thy life from every snare. 
 
 On thee foul spirits have no power ; 
 And, in thy last departing hour, 
 Angels, that trace the airy road, 
 Shall bear thee homeward to thy God. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719, 
 
246 The Book of Praise. 
 
 ccxxxiv. 
 
 Psalm CXXI. 
 
 To Heaven I lift mine eye, 
 To Heaven, Jehovah's throne, 
 For there my Saviour sits on high, 
 And thence shall strength and aid supply 
 To all He calls His own. 
 
 He will not faint nor fail, 
 
 Nor cause thy feet to stray : 
 For Him no weary hours assail, 
 Nor evening darkness spreads her veil 
 
 O'er His eternal day. 
 
 Beneath that light divine 
 
 Securely shalt thou move ; 
 The sun with milder beams shall shine, 
 And eve's still queen her lamp incline 
 
 Benignant from above. 
 
 For He, thy God and Friend, 
 Shall keep thy soul from harm, 
 In each sad scene of doubt attend, 
 And guide thy life, and bless thine end, 
 With His Almighty arm. 
 
 John Botudler. 181 
 
 ccxxxv. 
 Psalm XI. 
 
 My trust is in the Lord, 
 
 What foe can injure me ? 
 
 Why bid me like a bird 
 
 Before the fowler flee ? 
 The Lord is on His heavenly throne, 
 And He will shield and save His own. 
 
" But deliver us from Evil" 247 
 
 The wicked may assail, 
 
 The Tempter sorely try, 
 
 All earth's foundations fail, 
 
 All nature's springs be dry ; 
 Yet God is in His holy shrine, 
 And I am strong while He is mine. 
 
 His flock to Him is dear, 
 
 He watches them from high ; 
 
 He sends them trials here 
 
 To form them for the sky ; 
 But safely will He tend and keep 
 The humblest, feeblest, of His sheep. 
 
 His foes a season here 
 
 May triumph and prevail ; 
 
 But ah ! the hour is near 
 
 When all their hopes must fail ; 
 While, like the sun, His saints shall rise, 
 And shine with Him above the skies. 
 
 Hen ry Fran cis Lyte . 1834. 
 
 CCXXXVI. 
 
 Psalm XLVI. 
 
 God is our Refuge, tried and proved, 
 
 Amid a stormy world ; 
 We will not fear, though earth be moved, 
 
 And hills in ocean hurled. 
 
 The waves may roar, the mountains shake, 
 
 Our comforts shall not cease ; 
 The Lord His saints will not forsake, 
 
 The Lord will give us peace. 
 
248 The Book of Praise. 
 
 A gentle stream of hope and love 
 
 To us shall ever flow ; 
 It issues from His throne above, 
 
 It cheers His Church below. 
 
 When earth and hell against us came, 
 He spake, and quell'd their powers ; 
 
 The Lord of hosts is still the same ; 
 The God of grace is ours. 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1834 
 
 CCXXXVII. 
 
 Psalm XCI. 
 
 There is a safe and secret place 
 
 Beneath the wings divine, 
 Reserved for all the heirs of grace ; 
 
 O, 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 love and truth divine : 
 O child of God, O glory's heir, 
 
 How rich a lot is thine ! 
 
" But deliver us from EvilV 249 
 
 A hand Almighty to defend, 
 
 An ear for every call, 
 An honour'd life, a peaceful end, 
 
 And Heaven to crown it all ! 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1834. 
 
 CCXXXVIII. 
 
 Oh help us, Lord ! each hour of need, 
 
 Thy heavenly succour give ; 
 Help us in thought, and word, and deed, 
 
 Each hour on earth we live ! 
 
 Oh, help us when our spirits bleed 
 
 With contrite anguish sore ; 
 A.nd when our hearts are cold and dead, 
 
 Oh, help us, Lord, the more ! 
 
 Oh, help us, through the prayer of faith, 
 
 More firmly to believe ; 
 For still, the more the servant hath, 
 
 The more shall he receive. 
 
 If strangers to Thy fold we call, 
 
 Imploring at Thy feet 
 The crumbs that from Thy table fall, 
 
 'Tis all we dare entreat. 
 
 But be it, Lord of mercy, all, 
 So Thou wilt grant but this : 
 
 The crumbs that from Thy table fall 
 Are light, and life, and bliss. 
 
250 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Oh, help us, Jesus, from on high ! 
 
 We know no help but Thee : 
 Oh, help us so to live and die, 
 
 As Thine in Heaven to be ! 
 
 Henry Hart Mitotan. 1827. 
 
 ccxxxix. 
 
 O Thou, from whom all goodness flows, 
 
 I lift my heart to Thee ; 
 In all my sorrows, conflicts, woes, 
 
 Dear Lord, remember me ! 
 
 When groaning on my burden' d heart 
 
 My sins lie heavily, 
 My pardon speak, new peace impart, 
 
 In love remember mc ! 
 
 Temptations sore obstruct my way ; 
 
 And ills I cannot flee : 
 Oh, give me strength, Lord, as my day ; 
 
 For good remember me ! 
 
 Distrest with pain, disease, and grief, 
 
 This feeble body see ! 
 Grant patience, rest, and kind relief ; 
 
 Hear, and remember me ! 
 
 If on my face, for Thy dear Name, 
 
 Shame and reproaches be ; 
 All hail reproach, and welcome shame, 
 
 If Thou remember me ! 
 
" But deliver us from Evil? 25 1 
 
 The hour is near ; consign'd to death 
 
 I own the just decree : 
 " Saviour !" with my last parting breath, 
 
 I'll cry, " Remember me !" 
 
 Thomas Haweis. 1 792. 
 
 CCXL. 
 
 Jesu, lover of my soul, 
 
 Let me to Thy bosom fly, 
 While the nearer waters roll, 
 
 While the tempest still is high ! 
 Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, 
 
 Till the storm of life is past, 
 Safe into the haven guide ; 
 
 O receive my soul at last ! 
 
 Other refuge have I none ; 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ; 
 Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, 
 
 Still support and comfort me ! 
 All my trust on Thee is stay'd, 
 
 All my help from Thee I bring : 
 Cover my defenceless head 
 
 With the shadow of Thy wing ! 
 
 Wilt Thou not regard my call ? 
 
 Wilt Thou not accept my prayer ? 
 Lo ! I sink, I faint, I fall ! 
 
 Lo ! on Thee 1 cast my care ! 
 Reach me out Thy gracious hand ! 
 
 While I of Thy strength receive, 
 Hoping against hope I stand, 
 
 Dying, and behold I live ! 
 
252 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Thou, O Christ, art all I want ; 
 
 More than all in Thee I find : 
 Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, 
 
 Heal the sick, and lead the blind ! 
 Just and holy is Thy Name ; 
 
 I am all unrighteousness ; 
 False and full of sin I am, 
 
 Thou art full of truth and grace. 
 
 Plenteous grace with Thee is found, 
 
 Grace to cover all my sin ; 
 Let the healing streams abound ; 
 
 Make and keep me pure within ! 
 Thou of Life the Fountain art, 
 
 Freely let me take of Thee ; 
 Spring Thou up within my heart ! 
 
 Rise to all eternity ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1740. 
 
 CCXLI. 
 
 Now may He, who from the dead 
 Brought the Shepherd of the sheep, 
 
 Jesus Christ, our King and Head, 
 All our souls in safety keep ! 
 
 May He teach us to fulfil 
 What is pleasing in His sight, 
 
 Perfect us in all His will, 
 And preserve us day and night ! 
 
 To that dear Redeemer's praise 
 
 Who the covenant seal'd with blood, 
 
 Let our hearts and voices raise 
 Loud thanksgivings to our God ! 
 
 J oh n Newton . 1779. 
 
" For Thine is the Kingdom? &c. 253 
 
 CCXLII. 
 
 O most merciful, 
 
 O most bountiful, 
 God the Father Almighty ! 
 
 By the Redeemer's 
 
 Sweet intercession, 
 Hear us, help us, when we cry ! 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber, 1 827. 
 
 VII. 
 
 FOR THINE IS THE KINGDOM, THE POWER, 
 AND THE GLORY, FOR EVER AND EVER. 
 AMEN." 
 
 CCXLIII. 
 Now to Him, who loved us, gave us 
 Every pledge that love could give, 
 Freely shed His Blood to save us, 
 
 Gave His life that we might live : 
 Be the kingdom, and dominion, 
 And the glory, evermore ! 
 
 Variation. [i844.\ 
 From Samuel Miller Waring. 1827. 
 
 CCXLIV. 
 
 Worship, honour, glory, blessing, 
 
 Lord, we offer to Thy Name : 
 Young and old their praise expressing, 
 
 Join Thy goodness to proclaim. 
 As the saints in Heaven adore Thee, 
 
 We would bow before Thy throne ; 
 As the angels serve before Thee, 
 
 So on earth Thy will be done ! 
 
 Edward Osier. 1836, 
 
254 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCXLV. 
 
 Psalm CXVII. 
 
 From all that dwell below the skies 
 Let the Creator's praise arise ; 
 Let the Redeemer's Name be sung 
 Through every land, by every tongue ! 
 
 Eternal are Thy mercies, Lord ! 
 Eternal truth attends Thy word : 
 Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore, 
 Till suns shall rise and set no more. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 
 END OF PART II. 
 
PART III. 
 
 HYMNS FOR NATURAL AND SACRED 
 SEASONS. 
 
&!je §ao\\ of f raise. 
 
 PART THE THIRD. 
 
 HYMNS FOR NATURAL AND SACRED 
 SEASONS. 
 
 I. 
 DAY AND NIGHT. 
 
 CCXLVI. 
 
 Morning. 
 
 Awake, my soul, and with the sun 
 Thy daily stage of duty run ; 
 Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise 
 To pay Thy morning sacrifice. 
 
 Thy precious time mis-spent redeem ; 
 Each present day thy last esteem ; 
 Improve thy talent with due care ; 
 For the great day thyself prepare. 
 
 In conversation be sincere ; 
 Keep conscience as the noontide clear ; 
 Think how All-seeing God thy ways 
 And all thy secret thoughts surveys. 
 
 By influence of the light divine 
 Let thy own light to others shine ; 
 Reflect all Heaven's propitious rays, 
 In ardent love and cheerful praise. 
 S 
 
258 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Wake and lift up thyself, my heart, 
 And with the angels bear thy part, 
 Who, all night long, unwearied sing 
 High praise to the Eternal King. 
 
 I wake ! I wake ! Ye heavenly choir, 
 May your devotion me inspire, 
 That I, like you, my age may spend, 
 Like you may on my God attend ! 
 
 May I, like you, in God delight, 
 Have all day long my God in sight, 
 Perform like you my Maker's will ! 
 
 may I never more do ill ! 
 
 Had I your wings, to Heaven I'd fly ; 
 But God shall that defect supply ; 
 And my soul, wing'd with warm desire, 
 Shall all day long to Heaven aspire. 
 
 All praise to Thee, who safe hast kept, 
 And hast refresh' d me whilst I slept ! 
 Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake, 
 
 1 may of endless light partake ! 
 
 I would not wake, nor rise again, 
 And Heaven itself I would disdain, 
 Wert Thou not there to be enjoy'd, 
 And I in hymns to be employ'd ! 
 
 Heaven is, dear Lord, where'er Thou art ; 
 O never then from me depart ! 
 For, to my soul, 'tis hell to be 
 But for one moment void of Thee. 
 
 Lord, I my vows to Thee renew ; 
 Disperse my sins as morning dew ; 
 
Day and Night. 259 
 
 Guard my first springs of thought and will, 
 And with Thyself my spirit fill. 
 
 Direct, control, suggest, this day, 
 
 All I design, or do, or say ; 
 
 That all my powers, with aH their might, 
 
 In Thy sole glory may unite. 
 
 Praise God, from whom all blessings flow ; 
 Praise Him, all creatures here below ! 
 .Praise Him above, ye heavenly host ; 
 Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! 
 
 Bishop Thomas Ken. 1695 — 1 7°9- 
 
 CCXLVII. 
 Morning. . 
 
 God of the morning, at whose voice 
 The cheerful sun makes haste to rise, 
 
 And like a giant doth rejoice 
 
 To run his journey through the skies ; 
 
 From the fair chambers of the east 
 
 The circuit of his race begins ; 
 And, without weariness or rest, 
 
 Round the whole earth he flies and shines : 
 
 O, like the sun, may I fulfil 
 Th' appointed duties of the day, 
 
 With ready mind and active will 
 
 March on, and keep my heavenly way ! 
 
 But I shall rove and lose the race, 
 If God, my sun, should disappear, 
 
 And leave me in this world's wide maze 
 To follow every wandering star. 
 s ?. 
 
260 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Lord ! Thy commands are clean and pure, 
 Enlightening our beclouded eyes ; 
 
 Thy threatenings just, Thy promise sure ; 
 Thy Gospel makes the simple wise. 
 
 Give me Thy counsel for my guide, 
 And then receive me to Thy bliss : 
 
 All my desires and hopes beside 
 
 Are faint and cold, compared with this ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 
 CCXLVIII. 
 
 Morning. 
 
 O timely happy, timely wise, 
 Hearts that with rising morn arise ! 
 Eyes that the beam celestial view, 
 Which evermore makes all things new ! 
 
 New every morning is the love 
 Our wakening and uprising prove, 
 Through sleep and darkness safely brought, 
 Restored to life, and power, and thought. 
 
 New mercies, each returning day, 
 
 Hover around us while we pray ; 
 
 New perils past, new sins forgiven, 
 
 New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven. 
 
 If, on our daily course, our mind 
 Be set to hallow all we find, 
 New treasures still, of countless price, 
 God will provide for sacrifice. 
 
 Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be, 
 As more of Heaven in each we see ; 
 Some softening gleam of love and prayer 
 Shall dawn on every cross and care. 
 
Day and Night 261 
 
 As for some dear familiar strain 
 Untired we ask, and ask again ; 
 Ever, in its melodious store, 
 Finding a spell unheard before \ 
 
 Such is the bliss of souls serene, 
 
 When they have sworn, and steadfast mean, 
 
 Counting the cost, in all t' espy 
 
 Their God, in all themselves deny. 
 
 O could we learn that sacrifice, 
 What lights would all around us rise ! 
 How would our hearts with wisdom talk 
 Along life's dullest, dreariest walk ! 
 
 We need not bid, for cloister'd cell, 
 Our neighbour and our work farewell, 
 Nor strive to wind ourselves too high 
 For sinful man beneath the sky : 
 
 The trivial round, the common task. 
 Will furnish all we ought to ask ; 
 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 ! 
 
 John Keble. 1827 
 
267 The Booh of Praise. 
 
 CCXLIX. 
 
 Morning. 
 
 Since Thou hast added now, O God ! 
 
 Unto my life another day, 
 And giv'st me leave to walk abroad, 
 
 And labour in my lawful way ; 
 My walks and works with me begin, 
 Conduct me forth, and bring me in. 
 
 In every power my soul enjoys 
 
 Internal virtues to improve ; 
 In every sense that she employs 
 
 In her external works to move ; 
 Bless her, O God ! and keep me sound 
 From outward harm and inward wound. 
 
 Let sin nor Satan's fraud prevail 
 To make mine eye of reason blind, 
 
 Or faith, or hope, or love to fail, 
 Or any virtues of the mind ; 
 
 But more and more let them increase, 
 
 And bring me to mine end in peace. 
 
 Lewd courses let my feet forbear ; 
 
 Keep Thou my hands from doing wrong ; 
 Let not ill counsels pierce mine ear, 
 
 Nor wicked words defile my tongue ; 
 And keep the windows of each eye 
 That no strange lust climb in thereby. 
 
 But guard Thou safe my heart in chief ; 
 
 That neither hate, revenge, nor fear, 
 Nor vain desire, vain joy, or grief, 
 
 Obtain command or dwelling there : 
 And, Lord ! with every saving grace, 
 Still true to Thee maintain that place 1 
 
Day and Night. 363 
 
 So till the evening of this morn 
 My time shall then so well be spent, 
 
 That when the twilight shall return 
 I may enjoy it with content, 
 
 And to Thy praise and honour say, 
 
 That this hath proved a happy day. 
 
 George Wither. 1641. 
 
 CCL. 
 
 Morning. 
 
 Christ, 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 ; 
 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 ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1740. 
 
264 The Book oj Praise. 
 
 CCLI. 
 
 Morning, 
 
 " Splendor Patentee Glorice" 
 
 O Jesu, Lord of heavenly grace, 
 
 Thou brightness of Thy Father's face, 
 
 Thou Fountain of eternal light, 
 
 Whose beams disperse the shades of night ! 
 
 Come, holy Sun of heavenly love, 
 Shower down Thy radiance from above, 
 And to our inward hearts convey 
 The Holy Spirit's cloudless ray. 
 
 And we the Father's help will claim, 
 And sing the Father's glorious Name ; 
 His powerful succour we implore, 
 That we may stand, to fall no more. 
 
 May He Our actions deign to bless, 
 And loose the bonds of wickedness ; 
 From sudden falls our feet defend, 
 And bring us to a prosperous end. 
 
 May faith, deep rooted in the soul, 
 Subdue our flesh, our minds control ; 
 May guile depart, and discord cease, 
 And all within be joy and peace. 
 
 And Christ shall be our daily food, 
 Our daily drink His precious blood ; 
 And thus the Spirit's calm excess 
 Shall fill our souls with holiness. 
 
 O hallowed be the approaching day I 
 Let meekness be our morning ray ; 
 And faithful love our noonday light ; 
 And hope our sunset, calm and bright ! 
 
Day mid Night, .265 
 
 O Christ ! with each returning morn 
 Thine image to our hearts is borne : 
 O, may we ever clearly see 
 Our Saviour and our God in Thee ! 
 
 John Chandler. 1837. 
 From St. Ambrose. 
 
 CCLII. 
 
 Morning. 
 
 Lord God of morning and of night, 
 We thank Thee for Thy gift of light : 
 As in the dawn the shadows fly, 
 We seem to find Thee now more nigh. 
 
 Fresh hopes have waken'd in our hearts, 
 Fresh energy to do our parts ; 
 Thy thousand sleeps our strength restore, 
 A thousand fold to serve Thee more. 
 
 Yet whilst Thy will we would pursue, 
 Oft what we would we cannot do ; 
 The sun may stand in zenith skies, 
 But on the soul thick midnight lies. 
 
 O Lord of lights ! 'tis Thou alone 
 Canst make our darken'd hearts Thine own ■ 
 Though this new day with joy we see, 
 O Dawn of God ! we cry for Thee ! 
 
 Praise God, our Maker and our Friend ! 
 Praise Him through time, till time shall end ! 
 Till psalm and song His Name adore 
 Through Heaven's great day of Evermore ! 
 Francis Turner Palgrave. 1862, 
 
266 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCLIII. 
 
 Mid-day. 
 
 When at mid-day my task I ply 
 With labouring hand or watchful eye, 
 I need the timely aid of prayer 
 To guard my soul from worldly care. 
 
 Thou, Lord, didst consecrate this hour 
 To mind us of Thy saving power, 
 Thy living water's heavenly spell, 
 The mystery of Jacob's well. 
 
 There, about noon, with toil oppress'd, 
 Feebly Thy voice its plaint express'd, 
 " Give Me to drink !" O wondrous woe ! 
 God thirsts, from whom all blessings flow ! 
 
 He needed not, by whom we live, 
 And only ask'd, that He might give : 
 A mightier want He felt within ; 
 The thirst to save a soul from sin. 
 
 Lord, in our pilgrimage of grace, 
 Thy weary footsteps oft we trace ; 
 And in the inner man renew 
 The grief, Thy sacred body knew. 
 
 Our spirits faint upon the way, 
 We bear the burden of the day : 
 'Tis then for strength to Thee we turn, 
 Sit at Thy feet, and wisdom learn. 
 
 We ask of Thee, the gift of God, 
 Pure water from the vital flood, 
 To cure our feverish thirst of sin, 
 A well of water deep within. 
 
Day and Night. 267 
 
 'Twas at mid-day, on blood intent, 
 Saul to Damascus raging went : 
 A light from heaven upon him came, 
 Putting that mid-day sun to shame. 
 
 The sudden glorious burst appals ; 
 Dash'd to the earth he headlong falls : 
 A Voice reproves ; a Form appears ; 
 Aghast he sees and trembling hears. 
 
 Now streams that light with mellow'd glow 
 Around our path, where'er we go ; 
 Inviting us at noon to raise 
 Our hearts to God in prayer and praise. 
 
 And calmly now we hear that word ; 
 It bids us rise and meet the Lord : 
 What hour He cometh, none can say ; 
 At dead of night, or at mid-day. 
 
 O ! rise thou then, and strive, my soul, 
 To reach the beatific goal ! 
 Thy every nerve and sinew strain, 
 The crown of glory to obtain ! 
 
 For see, in all this noon-tide heat, 
 How worldlings labour for the meat 
 That perishes and comes to nought, 
 Like shadow, when we think 'tis caught. 
 
 And wilt thou then refuse thy pains 
 For heaven's imperishable gains ? 
 Or canst thou grudge thy utmost toil 
 For treasures, none can steal or spoil ? 
 
268 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The sun has its meridian past ; 
 Soon will its beams oblique be cast ; 
 And twilight pale will rise t' enshroud 
 Their radiance in the western cloud. 
 
 Yet, for a time, 'tis bright and glad ; 
 But coming night is dark and sad : 
 The day to man for toil was given ; 
 And none at night can work for Heaven. 
 
 Sun of my soul, Thyself display ! 
 Quicken me, Lord, and cheer my way ! 
 Till, borne upon Thy healing wing, 
 Upward I soar Thy praise to sing. 
 
 E'en now, when far from Thy bless'd light, 
 At morn and eve, at noon and night, 
 I tune my heart betimes, to join, 
 Where angels in Thy presence shine. 
 
 Yet angels, in their loftiest song, 
 Fail in their flight, and do Thee wrong ; 
 Like as their veil'd adoring face 
 Tells of a Glory, none can trace ! 
 
 And now, my mid-day homage paid, 
 Life's busy path again I tread ; 
 Yet happier far its task I ply 
 From surer trust that Thou art nigh ; 
 
 Nigh to defend, assist, and bless, 
 Making my cares and dangers less ; 
 And daily duteous toil the road, 
 That leads to perfect peace in God : 
 
Day and Night. 269 
 
 Peace, through the grace of Christ our Lord ; 
 
 Rest, in the Father's love restor'd ; 
 
 Joy, by the Spirit's union given ; 
 
 The peace, the rest, the joy of Heaven ! 
 
 James Ford. 1856. 
 
 CCLIV. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 The day, O Lord, is spent ; 
 Abide with us, and rest ; 
 Our hearts' desires are fully bent 
 On making Thee our guest. 
 
 We have not reach'd that land, 
 That happy land, as yet, 
 Where holy angels round Thee stand, 
 Whose sun can never set. 
 
 Our sun is sinking now ; 
 Our day is almost o'er : 
 O Sun of Righteousness, do Thou 
 Shine on us evermore ! 
 
 John Mason Neale. 1854. 
 
 CCLV. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 Behold the sun, that seem'd but now 
 
 Enthroned overhead, 
 Beginneth to decline below 
 
 The globe whereon we tread ; 
 And he, whom yet we look upon 
 
 With comfort and delight, 
 Will quite depart from hence anon, 
 
 And leave us to the night. 
 
270 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Thus time, unheeded, steals away 
 
 The life which nature gave ; 
 Thus are our bodies every day 
 
 Declining to the grave : 
 Thus from us all our pleasures fly 
 
 Whereon we set our heart ; 
 And 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 ! 
 
 George Wither. 1641 
 
 CCLVI. 
 Evening. 
 
 Accept, my God, my evening song, 
 Like incense let it fragrant rise ; 
 
 Stir up mine heart, and tune my tongue, 
 And let the music reach the skies. 
 
 Thou hast my kind protector been 
 Through all the dangers of the day ; 
 
 My guardian to defend from sin, 
 My guide to choose me out my way. 
 
 The flowing spring of all my good, 
 Still pouring blessings from on high ; 
 
 Thine hand hath dealt me out my food, 
 For every want a kind supply. 
 
Day and Nigh t. 271 
 
 Unceasing, Lord, Thy bounty flow'd ; 
 
 Each moment brought me in fresh aid ; 
 But what returns of love to God 
 
 Have I for all His kindness made ? 
 
 What have I done for Him that died 
 To save my soul from endless woe ? 
 
 How much have I His patience tried 
 From whom all my enjoyments flow 
 
 Fast as my flying minutes pass, 
 My faults augment the former sum ! 
 
 Forgive the past, and by Thy grace 
 Prevent the like for time to come ! 
 
 Dear Saviour, to Thy cross I'll fly, 
 And there my guilty head recline, 
 
 And my whole soul, that sin may die, 
 Yield up to influence divine ! 
 
 Then, sprinkled with atoning blood, 
 I'll lay me down and take my rest, 
 Trust the protection of my God, 
 
 And sleep as on my Saviour's breast. 
 
 Variation from Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 By Simon Browne. 1 720. 
 
 CCLVII. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 All praise to Thee, my God, this night, 
 For all the blessings of the light ; 
 Keep me, oh keep me, King of kings, 
 Beneath Thine own Almighty wings ! 
 
272 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son, 
 The ill that I this day have done ; 
 That with the world, myself, and Thee. 
 I, ere I sleep, at peace may be. 
 
 Teach me to live, that I may dread 
 The grave as little as my bed ! 
 To die, that this vile body may 
 Rise glorious at the awful day ! 
 
 O may my soul on Thee repose ; 
 And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close ; 
 Sleep, that may me more vig'rous make 
 To serve my God when I awake ! 
 
 When in the night I sleepless lie, 
 My soul with heavenly thoughts supply ! 
 Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, 
 No powers of darkness me molest ! 
 
 Dull sleep, of sense me to deprive ! 
 I am but half my time alive : 
 Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are griev'd 
 To lie so long of Thee bereav'd. 
 
 But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns, 
 Let it not hold me long in chains ! 
 And now and then let loose my hearty 
 Till it an hallelujah dart ! 
 
 The faster sleep the senses binds, 
 The more unfetter'd are our minds ; 
 O may my soul, from matter free, 
 Thy loveliness unclouded see ! 
 
Day and Nigh t. 273 
 
 O when shall I, in endless day, 
 For ever chase dark sleep away, 
 And hymns with the supernal choir 
 Incessant sing, and never tire ? 
 
 O may my Guardian, while I sleep, 
 Close to my bed his vigils keep ; 
 His love angelical instil ; 
 Stop all the avenues of ill : 
 
 May he celestial joy rehearse, 
 And thought to thought with me converse ; 
 Or in my stead, all the night long, 
 Sing to my God a grateful song ! 
 
 Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, 
 Praise Him, all creatures here below ! 
 Praise Him above, ye heavenly host ! 
 Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! 
 
 Bishop Thomas Ken. 1693 — 1709, 
 
 CCLVIII. 
 
 Evening, 
 
 O Lord, another day is flown ; 
 
 And we, a lonely band, 
 Are met once more before Thy throne 
 
 To bless Thy fostering hand. 
 
 And wilt Thou lend a listening ear 
 
 To praises low as ours ? 
 Thou wilt ! for Thou dost love to hear 
 
 The song which meekness pours. 
 
 And, Jesus, Thou Thy smiles wilt deign 
 
 As we before Thee pray ; 
 For Thou didst bless the infant train, 
 
 And we are less than they. 
 T 
 
274 The Book of Praise. 
 
 O let Thy grace perform its part, 
 
 And let contention cease ; 
 And shed abroad in every heart 
 
 Thine everlasting peace ! 
 
 Thus chastened, cleansed, entirely Thine, 
 
 A flock by Jesus led, 
 The Sun of holiness shall shine 
 
 In glory on our head. 
 
 And Thou wilt turn our wandering feet, 
 And Thou wilt bless our way, 
 
 Till worlds shall fade, and faith shall greet 
 The dawn of lasting day ! 
 
 Henry Kirke White. 1803 
 
 CCLIX. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 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 gracious Providence, 
 Where not too deep for mortal sense ; 
 
 When with dear friends sweet talk I hold, 
 And all the flowers of life unfold ; 
 Let not my heart within me burn, 
 Except in all I Thee discern ! 
 
Day and Night. 275 
 
 When the soft dews of kindly sleep 
 My wearied eyelids gently steep, 
 Be my last thought, how sweet to rest 
 For ever on my Saviour's breast I 
 
 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. 
 
 The rulers of this Christian land, 
 'Twixt Thee and us ordain'd to stand, 
 Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright ! 
 Let all do all as in Thy sight ! 
 
 Oh ! by Thine own sad burthen, borne 
 So meekly up the hill of scorn, 
 Teach Thou Thy priests their daily cross, 
 To bear as Thine, nor count it loss ! 
 
 If some poor wandering child of Thine 
 Have 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 mourner's sleep to-night 
 Like infant's slumbers, pure and light ! 
 
276 The Book of Praise. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 JohnKeble. 1827. 
 
 CCLX. 
 
 Night. 
 
 Hear my prayer, O heavenly Father, 
 
 Ere I lay me down to sleep : 
 Bid Thy angels, pure and holy, 
 
 Round my bed their vigil keep. 
 
 My sins are heavy, but Thy mercy 
 
 Far outweighs them every one ; 
 Down before Thy cross I cast them, 
 
 Trusting in Thy help alone. 
 
 Keep me, through this night of peril, 
 Underneath its boundless shade ; 
 
 Take me to Thy rest, I pray Thee, 
 When my pilgrimage is made ! 
 
 None shall measure out Thy patience 
 
 By the span of human thought ; 
 None shall bound the tender mercies 
 
 Which Thy Holy Son hath bought. 
 
 Pardon all my past transgressions ; 
 
 Give me strength for days to come ; 
 Guide and guard me with Thy blessing, 
 
 Till Thine angels bid me home ! 
 
 Harriett Parr. 1856. 
 
Day and Night. 277 
 
 CCLXI. 
 Night 
 
 God, that madest earth and heaven, 
 
 Darkness and light ; 
 Who the day for toil hast given, 
 
 For rest the night ; 
 May Thine angel guards defend us ! 
 Slumber sweet Thy mercy send us ! 
 Holy dreams and hopes attend us, 
 
 This live-long night ! 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827. 
 
 CCLXII. 
 Night 
 
 Through the day Thy love hath spared us : 
 
 Now we lay us down to rest ; 
 Through the silent watches guard us ! 
 
 Let no foe our peace molest ! 
 Jesus, Thou our Guardian be ! 
 Sweet it is to trust in Thee. 
 
 Pilgrims here on earth, and strangers ; 
 
 Dwelling in the midst of foes : 
 Us and ours preserve from dangers 
 
 In Thine arms may we repose ! 
 And, when life's sad day is past 
 Rest with Thee in Heaven at last ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1806. 
 
278 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCLXIII. 
 
 Night. 
 
 All praise to Him who dwells in bliss, 
 Who made both day and night ; 
 
 Whose throne is darkness, in th' abyss 
 Of uncreated light ! 
 
 Each thought and deed His piercing eyes 
 With strictest search survey ; 
 
 The deepest shades no more disguise 
 Than the full blaze of day. 
 
 Whom Thou dost guard, O King of kings, 
 
 No evil shall molest : 
 Under the shadow of Thy wings 
 
 Shall they securely rest. 
 
 Thy angels shall around their beds 
 Their constant stations keep ; 
 
 Thy faith and truth shall shield their heads, 
 For Thou dost never sleep. 
 
 May we, with calm and sweet repose, 
 And heavenly thoughts refresh'd, 
 
 Our eyelids with the morn unclose, 
 And bless the Ever-bless'd ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1741 . 
 
 CCLXTV. 
 
 Night. 
 
 Interval of grateful shade, 
 Welcome to my weary head : 
 Welcome slumber to mine eyes, 
 Tired with glaring vanities. 
 
Day and Night. 279 
 
 My great Master still allows 
 Needful periods of repose ; 
 By my Heavenly Father blest, 
 Thus I give my powers to rest. 
 
 Heavenly Father ! gracious Name ! 
 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, that cannot sleep, 
 These defenceless hours shall keep. 
 
 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 these spangled skies 
 All my soul to God shall rise. 
 
 Mid the silence of the night 
 Mingling with those angels bright, 
 Whose harmonious voices raise 
 Ceaseless love and ceaseless praise, 
 
280 The Book of 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, 
 
 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 ? 
 Whilst 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. 
 
 Tender friends awhile may mourn 
 Me from their embraces torn ; 
 Dearer, better friends I have 
 In the realms beyond the grave. 
 
 See the guardian angels nigh 
 Wait to waft my soul on high ! 
 See the golden gates displayed ! 
 See the crown to grace my head ! 
 
(una 
 
 281 
 
 Day And Night. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Philip Doddridge . 1755. 
 
 CCLXV. 
 
 Midnight. 
 
 My God, now I from sleep awake, 
 
 The sole possession of me take ; 
 
 From midnight terrors me secure, 
 
 And guard my heart from thoughts impure ! 
 
 Bless'd angels ! while we silent lie, 
 You hallelujahs sing on high ; 
 You joyful hymn the Ever-blest 
 Before the Throne, and never rest. 
 
 I with your choir celestial join 
 In offering up a hymn divine ; 
 With you in Heaven I hope to dwell, 
 And bid the night and world farewell. 
 
 My soul, when I shake off this dust, 
 Lord, in Thy arms I will entrust : 
 O make me Thy peculiar care ; 
 Some mansion for my soul prepare ! 
 
282 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Give me a place at Thy saints' feet, 
 Or some fall'n angel's vacant seat ! 
 I'll strive to sing as loud as they, 
 Who sit above in brighter day. 
 
 O may I always ready stand 
 With my lamp burning in my hand : 
 May I in sight of Heaven rejoice, 
 Whene'er I hear the Bridegroom's voice ! 
 
 All praise to Thee in light array'd, 
 Who light Thy dwelling-place hast made ; 
 A boundless ocean of bright beams 
 From Thy all-glorious Godhead streams. 
 
 The Sun in its meridian height 
 Is very darkness in Thy sight ! 
 My soul O lighten and inflame, 
 With thought and love of Thy great Name ! 
 
 Bless'd Jesu, Thou, on Heaven intent, 
 Whole nights hast in devotion spent ; 
 But I, frail creature, soon am tired, 
 And all my zeal is soon expired. 
 
 My soul, how canst thou weary grow 
 Of antedating bliss below, 
 In sacred hymns, and heavenly love, 
 Which will eternal be above ? 
 
 Shine on me, Lord, new life impart ! 
 Fresh ardours kindle in my heart ! 
 One ray of Thy all-quickening light 
 Dispels the sloth and clouds of night. 
 
 Lord, lest the tempter me surprise, 
 Watch over Thine own sacrifice ! 
 
Day and Night. 283 
 
 All loose, all idle thoughts cast out, 
 And make my very dreams devout ! 
 
 Praise God from whom all blessings flow, 
 Praise Him, all creatures here below ! 
 Praise Him above, ye heavenly host ; 
 Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! 
 
 Bishop Thomas Ken. 1695 — 1709. 
 
 CCLXVI. 
 
 Midnight. 
 
 Awake, my soul, awake to prayer ; 
 Thy vigil of the night prepare : 
 Now all around is dark and still, 
 Angels defending us from ill. 
 
 The time to sacred thought is dear, 
 When Thou alone, good Lord, art near ; 
 Hush'd is the world's external din, 
 That we may hear Thy voice within. 
 
 It seems to plead with gentle breath ; 
 " Sad child of frailty, heir of death, 
 " Its rest thy wearied body knows ; 
 " O ! let thy soul on Me repose ! 
 
 " I came to suffer in thy stead ; 
 " I had not where to lay My head : 
 " Think on the love, that could provide 
 " Blessings for man, to God denied ! " 
 
 Thus silent hours of darkness prove 
 Remembrancers of Jesu's love ; 
 While constancy in prayer we learn 
 From each succeeding night's return. 
 
284 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Day without night the Angels sing, 
 Nor rest upon the drooping wing ; 
 Teaching our souls betimes to ascend, 
 Where hallelujahs never end. 
 
 David awaked his harp and voice, 
 And all within him, to rejoice, 
 God's love to praise at morning light, 
 And tell of all His truth at night. 
 
 Jacob in prayer nocturnal strove ; 
 
 No stern repulse his prayer could move : 
 
 In vain the Angel-man did say, 
 
 " Dismiss Me ; for 'tis break of day ! " 
 
 See how, in galling fetters laid, 
 At midnight Paul and Silas pray'd ; 
 Their gory wounds still smarting sore, 
 And cold the prison's rugged floor. 
 
 They sang the praises of the Lord ; 
 So loud they sang, the prisoners heard : 
 And yet they thought that death was nigh ; 
 And clouds obscured their morning sky. 
 
 How shall I then Thy praise decline, 
 When health, and friends, and home are mine ? 
 My dawn of day is clear and calm ; 
 No foes oppress, no fears alarm. 
 
 Are these Thy mercies, Lord, to me ? 
 O ! let me then Thy servant be ! 
 Submitting to Thy just control, 
 And loving Thee with all my soul. 
 
Day and Night. 285 
 
 So shall I find Thee strong to save, 
 When my last bed shall be the grave ; 
 The Grave shall own my Saviour's might, 
 And darkness vanish at Thy sight ! 
 
 Only my soul must now awake 
 From sleep of sin, for Thy dear sake ! 
 And then my body shall arise 
 From sleep of death to yonder skies, 
 
 'Tis there I hope Thy Face to see, 
 The crown of all felicity ; 
 'Tis there I hope that rest to gain,- 
 Which here I seek, but seek in vain. 
 
 As endless ages roll along, 
 Endless shall be my grateful song : 
 And Heaven itself shall pass away, 
 Before I cease my vows to pay. 
 
 Glory to God, who Israel keeps, 
 Who never slumbers, never sleeps ! 
 Almighty Power no weakness knows ; 
 Unwearied Love asks no repose. 
 
 And now, my midnight musings o'er, 
 Thy wonted mercies, Lord, restore : 
 Let sleep again my eyelids fill, 
 And Angels guard my soul from ill. 
 
 Praise to the Father, and the Son, 
 And th' Holy Ghost, Bless'd Three in One ! 
 Praise to the Lord, our God, be giv'n 
 By all on earth, by all in heaven ! 
 
 James Ford. 1856. 
 
^86 The Book of Praise. 
 
 II. 
 SEED TIME AND HARVEST. 
 
 CCLXVII. 
 
 Eternal source of every joy, 
 
 Well may Thy praise our lips employ, 
 
 While in Thy temple we appear, 
 
 Whose goodness crowns the circling year. 
 
 The flowery spring at Thy command 
 Embalms the air and paints the land ; 
 The -summer rays with vigour shine, 
 To raise the corn, and cheer the vine. 
 
 Thy hand in autumn richly pours 
 Through all our coasts redundant stores, 
 And winters, soften'd by Thy care, 
 No more a face of horror wear. 
 
 Seasons and months and weeks and days 
 Demand successive songs of praise ; 
 Still oe the cheerful homage paid 
 With opening light and evening shade ! 
 
 Oh ! may our more harmonious tongues 
 In worlds unknown pursue the songs ; 
 And in those brighter courts adore, 
 Where days and years revolve no more ! 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 CCLXVIII. 
 
 Fountain of mercy ! God of love ! 
 
 How rich Thy bounties are ! 
 The rolling seasons, as they move, 
 
 Proclaim Thy constant care. 
 
Seed Time mid Harvest. 287 
 
 When in the bosom of the earth 
 
 The sower hid the grain, 
 Thy goodness mark'd its secret birth, 
 
 And sent the early rain. 
 
 The spring's sweet influence was Thine, 
 
 The plants in beauty grew ; 
 Thou gav'st refulgent suns to shine, 
 
 And mild refreshing dew. 
 
 These various mercies from above, 
 
 Matur'd the swelling grain ; 
 A yellow harvest crowns Thy love, 
 
 And plenty fills the plain. 
 
 Seed-time and harvest, Lord, alone 
 
 Thou dost on man bestow ; 
 Let niia not then forget to own 
 
 From whom his blessings flow ! 
 
 Fountain of love ! our praise is Thine ; 
 
 To Thee our songs we'll raise, 
 And all created Nature join 
 
 In sweet harmonious praise ! 
 
 A lice Flowei'dew. 1 8 1 1 . 
 
 CCLXIX. 
 
 Lord, in Thy Name Thy servants plead, 
 And Thou hast sworn to hear ; 
 
 Thine is the harvest, Thine the seed, 
 The fresh and fading year. 
 
 Our hope, when autumn winds blew wild, 
 We trusted, Lord, with Thee ; 
 
 And now, that spring has on us smiled, 
 We wait on Thy decree. 
 
288 The Book of Praise, 
 
 The former and the latter rain, 
 
 The summer sun and air, 
 The green ear, and the golden grain, 
 
 All Thine, are ours by prayer. 
 
 Thine too by right, and ours by grace, 
 The wondrous growth unseen, 
 
 The hopes that soothe, the fears that brace, 
 The love that shines serene ! 
 
 So grant the precious things brought forth 
 
 By sun and moon below, 
 That Thee, in Thy new heaven and earth, 
 
 We never may forego ! 
 
 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 
 The God whom we adore, 
 Be glory, as it was, is now, 
 And shall be evermore ! 
 
 Amen ! 
 
 JohnKeble. 1857. 
 
 CCLXX. 
 
 Praise, O praise our God and King, 
 
 Hymns of adoration sing, 
 
 For His mercies still endure, 
 Ever faithful, ever sure. 
 
 Praise Him that He made the sun 
 Day by day his course to run, 
 For His mercies still endure, 
 Ever faithful, ever sure : 
 
 And the silver moon by night, 
 Shining with her gentle light, 
 For His mercies still endure, 
 Ever faithful, ever sure. 
 
Seed Time and Harvest. 289 
 
 Praise Him that He gave the rain 
 To mature the swelling grain, 
 
 For His mercies still endure, 
 
 Ever faithful, ever sure : 
 
 And hath bid the fruitful field 
 Crops of precious increase yield ; 
 
 For His mercies still endure, 
 
 Ever faithful, ever sure. 
 
 Praise Him for our harvest-store ; 
 He hath fill'd the garner-floor ; 
 
 For His mercies still endure, 
 
 Ever faithful, ever sure ; 
 
 And for richer food than this, 
 Pledge of everlasting bliss ; 
 
 For His mercies still endure, 
 
 Ever faithful, ever sure. 
 
 Glory to our bounteous King ! 
 
 Glory let Creation sing ! 
 
 Glory to the Father, Son, 
 And blest Spirit, Three in One ! 
 Sir Henry Williams Baker. 186 1. 
 
 CCLXXl. 
 
 Praise to God, immortal praise, 
 For the love that crowns our days ! 
 Bounteous source of every joy, 
 Let Thy praise our tongues employ. 
 
 For the blessings of the field, 
 For the stores the gardens yield ; 
 For the vine's exalted juice, 
 For the generous olive's use : 
 u 
 
2go The Book of Praise. 
 
 Flocks that whiten all the plain ; 
 Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain ; 
 Clouds that drop their fattening dews ; 
 Suns that temperate warmth diffuse : 
 
 All that Spring with bounteous hand 
 Scatters o'er the smiling land ; 
 All that liberal Autumn pours 
 From her rich o'erflowing stores : 
 
 These to Thee, my God, we owe, 
 Source whence all our blessings flow ; 
 And for these my soul shall raise 
 Grateful vows and solemn praise. 
 
 Yet, should rising whirlwinds tear 
 From its stem the ripening ear ; 
 Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot 
 Drop her green untimely fruit ; 
 
 Should the vine put forth no more, 
 Nor the olive yield her store ; 
 Though the sickening flocks should fall, 
 And the herds desert the stall ; 
 
 Should Thine alter'd hand restrain 
 The early and the latter rain ; 
 Blast each opening bud of joy, 
 And the rising year destroy ; 
 
 Yet to Thee my soul should raise 
 Grateful vows and solemn praise ; 
 And, when every blessing's flown, 
 Love Thee for Thyself alone ! 
 
 Anna Lcetitia Barbanld. 1773. 
 
Seed Time and Harvest. 291 
 
 CCLXXII. 
 
 Lord of the harvest ! Thee we hail ; 
 Thine ancient promise doth not fail ; 
 The varying seasons haste their round, 
 With goodness all our years are crown'd : 
 
 Our thanks we pay 
 
 This holy day ; 
 O let our hearts in tune be found ! 
 
 If Spring doth wake the song of mirth 
 If Summer warms the fruitful earth ; 
 When Winter sweeps the naked plain. 
 Or Autumn yields its ripen'd grain ; 
 
 Still do we sing 
 
 To Thee, our King ; 
 Through all their changes Thou dost reign. 
 
 But chiefly when Thy liberal hand 
 Scatters new plenty o'er the land, 
 When sounds of music fill the air, 
 As homeward all their treasures bear ; 
 
 We too will raise 
 
 Our hymn of praise, 
 For we Thy common bounties share. 
 
 Lord of the harvest ! all is Thine ! 
 The rains that fall, the suns that shine, 
 The seed once hidden in the ground, 
 The skill that makes our fruits abound ! 
 New, every year, 
 Thy gifts appear ; 
 New praises from our lips shall sound ! 
 
 John Hampden Gumey. 1838— 1851 
 U 2 
 
292 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCLXXIII. 
 
 Lord of the harvest ! once again 
 We thank Thee for the ripen'd grain ; 
 For crops safe carried, sent to cheer 
 Thy servants through another year ; 
 For all sweet holy thoughts supplied 
 By seed-time, and by harvest-tide. 
 
 The bare dead grain, in autumn sown, 
 Its robe of vernal green puts on ; 
 Glad from its wintry grave it springs, 
 Fresh garnish'd by the King of kings : 
 So, Lord, to those who sleep in Thee 
 Shall new and glorious bodies be. 
 
 Nor vainly of Thy Word we ask 
 A lesson from the reaper's task ; 
 So shall Thine angels issue forth ; 
 The tares be burnt ; the just of earth, 
 Playthings of sun and storm no more, 
 Be gather'd to their Father's store. 
 
 Daily, O Lord, our prayers be said, 
 As Thou hast taught, for daily bread ; 
 But not alone our bodies feed ; 
 Supply our fainting spirits' need ! 
 O Bread of Life ! from day to day, 
 Be Thou their Comfort, Food, and Stay ! 
 
 Joseph Anstice. [1836.] 
 
 CCLXXIV. 
 
 Come, ye thankful people, come, 
 Raise the song of Harvest-Home J 
 All is safely gather'd in, 
 Ere the winter-storms begin ; 
 
Seed Time and Harvest. 293 
 
 God, our Maker, doth provide 
 For our wants to be supplied ; 
 Come to God's own temple, come, 
 Raise the song of Harvest-Home ! 
 
 We ourselves are God's own field, 
 Fruit unto His praise to yield ; 
 Wheat and tares together sown, 
 Unto joy or sorrow grown : 
 First the blade, and then the ear, 
 Then the full corn shall appear : 
 Grant, O harvest Lord, that we 
 Wholesome grain and pure may be ! 
 
 For the Lord our God shall come, 
 And shall take His harvest home ! 
 From His field shall purge away 
 All that doth offend, that day ; 
 Give His Angels charge at last 
 In the fire the tares to cast, 
 But the fruitful ears to store 
 In His garner evermore. 
 
 Then, thou Church triumphant, come, 
 
 Raise the song of Harvest-Home ! 
 
 All are safely gather'd in, 
 
 Free from sorrow, free from sin ; 
 
 There for ever purified, 
 
 In God's garner to abide : 
 
 Come, ten thousand Angels, come, 
 
 Raise the glorious Harvest-Home ! 
 
 Henry Alford. 1844. 
 
294 The Book of Praise. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE OLD AND NEW YEAR. 
 
 CCLXXV. 
 
 Another year hath fled ; renew, 
 
 Lord, with our days Thy love ! 
 Our days are evil here and few ; 
 
 We look to live above : 
 We will not grieve, though day by day 
 We pass from earthly joys away ; 
 
 Our joy abides in Thee ; 
 
 Our joy abides in Thee ! 
 
 Yet, when our sins we call to mind, 
 
 We cannot fail to grieve ; 
 But Thou art pitiful and kind, 
 
 And wilt our prayer receive : 
 O Jesu, evermore the same, 
 Our hope we rest upon Thy Name ; 
 
 Our hope abides in Thee ; 
 
 Our hope abides in Thee ! 
 
 For all the future, Lord, prepare 
 
 Our souls with strength Divine ; 
 Help us to cast on Thee our care, 
 
 And on Thy servants shine : 
 Life without Thee is dark and drear ; 
 Death is not death if Thou art near ; 
 
 Our life abides in Thee ; 
 
 Our life abides in Thee ! 
 
 Arthur Tozer Russell. 1851 
 
The Old and New Year. 295 
 
 CCLXXVI. 
 
 Harp, awake ! tell out the story 
 
 Of our love and joy and praise ; 
 Lute, awake ! awake our glory ! 
 
 Join a thankful song to raise ! 
 Join we, brethren faithful-hearted, 
 
 Lift the solemn voice again 
 O'er another year departed 
 
 Of our threescore years and ten ! 
 
 Lo ! a theme for deepest sadness, 
 
 In ourselves with sin defiled ; 
 Lo ! a theme for holiest gladness, 
 
 In our Father reconciled ! 
 In the dust we bend before Thee, 
 
 Lord of sinless hosts above ; 
 Yet in lowliest joy adore Thee, 
 
 God of mercy, grace, and love ! 
 
 Gracious Saviour ! Thou hast lengthen'd 
 
 And hast blest our mortal span, 
 And in our weak hearts hast strengthen'd 
 
 What Thy grace alone began ! 
 Still, when danger shall betide us, 
 
 Be Thy warning whisper heard ; 
 Keep us at Thy feet, and guide us 
 
 By Thy Spirit and Thy Word ! 
 
 Let Thy favour and Thy blessing 
 Crown the year we now begin ; 
 
 Let us all, Thy strength possessing, 
 Grow in grace, and vanquish sin ! 
 
296 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Storms are round us, hearts are quailing, 
 Signs in heaven and earth and sea ; 
 
 But, when heaven and earth are failing, 
 Saviour ! we will trust in Thee ! 
 
 Henry Dewnton. [1848.] 
 
 CCLXXVII. 
 
 Awake, ye saints, and raise your eyes, 
 
 And raise your voices high ; 
 Awake, and praise that sovereign love 
 
 That shows Salvation nigh. 
 
 On all the wings of time it flies, 
 Each moment brings it near ; 
 
 Then welcome each declining day, 
 Welcome each closing year ! 
 
 Not many years their round shall run, 
 
 Nor many mornings rise, 
 Ere all its glories stand reveal'd 
 
 To our admiring eyes ! 
 
 Ye wheels of nature, speed your course ! 
 
 Ye mortal powers, decay ! 
 Fast as ye bring the night of death, 
 
 Ye bring eternal day ! 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1 75 5 . 
 
 CCLXXVIII. 
 
 While with ceaseless course the sun 
 
 Hasted through the former year, 
 Many souls their race have run, 
 
 Never more to meet us here : 
 Fix'd in an eternal state, 
 
 They have done with all below ; 
 We a little longer wait, 
 
 But how little, none can know. 
 
The Old and New Year. 297 
 
 As the wingSd arrow flies 
 
 Speedily the mark to find ; 
 (is the lightning from the skies 
 
 Darts, and leaves no trace behind ; 
 Swiftly thus our fleeting days 
 
 Bear us down life's rapid stream : 
 Upward, Lord ! our spirits raise ! 
 
 All below is but a dream. 
 
 Thanks for mercies past receive ; 
 
 Pardon of our sins renew ; 
 Teach us, henceforth, how to live 
 
 With eternity in view : 
 Bless Thy word to young and old ; 
 
 Fill us with a Saviour's love ; 
 And, when life's short tale is told, 
 
 May we dwell with Thee above ! 
 
 John Newton. 1779. 
 
 CCLXXIX. 
 
 For Thy mercy and Thy grace, 
 Faithful through another year, 
 Hear our song of thankfulness, 
 Father, and Redeemer, hear ! 
 
 In our weakness and distress, 
 Rock of strength ! be Thou our stay ! 
 In the pathless wilderness 
 Be our true and living way ! 
 
 Who of us death's awful road 
 In the coming year shall tread ? 
 With Thy rod and staff, O God, 
 Comfort Thou his dying head ! 
 
298 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Keep us faithful, keep us pure, 
 Keep us evermore Thine own ! 
 Help, O help us to endure ! 
 Fit us for the promised crown I 
 
 So within Thy palace gate 
 
 We shall praise, on golden strings, 
 
 Thee, the only Potentate, 
 
 Lord of lords, and King of kings ! 
 
 Henry Downton. [i843»] 
 
 CCLXXX. 
 
 To-morrow, Lord, is Thine, 
 Lodged in Thy sovereign hand, 
 And, if its sun arise and shine, 
 It shines by Thy command. 
 
 The present moment flies, 
 And bears our life away : 
 O make Thy servants truly wise, 
 That they may live to-day ! 
 
 Since on this winged hour 
 Eternity is hung, 
 Waken by Thy Almighty power 
 The aged and the young ! 
 
 One thing demands our care : 
 O ! be it still pursued ! 
 Lest, slighted once, the season fair 
 Should never be renew'd ! 
 
 To Jesus may we fly 
 Swift as the morning light ; 
 Lest life's young golden beams should die 
 In sudden endless night ! 
 
 Ph ilij> Doddridge. I 75 5 . 
 
Baptism and Childhood. 299 
 
 IV. 
 
 BAPTISM AND CHILDHOOD. 
 
 CCLXXXI. 
 
 God of that glorious gift of grace 
 By which Thy people seek Thy face, 
 When in Thy presence we appear, 
 Vouchsafe us faith to venture near ! 
 
 Confiding in Thy truth alone, 
 Here, on the steps of Jesus' throne, 
 We lay the treasure Thou hast given 
 To be received and rear'd for Heaven. 
 
 Lent to us for a season, we 
 Lend him for ever, Lord, to Thee ! 
 Assured, that, if to Thee he live, 
 We gain in what we seem to give. 
 
 Large and abundant blessings shed, 
 Warm as these prayers, upon his head ! 
 And on his soul the dews of grace, 
 Fresh as these drops upon his face ! 
 
 Make him and keep him Thine own child, 
 Meek follower of the UndenTd ! 
 Possessor here of grace and love ; 
 Inheritor of Heaven above ! 
 
 John S.B. Monsell 1837. 
 
 CCLXXXII. 
 
 Lord ! may the inward grace abound 
 Through Thine appointed outward sign ; 
 
 A milder seal than Abraham found 
 Of cov'nant blessings more Divine ; 
 
3QO The Book of Praise. 
 
 Which opens glory to our view 
 Beyond the brightest hope he knew ! 
 
 Type of the Spirit's living flow, 
 
 In faith we pour the hallo w'd stream ; 
 
 We sign the cross upon the brow, 
 The solemn pledge of truth to Him, 
 
 Who shed for us His precious Blood 
 
 To seal the covenant of God. 
 
 Baptized into the Trinity, 
 Adopted children of Thy grace, 
 
 O help us, Lord, to live to Thee 
 A humble, pure, and faithful race ! 
 
 Instruct us, sanctify, defend, 
 
 And crown with heavenly life our end ! 
 
 Edward Osier. 1836. 
 
 CCLXXXIII. 
 
 In token that thou shalt not fear 
 Christ Crucified to own, 
 
 We print the cross upon thee here, 
 And stamp thee His alone. 
 
 In token that thou shalt not blush 
 
 To glory in His Name, 
 We blazon here upon thy front 
 
 His glory and His shame. 
 
 In token that thou shalt not flinch 
 Christ's quarrel to maintain, 
 
 But 'neath His banner manfully 
 Firm at thy post remain ; 
 
Baptism and Childhood. 301 
 
 In token that thou too shalt tread 
 
 The path He travell'd by, 
 Endure the cross, despise the shame, 
 
 And sit thee down on high ; 
 
 Thus, outwardly and visibly, 
 
 We seal thee for His own : 
 And may the brow that wears His cross 
 
 Hereafter share His crown ! 
 
 Henry Alford. 1832. 
 
 CCLXXXIV. 
 
 Sweet baby, sleep ! what ails my dear, 
 What ails my darling thus to cry ? 
 
 Be still, my child, and lend thine ear, 
 To hear me sing thy lullaby. 
 
 My pretty lamb, forbear to weep ; 
 
 Be still, my dear ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear ? 
 
 What thing to thee can mischief do ? 
 Thy God is now thy Father dear, 
 
 His holy Spouse, thy mother too. 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 Though thy conception was in sin, 
 A sacred bathing thou hast had ; 
 
 And though thy birth unclean hath been, 
 A blameless babe thou now art made. 
 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 
 Be still, my dear, sweet baby, sleep. 
 
3°2 The Book of Praise. 
 
 While thus thy lullaby I sing, 
 
 For thee great blessings ripening be ; 
 
 Thine eldest brother is a king, 
 And hath a kingdom bought for thee. 
 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 Sweet baby, sleep, and nothing fear ; 
 
 For whosoever thee offends 
 By thy protector threaten'd are, 
 
 And God and angels are thy friends. 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 When God with us was dwelling here, 
 In little babes He took delight ; 
 
 Such innocents as thou, my dear, 
 Are ever precious in His sight. 
 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 A little infant once was He ; 
 
 And strength in weakness then was laid 
 Upon His virgin mother's knee, 
 
 That power to thee might be convey'd. 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 In this thy frailty and thy need 
 He friends and helpers doth prepare, 
 
 Which thee shall cherish, clothe, and feed. 
 For of thy weal they tender are. 
 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
Baptism and Childhood. 303 
 
 The King of kings, when He was born, 
 Had not so much for outward ease ; 
 
 By Him such dressings were not worn, 
 Nor such-like swaddling-clothes as these. 
 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 Within a manger lodged thy Lord, 
 
 Where oxen lay, and asses fed : 
 Warm rooms we do to thee afford, 
 
 An easy cradle or a bed. 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 The wants that He did then sustain 
 
 Have purchased wealth, my babe, for thee ; 
 
 And by His torments and His pain 
 Thy rest and ease secured be. 
 
 My baby, then forbear to weep ; - 
 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 Thou hast, yet more, to perfect this, 
 
 A promise and an earnest got 
 Of gaining everlasting bliss, 
 
 Though thou, my babe, perceiv'st it not ; 
 Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
 Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 
 
 George Wither. 1641. 
 
 CCLXXXV, 
 
 Sleep well, my dear ; sleep safe and free ; 
 The holy Angels are with thee, 
 Who always see thy Father's face, 
 And never slumber, nights nor days. 
 
304 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Thou liest in down, soft every way ; 
 Thy Saviour lay in straw and hay ; 
 Thy cradle is far better drest 
 Than the hard crib where He did rest. 
 
 None dare disturb thy present ease ; 
 He had a thousand enemies ; 
 Thou liv'st in great security ; 
 But He was punish'd, and for thee ! 
 
 God make thy mother's health increase, 
 To see thee grow in strength and grace, 
 In wisdom and humility, 
 As infant Jesus did for thee ! 
 
 God fill thee with His heavenly light 
 To steer thy Christian course aright ; 
 Make thee a tree, of blessed root, 
 That ever bends with godly fruit ! 
 
 Sleep now, my dear, and take thy rest ; 
 And if with riper years thou'rt blest, 
 Increase in wisdom, day and night, 
 Till thou attain'st th' eternal Light ! 
 
 John Christian Jacobi. 1722. 
 From John Christopher Ruben. 
 
 CCLXXXVI. 
 
 G Holy Lord, content to live 
 In a poor home, a lowly child, 
 
 And in subjection meek to give 
 Obedience to Thy mother mild ; 
 
 Lead every child that bears Thy Name 
 To walk in Thy pure upright way, 
 
 To dread the touch of sin and shame, 
 And humbly, like Thyself, obey ! 
 
Baptis77i and Childhood. 305 
 
 O let not this world's scorching glow 
 Thy Spirit's quickening dew efface, 
 
 Nor blast of sin too rudely blow, 
 And quench the trembling flame of grace ; 
 
 Gather Thy lambs within Thine arm, 
 And gently in Thy bosom bear ; 
 
 Keep them, O Lord, from hurt and harm, 
 And bid them rest for ever there ! 
 
 So shall they, waiting here below, 
 Like Thee, their Lord, a little span, 
 
 In wisdom and in stature grow, 
 And favour both with God and man. 
 
 William Walsham How. [1854. ] 
 
 CCLXXXVII. 
 
 Saviour, who Thy flock art feeding 
 With the Shepherd's kindest care, 
 
 All the feeble gently leading, 
 While the lambs Thy bosom share ; 
 
 Now, these little ones receiving, 
 Fold them in Thy gracious arm ; 
 
 There, we know, Thy word believing, 
 Only there, secure from harm ! 
 
 Never, from Thy pasture roving, 
 
 Let them be the lion's prey ; 
 Let Thy tenderness so loving 
 
 Keep them all life's dangerous way : 
 
 Then, within Thy fold eternal, 
 
 Let them find a resting-place, 
 Feed in pastures ever vernal, 
 Drink the rivers of Thy grace ! 
 
 William Augustus Muhlenberg. i326 
 x 
 
306 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCLXXXVIII. 
 
 Lamb of God, I look to Thee ; 
 Thou shalt my example be ; 
 Thou art gentle, meek, and mild ; 
 Thou wast once a little child. 
 
 Fain I would be as Thou art ; 
 Give me Thy obedient heart ! 
 Thou art pitiful and kind ; 
 Let me have Thy loving mind ! 
 
 Meek and lowly may I be ; 
 Thou art all humility ! 
 Let me to my betters bow ; 
 Subject to Thy parents Thou. 
 
 Let me above all fulfil 
 God my heavenly Father's will ; 
 Never His good Spirit grieve ; 
 Only to His glory live ! 
 
 Thou didst live to God alone ; 
 Thou didst never seek Thine own ; 
 Thou Thyself didst never please ; 
 God was all Thy happiness. 
 
 Loving Jesu, gentle Lamb, 
 In Thy gracious hands I am ; 
 Make me, Saviour,, what Thou art ! 
 Live Thyself within my heart ! 
 
 I shall then shew forth Thy praise ; 
 Serve Thee all my happy days ; 
 Then the world shall always see 
 Christ, the Holy Child, in me. 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1740. 
 
Baptism and Childhood. 307 
 
 CCLXXXIX. 
 
 When Jesus left His Father's throne, 
 
 He chose an humble birth ; 
 Like us, unhonour'd and unknown. 
 
 He came to dwell on earth. 
 
 Like Him, may we be found below 
 
 In wisdom's paths of peace ; 
 Like Him, in grace and knowledge grow, 
 
 As years and strength increase. 
 
 Jesus pass'd by the rich and great 
 
 For men of low degree ; 
 He sanctified our parents' state, 
 
 For poor like them was He. 
 
 Sweet were His words, and kind His look, 
 When mothers round Him press'd ; 
 
 Their infants in His arms He took, 
 And on His bosom bless'd. 
 
 Safe from the world's alluring harms, 
 
 Beneath His watchful eye, 
 Thus in the circle of His arms 
 
 May we for ever lie ! 
 
 When Jesus into Salem rode, 
 
 The children sang around ; 
 For joy they pluck'd the palms, and strow'd 
 
 Their garments on the ground. 
 
 Hosanna our glad voices raise, 
 
 Hosanna to our King ! 
 Should we forget our Saviour's praise, 
 The stones themselves would sing ! 
 
 James Montgomery. 1825. 
 x 2 
 
308 The Book of Praise, 
 
 CCXC. 
 
 God of mercy, throned on high, 
 
 Listen from Thy lofty seat ; 
 Hear, O hear our feeble cry, 
 
 Guide, O guide our wandering feet ! 
 
 Young and erring travellers, we 
 
 All our dangers do not know ; 
 Scarcely fear the stormy sea, 
 
 Hardly feel the tempest blow. 
 
 Jesus, lover of the young, 
 
 Cleanse us with Thy Blood divine ! 
 Ere the tide of sin grow strong, 
 
 Save us, keep us, make us Thine ! 
 
 When perplex'd in danger's snare, 
 Thou alone our guide canst be ; 
 
 When oppress'd with woe and care, 
 Whom have we to trust but Thee ? 
 
 Let us ever hear Thy voice, 
 
 Ask Thy counsel every day ; 
 Saints and angels will rejoice, 
 
 If we walk in wisdom's way. 
 
 Saviour, give us faith, and pour 
 
 Hope and love on every soul ! 
 Hope, till time shall be no more ! 
 
 Love, while endless ages roll ! 
 
 Variation from Henry Neele. i8i£ 
 
Baptism and Childhood. 309 
 
 ccxci. 
 
 Shepherd of Israel, from above 
 
 Thy feeble flock behold ; 
 And let us never lose Thy love, 
 
 Nor wander from Thy fold. 
 
 Thou wilt not cast Thy lambs away ; 
 
 Thy hand is ever near, 
 To guide them lest they go astray, 
 
 And keep them safe from fear. 
 
 Thy tender care supports the weak, 
 
 And will not let them fall ; 
 Then teach us, Lord, Thy praise to speak, 
 
 And on Thy Name to call ! 
 
 We want Thy help, for we are frail ; 
 
 Thy light, for we are blind ; 
 Let grace o'er all our doubts prevail, 
 
 To prove that Thou art kind. 
 
 Teach us the things we ought to know ; 
 
 And may we find them true ; 
 And still, in stature as we grow, 
 
 Increase in wisdom too. 
 
 Guide us through life ; and when at last 
 
 We enter into rest, 
 Thy tender arms around us cast, 
 
 And fold us to Thy breast ! 
 
 William Hiley Bathnrst. 1 83 1. 
 
3 io The Book of Praise. 
 
 V. 
 
 HOLY COMMUNION. 
 
 CCXCII. 
 
 With all the powers my poor soul hath 
 Of humble love, and loyal faith, 
 I come, dear Lord, to worship Thee, 
 Whom too much love bowed low for me. 
 
 Down, busy sense ; discourses die ; 
 And all adore faith's mystery ! 
 Faith is my skill, faith can believe 
 As fast as love new laws shall give. 
 
 Faith is my eye, faith strength affords 
 To keep pace with those gracious words ; 
 And words more sure, more sweet than they, 
 Love could not think, Truth could not say. 
 
 O dear memorial of that Death 
 Which still survives, and gives us breath ! 
 Live ever, Bread of Life, and be 
 My food, my joy, my all to me ! 
 
 Come, glorious Lord ! my hopes increase 
 And mix my portion with Thy peace ! 
 Come, and for ever dwell in me 
 That I may only live to Thee ! 
 
 Come, hidden life, and that long day 
 For which I languish, come away ! 
 When this dry soul those eyes shall see, 
 And drink the unseal' d Source of Thee ; 
 
Holy Communion. 3 1 1 
 
 When Glory's Sun faith's shade shall chase, 
 
 And, for Thy vail, give me Thy face ; 
 
 Then shall my praise eternal be 
 
 To the Eternal Trinity ! 
 
 Variation from Richard Crashaw. 1 646. 
 
 By John Austin, 1668, 
 
 and Theophilus Dorrington. 1686. 
 
 CCXCIII. 
 
 In memory of the Saviour's love, 
 
 We keep the sacred feast, 
 Where every humble contrite heart 
 
 Is made a welcome guest. 
 
 By faith we take the Bread of Life, 
 
 With which our souls are fed ; 
 And Cup, in token of His Blood 
 
 That was for sinners shed. 
 
 Under His banner thus we sing 
 
 The wonders of His love, 
 
 And thus anticipate by faith 
 
 The heavenly feast above. 
 
 Thomas Cotterill. 18 10. 
 Altered by Richard Whittingham. 1835. 
 
 ccxciv. 
 
 O God, unseen, yet ever near, 
 
 Thy presence may we feel ; 
 And thus, inspired with holy fear, 
 
 Before Thine altar kneel. 
 
 Here may Thy faithful people know 
 
 The blessings of Thy love ; 
 The streams that through the desert flow ; 
 
 The manna from above. 
 
3 1 2 The Book of Praise. 
 
 We come, obedient to Thy word, 
 
 To feast on heavenly food ; 
 Our meat, the Body of the Lord ; 
 
 Our drink, His precious Blood. 
 
 Thus would we all Thy words obey ; 
 
 For we, O God, are Thine ; 
 And go rejoicing on our way, 
 
 Renewed with strength Divine ! 
 
 Edward Osier. [1836,] 
 
 CCXCV. 
 
 Lord, when before Thy throne we meet, 
 
 Thy goodness to adore, 
 From Heaven, th' eternal mercy-seat, 
 
 On us Thy blessing pour, 
 And make our inmost souls to be 
 An habitation meet for Thee ! 
 
 The Body for our ransom given ; 
 
 The Blood in mercy shed ; 
 With thi3 immortal food from Heaven, 
 
 Lord ! let our souls be fed ! 
 And, as we round Thy table kneel, 
 Help us Thy quickening grace to feel ! 
 
 Be Thou, O Holy Spirit, nigh ! 
 
 Accept the humble prayer, 
 The contrite soul's repentant sigh, 
 
 The sinner's heartfelt tear ! 
 And let our adoration rise, 
 As fragrant incense, to the skies ! 
 
 Tressillan George Nicholas. (1838.) 
 
Holy Communion. 313 
 
 CCXCVI. 
 
 yesu, duke do cordium. 
 Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts ! 
 
 Thou Fount of Life ! Thou Light of men ! 
 From the best bliss that earth imparts, 
 
 We turn unfill'd to Thee again. 
 
 Thy truth unchanged hath ever stood ; 
 
 Thou savest those that on Thee call ; 
 To them that seek Thee, Thou art good, 
 
 To them that find Thee, All in All ! 
 
 We taste Thee, O Thou Living Bread, 
 And long to feast upon Thee still ! 
 
 We drink of Thee, the Fountain Head, 
 And thirst our souls from Thee to fill ! 
 
 Our restless spirits yearn for Thee, 
 Where'er our changeful lot is cast ; 
 
 Glad, when Thy gracious smile we see, 
 Blest, when our faith can hold Thee fast. 
 
 O Jesus, ever with us stay ! 
 
 Make all our moments calm and bright ! 
 Chase the dark night of sin away, 
 Shed o'er the world Thy holy light ! 
 
 Ray Palmer. [1834. J 
 From St. Bernard. 
 
 CCXCVII. 
 They talk'd of Jesus, as they went ; 
 
 And Jesus, all unknown, 
 Did at their side Himself present 
 
 With sweetness all His own. 
 Swift, as He op'd the sacred word, 
 
 His glory they discern'd ; 
 And swift, as His dear voice they heard, 
 
 Their hearts within them burn'd. 
 
3 1 4 The Book /)/ Praise. 
 
 He would have left them, but that they 
 
 With prayers His love assail'd : 
 " Depart not yet ! a little stay !" 
 
 They press'd Him, and prevail'd. 
 And Jesus was reveal'd, as there 
 
 He bless'd and brake the bread : 
 But, while they mark'd His heavenly air, 
 
 The matchless Guest had fled. 
 
 And thus at times, as Christians talk 
 
 Of Jesus and His word, 
 He joins two friends amidst their walk, 
 
 And makes, unseen, a third. 
 And oh ! how sweet their converse flows, 
 
 Their holy theme how clear, 
 How warm with love each bosom glows, 
 
 If Jesus be but near ! 
 
 And they that woo His visits sweet, 
 
 And will not let Him go, 
 Oft, while His broken bread they eat, 
 
 His soul-felt presence know : 
 His gather'd friends He loves to meet 
 
 And fill with joy their faith, 
 When they with melting hearts repeat 
 
 The memory of His death. 
 
 But such sweet visits here are brief; 
 
 Dispens'd from stage to stage, 
 (A cheering and a prized relief,) 
 
 Of faith's hard pilgrimage. 
 There is a scene where Jesus ne'er, 
 
 Ne'er leaves His happy guests ; 
 He spreads a ceaseless banquet there, 
 
 And love still fires their breasts. 
 
 Thomas Grinjield. 1836. 
 
Holy Communion. 315 
 
 CCXCVIII. 
 
 Jesus, when near th' expected hour, 
 
 That Hell to grieve Him should have power, 
 
 As on His cross He kept His view, 
 
 Into an upper room withdrew, 
 
 With all His votaries there to meet 
 
 And celebrate the Paschal treat. 
 
 Then He Himself for death disposed ; 
 Of dying well the art disclosed ; 
 He wash'd with condescension sweet 
 And wiped His happy lovers' feet, 
 That from pollution cleansed they might 
 Approach the Eucharistic rite. 
 
 The Eucharist He then ordain' d ; 
 With food immortal them sustain'd ; 
 Then sang an hymn, the feast to close, 
 And sweeten His approaching woes, 
 Scattering truths heav'nly, high, and sweet, 
 As to the Mount He made retreat. 
 
 While death was lively in His thought, 
 He heavenly truths with vigour taught, 
 How to be loved of God, and love ; 
 Promised sweet peace and joys above, 
 And the bless'd Spirit's constant aid ; 
 And for them all with fervour pra^d. 
 
 He spent His preparation hours 
 
 To warn of dangers and hell-powers ; 
 
 Their hearts to counsel, strengthen, cheer, 
 
 To arm against degenerate fear ; 
 
 Pure love fraternal to instil, 
 
 And form them to His Father's will. 
 
3 1 6 The Book of Praise. 
 
 My soul ! O copy every line 
 
 Of this original divine ! 
 
 On Jesus' votaries you must tend ; 
 
 To wash their feet must condescend ; 
 
 You pleasure for sweet Jesus' sake 
 
 In humble charities must take. 
 
 With zeal wash your own spirit clean 
 From all concupiscence terrene ; 
 When wash'd in penitential dew, ' 
 Then your baptismal vow renew ; 
 What Peter wish'd for, wash all o'er, 
 And take great care to sin no more. 
 
 Wash'd in heart-purifying tear 
 
 You must at Jesus' feast appear, 
 
 With food immortal to be fed, 
 
 That you nor Hell nor Death may dread ; 
 
 Then sing an hymn of the like strain 
 
 W r ith that above of the Lamb Slain. 
 
 God's love to all with zeal suggest ; 
 And from the flame in your own breast 
 Fire other hearts, that they the Name 
 Of Jesus' friends may humbly claim ; 
 From God's love, love fraternal fire, 
 In which all Jesus' friends conspire. 
 
 Your foes both pray for, and forgive ; 
 And, when you ceasing are to live, 
 Strong cries to Love Paternal send ; 
 Into Love's hands your soul commend ; 
 In Love's soft hands to bliss you'll fly, 
 Taught by loved Jesus how to die. 
 
 Bishop Thomas Ken . [ 1 72 1 .] 
 
Holy Matrimony 3 1 7 
 
 VI. 
 HOLY MATRIMONY. 
 
 CCXCIX. 
 
 The voice that breathed o'er Eden, 
 That earliest wedding day, 
 
 The primal marriage blessing, 
 It hath not pass'd away. 
 
 Still in the pure espousal 
 Of Christian man and maid, 
 
 The Holy Three are with us, 
 The three-fold grace is said : 
 
 For dower of blessed children, 
 For love and faith's sweet sake. 
 
 For high mysterious union 
 Which nought on earth may break ! 
 
 Be present, awful Father, 
 
 To give away this Bride, 
 As Eve thou gav'st to Adam 
 
 Out of his own pierc'd side !' 
 
 Be present, Son of Mary, 
 To join their loving hands, 
 
 As Thou didst bind two natures 
 In Thine eternal bands ! 
 
 Be present, Holiest Spirit, 
 To bless them as they kneel ; 
 
 As Thou, for Christ the Bridegroom, 
 The heavenly Spouse dost seal ! 
 
3 1 8 The Book of Praise. 
 
 O spread Thy pure wing o'er them ! 
 
 Let no ill Power find place, 
 When onward to Thine altar 
 
 The hallow'd path they trace, 
 
 To cast their crowns before Thee 
 
 In perfect sacrifice, 
 Till to the home of gladness 
 
 With Christ's own Bride they rise I 
 
 John Keble. 1857. 
 
 VII. 
 THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 
 
 CCC. 
 
 Thou God of Love ! beneath Thy sheltering wings 
 
 We leave our holy dead, 
 To rest in hope ! From this world's sufferings 
 
 Their souls have fled ! 
 
 Oh ! when our hearts are burthen'd with the weight 
 
 Of life, and all its woes, 
 Let us remember them, and calmly wait 
 
 To our life's close ! 
 
 Jane Euphemia Browne. (1849.) 
 
 CCCI. 
 
 Nunc suscipe, terra, fove?tdum. 
 
 Receive him, Earth, unto thine harbouring shrine ; 
 
 In thy soft tranquil bosom let him rest ; 
 These limbs of man I to thy care consign, 
 And trust the noble fragments to thy breast. 
 
The Burial of the Dead. 3 1 9 
 
 This house was once the mansion of a soul 
 Brought into life by its Creator's breath ; 
 
 Wisdom did once this living mass control ; 
 And Christ was there enshrined, who conquers 
 death. 
 
 Cover this Body to thy care consign'd ; 
 
 Its Maker shall not leave it in the grave ; 
 But His own lineaments shall bear in mind, 
 And shall recall the image which He gave. 
 
 Isaac Williams. 1838. 
 {From Prudentius) 
 
 CCCII. 
 
 There is a calm for those who weep ; 
 A rest for weary pilgrims found ; 
 And, while the mouldering ashes sleep, 
 Low in the ground, 
 
 The Soul, of origin Divine, 
 God's glorious image, freed from clay, 
 In Heaven's eternal sphere shall shine, 
 A Star of Day. 
 
 The sun is but a spark of fire, 
 
 A transient meteor in the sky ; 
 
 The Soul, immortal as its Sire, 
 
 Shall never die ! 
 
 James Montgomery. 1804 
 
 CCCIII. 
 
 Must friends and kindred droop and die, 
 
 And helpers be withdrawn, 
 While sorrow, with a weeping eye, 
 
 Counts up our comforts gone ? 
 
3 2 ° The Book of Praise. 
 
 Be Thou our- comfort, mighty God ! 
 
 Our Helper and our Friend ! 
 Nor leave us, in this dangerous road, 
 
 Till all our trials end ! 
 
 O may our feet pursue the way 
 
 Our pious fathers led ; 
 With love and holy zeal obey 
 
 The counsels of the dead ! 
 
 Let us be wean'd from all below ; 
 
 Let hope our grief expel ; 
 While death invites our souls to go 
 
 Where our best kindred dwell. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
 CCCIV. 
 
 Now let our mourning hearts revive, 
 
 And all our tears be dry ; 
 Why should those eyes be drown' d in grief, 
 
 Which view a Saviour nigh ? 
 
 What though the arm of conquering death 
 Does God's own house invade ? 
 
 What though the prophet and the priest 
 Be number'd with the dead ? 
 
 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust, 
 
 The aged and the young ; 
 The watchful eye in darkness closed, 
 
 And mute th' instructive tongue : 
 
 Th' Eternal Shepherd still survives, 
 
 New comfort to impart ; 
 His eye still guides us, and His voice 
 
 Still animates our heart. 
 
The Burial of the Dead. 3 2 1 
 
 Lo, I am with you ! saith the Lord ; 
 
 My Church shall safe abide ; 
 For I will ne'er forsake My own, 
 
 Whose souls in Me confide. 
 
 Through every scene, of life and death, 
 
 This promise is our trust ; 
 And this shall be our children's song 
 
 When we are cold in dust. 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 CCCV. 
 Thou art gone to the grave : but we will not deplore 
 thee, 
 Though sorrows and darkness encompass the 
 tomb : 
 The Saviour hath pass'd through its portal before 
 thee, 
 And the lamp of His love is thy guide through the 
 gloom ! 
 
 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 die, for the Sinless has died ! 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave : and, its mansion 
 forsaking, 
 Perhaps thy weak spirit in fear linger'd long ; 
 But the mild rays of Paradise beam'd on thy 
 waking, 
 And the sound which thou heard'st was the 
 Seraphim's song ! 
 
 Y 
 
322 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave : but we will not deplore 
 thee ; 
 Whose God was thy ransom, thy Guardian, and 
 Guide ! 
 He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore 
 thee ; 
 And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died ! 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1 827. 
 
 CCCVI. 
 
 Brother, thou art gone before us ; and thy saintly 
 
 soul is flown 
 Where tears are wiped from every eye, and sorrow 
 
 is unknown ; 
 From the burden of the flesh, and from care and 
 
 fear releas'd, 
 Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
 
 weary are at rest. 
 
 The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er, and borne 
 
 the heavy load ; 
 But Christ hath taught thy languid feet to reach 
 
 His blest abode : 
 Thonrt 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 : 
 
Church Dedication. 323 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Henry Hart Milman. 1822. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 CHURCH DEDICATION. 
 
 CCCVII. 
 
 Lord of hosts ! to Thee we raise 
 Here a house of prayer and praise: 
 Thou Thy people's hearts prepare, 
 Here to meet for praise and prayer ! 
 
 Y 2 
 
324 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Let the living here be fed 
 
 With Thy Word, the heavenly bread ; 
 
 Here, in hope of glory blest, 
 
 May the dead be laid to rest ! 
 
 Here to Thee a temple stand 
 While the sea shall gird the land ! 
 Here reveal Thy mercy sure, 
 While the sun and moon endure ! 
 
 Hallelujah ! earth and sky 
 To the joyful sound reply ! 
 Hallelujah ! hence ascend 
 Prayer and praise till time shall end ! 
 
 James Montgomery. 1825. 
 
 cccvur. 
 
 Angular e Fundamentum. 
 
 Christ is our corner-stone, 
 On Him alone we build ; 
 With His true saints alone 
 The courts of Heaven are fill'd : 
 On His great love 
 Our hopes we place 
 Of present grace 
 And joys above. 
 
 O then with hymns of praise 
 These hallow'd courts shall ring ; 
 Our voices we will raise 
 The Three in One to sing : 
 And thus proclaim 
 In joyful song 
 Both loud and long 
 That glorious Name. 
 
Church Dedication. 325 
 
 Here, gracious God, do Thou 
 For evermore draw nigh ; 
 Accept each faithful vow, 
 And mark each suppliant sigh ; 
 In copious shower 
 On all who pray 
 Each holy day 
 Thy blessings pour ! 
 
 Here may we gain from Heaven 
 The grace which we implore ; 
 And may that grace, once given, 
 Be with us evermore, 
 Until that day 
 When all the blest 
 To endless rest 
 Are call'd away ! 
 
 John Chandler. 1837. 
 
 CCCIX. 
 
 The lovely form of God's own Church, 
 
 It riseth in all lands ; 
 On mountain sides, in wooded vales, 
 
 And by the desert sands. 
 
 There is it, with its solemn aisles, 
 
 A heavenly, holy thing ; 
 And round its walls lie Christian dead, 
 
 Blessedly slumbering. 
 
 Though sects and factions rend the world, 
 
 Peace is its heritage ; 
 Unchanged, though empires by it pass, 
 
 The same from age to age. 
 
326 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The hallow'd form our fathers built, 
 That hallow'd form build we ; 
 
 Let not one stone from its own place 
 Removed ever be ! 
 
 Scoff as thou passest, if thou wilt, 
 Thou man that hast no faith ; 
 
 Thou, that no sorrows hast in life, 
 Nor blessedness in death : 
 
 But we will build, for all thou scoff, 
 And cry, " What waste is this ! " 
 
 The Lord our God hath given us all, 
 And all is therefore His. 
 
 Clear voices from above sound out 
 
 Their blessing on the pile ; 
 The dead beneath support our hands, 
 
 And succour us the while. 
 
 Vea, when we climb the rising walls, 
 Is peace and comfort given ! 
 
 Because the work is not of earth, 
 But hath its end in Heaven ! 
 
 Henry Alford. 1845 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE LORD'S DAY. 
 
 cccx. 
 
 Welcome, sweet day, of days the best, 
 The time of holy mirth and rest> 
 
 When to God's house the saints repair 
 To hear His word and see His face, 
 To learn His will and sing His grace, 
 
 And vent their hearts in praise and prayer. 
 
The Lord's Day, 327 
 
 This is employment all Divine ; 
 My soul, the blest assembly join, 
 
 And from the world this day retire : 
 Go, bow before thy Maker's throne, 
 Thy risen Saviour's glories own, 
 
 And feed thy love, and fan the fire. 
 
 Forget the trifles here below, 
 
 The shining heap, the gaudy show, 
 
 All sensual mirth, and worldly cares ; 
 On wings of strong devotion rise, 
 Pass every cloud, pass all the skies, 
 
 And leave beneath Thy feet the stars. 
 
 To God direct thy steady flight, 
 
 Great Fund of bliss and Source of light ; 
 
 There fix, and there delight thine eyes : 
 View every shining wonder o'er, 
 And with transported heart adore, 
 
 And feast on fruits of paradise. 
 
 This day was by our Lord ordain' d, 
 That thus His servants might be train'd 
 
 For heavenly work, and heavenly joy : 
 My soul, be this thy day of rest, 
 And thus prepare thee to be blest, 
 
 Thus all thy holy hours employ ! 
 
 Simon Browne, 1720. 
 
 CCCXI. 
 
 O day most calm, most bright ! 
 The fruit of this, the next world's bud ; 
 The indorsement of supreme delight, 
 Writ by a Friend, and with His blood ; 
 The couch of time ; care's balm and bay ; 
 The week were dark, but for thy light ; 
 
 Thy torch doth show the way. 
 
328 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The other days and thou 
 Make up one man ; whose face thou art, 
 Knocking at Heaven with thy brow : 
 The working days are the back part ; 
 The burden of the week lies there, 
 Making the whole to stoop and bow, 
 
 Till thy release appear. 
 
 Man had straight forward gone 
 To endless death ; but thou dost pull 
 And turn us round to look on One, 
 Whom, if we were not very dull, 
 We could not choose but look on still, 
 Since there is no place so alone, 
 
 The which He doth not fill ! 
 
 Sundays the pillars are 
 On which Heav'n's palace arched lies : 
 The other days fill up the spare 
 And hollow room with vanities : 
 They are the fruitful beds and borders 
 Of God's rich garden ; that is bare, 
 
 Which parts their ranks and orders. 
 
 The Sundays of man's life, 
 Threaded together on time's string, 
 Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
 Of the eternal glorious King : 
 On Sunday Heaven's gate stands ope ; 
 Blessings are plentiful and rife, 
 
 More plentiful than hope. 
 
 This day my Saviour rose, 
 And did enclose this light for His ; 
 That, as each beast his manger knows, 
 Man might not of his fodder miss : 
 
The Lord's Day. 329 
 
 Christ hath took in this piece of ground, 
 And made a garden there, for those 
 Who want herbs for their wound. 
 
 The rest of our Creation 
 Our great Redeemer did remove 
 With the same shake, which at His passion 
 Did th' earth, and all things with it, move : 
 As Samson bore the doors away, 
 Christ's hands, though nail'd, wrought our salvation, 
 
 And did unhinge that day. 
 
 The brightness of that day 
 We sullied by our foul offence ; 
 Wherefore that robe we cast away, 
 Having a new at His expense, 
 Whose drops of blood paid the full price 
 That was required to make us gay, 
 
 And fit for Paradise. 
 
 George Herbert. 1632. 
 
 CCCXII. 
 
 My Lord, my love was crucified, 
 
 He all the pains did bear ; 
 But in the sweetness of His rest 
 
 He makes His servants share. 
 How sweetly rest Thy saints above 
 
 Which in Thy bosom lie ! 
 The Church below doth rest in hope 
 
 Of that felicity. 
 
 Thou, Lord, who daily feed'st Thy sheep, 
 
 Mak'st them a weekly feast ; 
 Thy flocks meet in their several folds 
 
 Upon this day of rest : 
 
33o The Book of Praise. 
 
 Welcome and dear unto my soul 
 
 Are these sweet feasts of love : 
 But what a sabbath shall I keep 
 
 When I shall rest above ! 
 
 I bless Thy wise and wondrous love, 
 
 Which binds us to be free ; 
 Which makes us leave our earthly snares, 
 
 That we may come to Thee ! 
 I come, I wait, I hear, I pray ! j 
 
 Thy footsteps, Lord, I trace ! 
 I sing to think this is the way 
 
 Unto my Saviours face ! 
 
 John Mason. 1683. 
 
 CCCXIII. 
 
 time of tranquil joy and holy feeling I 
 When over earth God's Spirit from above 
 
 Spreads out His wings of love ! 
 When sacred thoughts, like angels, come appealing 
 To our tent doors ; O eve, to earth and heaven 
 
 The sweetest of the seven ! 
 
 How peaceful are thy skies ! thy air is clearer, 
 As on the advent of a gracious time : 
 
 The sweetness of its prime 
 Blesseth the world, and Eden's days seem nearer : 
 
 1 hear, in each faint stirring of the breeze, 
 
 God's voice among the trees. 
 
 O while thy hallowed moments are distilling 
 Their fresher influence on my heart like dews, 
 
 The chamber where I muse 
 Turns to a temple ! He, whose converse thrilling 
 Honoured Emmaus, that old eventide, 
 
 Comes sudden to my side. 
 
The Lord's Day. 331 
 
 Tis light at evening time when Thou art present ; 
 Thy coming to the eleven in that dim room 
 
 Brightened, O Christ ! its gloom : 
 So bless my lonely hour that memories pleasant 
 Around the time a heavenly gleam may cast, 
 
 Which many days shall last ! 
 
 Raise each low aim, refine each high emotion, 
 That with more ardent footstep I may press 
 
 Toward Thy holiness ; 
 And, braced for sacred duty by devotion, 
 Support my cross along that rugged road 
 
 Which Thou hast sometime trod ! 
 
 I long to see Thee, for my heart is weary : 
 
 O when, my Lord ! in kindness wilt Thou come 
 
 To call Thy banished home ? 
 The scenes are cheerless, and the days are dreary ; 
 From sorrow and from sin I would be free, 
 
 And evermore with Thee ! 
 
 Even now I see the golden city shining 
 Up the blue depths of that transparent air : 
 
 How happy all is there ! 
 There breaks a day which never knows declining ; 
 A Sabbath, through whose circling hours the blest 
 
 Beneath Thy shadow rest ! 
 
 James D. Bums. 1854. 
 
 CCCXIV. 
 
 Psalm XCII. 
 
 Sweet is the work, my God, my King, 
 To praise Thy Name, give thanks and sing, 
 To show Thy love by morning light, 
 And talk of all Thy truth at night. 
 
332 The Book oj Praise. 
 
 Sweet is the day of sacred rest ; 
 No mortal cares shall seize my breast ; 
 O may my heart in tune be found, 
 Like David's harp of solemn sound ! 
 
 My heart shall triumph in my Lord, 
 And bless His works, and bless His word : 
 Thy works of grace, how bright they shine ! 
 How deep Thy counsels, how divine ! 
 
 Fools never raise their thoughts so high, 
 Like brutes they live, like brutes they die ; 
 Like grass they nourish, till Thy breath 
 Blast them in everlasting death. 
 
 But I shall share a glorious part, 
 When grace hath well refined my heart, 
 And fresh supplies of joy are shed, 
 Like holy oil to cheer my head. 
 
 Sin, my worst enemy before, 
 Shall vex my eyes and ears no more ; 
 My inward foes shall all be slain, 
 Nor Satan break my peace again. 
 
 Then shall I see and hear and know 
 All I desired or wish'd below, 
 And every power find sweet employ 
 In that eternal world of joy ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1719. 
 
 CCCXV. 
 
 Psalm LXXXI. 
 
 Sing to the Lord, our might, 
 With holy fervour sing ; 
 Let hearts and instruments unite 
 To praise our heavenly King. 
 
The Lord's Day. 333 
 
 This is His holy house, 
 And this His festal day, 
 When He accepts the humblest vows 
 That we sincerely pay. 
 
 The Sabbath to our sires 
 In mercy first was given ; 
 The Church her Sabbaths still requires 
 To speed her on to Heaven. 
 
 We still, like them of old, 
 Are in the -wilderness ; 
 And God is still as near His fold, 
 To pity and to bless. 
 
 Then let us open wide 
 Our hearts for Him to fill ; 
 And He, that Israel then supplied, 
 Will help His Israel still. 
 
 Hen ry Francis Lyte. 1 834 — 1 84 1 . 
 
 CCCXVT. 
 
 The day of rest once more comes round, 
 
 A day to all believers dear ; 
 The silver trumpets seem to sound, 
 That call the tribes of Israel near ; 
 Ye people all, 
 Obey the call, 
 And in Jehovah's courts appear. 
 
 Obedient to Thy summons, Lord, 
 We to Thy sanctuary come ; 
 
 Thy gracious presence here afford, 
 And send Thy people joyful home ; 
 
334 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Of Thee our King 
 O may we sing, 
 And none with such a theme be dumb ! 
 
 O hasten, Lord, the day when those, 
 
 Who know Thee here, shall see Thy face ; 
 When suffering shall for ever close, 
 
 And they shall reach their destined place ; 
 Then shall they rest 
 Supremely blest, 
 Eternal debtors to Thy grace ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1806. 
 
 CCCXVII. 
 
 Hail, thou bright and sacred morn, 
 Risen with gladness in thy beams ! 
 
 Light, which not of earth is born, 
 From thy dawn in glory streams : 
 
 Airs of Heaven are breath'd around 
 
 And each place is holy ground. 
 
 Sad and weary were our, way, 
 Fainting oft beneath our load, 
 
 But for thee, thou blessed day, 
 
 Resting-place on life's rough road ! 
 
 Here flow forth the streams of grace, 
 
 Strengthen'd hence we run our race. 
 
 Great Creator ! who this day 
 
 From Thy perfect work didst rest •, 
 
 By the souls that own Thy sway 
 H allow' d be its hours and blest ; 
 
 Cares of earth aside be thrown, 
 
 This day giv'n to Heaven alone ! 
 
The Lord's Day. 335 
 
 Saviour ! who this day didst break 
 
 The dark prison of the tomb ; 
 Bid my slumbering soul awake, 
 
 Shine through all its sin and gloom : 
 Let me, from my bonds set free, 
 Rise from sin, and live to Thee ! 
 
 Blessed Spirit ! Comforter ! 
 
 Sent this day from Christ on high ; 
 Lord, on me Thy gifts confer, 
 
 Cleanse, illumine, sanctify! 
 All Thine influence shed abroad, 
 Lead me to the truth of God ! 
 
 Soon, too soon, the sweet repose 
 
 Of this day of God will cease ; 
 Soon this glimpse of Heaven will close, 
 
 Vanish soon the hours of peace ; 
 Soon return the toil, the strife, 
 All the weariness of life. 
 
 But the rest which yet remains 
 
 For Thy people, Lord, above, 
 Knows nor change, nor fears, nor pains, 
 
 Endless as their Saviour's love : 
 O may every Sabbath here 
 Bring us to that rest more near ! 
 
 Julia Anne Elliott. 1833. 
 
 CCCXVIII. 
 
 Lord of the Sabbath ! hear our vows, 
 On this Thy day, in this Thy house ; 
 And own as grateful sacrifice 
 The songs which from the desert rise. 
 
336 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love ; 
 But there's a nobler rest above ; 
 To that our labouring souls aspire 
 With ardent pangs of strong desire. 
 
 No more fatigue, no more distress ; 
 Nor sin nor hell shall reach the place ; 
 No groans to mingle with the songs 
 Which warble from immortal tongues. 
 
 No rude alarms of raging foes ; 
 No cares to break the long repose ; 
 No midnight shade, no clouded sun, 
 But sacred, high, eternal noon. 
 
 O long-expected day, begin ! 
 Dawn on these realms of woe and sin ! 
 Fain would we leave this weary road, 
 And sleep in death, to rest with God ! 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 CCCXIX. 
 
 To Thy temple I repair ; 
 Lord, I love to worship there ; 
 W T hen, within the veil, I meet 
 Christ before the mercy-seat. 
 
 Thou, through Him, art reconciled ; 
 I, through Him, became Thy child ; 
 Abba, Father ! give me grace 
 In Thy courts to seek Thy face ! 
 
 While Thy glorious praise is sung, 
 Touch my lips, unloose my tongue, 
 That my joyful soul may bless 
 Thee, the Lord my Righteousness ! 
 
The Lord's Day. 337 
 
 While the prayers of saints ascend, 
 God of love ! to mine attend ! 
 Hear me, for Thy Spirit pleads ; 
 Hear, for Jesus intercedes ! 
 
 While I hearken to Thy law, 
 Fill my soul with humble awe ; 
 Till Thy Gospel bring to me 
 Life and immortality : 
 
 While Thy ministers proclaim 
 Peace and pardon in Thy Name, 
 Through their voice, by faith, may I 
 Hear Thee speaking from the sky ! 
 
 From Thy house when I return, 
 May my heart within me burn ; 
 And at evening let me say, 
 I have walk'd with God to-day ! 
 
 James Montgomery. 1 8 1 2 . 
 
 cccxx. 
 
 Ere another Sabbath close, 
 Ere again we seek repose, 
 Lord ! our song ascends to Thee ; 
 At Thy feet we bow the knee. 
 
 For the mercies of the day, 
 For this rest upon our way, 
 Thanks to Thee alone be given, 
 Lord of earth, and King of Heaven ! 
 
 Cold our services have been ; 
 Mingled every prayer with sin ; 
 But Thou canst and wilt forgive ; 
 By Thy grace alone we live ! 
 z 
 
338 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Whilst this thorny path we tread, 
 May Thy love our footsteps lead ! 
 When our journey here is past, 
 May we rest with Thee at last ! 
 
 Let these earthly Sabbaths prove 
 Foretastes of our joys above ; 
 While their steps Thy pilgrims bend 
 To the rest which knows no end ! 
 
 " O. P." 1826. 
 
 CCCXXI. 
 
 Of Thy love some gracious token 
 
 Grant us, Lord, before we go ; 
 Bless Thy word which has been spoken ; 
 
 Life and peace on all bestow ! 
 When we join the world again, 
 Let our hearts with Thee remain : 
 O direct us 
 And protect us, 
 Till we gain the heavenly shore, 
 Where Thy people want no more ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1 804. 
 
 END OF PART III. 
 
PART IV. 
 
 SONGS OF THE HEART 
 
t §00k of |)ram 
 
 PART THE FOURTH. 
 
 SONGS OF THE HEART. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE CALL. 
 
 1 Rise j He calleth thee." — (Mark x. 49.) 
 
 CCCXXIT. 
 
 Child of sin and sorrow, 
 
 Fill'd with dismay, 
 Wait not for to-morrow, 
 
 Yield thee to-day ! 
 
 Heaven bids thee come 
 
 While yet there's room : 
 Child of sin and sorrow, 
 
 Hear, and obey ! 
 
 Child of sin and sorrow, 
 
 Why wilt thou die ? 
 Come, while thou canst borrow 
 
 Help from on high ! 
 
 Grieve not that love 
 
 Which from above, 
 Child of sin and sorrow, 
 
 Would bring thee nigh ! 
 
 - Thomas Hastings. 1834. 
 
J4 2 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCCXXIII. 
 
 Poor child of sin and woe, 
 Now listen to thy Father's pleading voice ; 
 
 No longer need'st thou go 
 Without a friend to bid thy heart rejoice. 
 
 I know thou canst not rest 
 Until thou art from guilt and sorrow free ; 
 
 Earth cannot make thee blest ; 
 Come, bring thy suffering, bleeding heart to Me. 
 
 How often, in the hour 
 Of weariness, would I have succoured thee ! 
 
 But thou didst spurn the power, 
 And scorn the heart that loved so tenderly. 
 
 Oh, what on earth appears 
 To comfort thy distress and heal thy grief, 
 
 To dry thy bitter tears, 
 And offer thy poor sinking soul relief ? 
 
 Thy life of sin has been 
 A toilsome path, without one cheering ray ; 
 
 Now on thy Father lean, 
 And He will guide thee in a better way. 
 
 Come, leave the desert land, 
 And all the husks on which thy soul has fed ; 
 
 And trust the faithful Hand 
 That offers thee a feast of living Bread. 
 
 O sinner ! 'tis the voice 
 Of One, who Long has loved and pitied thee ! 
 
 He would thy heart rejoice, 
 And set thee from all sin and suffering free. 
 
The Call. 343 
 
 Oh, canst thou turn away ? 
 It is thy Father that invites thee near ! 
 
 Nay, sinner ! weep and pray ! 
 And Heaven shall hail the penitential tear ! 
 
 Eliza Fanny Morris. 1858. 
 
 cccxxiv. 
 
 Return, O wanderer, to thy home ; 
 
 Thy Father calls for thee : 
 No longer now an exile roam, 
 
 In guilt and misery : 
 Return, return ! 
 
 Return, O wanderer, to thy home ; 
 
 'Tis Jesus calls for thee : 
 The Spirit and the Bride say, Come : 
 
 O now for refuge flee ; 
 Return, return ! 
 
 Return, O wanderer, to thy home ; 
 
 'Tis madness to delay ; 
 There are no pardons in the tomb, 
 And brief is mercy's day : 
 Return, return ! 
 
 Thomas Hastings* 1834. 
 
 CCCXXV. 
 
 Haste, traveller, haste ! the night comes on, 
 And many a shining hour is gone ; 
 The storm is gathering in the west, 
 And thou art far from home and rest ; 
 
 Haste, traveller, haste ! 
 
344 The Book of Praise. 
 
 O far from home thy footsteps stray ; 
 Christ is the Life, and Christ the Way ; 
 And Christ the Light, thy setting Sun, 
 Sinks ere thy morning is begun ; 
 
 Haste, traveller, haste ! 
 
 Awake, awake ! pursue thy way 
 With steady course, while yet 'tis day ; 
 While thou art sleeping on the ground, 
 Danger and darkness gather round ; 
 
 Haste, traveller, haste ! 
 
 The rising tempest sweeps the sky ; 
 The rains descend, the winds are high ; 
 The waters swell, and death and fear 
 Beset thy path, nor refuge near ; 
 
 Haste, traveller, haste ! 
 
 O yes ! a shelter you may gain, 
 A covert from the wind and rain, 
 A hiding-place, a rest, a home, 
 A refuge from the wrath to come ; 
 
 Haste, traveller, haste ! 
 
 Then linger not in all the plain, 
 Flee for thy life, the mountain gain ; 
 Look not behind, make no delay, 
 O speed thee, speed thee on thy way ; 
 
 Haste, traveller, haste ! 
 
 Poor, lost, benighted soul ! art thou 
 Willing to find salvation now ? 
 There yet is hope ; hear mercy's call ; 
 Truth ! Life ! Light ! Way ! in Christ is all ! 
 Haste to Him, haste ! 
 William Bengo Co I Iyer. [1829.] 
 
The Call. 345 
 
 CCCXXVT. 
 
 Just as thou art, without one trace 
 Of love or joy or inward grace, 
 Or meetness for the heavenly place, 
 
 O guilty sinner, come ! 
 
 Burden'd with guilt, wouldst thou be blest ? 
 Trust not the world, it gives no rest ; 
 Christ brings relief to hearts opprest ; 
 
 O weary sinner, come ! 
 
 Come, leave thy burden at the cross ; 
 Count all thy gains but worthless dross ; 
 His grace o'erpays all earthly loss ; 
 
 O needy sinner, come ! 
 
 Come hither ! bring thy boding fears, 
 Thy aching heart, thy bursting tears ; 
 'Tis Mercy's voice salutes thine ears ; 
 
 O trembling sinner, come ! 
 
 Russell Sturgis Cooke. 1850. 
 
 CCCXXVII. 
 
 Rev. xxii. 17. 
 
 Sweet is the Spirit's strain ; 
 Breath'd by soft pleadings inly heard, 
 By all the heart's deep fountains stirr'd, 
 By conscience, and the written Word ; 
 
 Come, wanderers, home again ! 
 
346 The Book of Praise. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Joseph Anstice. [1836.] 
 
 CCCXXVIII. 
 
 With tearful eyes I look around ; 
 
 Life seems a dark and stormy sea ; 
 Yet midst the gloom I hear a sound, 
 
 A heavenly whisper, Come to Me ! 
 
 It tells me of a place of rest ; 
 
 It tells me where my soul may flee : 
 Oh ! to the weary, faint, opprest, 
 
 How sweet the bidding, Come to Me ! 
 
The Call. 347 
 
 When the poor heart with anguish learns 
 That earthly props resign'd must be, 
 
 And from each broken cistern turns, 
 It hears the accents, Come to Me ! 
 
 When against sin I strive in vain, 
 And cannot from its yoke get free. 
 
 Sinking beneath the heavy chain, 
 The words arrest me, Come to Me ! 
 
 When nature shudders, loth to part 
 From all I love, enjoy, and see ; 
 
 When a faint chill steals o'er my heart, 
 A sweet voice utters, Come to Me ! 
 
 Come, for all else must fail and die ; 
 
 Earth is no resting-place for thee ; 
 Heavenward direct thy weeping eye ; 
 
 I am thy Portion ; Come to Me ! 
 
 O voice of mercy, voice of love ! 
 
 In conflict, grief, and agony, 
 Support me, cheer me from above, 
 
 And gently whisper, Come to me ! 
 
 Charlotte Elliott 1834. 
 
 cccxxix. 
 
 Come, take my yoke, the Saviour said ; 
 To follow Me be not afraid ; 
 For I in heart am lowly, meek, 
 And offer you the rest you seek. 
 
 The yoke of Pleasure may allure, 
 And promise bliss that will endure ; 
 But, when it has thy youth despoil'd, 
 'Twill cast thee off as garment soil'd. 
 
The Book of Praise. 
 
 Take not on thee the yoke of Wealth ; 
 'Twill eat thy soul, destroy thy health, 
 And make thee feel how cheap the cost, 
 If worlds could buy the peace it lost. 
 
 Ambition, too, its yoke displays, 
 And hangs out its perennial bays ; 
 Be not, poor soul, by it misled ; 
 I offer thee a crown instead. 
 
 Then take my yoke, 'tis soft and light, 
 'Twill ne'er disturb thy rest at night, 
 But guide thee to that world above 
 Where no restraint is known but love. 
 
 Robert Smith. 1862. 
 
 cccxxx. 
 
 Behold ! a Stranger's at the door I 
 He gently knocks, has knock' d before, 
 Has waited long, is waiting still ; 
 You treat no other friend so ill. 
 
 But will He prove a Friend indeed ? 
 He will ! the very Friend you need ! 
 The Man of Nazareth, 'tis He, 
 With garments dyed at Calvary. 
 
 Oh lovely attitude ! He stands 
 With melting heart, and laden hands ! 
 Oh matchless kindness ! and He shows 
 This matchless kindness to His foes. 
 
 Rise, touch'd with gratitude Divine ; 
 Turn out His enemy and thine, 
 That hateful, hell-born monster, Sin ; 
 And let the Heavenly Stranger in. 
 
The Call. 349 
 
 If thou art poor, (and poor thou art,J 
 Lo ! He has riches to impart ; 
 Not wealth, in which mean av'rice rolls ; 
 O better far ! the wealth of souls ! 
 
 Thou'rt blind ; He'll take the scales away> 
 And let in everlasting day : 
 Naked thou art ; but He shall dress 
 Thy blushing soul in Righteousness. 
 
 Art thou a weeper ? Grief shall fly ; 
 For who can weep with Jesus by ? 
 No terror shall thy hopes annoy ; 
 No tear, except the tear of joy. 
 
 Admit Him, for the human breast 
 Ne'er entertain'd so kind a Guest : 
 Admit Him, for you can't expel ; 
 Where'er He comes, He comes to dwell. 
 
 Admit Him, ere His anger burn ; 
 His feet, departed, ne'er return ! 
 Admit Him ; or the hour's at hand, 
 When at His door denied you'll stand. 
 
 Yet know, (nor of the terms complain,) 
 If Jesus comes, He comes to reign ; 
 To reign, and with no partial sway ; 
 Thoughts must be slain, that disobey ! 
 
 Sovereign of souls ! Thou Prince of Peace ! 
 O may Thy gentle reign increase ! 
 Throw wide the door, each willing mind ! 
 And be His empire all mankind ! 
 
 Joseph Grigg. 1765. 
 
350 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCCXXXI. 
 
 The winds were howling o'er the deep, 
 
 Each wave a watery hill ; 
 The Saviour waken'd from His sleep ; 
 
 He spake, and all was still. 
 
 The madman in a tomb had made 
 
 His mansion of despair : 
 Woe to the traveller who stray'd 
 
 With heedless footstep there ! 
 
 The chains hung broken from his arm, 
 Such strength can hell supply ; 
 
 And fiendish hate, and fierce alarm, 
 Flash'd from his hollow eye. 
 
 He met that glance, so thrilling sweet ; 
 
 He heard those accents mild ; 
 And, melting at Messiah's feet, 
 
 Wept like a weaned child. 
 
 Oh ! madder than the raving man ! 
 
 Oh ! deafer than the sea ! 
 How long the time since Christ began 
 
 To call in vain on me ! 
 
 He call'd me when my thoughtless prime 
 
 Was early ripe to ill ; 
 I pass'd from folly on to crime ; 
 
 And yet He call'd me still. 
 
 He call'd me in the time of dread, 
 When death was full in view ; 
 
 I trembled on my feverish bed, 
 And rose to sin anew. 
 
The Call. 351 
 
 Yet, could I hear Him once again, 
 
 As I have heard of old, 
 Methinks He should not call in vain 
 
 His wanderer to the fold. 
 
 Oh Thou ! that every thought canst know, 
 
 And answer every prayer, 
 Oh ! give me sickness, want, or woe ; 
 
 But snatch me from despair ! 
 
 My struggling will by grace control ! 
 
 Renew my broken vow ! 
 What blessed light breaks on my soul ? 
 
 Mv God ! I hear Thee now ! 
 
 Bishoi) Reginald Heber. 1 827. 
 
 CCCXXXII. 
 
 " Was du vor tausend Jahren." 
 
 A thousand years have fleeted ; 
 
 And, Saviour ! still we see 
 Thy deed of love repeated 
 
 On all who come to Thee. 
 As he who sat benighted, 
 
 Afflicted, poor, and blind ; 
 So now, (Thy word is plighted,) 
 
 Joy, light, and peace I find. 
 
 Dark gloom my spirit filling, 
 
 Beside the way I sat ; 
 Desire my heart was thrilling ; 
 
 But anguish more than that. 
 
352 The Book of Praise. 
 
 To me no ray was granted, 
 Although I heard the psalms 
 
 The faithful sweetly chanted, 
 And felt the waving palms. 
 
 With grief my heart was aching ; 
 
 O'erwhelming were my woes, 
 Till, heaven-born courage taking, 
 
 To Thee my cry arose : 
 " O David's Son, relieve me, 
 
 " My bitter anguish quell ; 
 " Thy promised succour give me, 
 
 " And this dark night dispel !" 
 
 With tears that fast were flowing, 
 
 I sought Thee through the crowd, 
 My heart more tender growing, 
 
 Until I wept aloud : 
 Oh ! then my grief diminish'd ; 
 
 For then they cried to me, 
 " Blind man, thy woe is finish'd ; 
 
 "Arise, He calleth thee!" 
 
 I came with steps that falter'd ; 
 
 Thy course I felt Thee check ; 
 Then straight my mind was altered, 
 
 And bow'd my stubborn neck : 
 Thou saidst, " What art thou seeking ?" 
 
 " O Lord ! that I might see !" 
 Oh ! then I heard Thee speaking ; 
 
 " Believe, and it shall be." 
 
 Our hope, Lord, faileth never, 
 
 When Thou Thy word dost plight : 
 
 My fears then ceased for ever, 
 And all my soul was light. 
 
The Call. 353 
 
 Thou gavest me Thy blessing ; 
 
 From former guilt set free, 
 Now heavenly joy possessing, 
 O Lord ! I follow Thee ! 
 
 Frances Elizabeth Cox. 1841. 
 From Frederic de la Motte Fouque, 
 
 CCCXXXIII. 
 
 I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
 
 " Come unto Me and rest ; 
 " Lay down, thou weary one, lay down 
 
 " Thy head upon My breast ! " 
 I came to Jesus as I was, 
 
 Weary, and worn, and sad ; 
 I found in Him a resting-place, 
 
 And He has made me glad. 
 
 I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
 
 " Behold ! I freely give 
 * The living water ; thirsty one, 
 
 " Stoop down, and drink, and live ! 
 I came to Jesus, and I drank 
 
 Of that life-giving stream ; 
 My thirst was quench'd, my soul revived, 
 
 And now I live in Him. 
 
 I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
 
 ;f I am this dark world's light ; 
 "Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, 
 
 " And all thy day be bright." 
 I look'd to Jesus, and I found 
 
 In Him my Star, my Sun ; 
 And in that light of life I'll walk 
 
 Till travelling days are done. 
 
 Horatius Bonar, 1856. 
 A A 
 
354 The Book of Praise. 
 
 cccxxxiv. 
 In evil long I took delight, 
 
 Unawed by shame or fear, 
 Till a new object struck my sight, 
 
 And stopp'd my wild career : 
 I saw One hanging on a Tree, 
 
 In agonies and blood, 
 Who fix'd His languid eyes on me, 
 
 As near His Cross I stood. 
 
 Sure never till my latest breath 
 
 Can I forget that look : 
 It seem'd to charge me with His death, 
 
 Though not a word He spoke : 
 My conscience felt and own'd the guilt, 
 
 And plunged me in despair ; 
 I saw my sins His Blood had spilt, 
 
 And help'd to nail Him there. 
 
 Alas ! I knew not what I did ! 
 
 But now my tears are vain : 
 Where shall my trembling soul be hid ? 
 
 For I the Lord have slain ! 
 A second look He gave, which said, 
 
 " I freely all forgive ; 
 " This Blood is for thy ransom paid ; 
 
 " I die, that thou may'st live." 
 
 Thus, while His death my sin displays 
 
 In all its blackest hue, 
 Such is the mystery of grace, 
 
 It seals my pardon too. 
 With pleasing grief, and mournful joy, 
 
 My spirit now is fill'd, 
 That I should such a life destroy, 
 
 Yet live by Him I kill'd. 
 
 John Newt oil 1779- 
 
The Answer. 355 
 
 II. 
 
 THE ANSWER. 
 
 ' / will arise, and go to my Father'' — (Luke xv. 18.) 
 
 cccxxxv. 
 
 And have I measured half my days, 
 
 And half my journey run, 
 Nor tasted the Redeemer's grace, 
 
 Nor yet my work begun ? 
 
 The morning of my life is past, 
 
 The noon is almost o'er ; 
 The night of death approaches fast, 
 
 When I can work no more. 
 
 Darkness He makes His secret place, 
 Thick clouds surround His Throne ; 
 
 Nor can I yet behold His face, 
 Or find the God Unknown. 
 
 A God that hides Himself He is, 
 
 Far off from mortal sight ; 
 An inaccessible Abyss 
 
 Of uncreated Light. 
 
 Far off He is, yet always near ; 
 
 He fills both earth and Heaven, 
 But doth not to my soul appear, 
 
 My soul from Eden driven. 
 
 O'er earth a banish'd man I rove, 
 
 But cannot feel Him nigh : 
 Where is the pardoning God of Love, 
 
 Who stoop'd for me to die ? 
 A A2 
 
356 The Book of Praise, 
 
 I sought Him in the secret cell 
 
 With unavailing care : 
 Long did I in the desert dwell, 
 
 Nor could I find Him there. 
 
 Still every means in vain I try ; 
 
 I seek Him far and near ; 
 Where'er I come, constrain'd to cry, 
 
 " My Saviour is not here." 
 
 God is in this, in every place : 
 
 Yet oh ! how dark and void 
 To me ! 'tis one great wilderness, 
 
 This earth without my God ! 
 
 Empty of Him, who all things fills, 
 
 Till He His Light impart, 
 Till He His glorious Self reveals, 
 
 The veil is on my heart. 
 
 O Thou, who seest and know'st my grief, 
 
 Thyself Unseen, Unknown ! 
 Pity my helpless unbelief, 
 
 And take away the stone ! 
 
 Regard me with a gracious eye ; 
 
 The long-sought blessing give ; 
 And bid me, at the point to die, 
 
 Behold Thy face, and live ! 
 
 A darker soul did never yet 
 
 Thy promised help implore : 
 O ! that I now my Lord might meet, 
 
 And never lose Him more ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1749. 
 
The Answer. 357 
 
 cccxxxvi. 
 
 O Thou, whose tender mercy hears 
 
 Contrition's humble sigh, 
 Whose hand indulgent wipes the tears 
 
 From sorrow's weeping eye ; 
 
 See, low before Thy throne of grace, 
 
 A wretched wanderer mourn ; 
 Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face ? 
 
 Hast Thou not said, Return ? 
 
 And shall my guilty fears prevail 
 
 To drive me from Thy feet ? 
 Oh ! let not this dear refuge fail, 
 
 This only safe retreat ! 
 
 Absent from Thee, my Guide, my Light, 
 
 Without one cheering ray, 
 Through dangers, fears, and gloomy night, 
 
 How desolate my way ! 
 
 O shine on this benighted heart, 
 
 With beams of mercy shine ! 
 And let Thy healing voice impart 
 
 A taste of joys Divine ! 
 
 Thy presence only can bestow 
 
 Delights which never cloy : 
 Be this my solace here below, 
 
 And my eternal joy ! 
 
 Anne Steele. 1760. 
 
35** The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCCXXXVII. 
 
 When shall Thy love constrain 
 And force me to Thy breast ? 
 When shall my soul return again 
 To her eternal rest ? 
 
 Ah ! what avails my strife, 
 My wandering to and fro ? 
 Thou hast the words of endless life ; 
 Ah ! whither should I go ? 
 
 Thy condescending grace 
 To me did freely move ; 
 It calls me still to seek Thy face, 
 And stoops to ask my love. 
 
 Lord ! at Thy feet I fall ; 
 I groan to be set free ; 
 I fain would now obey the call, 
 And give up all for Thee. 
 
 Though late, I all forsake, 
 My friends, my life resign : 
 Gracious Redeemer, take, O take, 
 And seal me ever Thine ! 
 
 Come, and possess me whole, 
 Nor hence again remove : 
 Settle, and fix my wavering soul 
 With all Thy weight of love ! 
 
 My one desire be this, 
 Thy only love to know, 
 To seek and taste no other bliss, 
 No other good below. 
 
The Answer. 359 
 
 My Life, my Portion Thou, 
 Thou all-sufficient art ; 
 My Hope, my heavenly Treasure, now 
 Enter, and keep my heart ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1740, 
 
 CCCXXXVIII. 
 My 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 come from Thee. 
 
 Unless it come 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 : 
 
 O let my wish be crown'd, 
 And send it from above ! 
 
 John Byrom. 1 773. 
 
 CCCXXXIX. 
 Weary 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. 
 
360 The Book of Praise. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Thou know'st the way to bring me back, 
 
 My fallen spirit to restore ; 
 O, 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, O J 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 ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1749. 
 
The Answer, 361 
 
 CCCXL. 
 
 Hear, gracious God ! a sinner's cry, 
 For I have nowhere else to fly ; 
 My hope, my only hope's in Thee ; 
 O God, be merciful to me ! 
 
 To Thee I come, a sinner poor, 
 And wait for mercy at Thy door ; 
 Indeed, I've nowhere else to flee : 
 O God, be merciful to me ! 
 
 To Thee I come, a sinner weak, 
 And scarce know how to pray or speak ; 
 From fear and weakness set me free ; 
 O God, be merciful to me ! 
 
 To Thee I come, a sinner vile ; 
 Upon me, Lord, vouchsafe to smile ! 
 Mercy alone I make my plea ; 
 O God, be merciful to me ! 
 
 To Thee I come, a sinner great, 
 And well Thou knowest all my state ; 
 Yet full forgiveness is with Thee ; 
 O God, be merciful to me ! 
 
 To Thee I come, a sinner lost, 
 Nor have I ought wherein to trust ; 
 But where Thou art, Lord, I would be ; 
 O God, be merciful to me ! 
 
 To glory bring me, Lord, at last ; 
 And there, when all my fears are past, 
 With all the saints I'll then agree, 
 God has been merciful to me ! 
 
 Samuel Medley. 1789. 
 
3 62 The Book of Praise, 
 
 CCCXLI. 
 
 Hear, gracious God ! my humble moan ; 
 
 To Thee I breathe my sighs : 
 When will the mournful night be gone, 
 
 And when my joys arise ? 
 
 My God ! Oh ! could I make the claim, 
 
 My Father and my Friend ! 
 And call Thee mine, by every name 
 
 On which Thy saints depend ; 
 
 By every name of power and love 
 
 I would Thy grace entreat ; 
 Nor should my humble hopes remove, 
 
 Nor leave Thy sacred seat. 
 
 Yet, though my soul in darkness mourns, 
 
 Thy word is all my stay ; 
 Here I would rest till light returns, 
 
 Thy Presence makes my day. 
 
 Speak, Lord, and bid celestial peace 
 
 Relieve my aching heart ! 
 O smile, and bid my sorrows cease, 
 
 And all the gloom depart ! 
 
 Then shall my drooping spirit rise, 
 
 And bless Thy healing rays, 
 And change these deep complaining sighs 
 
 For songs of sacred praise ! 
 
 Anne Steele. 1760. 
 
The A nswer. 3 63 
 
 CCCXLTT. 
 
 And shall I sit alone, 
 Oppress'd with grief and fear, 
 To God my Father make my moan, 
 And He refuse to hear ? 
 
 If He my Father be, 
 His pity He will show, 
 From cruel bondage set me free, 
 And inward peace bestow. 
 
 If still He silence keep, 
 'Tis but my faith to try ; 
 He knows and feels, whene'er I weep, 
 And softens every sigh. 
 
 Then will I humbly wait, 
 Nor once indulge despair ; 
 My sins are great, but not so great 
 As His compassions are. 
 
 Benjamin Beddome. [1769.] 
 
 CCCXLIII. 
 
 O that my load of sin were gone ! 
 
 O that I could at last submit 
 At Jesus' feet to lay it down, 
 
 To lay my soul at Jesus' feet ! 
 
 When shall mine eyes behold the Lamb, 
 The God of my salvation see ? 
 
 Weary, O Lord, Thou know'st I am ; 
 Yet still I cannot come to Thee. 
 
 Rest for my soul I long to find ; 
 
 Saviour ! (if mine indeed Thou art,) 
 Give me Thy meek and lowly mind. 
 
 And stamp Thy image on my heart ! 
 
364 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Fain would I learn of Thee, my God, 
 Thy light and easy burden prove, 
 
 The cross, all stain'd with hallow'd blood. 
 The labour of Thy dying love. 
 
 This moment would I take it up, 
 And after my dear Master bear ; 
 
 With Thee ascend to Calvary's top, 
 And bow my head and suffer there. 
 
 I would ; but Thou must give the power. 
 
 My heart from every sin release : 
 Bring near, bring near the joyful hour, 
 
 And fill me with Thy perfect peace ! 
 
 Come, Lord, the drooping sinner cheer, 
 Nor let Thy chariot-wheels delay ! 
 
 Appear, in my poor heart appear ! 
 My God, my Saviour, come away ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1742. 
 
 CCCXLIV. 
 
 Come, let us to the Lord our God 
 With contrite hearts return ; 
 
 Our God is gracious, nor will leave 
 The desolate to mourn. 
 
 His voice commands the tempest forth, 
 
 And stills the stormy wave ; 
 And, though His arm be strong to smite, 
 
 'Tis also strong to save. 
 
 Long hath the night of sorrow reign'd ; 
 
 The dawn shall bring us light ; 
 God shall appear, and we shall rise 
 
 With gladness in His sight. 
 
Faith. 365 
 
 Our hearts, if God we seek to know, 
 
 Shall know Him, and rejoice ; 
 His coming like the morn shall be, 
 
 Like morning songs His voice. 
 
 As dew upon the tender herb, 
 
 Diffusing fragrance round ; 
 As showers that usher in the spring, 
 
 And cheer the thirsty ground ; 
 
 So shall His Presence bless our souls, 
 
 And shed a joyful light ; 
 That hallow'd morn shall chase away 
 
 The sorrows of the night. 
 
 John Morrison. 1781. 
 
 III. 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 " Looking unto Jesus, the A uthor and Finisher of 
 our Faith." — (Heb. xii. 2.) 
 
 CCCXLV. 
 
 Come, 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 or sin declare ; 
 Thyself hast call'd 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. 
 
366 The Book of Praise. 
 
 In vain Thou strugglest to get free, 
 I never will unloose my hold ; 
 
 Art Thou the Man that died for me ? 
 The secret of Thy love unfold. 
 
 Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, 
 
 Till I Thy Name, Thy Nature know. 
 
 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. 
 
 'Tis all in vain to hold Thy tongue, 
 Or touch the hollow of my thigh ; 
 
 Though every sinew be unstrung, 
 Out of my arms Thou shalt not fly : 
 
 Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, 
 
 Till I Thy Name, Thy Nature know. 
 
 What though my shrinking flesh complain, 
 And murmur to contend so long ? 
 
 I rise superior to my pain ; 
 When I am weak, then I am 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 weighty 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. 
 
Faith. 367 
 
 Yield to me now, for I am weak, 
 
 But confident in self-despair ; 
 Speak to my heart, in blessings speak, 
 
 Be conquer'd by my instant prayer ! 
 Speak, or Thou never hence shalt move, 
 And tell me, if Thy Name is Love ? 
 
 'Tis Love ! 'tis Love ! Thou diedst for me ! 
 
 I hear Thy whisper in my heart ! 
 The morning breaks, the shadows flee ; 
 
 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 rose, with healing in His wings ; 
 
 Wither'd 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. 
 
368 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Contented now upon my thigh 
 I halt, till life's short journey 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 o'ercome ; 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1742. 
 
 CCCXLVI. 
 
 Hark, my soul ! it is the Lord, 
 Tis thy Saviour, hear His word : 
 Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee ; 
 " Say, poor sinner, lov'st thou Me ? 
 
 " I delivered thee when bound, 
 " And, when bleeding, heal'd thy wound ; 
 " Sought thee wandering, set thee right, 
 "Turn'd thy darkness into light. 
 
 " Can a woman's tender care 
 
 " Cease towards the child she bare ? 
 
 " Yes, she may forgetful be ; 
 
 " Yet will I remember thee ! 
 
 " Mine is an unchanging love, 
 " Higher than the heights above, 
 " Deeper than the depths beneath, 
 M Free and faithful, strong as death. 
 
Faith. 369 
 
 " Thou shalt see my glory soon, 
 " When the work of grace is done ; 
 " Partner of my throne shalt be ; 
 " Say, poor sinner, lov'st thou Me ?" 
 
 Lord ! it is my chief complaint, 
 That my love is weak and faint ; 
 Yet I love Thee and adore ! 
 Oh ! for grace to love Thee more ! 
 
 William Cowfter. 1779. 
 
 CCCXLVII. 
 
 And can it be, that I should gain 
 An interest in the Saviour's blood ? 
 
 Died He for me, who caus'd His pain, 
 For me, who Him to death pursued ? 
 
 Amazing Love ! how can it be, 
 
 That Thou, my God, should st die for me ? 
 
 'Tis mystery all ! Th' Immortal dies ! 
 
 Who can explore His strange design ? 
 In vain the first-born seraph tries 
 
 To sound the depths of Love Divine. 
 'Tis mercy all ! Let earth adore ! 
 Let angel minds enquire no more ! 
 
 He left His Father's throne above, 
 (So free, so infinite His grace ;) 
 
 Emptied Himself of all but love, 
 And bled for Adam's helpless race. 
 
 'Tis mercy all, immense and free ! 
 
 For O, my God ! it found out me ! 
 
 B B 
 
370 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Long my imprison'd spirit lay, 
 
 Fast bound in sin and natures night ; 
 
 Thine eye diffus'd a quickening ray ; 
 I woke ; the dungeon flam'd with light : 
 
 My chains fell off, my heart was free, 
 
 I rose, went forth, and follow'd Thee ! 
 
 Still the small inward voice I hear, 
 That whispers all my sins forgiven ; 
 
 Still the atoning Blood is near, 
 That quench'd the wrath of hostile Heaven ; 
 
 I feel the life His wounds impart ; 
 
 I feel my Saviour in my heart. 
 
 No condemnation now I dread ; 
 
 Jesus, and all in Him, is mine ! 
 Alive in Him, my living Head, 
 
 And cloth'd in righteousness Divine, 
 Bold I approach th' Eternal Throne, 
 And claim the crown, through Christ my own. 
 Charles Wesley. 1739. 
 
 CCCXLVIII. 
 Now I have found the ground wherein 
 
 Sure my soul's anchor may remain ; 
 The wounds of Jesus, for my sin 
 
 Before the world's foundation slain ; 
 Whose mercy shall unshaken stay 
 When heaven and earth are fled away. 
 
 Father, Thine everlasting grace 
 Our scanty thought surpasses far ; 
 
 Thy heart still melts with tenderness ; 
 Thine arms of love still open are, 
 
 Returning sinners to receive, 
 
 That mercy they may taste and live. 
 
Faith. 37 1 
 
 O Love ! Thou bottomless abyss ! 
 
 My sins are swallow'd up in thee : 
 Cover'd is my unrighteousness, 
 
 Nor spot of guilt remains on me : 
 While Jesus' Blood, through earth and skies, 
 Mercy, free boundless mercy, cries ! 
 
 With faith I plunge me in this sea ; 
 
 Here is my hope, my joy, my rest ; 
 Hither, when hell assails, I flee, 
 
 I look into my Saviour's breast : 
 Away, sad doubt, and anxious fear ! 
 Mercy is all that's written there ! 
 
 Though waves and storms go o'er my head ; 
 
 Though strength, and health, and friends be gone ; 
 Though joys be wither'd all and dead ; 
 
 Though every comfort be withdrawn ; 
 On this my steadfast soul relies ; 
 Father ! Thy mercy never dies. 
 
 Fix'd on this ground will I remain, 
 
 Though my heart fail and flesh decay ; 
 This anchor shall my soul sustain, 
 
 When earth's foundations melt away : 
 Mercy's full power I then shall prove, 
 Loved with an everlasting love. 
 
 John Wesley. 1740. 
 (From John Andrew Rothe.) 1725. 
 
 CCCXLIX. 
 
 O Thou, the contrite sinners' Friend, 
 Who loving, loVst them to the end, 
 On this alone my hopes depend, 
 That Thou wilt plead for me ! 
 B B 2 
 
372 The Book of Praise. 
 
 When, weary in the Christian race, 
 
 Far off appears my resting-place, 
 
 And fainting I mistrust Thy grace, 
 
 Then, Saviour, plead for me ! 
 
 When I have err'd and gone astray 
 Afar from Thine and Wisdom's way, 
 And see no glimmering guiding ray, 
 Still, Saviour, plead for me ! 
 
 W T hen Satan, by my sins made bold, 
 Strives from Thy cross to loose my hold, 
 Then with Thy pitying arms enfold, 
 And plead, O plead for me ! 
 
 And when my dying hour draws near, 
 Darken'd with anguish, guilt, and fear, 
 Then to my fainting sight appear, 
 Pleading in Heaven for me ! 
 
 When the full light of heavenly day 
 Reveals my sins in dread array, 
 Say Thou hast wash'd them all away ; 
 O say, Thou plead'st for me ! 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. [1835.] 
 
 CCCL. 
 
 O Holy Saviour, Friend unseen, 
 The faint, the weak, on Thee may lean : 
 Help me, throughout life's varying scene, 
 By faith to cling to Thee ! 
 
 Blest with communion so Divine, 
 Take what Thou wilt, shall I repine, 
 When, as the branches to the vine, 
 My soul may cling to Thee ? 
 
Faith. 373 
 
 Far from her home, fatigued, opprest, 
 Here she has found a place of rest, 
 An exile still, yet not unblest 
 While she can cling to Thee \ 
 
 Without a murmur I dismiss 
 My former dreams of earthly bliss ; 
 My joy, my recompense be this, 
 Each hour to cling to Thee ! 
 
 What though the world deceitful prove, 
 And earthly friends and joys remove ? 
 With patient uncomplaining love 
 Still would I cling to Thee ! 
 
 Oft when I seem to tread alone 
 Some barren waste with thorns o'ergrown, 
 A voice of love, in gentlest tone, 
 Whispers, " Still cling to Me ! " 
 
 Though faith and hope awhile be tried, 
 I ask not, need not, aught beside : 
 How safe, how calm, how satisfied, 
 The souls that cling to Thee ! 
 
 They fear not life's rough storms to brave, 
 Since Thou art near, and strong to save ; 
 Nor shudder e'en at death's dark wave ; 
 Because they cling to Thee ! 
 
 Blest is my lot, whate'er befal : 
 What can disturb me, who appal, 
 While, as my strength, my rock, my all, 
 Saviour ! I cling to Thee ? 
 
 Charlotte ElliotL 1834. 
 
374 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCCLI. 
 
 Jesu, my strength, my hope, 
 
 On Thee I cast my care, 
 With humble confidence look up, 
 
 And know, Thou hear'st my prayer. 
 
 Give me on Thee to wait 
 
 Till I can all things do, 
 On Thee, Almighty to create ! 
 
 Almighty to renew ! 
 
 I want a sober mind, 
 
 A self-renouncing will, 
 That tramples down and casts behind 
 
 The baits of pleasing ill : 
 
 A soul inured to pain, 
 
 To hardship, grief, and loss ; 
 Bold to take up, firm to sustain, 
 
 The consecrated cross. 
 
 I want a godly fear, 
 
 A quick-discerning eye, 
 That looks to Thee when sin is near, 
 
 And sees the Tempter fly ; 
 
 A spirit still prepared, 
 
 And arm'd with jealous care, 
 For ever standing on its guard, 
 
 And watching unto prayer. 
 
 I want a heart to pray, 
 
 To pray and never cease, 
 Never to murmur at Thy stay, 
 
 Or wish my sufferings less ; 
 
 This blessing, above all, 
 
 Always to pray, I want, 
 Out of the deep on Thee to call, 
 
 And never, never faint. 
 
Love. 375 
 
 I want a true regard, 
 
 A single, steady aim, 
 Unmov'd by threat'ning or reward, 
 
 To Thee and Thy great Name ; 
 
 A jealous, just concern 
 
 For Thine immortal praise ; 
 A pure desire that all may learn 
 
 And glorify Thy grace. 
 
 I rest upon Thy word ; 
 
 Thy promise is for me ; 
 My succour and salvation, Lord, 
 
 Shall surely come from Thee. 
 
 But let me still abide, 
 
 Nor from my hope remove, 
 Till Thou my patient spirit guide 
 
 Into Thy perfect love ! 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1 742. . 
 
 IV. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 "If ye love Me, keep My commandments? 
 
 (John xiv. 15.) 
 
 CCCLTT. 
 
 Jesus, my all, to Heaven is gone ; 
 He that I placed my hopes upon ; 
 His track I see ; and I'll pursue 
 The narrow way, till Him I view. 
 
 The way the holy Prophets went, 
 The road that leads from banishment, 
 The King's high-way of holiness, 
 I'll go ; for all the paths are peace. 
 
37& The Book of Praise. 
 
 No stranger may proceed therein, 
 No lover of the world and sin ; 
 No lion, no devouring care, 
 No ravenous tiger 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. 
 
 Nor fools, by carnal men esteem'd, 
 Shall err therein ; but tfrey, redeem'd 
 In Jesu's blood, shall show their right 
 To travel there, till Heav'n's in sight. 
 
 This is the way I long have sought, 
 And mourn'd, because I found it not ; 
 My grief, my burden, long have been 
 Because I could not cease from sin. 
 
 The more I strove against its power, 
 I sinn'd and stumbled but the more ; 
 Till late I heard my Saviour say, 
 " Come hither, soul ! for I'm the Way ! " 
 
 Lo ! glad I come ; and Thou, dear Lamb, 
 Shalt take me to Thee, as I am : 
 Nothing but sin I Thee can give ; 
 Yet help me, and Thy praise I'll live ! 
 
 I'll tell to all poor sinners round 
 What a dear Saviour I have found ; 
 I'll point to Thy Redeeming blood. 
 And say, " Behold the Way to God !" 
 
 John Cennick. 1743. 
 
Love. 377 
 
 CCCLITI. 
 
 Go, worship at Immanuel's feet ; 
 See, in His face what wonders meet ; 
 Earth is too narrow to express 
 His worth, His glory, or His grace ! 
 
 The whole creation can afford 
 But some faint shadows of my Lord ; 
 Nature, to make His beauties known, 
 Must mingle colours not her own. 
 
 Is He compared to Wine or Bread ? 
 Dear Lord, our souls would thus be fed • 
 That flesh, that dying Blood of Thine, 
 Is Bread of Life, is heavenly Wine. 
 
 Is He a Tree ? The world receives 
 Salvation from His healing leaves : 
 That righteous Branch, that fruitful bough. 
 Is David's root and offspring too. 
 
 Is he a Rose ? Not Sharon yields 
 Such fragrancy in all her fields ; 
 Or if the Lily He assume, 
 The valleys bless the rich perfume. 
 
 Is He a Vine ? His heavenly root 
 Supplies the boughs with life and fruit : 
 O let a lasting union join 
 My soul the branch to Christ the Vine ! 
 
 Is He the Head ? Each member lives, 
 And owns the vital power He gives ; 
 The Saints below and Saints above 
 Joined by His Spirit and His love. 
 
378 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Is He a Fountain ? There I bathe, 
 And heal the plague of sin and death ; 
 These waters all my soul renew, 
 And cleanse my spotted garments too. 
 
 Is He a Fire ? He'll purge my dross ; 
 But the true gold sustains no loss : 
 Like a Refiner shall He sit, 
 And tread the refuse with His feet. 
 
 Is He a Rock ? How firm He proves ! 
 The Rock of Ages never moves : 
 Yet the sweet streams, that from Him flow ; 
 Attend us all the desert through. 
 
 Is He a Way ? He leads to God ; 
 The path is drawn in lines of Blood ; 
 There would I walk with hope and zeal, 
 Till I arrive at Sion's hill. 
 
 Is He a Door ? I'll enter in ; 
 Behold the pastures large and green ! 
 A paradise divinely fair ; 
 None but the sheep have freedom there. 
 
 Is He design'd a Corner-stone, 
 For men to build their Heaven upon ? 
 I'll make Him my Foundation too ; 
 Nor fear the plots of hell below. 
 
 Is He a Temple ? I adore 
 The indwelling majesty and power ; 
 And still to His Most Holy Place, 
 Whene'er I pray, I turn my face. 
 
Love. 379 
 
 Is He a Star ? He breaks the night, 
 Piercing the shades with dawning light ; 
 I know His glories from afar, 
 I know the bright, the morning Star ! 
 
 Is He a Sun ? His beams are grace, 
 His course is joy and Righteousness : 
 Nations rejoice, when He appears 
 To chase their clouds and dry their tears. 
 
 Oh ! let me climb those higher skies 
 Where storms and darkness never rise ! 
 There He displays His powers abroad, 
 And shines and reigns, th' incarnate God. 
 
 Nor earth, nor seas, nor sun, nor stars, 
 Nor heaven His full resemblance bears : 
 His beauties we can never trace, 
 Till we behold Him face to face. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
 CCCLIV. 
 
 Compared with Christ, in all beside 
 
 No comeliness I see ; 
 The one thing needful, dearest Lord, 
 
 Is to be one with Thee. 
 The sense of Thy expiring Love 
 
 Into my soul convey ; 
 Thyself bestow : for Thee alone 
 
 I absolutely pray. 
 
 Whatever else Thy will withholds, 
 Here grant me to succeed ! 
 
 O let Thyself my portion be, 
 And I am blest indeed ! 
 
380 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Less than Thyself will not suffice 
 
 My comfort to restore ; 
 More than Thyself I cannot have ; 
 
 And Thou canst give no more. 
 
 Loved of my God, for Him again 
 
 With love intense I burn ; 
 Chosen of Thee ere time began, 
 
 I choose Thee in return ! 
 Whate'er consists not with Thy love, 
 
 O ! teach me to resign ! 
 I'm rich to all th' intents of bliss, 
 
 If Thou, O God, art mine ! 
 
 Augustus Montague Toplady. 1772 
 
 CCCLV. 
 
 Jesu ! who for my transgression 
 Didst the shameful cross endure, 
 
 And didst there the blest possession 
 Of Thy joys to me insure ; 
 
 May my praise be ever telling 
 
 Of Thy love, all love excelling ! 
 
 Wondrous woes that brought salvation ! 
 
 Wondrous grace to sinners shown ! 
 Heaven is wrapt in contemplation 
 
 Of His love, whom men disown ! 
 Oh my soul ! wilt thou disown Him ? 
 Wilt not thou, my heart, enthrone Him ? 
 
 Who but He can bless thy weeping ? 
 
 Who but He can soothe thy grief? 
 Only safe beneath His keeping, 
 
 Thou in Him hast sure relief: 
 
Love. 381 
 
 To the cross He came to bless thee ; 
 Let His love, my soul, possess thee ! 
 
 Lord ! each thought and inclination, 
 
 All my heart and will inspire, 
 That my soul, Thy new creation, 
 
 Thee may serve with pure desire ; 
 Daily Thy great love reviewing, 
 Daily thus my sins subduing ! 
 
 A rth ur Tozer Russell. 1 85 1 . 
 
 CCCLVI. 
 
 Eternal God, of beings First, 
 Of all created good the Spring, 
 
 For Thee I long, for Thee I thirst, 
 My Love, my Saviour, and my King ! 
 
 Thine is a never-failing store ; 
 
 If God be mine, I ask no more. 
 
 The fairest world of light on high 
 Reflection makes but faint of Thine ; 
 
 The glorious tenants of the sky 
 
 In God's own beams transported shine : 
 
 But, shouldst Thou wrap Thy face in shade, 
 
 Soon all their life and lustre fade. 
 
 Thy Presence makes celestial day, 
 And fills each raptur'd soul with bliss ; 
 
 Night would prevail, were God away, 
 And spirits pine in Paradise ! 
 
 In vain would all the angels try 
 
 To fill Thy room, Thy lack supply. 
 
382 The Book of Praise. 
 
 And, sure, from Heav'n we turn our eyes 
 In vain, to seek for bliss below ; 
 
 The tree of Life can't root nor rise, 
 Nor in this blasted region grow : 
 
 The wealth of this poor barren clod 
 
 Can ne'er make up the want of God. 
 
 But, Lord ! in Thee the thirsty soul 
 Will meet with full, with rich supplies ! 
 
 Thy smiles will all her fears control, 
 Thy beauties feast her ravish'd eyes : 
 
 To failing flesh and fainting hearts 
 
 Thy favour life and strength imparts ! 
 
 Simon Browne. 1 720. 
 
 CCCLVIT. 
 
 Christ, my hidden Life, appear, 
 
 Soul of my inmost soul ! 
 Light of life, the mourner cheer, 
 
 And make the sinner whole ! 
 Now in me Thyself display ; 
 Surely Thou in all things art ; 
 I from all things turn away 
 
 To seek Thee in my heart ! 
 
 Open, Lord, my inward ear, 
 
 And bid my heart rejoice ! 
 Bid my quiet spirit hear 
 
 Thy comfortable voice ; 
 Never in the whirlwind found, 
 Or where earthquakes rock the place ; 
 Still and silent is the sound, 
 
 The whisper of Thy grace ! 
 
Love. 3%3 
 
 From the world of sin, and noise, 
 
 And hurry, I withdraw ; 
 For the small and inward Voice 
 
 I wait with humble awe : 
 Silent am I now and still ; 
 Dare not in Thy presence move : 
 To my waiting soul reveal 
 
 The secret of Thy love ! 
 
 Thou hast undertook for me ; 
 
 For me to death wast sold ; 
 Wisdom in a mystery 
 
 Of bleeding love unfold ! 
 Teach the lesson of Thy cross ; 
 Let me die, with Thee to reign ! 
 All things let me count but loss, 
 
 So I may Thee regain ! 
 
 Show me, as my soul can bear, 
 
 The depth of inbred sin ; 
 All the unbelief declare, 
 
 The pride that lurks within : 
 Take me, whom Thyself hast bought! 
 Bring into captivity 
 Every high aspiring thought, 
 
 That would not stoop to Thee ! 
 
 Lord, my time is in Thy hand ; 
 
 My soul to Thee convert ! 
 Thou canst make me understand, 
 
 Though I am slow of heart. 
 Thine, in whom I live and move, 
 Thine the work, the power is Thine ! 
 Thou art Wisdom, Power, and Love ; 
 
 And all thou art is mine ! 
 
 Charles Wesley, 1742. 
 
384 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCCLVIII. 
 Source of good, whose power controls 
 Every movement of our souls ; 
 Wind that quickens where it blows ; 
 Comforter of human woes ; 
 Lamp of God, whose ray serene 
 In the darkest night is seen ; 
 Come, inspire my feeble strain, 
 That I may not sing in vain ! 
 
 God's own Finger, skill'd to teach 
 Tongues of every land and speech ; 
 Balsam of the wounded soul, 
 Binding up, and making whole ; 
 Flame of pure and holy love ; 
 Strength of all that live and move •, 
 Come ! Thy gifts and fire impart ; 
 Make me love Thee from the heart ! 
 
 As the hart, with longing, looks 
 For refreshing water-brooks, 
 Heated in the burning chace ; 
 So my soul desires Thy grace : 
 So my heavy-laden breast, 
 By the cares of life opprest, 
 Longs Thy cooling streams to taste 
 In this dry and barren waste. 
 
 Mighty Spirit ! by whose aid 
 Man a living soul was made ; 
 Everlasting God ! whose fire 
 Kindles chaste and pure desire ; 
 Grant, in every grief and loss, 
 I may calmly bear the cross, 
 And surrender all to Thee, 
 Comforting and strengthening me ! 
 
Love. 385 
 
 Let not hell, with frowns or smiles, 
 Open force or cunning wiles, 
 Snap the thread of my brief days ; 
 But, when gently life decays, 
 Take to Heaven Thy servant dear, 
 Who hath loved and served Thee here ; 
 There eternal hymns to raise, 
 Mighty Spirit ! to Thy praise ! 
 
 Richard Massie. 1854. 
 {From John Frank. i66o. s 
 
 CCCLIX. 
 
 O Lamp of Life ! that on the bloody Cross 
 Dost hang, the Beacon of our wandering race, 
 To guide us homeward to our resting-place, 
 
 And save our best wealth from eternal loss ! 
 
 So purge my inward sight from earthly dross, 
 That, fix'd upon Thy Cross, or near or far, 
 
 In all the storms this weary bark that toss, 
 (Whate'er be lost in that tempestuous war,) 
 Thee I retain, my Compass and my Star ! 
 
 That, when arrived upon the wish'd-for strand, 
 I pass of death th' irrevocable bar, 
 
 And at the gate of Heaven trembling stand, 
 
 The everlasting doors may open wide, 
 
 And give Thee to my sight, God glorified ! 
 
 Charles Dyson . 1 8 1 6. 
 
 CCCLX. 
 
 A poor wayfaring man of grief 
 Hath often cross'd me on my way, 
 
 Who sued so humbly for relief, 
 That I could never answer, Nay : 
 C C 
 
386 The Book of Praise. 
 
 I had not power to ask his name, 
 Whither he went, or whence he came, 
 Yet there was something in his eye 
 That won my love, I knew not why. 
 
 Once, when my scanty meal was spread. 
 
 He entered ; not a word he spake ; 
 Just perishing for want of bread ; 
 
 I gave him all ; he bless'd it, brake, 
 And ate ; but gave me part again : 
 Mine was an angel's portion then ; 
 For, while I fed with eager haste, 
 That crust was manna to my taste. 
 
 I spied him, where a fountain burst 
 
 Clear from the rock ; his strength was gone ; 
 
 The heedless water mock'd his thirst, 
 He heard it, saw it hurrying on : 
 
 I ran to raise the sufferer up ; 
 
 Thrice from the stream he drain'd my cup, 
 
 Dipt, and return'd it running o'er ; 
 
 I drank, and never thirsted more. 
 
 'Twas night ; the floods were out ; it blew 
 
 A winter hurricane aloof ; 
 I heard his voice abroad, and flew 
 
 To bid him welcome to my roof ; 
 I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest, 
 Laid him on my own couch to rest ; 
 Then made the hearth my bed, and seem'd 
 In Eden's garden while I dream'd. 
 
 Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death, 
 I found him by the highway-side : 
 
 I roused his pulse, brought back his breath, 
 Revived his spirit, and supplied 
 
Hope. 387 
 
 Wine, oil, refreshment ; he was healed : 
 I had myself a wound concealed ; 
 But from that hour forgot the smart, 
 And peace bound up my broken heart. 
 
 In prison I saw him next, condemned 
 To meet a traitor's death at morn : 
 
 The tide of lying tongues I stemmed, 
 And honoured him midst shame and scorn ; 
 
 My friendship's utmost zeal to try, 
 
 He ask'd, if I for him would die ? 
 
 The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill ; 
 
 But the free spirit cried, " I will." 
 
 Then in a moment to my view 
 
 The Stranger darted from disguise ; 
 
 The tokens in His hands I knew, 
 My Saviour stood before mine eyes ! 
 
 He spake ; and my poor name He named ; 
 
 " Of me thou hast not been ashamed ; 
 
 These deeds shall thy memorial be ; 
 
 Fear not ; thou didst them unto Me." 
 
 James Montgomery. 1 826. 
 
 V. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 u> Set your affections on things above; not on things 
 
 on the earth? — (Col. iii. 2.) 
 
 CCCLXT. 
 
 I praised the earth, in beauty seen 
 With garlands gay of various green ; 
 I praised the sea, whose ample field 
 Shone glorious as a silver shield ; 
 And earth and ocean seem'd to say, 
 " Our beauties are but for a day." 
 c C 2 
 
388 The Book of Praise. 
 
 I praised the sun, whose chariot roll'd 
 On wheels of amber and of gold ; 
 I praised the moon, whose softer eye 
 Gleam'd sweetly through the summer sky." 
 And moon and sun in answer said, 
 " Our days of light are numbered." 
 
 O God ! O Good beyond compare ! 
 
 If thus Thy meaner works are fair, 
 
 If thus Thy bounties gild the span 
 
 Of ruin'd earth and sinful man, 
 
 How glorious must the mansion be, 
 
 Where Thy redeem'd shall dwell with Thee ! 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827. 
 
 CCCLXII. 
 Our life is but an idle play, 
 
 And various as the wind ; 
 We laugh and sport our hours away, 
 
 Nor think of woes behind. 
 
 See the fair cheek of beauty fade, 
 
 Frail glory of an hour ; 
 And blooming youth, with sickening head, 
 
 Droops like the dying flower, . 
 
 Our pleasures, like the morning sun, 
 
 Diffuse a flattering light ; 
 But gloomy clouds obscure their noon, 
 
 And soon they sink in night. 
 
 Wealth, pomp, and honour, we behold 
 
 With an admiring eye ; 
 Like summer insects, drest in gold, 
 
 That flutter, shine, and die. 
 
Hope. 389 
 
 One little moment can destroy 
 
 Our vast laborious schemes ; 
 And all our heaps of solid joy 
 
 Are sweet deceitful dreams. 
 
 Then rise, my soul ! and soar away 
 Above the thoughtless crowd ; 
 
 Above the pleasures of the gay, 
 And splendours of the proud ; 
 
 Up where eternal beauties bloom, 
 
 And pleasures all divine ; 
 Where wealth, that never can consume, 
 
 And endless glories shine ! 
 
 Henry Moore. [1806.] 
 
 CCCLXIII. 
 
 Though, by sorrows overtaken, 
 Lord, thy servants seem forsaken, 
 Thy Almighty hand, we know, 
 Blendeth love with human woe. 
 
 Over earth, and over ocean, 
 Claiming sinful man's devotion, 
 Round the living and the dead, 
 Lord, Thy boundless love is shed. 
 
 All to death in this world hasteth ; 
 Riches vanish, beauty wasteth ; 
 Yet within the mourner's breast 
 Love is an undying guest. 
 
 Love, unlike all worldly pleasures, 
 Wraps in grief its golden treasures, 
 And to meek and wounded hearts 
 Deep and holy joy imparts. 
 
390 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Love, that strength and pardon bringest 
 Through His cross, from Whom thou springest! 
 May in us Thy gracious force 
 Heavenward turn our spirits' course ! 
 
 Come, and while Salvation's morning 
 On our darken'd soul is dawning, 
 Sin's deep midnight roll away ! 
 Pour on us the light of day ! 
 
 Algernon Herbert. [1839.] 
 
 CCCLXIV. 
 
 We've no abiding city here : 
 
 This may distress the worldling's mind ; 
 But should not cost the saint a tear 
 
 Who hopes a better rest to find. 
 
 We've no abiding city here : 
 
 Sad truth ! were this to be our home ! 
 But let this thought our spirits cheer ; 
 
 We seek a city yet to come. 
 
 WeVe no abiding city here : 
 Then let us live as pilgrims do ! 
 
 Let not the world our rest appear, 
 But let us haste from all below. 
 
 WeVe no abiding city here : 
 
 We seek a city out of sight ; 
 Zion its name, the Lord is there, 
 
 It shines with everlasting light ! 
 
 Zion ! Jehovah is her strength ; 
 
 Secure she smiles at all her foes ; 
 And weary travellers at length 
 
 Within her sacred walls repose. 
 
Hope. 391 
 
 O ! sweet abode of peace and love, 
 
 Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest I 
 
 Had I the pinions of the dove, 
 I'd fly to thee, and be at rest ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1806.— 1836. 
 
 CCCLXV. 
 
 Psalm CXXXVII. 
 
 Far from my heavenly home, 
 Far from my Father's breast, 
 Fainting I cry, " Blest Spirit ! come 
 And speed me to my rest ! " 
 
 Upon the willows long 
 My harp has silent hung : 
 How should I sing a cheerful song 
 Till Thou inspire my tongue ? 
 
 My spirit homeward turns, 
 And fain would thither flee ; 
 My heart, O Zion, droops and yearns, 
 When I remember thee. 
 
 To thee, to thee I press, 
 A dark and toilsome road : 
 When shall I pass the wilderness 
 And reach the saints' abode ? 
 
 God of my life, be near ! 
 On Thee my hopes I cast : 
 O guide me through the desert here, 
 And bring me home at last ! 
 
 Henry Franeis Lyte. 1834. 
 
The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCCLXVI. 
 
 O happy soul, that lives on high, 
 
 While men lie grovelling here ! 
 His hopes are fix'd above the sky, 
 
 And faith forbids his fear. 
 
 His conscience knows no secret stings ; 
 
 While peace and joy combine 
 To form a life, whose holy springs 
 
 Are hidden and divine. 
 
 He waits in secret on his God, 
 
 His God in secret sees ; 
 Let earth be all in arms abroad, 
 
 He dwells in heavenly peace. 
 
 His pleasures rise from things unseen, 
 
 Beyond this world and time, 
 Where neither eyes nor ears have been, 
 
 Nor thoughts of sinners climb. 
 
 He wants no pomp, nor royal throne, 
 
 To raise his figure here ; 
 Content and pleased to live unknown, 
 
 Till Christ, his Life, appear. 
 
 He looks to Heaven's eternal hill, 
 
 To meet that glorious day ; 
 And patient waits his Saviour's will, 
 
 To fetch his soul away. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
Hope. 393 
 
 CCCLXVII. 
 
 Fain would my thoughts fly up to Thee, 
 Thy peace, sweet Lord, to find ; 
 
 Rut when I offer, still the world 
 Lays clogs upon my mind. 
 
 Sometimes I climb a little way 
 And thence look down below ; 
 
 How nothing, there, do all things seem, 
 That here make such a show ! 
 
 Then round about I turn my eyes 
 
 To feast my hungry sight ; 
 I meet with Heaven in every thing, 
 
 In every thing delight. 
 
 I see Thy wisdom ruling all, 
 
 And it with joy admire ; 
 I see myself among such hopes 
 
 As set my heart on fire. 
 
 When I have thus triumph'd awhile, 
 And think to build my nest, 
 
 Some cross conceits come fluttering by, 
 And interrupt my rest. 
 
 Then to the earth again I fall, 
 
 And from my low dust cry, 
 'Twas not in my wing, Lord, but Thine, 
 
 That I got up so high. 
 
 And now, my God, whether I rise, 
 
 Or still lie down in dust, 
 Both I submit to Thy blest will ; 
 
 In both, on Thee I trust. 
 
394 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Guide Thou my way, who art Thyself 
 
 My everlasting End, 
 That every step, or swift, or slow, 
 
 Still to Thyself may tend ! 
 
 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
 
 One consubstantial Three, 
 All highest praise, all humblest thanks, 
 
 Now and for ever be ! Amen. 
 
 John Austin. 1668. 
 
 CCCLXVITI. 
 
 There is a pure and tranquil wave, 
 That rolls around the throne of love, 
 Whose waters gladden as they lave 
 The peaceful shores above. 
 
 While streams, which on that tide depend, 
 Steal from those heavenly shores away, 
 And on this desert world descend 
 O'er weary lands to stray ; 
 
 The pilgrim faint, and nigh to sink 
 Beneath his load of earthly woe, 
 Refresh'd beside their verdant brink, 
 Rejoices in their flow. 
 
 There, O my soul, do thou repair, 
 And hover o'er the hallowed spring, 
 To drink the crystal wave, and there 
 To lave thy wearied wing ! 
 
 There droop that wing, when far it flies 
 From human care, and toil, and strife, 
 And feed by those still streams, that rise 
 Beneath the Tree of Life ! 
 
Hope, 395 
 
 It may be that the breath of love 
 Some leaves on their pure tide have driven, 
 Which, passing from the shores above, 
 Have floated down from Heaven. 
 
 So shall thy wounds and woes be healed, 
 By the blest virtue that they bring ; 
 So thy parch'd lips shall be unsealed 
 Thy Saviour's praise to sing ! 
 
 William Ball. 1825. 
 
 CCCLXIX. 
 
 Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 
 While these hot breezes blow ; 
 
 Be like the night-dew's cooling balm 
 Upon earth's fevered brow ! 
 
 Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 
 
 Soft resting on Thy breast ; 
 Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm, 
 
 And bid my spirit rest. 
 
 Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 
 
 Let thine outstretched wing, 
 Be like the shade of Elim's palm 
 
 Beside her desert-spring. 
 
 Yes ; keep me calm, though loud and rude 
 The sounds my ear that greet ; 
 
 Calm in the closet's solitude, 
 Calm in the bustling street ; 
 
 Calm in the hour of buoyant health. 
 
 Calm in my hour of pain ; 
 Calm in my poverty or wealth. 
 
 Calm in my loss or gain > 
 
396 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Calm in the sufferance of wrong, 
 Like Him who bore my shame ; 
 
 Calm 'mid the threatening, taunting throng, 
 Who hate Thy holy Name ; 
 
 Calm when the great world's news with power 
 
 My listening spirit stir : 
 Let not the tidings of the hour 
 
 E'er find too fond an ear : 
 
 Calm as the ray of sun or star 
 
 Which storms assail in vain, 
 Moving unruffled through earth's war 
 
 Th' eternal calm to gain ! 
 
 Horatius Bonar. 1856. 
 
 CCCLXX. 
 
 O send me down a draught of love, 
 Or take me hence to drink above ! 
 Here, Marah's water fills my cup ; 
 But there, all griefs are swallow'd up. 
 
 Love here is scarce a faint desire ; 
 But there, the spark's a flaming fire ; , 
 Joys here are drops, that passing flee ; 
 But there, an overflowing sea. 
 
 My faith, that sees so darkly here, 
 Will there resign to vision clear ; 
 My hope, that's here a weary groan, 
 Will to fruition yield the throne. 
 
 Here fetters hamper freedom's wing ; 
 But there, the captive is a king ; 
 And grace is like a buried seed 
 But sinners there are saints indeed. 
 
Hope. 397 
 
 My portion here's a crumb at best ; 
 But there, the Lamb's eternal feast ; 
 My praise is now a smother'd fire ; 
 But then, I'll sing and never tire. 
 
 Now dusky shadows cloud my day ; 
 But then, the shades will flee away ; 
 My Lord will break the dimming glass, 
 And show His glory face to face. 
 
 My numerous foes now beat me down ; 
 But then, I'll wear the victor's crown ; 
 Yet all the revenues I'll bring 
 To Zion's everlasting King ! 
 
 Ralph Erskine. 1 734. 
 
 CCCLXXI. 
 
 Fierce passions discompose the mind, 
 
 As tempests vex the sea ; 
 But calm content and peace we find. 
 
 When, Lord, we turn to Thee. 
 
 In vain by reason and by rule 
 
 We try to bend the will ; 
 For none but in the Saviour's school 
 
 Can learn the heavenly skill. 
 
 Since at His feet my soul has sat 
 
 His gracious words to hear, 
 Contented with my present state, 
 
 I cast on Him my care. 
 
 " Art thou a sinner, Soul ?" He said ; 
 
 " Then how canst thou complain ? 
 " How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd 
 
 (i With everlasting pain ! 
 
39$ The Book of Praise. 
 
 " If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured, 
 * Compare thy griefs with Mine ; 
 
 " Think what My love for thee endured, 
 " And thou wilt not repine. 
 
 " 'Tis I appoint thy daily lot, 
 
 "And I do all things well : 
 " Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot, 
 
 " And rise with Me to dwell. 
 
 " In life My grace shall strength supply, 
 
 " Proportion'd to thy day ; 
 "At death thou still shalt find Me nigh, 
 
 '' To wipe thy tears away." 
 
 Thus I, who once my wretched days 
 
 In vain repinings spent, 
 Taught in my Saviour's school of grace, 
 
 Have learnt to be content. 
 
 William Cowper. 1779. 
 
 CCCLXXII. 
 Let me be with Thee where Thou art, 
 
 My Saviour, my eternal Rest ! 
 Then only will this longing heart 
 
 Be fully and for ever blest ! 
 
 Let me be with Thee where Thou art, 
 
 Thy unveil'd glory to behold ; 
 Then only will this wandering heart 
 
 Cease to be treacherous, faithless, cold ! 
 
 Let me be with Thee where Thou art, 
 Where spotless saints Thy Name adore ; 
 
 Then only will this sinful heart 
 Be evil and defiled no more ! 
 
Hope. 399 
 
 Let me be with Thee where Thou art, 
 Where none can die, where none remove ; 
 
 There neither death nor life will part 
 Me from Thy Presence and Thy love ! 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. 1836. 
 
 CCCLXXIII. 
 
 O Lord, how little do we know, 
 How little of Thy Presence feel, 
 
 While we continue here below, 
 And in these earthly houses dwell ! 
 
 When will these veils of flesh remove, 
 And not eclipse our sight of God ? 
 
 When wilt Thou take us up above, 
 To see Thy face without a cloud ? 
 
 Show Thy omnipotence to save ! 
 
 The characters of sin efface ! 
 Thine image on our hearts engrave, 
 
 And let us feel Thy sweet embrace ! 
 
 Dart in our hearts a heavenly ray, 
 A ray which still may shine more bright, 
 
 Increasing to the perfect day, 
 Till we awake in endless light ! 
 
 Then shall each Star become a Sun, 
 
 Fill'd with a lustre all Divine ; 
 Each shall possess a radiant crown, 
 
 And to eternal ages shine. 
 
 William Hammond. 1745. 
 
40o The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCCLXXIV. 
 
 Go up, go up, my heart, 
 
 Dwell with thy God above ; 
 For here thou canst not rest, 
 
 Nor here give out thy love. 
 
 Go up, go up, my heart, 
 
 Be not a trifler here ; 
 Ascend above these clouds, 
 
 Dwell in a higher sphere. 
 
 Let not thy love flow out 
 To things so soiled and dim ; 
 
 Go up to Heaven and God, 
 Take up thy love to Him. 
 
 Waste not thy precious stores 
 
 On creature-love below ; 
 To God that wealth belongs, 
 
 On Him that wealth bestow. 
 
 Go up, reluctant heart, 
 
 Take up thy rest above ; 
 Arise, earth-clinging thoughts ; 
 
 Ascend, my lingering love ! 
 
 Horatius Bonar. 1856. 
 
 CCCLXXV. 
 
 My soul, amid this stormy world, 
 Is like some flutter 1 d dove, 
 
 And fain would be as swift of wing 
 To flee to Him I love. 
 
Hofit. 4of 
 
 The cords that bound my heart to earth 
 
 Are broken by His hand ; 
 Before His cross I found myself 
 
 A stranger in the land. 
 
 That visage marr'd, those sorrows deep, 
 
 The vinegar and gall, 
 These were His golden chains of love 
 
 His captive to enthral. 
 
 My heart is with Him on His throne, 
 
 And ill can brook delay, 
 Each moment listening for the voice, 
 
 " Rise up, and come away !" 
 
 With hope deferr'd oft sick and faint, 
 
 " Why tarries He ? " I cry ; 
 Let not the Saviour chide my haste, 
 
 For then would I reply : 
 
 " May not an exile, Lord, desire 
 
 " His own sweet land to see ? 
 " May not a captive seek release, 
 
 " A prisoner, to be free ? 
 
 " A child, when far away, may long 
 " For home and kindred dear ; 
 And she, that waits her absent lord, 
 , May sigh till he appear. 
 
 i I would, my Lord and Saviour, know 
 " That which no measure knows ! 
 
 " Would search the mystery of Thy love, 
 " The depths of all Thy woes ! 
 D D 
 
402 The Book of Praise. 
 
 " I fain would strike my harp divine* 
 
 " Before the Father's throne, 
 " There cast my crown of Righteousness, 
 
 " And sing what grace has done ! 
 
 '" Ah ! leave me not in this base world, 
 
 " A stranger still to roam ; 
 *" Come, Lord, and take me to Thyself ; 
 
 "Come, Jesus, quickly come ! 
 
 Robert C. Chapman. 1837 — 1852. 
 
 CCCLXXVI. 
 
 Jesus, 1 my cross have taken, 
 
 All to leave, and follow Thee ; 
 Destitute, despised, forsaken, 
 
 Thou, from hence, my all shalt be : 
 Perish every fond ambition, 
 
 All I've sought, or hoped, or known ; 
 Yet how rich is my condition ! 
 
 God and Heaven are still my own ! 
 
 Let the world despise and leave me, 
 
 They have left my Saviour too ; 
 Human hearts and looks deceive me ; 
 
 Thou art not, like them, untrue : 
 And, while Thou shalt smile upon me, 
 
 God of wisdom, love, and might, 
 Foes may hate, and friends may shun me ; 
 
 Show Thy face, and all is bright ! 
 
 Go, then, earthly fame and treasure ! 
 
 Come, disaster, scorn, and pain ! 
 In Thy service, pain is pleasure, 
 
 With Thy favour, loss is gain ! 
 
Hope. 403 
 
 I have call'd Thee, Abba, Father ! 
 
 I have stay'd my heart on Thee ! 
 Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, 
 
 All must work for good to me. 
 
 Man may trouble and distress me, 
 
 'Twill but drive me to Thy breast ; 
 Life with trials hard may press me, 
 
 Heaven will bring me sweeter rest ! 
 O ! 'tis not in grief to harm me, 
 
 While Thy love is left to me ! 
 O ! 'twere not in joy to charm me, 
 
 Were that joy unmix'd with Thee ! 
 
 Take, my soul, thy full salvation ; 
 
 Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care ; 
 Joy to find, in every station, 
 
 Something still to do or bear : 
 Think what Spirit dwells within thee ! 
 
 What a Father's smile is thine ! 
 What a Saviour died to win thee ! 
 
 Child of Heaven, shouldst thou repine ? 
 
 Haste then on from grace to glory, 
 
 Arm'd by faith, and wing'd by prayer ; 
 Heaven's eternal day's before thee, 
 
 God's own hand shall guide thee there ! 
 Soon shall close thy earthly mission, 
 
 Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days ; 
 Hope soon change to glad fruition, 
 
 Faith to sight, and prayer to praise ! 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. [1825.] 
 
 DD2 
 
404 The Book of Praise. 
 
 VI. 
 
 JOY. 
 
 "In whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, 
 ye rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory? 
 — (1 Pet. i. 8.) 
 
 CCCLXXVII. 
 
 My God, the Spring of all my joys, 
 
 The Life of my delights, 
 The Glory of my brightest days, 
 
 And Comfort of my nights : 
 
 In darkest shades if He appear, 
 
 My dawning is begun ;■■ 
 He is my soul's sweet Morning-star, 
 
 And He my rising Sun. 
 
 The opening heavens around me shine 
 
 With beams of sacred bliss, 
 While Jesus shows, His heart is mine, 
 
 And whispers, I am His. 
 
 My soul would leave this heavy clay 
 
 At that transporting word, 
 Run up with joy the- shining way 
 
 T' embrace my dearest Lord. 
 
 Fearless of hell and ghastly death, 
 
 I'd break through every foe : 
 The wings of love and arms of faith 
 
 Should bear me conqueror through. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
Joy. 405 
 
 CCCLXXVIII. 
 Far 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 ! 
 
 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 light Divine ; 
 And, all hannonious 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 ! 
 
 William Cowper. 1779. 
 
 CCCLXXIX. 
 There's not a bird, with lonely nest 
 In pathless wood or mountain crest, 
 Nor meaner thing, which does not share, 
 O God ! in Thy paternal care ! 
 
406 The Book of Praise. 
 
 There's not a being now accurst, 
 Who did not taste Thy goodness first ; 
 And every joy the wicked see 
 Received its origin from Thee. 
 
 Each barren crag, each desert rude, 
 Holds Thee within its solitude ; 
 And Thou dost bless the wanderer there, 
 Who makes his solitary prayer. 
 
 In busy mart and crowded street, 
 No less than in the still retreat, 
 Thou, Lord, art near, our souls to bless 
 With all a parent's tenderness ! 
 
 And every moment still doth bring 
 Thy blessings on its loaded wing ; 
 Widely they spread through earth and sky, 
 And last to all eternity ! 
 
 Through all creation let Thy Name 
 Be echoed with a glad acclaim ! 
 That let the grateful Churches sing ; 
 With that let heaven for ever ring ! 
 
 And we, where'er our lot is cast, 
 While life and thought and feeling last, 
 Through all our years, in every place, 
 Will bless Thee for Thy boundless grace ! 
 Baptist Wriothes ley Noel. [1841, 
 
 CCCLXXX. 
 
 The child leans on its parent's breast, 
 Leaves there its cares, and is at rest ; 
 The bird sits singing by his nest, 
 
Joy. 407 
 
 And tells aloud 
 His trust in God, and so is blest 
 
 'Neath every cloud. 
 
 He has no store, he sows no seed ; 
 Yet sings aloud, and doth not heed \ 
 By flowing stream or grassy mead 
 
 He sings to shame: 
 Men, who forget, in fear of need, 
 
 A Father's Name.. 
 
 The heart that trusts for ever sings, 
 And feels as light as it had wings ; 
 A well of peace within it springs : 
 
 Come good or ill, 
 Whate'er to-day, to-morrow brings, 
 
 It is His will ! 
 Isaac Williams. [1842.T 
 
 CCCLXXXI. 
 
 Why comes this fragrance on the summer breeze, 
 The blended tribute of ten thousand flowers, 
 
 To me, a frequent wanderer 'mid the trees 
 That form these gay, \though solitary bowers ? 
 
 One answer is around, beneath, above ; 
 
 The echo of the voice, that God is Love ! 
 
 Why bursts such melody from tree and bush, 
 The overflowing of each songster's heart, 
 
 So filling mine, that it can scarcely hush 
 Awhile to listen, but would take its part ? 
 
 'Tis but one song I hear where'er 1 rove, 
 
 Though countless be the notes, that God is Love ! 
 
408 The Book of Praise, 
 
 Why leaps the streamlet down the mountain's side. 
 
 Hastening so swiftly to the vale beneath, 
 To cheer the shepherd's thirsty flock, or glide 
 
 Where the hot sun has left a faded wreath, 
 Or, rippling, aid the music of the grove ? 
 Its own glad voice replies, that God is Love ! 
 
 In starry heavens, at the midnight hour, 
 In ever-varying hues at morning's dawn, 
 
 In the fair bow athwart the falling shower, 
 In forest, river, lake, rock, hill, and lawn, 
 
 One truth is written : all conspire to prove, 
 
 What grace of old reveal'd, that God is Love ! 
 
 Nor less this pulse of health, far glancing eye, 
 And heart so moved with beauty, perfume, song, 
 
 This spirit, soaring through a gorgeous sky, 
 Or diving ocean's coral caves among, 
 
 Fleeter than darting fish or startled dove ; 
 
 All, all declare the same, that God is Love ! 
 
 Is it a fallen world on which I gaze ? 
 
 Am I as deeply fallen as the rest, 
 Yet joys partaking, past my utmost praise, 
 
 Instead of wandering forlorn, unblest ? 
 It is as if an unseen spirit strove 
 To grave upon my heart, that God is Love ! 
 
 Yet wouldst thou see, my soul, this truth display'd 
 In characters which wondering angels read, 
 
 And read, adoring ; go, imploring aid 
 
 To gaze with faith, behold the Saviour bleed ! 
 
 Thy God, in human form ! O, what can prove, 
 
 If this suffice thee not, that God is Love ? 
 
Joy. 409 
 
 Cling to His cross ; and let thy ceaseless prayer 
 Be, that thy grasp may fail not ! and, ere long, 
 
 Thou shalt ascend to that fair Temple, where 
 In strains ecstatic an innumerous throng 
 
 Of saints and seraphs, round the Throne above, 
 
 Proclaim for evermore, that God is Love ! 
 
 Thomas Davis. 1859. 
 
 CCCLXXXII. 
 Shall I fear, O Earth, thy bosom ? 
 
 Shrink and faint to lay me there, 
 Whence the fragrant lovely blossom 
 
 Springs to gladden earth and air ? 
 
 Whence the tree, the brook, the river, 
 Soft clouds floating in the sky, 
 
 All fair things come, whispering ever 
 Of the love Divine on high ? 
 
 Yea, whence One arose Victorious 
 O'er the darkness of the grave, 
 
 His strong arm revealing, glorious 
 In its might Divine to save ? 
 
 No, fair Earth ! a tender mother 
 Thou hast been, and yet canst be : 
 
 And through Him, my Lord and Brother, 
 Sweet shall be my rest in thee ! 
 
 Thomas Davis. 1 860. 
 
 CCCLXXXTIT. 
 
 How vast the treasure we possess, 
 How rich Thy bounty, King of grace ! 
 This world is ours, and worlds to come ; 
 Earth is our lodge, and Heaven our home 
 
4io The Book of Praise. 
 
 All things are ours, the gifts of God, 
 The purchase of a Saviour's Blood ; 
 While the good Spirit shews us how 
 To use and to improve them too. 
 
 If peace and plenty crown my days, 
 They help me, Lord, to speak Thy praise ; 
 If bread of sorrows be my food, 
 Those sorrows work my lasting good. 
 
 I would not change my blest estate 
 For all the world calls good or great ; 
 And, while my faith can keep her hold, 
 I envy not the sinner s gold, 
 
 Father ; I wait Thy daily will ; 
 Thou shalt divide my portion still ; 
 Grant me on earth what seems Thee best, 
 Till death and Heaven reveal the rest. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
 CCCLXXXIV. 
 
 By faith in Christ I walk with God, 
 With Heaven, my journey's end, in view; 
 
 Supported by His staff and rod, 
 My road Is safe, and pleasant too. 
 
 I travel through a desert wide 
 Where many round me blindly stray ; 
 
 But He vouchsafes to be my Guide, 
 And will not let me miss my way. 
 
 Though snares and dangers throng my path ? 
 
 And earth and hell my course withstand, 
 I triumph over all by faith, 
 
 Guarded by His Almighty hand. 
 
Joy. 4M 
 
 The wilderness affords no food ; 
 
 But God for my support prepares, 
 Provides me every needful good, 
 
 And frees my soul from wants and cares. 
 
 With him sweet converse I maintain ; 
 
 Great as He is, I dare be free ; 
 I tell Him all my grief and pain ; 
 
 And He reveals His love to me. 
 
 Some cordial from His Word He brings, 
 
 Whene'er my feeble spirit faints ; 
 At once my soul revives and sings, 
 
 And yields no more to sad complaints. 
 
 I pity all that worldlings talk 
 
 Of pleasures, that will quickly end ; 
 
 Be this my choice, O Lord, to walk 
 With Thee, my Guide, my Guard, my Friend ! 
 John Newton, 1 779. 
 
 CCCLXXXV. 
 
 Sometimes a light surprises 
 
 The Christian while he sings , 
 It is the Lord, who rises 
 
 With healing in His wings : 
 When comforts are declining, 
 
 He grants the soul again 
 A season of clear shining 
 
 To cheer it after rain. 
 
 In holy contemplation 
 We sweetly then pursue 
 
 The theme of God's salvation, 
 And find it ever new ; 
 
412 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Set free from present sorrow, 
 
 We cheerfully can say, 
 E'en let the unknown to-morrow 
 
 Bring with it what it may. 
 
 It can bring with it nothing, 
 
 But He will bear us through ; 
 Who gives the lilies clothing 
 
 Will clothe His people too ; 
 Beneath the spreading heavens 
 
 No creature but is fed ; 
 And He, who feeds the ravens, 
 
 Will give His children bread. 
 
 Though vine nor fig-tree neither 
 
 Their wonted fruit shall bear ; 
 Though all the field should wither, 
 
 Nor flocks nor herds be there ; 
 Yet, God the same abiding, 
 
 His praise shall tune my voice ; 
 For, while in Him confiding, 
 
 I cannot but rejoice. 
 
 William Cowper. 1779. 
 
 CCCLXXXVI. 
 
 Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest ; 
 
 Far did I rove, and found no certain home ; 
 At last I sought them in His sheltering breast, 
 
 Who opes His arms, and bids the weary come : 
 With Him I found a home, a rest Divine ; 
 And I since then am His, and He is mine. 
 
 Yes ! He is mine ! and nought of earthly things, 
 Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power^ 
 
 The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings, 
 Could tempt me to forego His love an hour. 
 
Joy. 413 
 
 Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine ! 
 Go ! I my Saviours am, and He is mine. 
 
 The good I have is from His stores supplied ; 
 
 The ill is only what He deems the best ; 
 He for my Friend, I'm rich with nought beside ; 
 
 And poor without Him, though of all possest : 
 Changes may come ; I take, or I resign ; 
 Content, while I am His, while He is mine. 
 
 Whate'er may change, in Him no change is seen ; 
 
 A glorious Sun, that wanes not nor declines ; 
 Above the clouds and storms He walks serene, 
 
 And sweetly on his people's darkness shines : 
 All may depart ; I fret not, nor repine, 
 While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine. 
 
 He stays me falling, lifts me up when down, 
 Reclaims me wandering, guards from every foe ; 
 
 Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown ; 
 Which, in return, before His feet I throw, 
 
 Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine, 
 
 Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine. 
 
 While here, alas ! I know but half His love, 
 But half discern Him, and but half adore ; 
 
 But when I meet Him in the realms above, 
 I hope to love Him better, praise Him more, 
 
 And feel, and tell, amid the choir Divine, 
 
 How fully I am His, and He is mine. 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1833. 
 
4^4 The Book of Praise. 
 
 VII. 
 
 DISCIPLINE. 
 
 ' Whom the Lord loveth> He chasteneth.'—(H eb . xii . 6.) 
 
 CCCLXXXVII. 
 
 When Christ, with all His graces crown'd, 
 Sheds His kind beams abroad, 
 
 Tis a young Heaven on earthly ground, 
 And glory in the bud. 
 
 A blooming paradise of joy 
 
 In this wild desert springs, 
 And every sense I straight employ 
 
 On sweet celestial things. 
 
 But ah ! how soon my joys decay ! 
 
 How soon my sins arise 
 And snatch the heavenly scene away 
 
 From these lamenting eyes ! 
 
 When shall the time, dear Jesus, when 
 
 The shining day appear, 
 That I shall leave those clouds of sin 
 
 And guilt and darkness here ? 
 
 Up to the fields above the skies 
 
 My hasty feet would go ; 
 There everlasting flowers arise, 
 
 And joys un withering grow ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
Discipline, 4*5 
 
 CCCLXXXVIII* 
 
 O 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. 
 
 The dearest idol 1 have known, 
 
 Whate'er 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 .' 
 
 William Cowptr. 1779. 
 
 CCCLXXXIX. 
 
 The spring-tide hour 
 Brings leaf and flower 
 With songs of life and love ; 
 
4i 6 The Book of Praise. 
 
 And many a lay- 
 Wears out the day 
 
 In many a leafy grove. 
 Bird, flower, and tree 
 Seem to agree 
 
 Their choicest gifts to bring ; 
 But this poor heart 
 Bears not its part, 
 
 In it there is no spring. 
 
 Dews fall apace, 
 
 The dews of grace, 
 Upon this soul of sin 
 
 And love Divine 
 
 Delights to shine 
 Upon the waste within : 
 
 Yet, year by year, 
 
 Fruits, flowers, appear, '. . 
 
 And birds their praises sing ; 
 
 But this poor heart 
 
 Bears not its part, 
 Its winter has no spring. 
 
 Lord, let Thy love, 
 
 Fresh from above, 
 Soft as the south wind blow ; 
 
 Call forth its bloom, 
 
 Wake its perfume, 
 And bid its spices flow ! 
 
 And when Thy voice 
 
 Makes earth rejoice, 
 And the hills laugh and sing, 
 
 Lord ! make this heart 
 
 To bear its part, 
 And join the praise of spring ! 
 
 John S. B. MonselL 1850. 
 
Discipline. 417 
 
 cccxc. 
 Psalm LXIII. 
 
 Early, my God, without delay, 
 
 I haste to seek Thy face ; 
 My thirsty spirit faints away 
 
 Without Thy cheering grace. 
 
 So pilgrims on the scorching sand 
 
 Beneath a burning sky 
 Long for a cooling stream at hand, 
 
 And they must drink, or die. 
 
 I've seen Thy glory and Thy power 
 
 Through all Thy temple shine ; 
 My God ! repeat that heavenly hour 
 
 That vision so divine ! 
 
 Not life itself, with all her joys, 
 
 Can my best passions move, 
 Or raise so high my cheerful voice, 
 
 As Thy forgiving love. 
 
 Thus till my last expiring day 
 
 I'll bless my God and King ; 
 Thus will I lift my hands to pray, 
 
 And tune my lips to sing. 
 
 Isaac Watts 1719. 
 
 CCCXCI. 
 
 God moves in a mysterious way 
 His wonders to perform ; 
 
 He plants his footsteps in the sea, 
 And rides upon the storm. 
 
 E E 
 
4i 8 The Book oj Praise. 
 
 Deep in unfathomable mines 
 
 Of never-failing skill, 
 He treasures up His bright designs,* 
 
 And works His sovereign will. 
 
 Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ; 
 
 The clouds ye so much dread 
 Are big with mercy, and shall break 
 
 In blessings on your head. 
 
 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
 But trust Him for His grace ; 
 
 Behind a frowning Providence 
 He hides a smiling face. 
 
 His purposes will ripen fast, 
 
 Unfolding every hour ; 
 The bud may have a bitter taste, 
 
 But sweet will be the flower. 
 
 Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
 And scan His work in vain ; 
 
 God is His own interpreter, 
 And He will make it plain. 
 
 William Cowper. 1779. 
 
 cccxcn. 
 
 The world can neither give nor take, 
 
 Nor can they 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 Three, when Jesus made the Fourth, 
 
 Found fire as soft as air. 
 
Discipline. 419 
 
 God's furnace doth in Zion stand ; 
 
 But Zion's God sits by, 
 As the refiner views his gold 
 
 With an observant eye. 
 
 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. 
 Cento by Selina, Countess of Htmtingdon. 1780. 
 From John Mason. 1683. 
 
 CCCXCIIT. 
 Let Jacob to his Maker sing, 
 And praise his great Redeeming King , 
 Call'd by a new, a gracious Name, 
 Let Israel loud his God proclaim. 
 
 He knows our souls in all their fears, 
 And gently wipes our falling tears ; 
 Forms trembling voices to a song, 
 And bids the feeble heart be strong. 
 
 Then let the rivers swell around, 
 And rising floods o'erflow the ground ; 
 Rivers and floods and seas divide, 
 And homage pay to Israel's Guide. 
 
 Then let the fires their rage display, 
 And flaming terrors bar the way : 
 Unburnt, unsinged, He leads them through, 
 And makes the flames refreshing too. 
 
 The fires but on their bonds shall prey : 
 The floods but wash their stains away ; 
 And Grace Divine new trophies raise 
 Amidst the deluge and the blaze. 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755, 
 E E 2 
 
420 The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCCXCIV. 
 
 To Thee, my God, whose Presence fills 
 
 The earth, and seas, and skies, 
 To Thee, whose Name, whose heart is Love, 
 
 With all my powers I rise. 
 
 Troubles in long succession roll ; 
 
 Wave rushes upon wave j 
 Pity, O pity my distress ! 
 
 Thy childj Thy suppliant, save ! 
 
 O bid the roaring tempest cease ; 
 
 Or give me strength to bear 
 Whate'er Thy holy will appoints, 
 
 And save me from despair ! 
 
 To Thee, my God, alone I look, 
 
 On Thee alone confide ; 
 Thou never hast deceived the soul 
 
 That on Thy grace relied. 
 
 Though oft Thy ways are wrapt in clouds 
 
 Mysterious and unknown, 
 Truth, Righteousness, and Mercy stand 
 
 The pillars of Thy throne. 
 
 Tho7nas Gibbons. ] 784. 
 
 CCCXCV. 
 
 The billows swell, the winds are high, 
 
 Clouds overcast my wintry sky ; 
 
 Out of the depths to Thee I call, 
 
 My fears are great, my strength is small. 
 
Discipline. 42 1 
 
 O Lord, the pilot's part perform, 
 And guide and guard me through the storm ; 
 Defend me from each threatening ill, 
 Control the waves, say, " Peace, be still ! * 
 
 Amidst the roaring of the sea 
 My soul still hangs her hopes on Thee ; 
 Thy constant love, Thy faithful care 
 Is all that saves me from despair. 
 
 Dangers of every shape and name 
 Attend the followers of the Lamb, 
 Who leave the world's deceitful shore, 
 And leave it to return no more. 
 
 Though tempest-toss'd, and half a wreck, 
 My Saviour through the floods I seek : 
 Let neither winds nor stormy main 
 Force back my shatter'd bark again ! 
 
 William Cowper. 1779. 
 
 cccxcvi. 
 
 Why should I, in vain repining, 
 
 Mourn the clouds that cross my way ; 
 
 Since my Saviour's Presence shining 
 Turns my darkness into day ? 
 
 Earthly honour, earthly treasure, 
 All the warmest passions win, 
 
 And the silken wings of pleasure 
 Only waft us on to sin. 
 
 But, within the vale of sorrow. 
 All with tempests overblown, 
 
 Purer light and joy we borrow 
 From the face of God alone. 
 
422 The Book of Praise, 
 
 Welcome, then, each darker token ! 
 
 Mercy sent it from above ! 
 So the heart, subdued, not broken, 
 
 Bends in fear, and melts with love. 
 
 James Edmeston. 1820, 
 
 CCCXCVII. 
 
 Why should I fear the darkest hour, 
 Or tremble at the Tempter's power ? 
 Jesus vouchsafes to be my Tower. 
 
 Though hot the fight, why quit the field I 
 Why must I either fly or yield, 
 Since Jesus is my mighty Shield ? 
 
 When creature-comforts fade and die, 
 Worldlings may weep, but why should I ? 
 Jesus still lives, and still is nigh. 
 
 Though all the flocks and herds were dead, 
 My soul a famine need not dread, 
 For Jesus is my living Bread. 
 
 I know not what may soon betide, 
 Or how my wants shall be supplied ; 
 But Jesus knows, and will provide. 
 
 Though Sin would fill me with distress, 
 The throne of Grace I dare address, 
 For Jesus is my Righteousness. 
 
 Though faint my prayers, and cold my love, 
 My stedfast hope shall not remove 
 While Jesus intercedes above. 
 
Discipline. 423 
 
 Against me earth and hell combine ; 
 But on my side is Power divine ; 
 Jesus is all, and He is mine ! 
 
 John Newton. 1 779. 
 
 CCCXCVIII. 
 
 When gathering clouds around I view, 
 And days are dark and friends are few, 
 On Him I lean, who not in vain 
 Experienced every human pain ; 
 He sees my wants, allays my fears, 
 And counts and treasures up my tears. 
 
 If aught should tempt my soul to stray 
 
 From heavenly wisdom's narrow way ; 
 
 To fly the good I would pursue, 
 
 Or do the sin I would not do ; 
 
 Still He, who felt temptation's power, 
 
 Shall guard me in that dangerous hour. 
 
 If wounded love my bosom swell, 
 Deceived by those I prized too well ; 
 He shall His pitying aid bestow, 
 Who felt on earth severer woe ; 
 At once betrayed, denied, or fled, 
 By those who shared His daily bread. 
 
 If vexing thoughts within me rise, 
 And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies ; 
 Still He, who once vouchsafed to bear 
 The sickening anguish of despair, 
 Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry, 
 The throbbing heart, the streaming eye. 
 
424 The Book of Praise. 
 
 When sorrowing o'er some stone I bend, 
 Which covers what was once a friend, 
 And from his voice, his hand, his smile, 
 Divides me for a little while ; 
 Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed, 
 For Thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead ! 
 
 And O ! when I have safely past 
 Through every conflict but the last ; 
 Still, still unchanging, watch beside 
 My painful bed, for Thou hast died ! 
 Then point to realms of cloudless day, 
 And wipe the latest tear away ! 
 
 Sir Robert Grant. 1 806 — 1 8 1 2 . 
 
 CCCXCIX. 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right ; 
 
 His-will is ever just ; 
 Howe'er He orders now my cause, 
 I will be still and trust. 
 He is my God ; 
 Though dark my road, 
 He holds me that I shall not fall ; 
 Wherefore to Him I leave it alL 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right ; 
 
 He never will deceive ; 
 He leads me by the proper path, 
 And so to Him I cleave, 
 And take content 
 What He hath sent ; 
 His hand can turn my griefs away, 
 And patiently I wait His day. 
 
Discipline. 425 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right ; 
 
 He taketh thought for me ; 
 The cup that my Physician gives 
 No poisoned draught can be, 
 But medicine due ; 
 For God is true ; 
 And on that changeless truth I build, 
 And all my heart with hope is fill'd. 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right ; 
 
 Though I the cup must drink 
 That bitter seems to my faint heart, 
 I will not fear nor shrink ; 
 Tears pass away 
 With dawn of day ; 
 Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart, 
 And pain and sorrow all depart. 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right ; 
 
 My Light, my Life is He, 
 Who cannot will me aught but good ; 
 I trust Him utterly ; 
 For well I know, 
 In joy or woe, 
 We soon shall see as sunlight clear, 
 How faithful was our Guardian here. 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right ; 
 
 Here will I take my stand, 
 Though sorrow, need, or death make earth 
 For me a desert land. 
 My Father's care 
 Is round me there ; 
 He holds me that I shall not fall, 
 And so to Him I leave it all. 
 
 Catherine Winkworih. 1858. 
 {From Samuel Rodigast.) 1675. 
 
426 The Book of Praise. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 PATIENCE. 
 
 "Be patient, therefore, brethren, unto the coming of 
 the Lord." — (James v. 7.) 
 
 cccc. 
 When languor and disease invade 
 
 This trembling house of clay, 
 'Tis sweet to look beyond the cage, 
 
 And long to fly away. 
 
 Sweet to look inward, and attend 
 
 The whispers of His love ; 
 Sweet to look upward to the place 
 
 Where Jesus pleads above. 
 
 Sweet to look back, and see my Name 
 
 In Life's fair book set down ; 
 Sweet to look forward, and behold 
 
 Eternal joys my own. 
 
 Sweet to reflect, how Grace Divine 
 
 My sins on Jesus laid ; 
 Sweet to remember, that His Blood 
 
 My debt of sufferings paid. 
 
 Sweet on His Righteousness to stand 
 Which saves from second death ; 
 
 Sweet to experience, day by day, 
 His Spirit's quickening breath. 
 
 Sweet on His faithfulness to rest, 
 
 Whose love can never end ; 
 Sweet on His covenant of grace 
 
 For all things to depend. 
 
Patience. 427 
 
 Sweet in the confidence of faith 
 
 To trust His firm decrees ; 
 Sweet to lie passive in His hand, 
 
 And know 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 disimprison'd 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. 
 
 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 Jesus' Presence know ! 
 
428 The Book of Praise. 
 
 If such the sweetness of the stream, 
 
 What must the 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 dismiss'd, 
 
 My spirit flies away ! 
 
 Augustus Montague Toplady. 1777. 
 
 CCCCI. 
 
 We're bound for yonder land 
 Where Jesus reigns supreme ; 
 We leave the shore at His command, 
 Forsaking all for Him. 
 
 The perils of the sea, 
 The rocks, the waves, the wind, 
 Are small, whatever they may be, 
 To those we leave behind. 
 
 Nor have we cause to fear ; 
 The God, who rules the sea, 
 In every danger will be near, 
 And our protector be. 
 
 The Lord Himself will keep 
 His people safe from harm, 
 Will hold the helm, and guide the ship, 
 With His Almighty arm. 
 
 Then let the tempests roar, 
 The billows heave and swell ; 
 We trust to reach the peaceful shore 
 Where all the ransom'd dwell : 
 
Patience. 429 
 
 And, when we gain the land, 
 How happy shall we be ! 
 How shall we bless the mighty Hand 
 That led us through the sea ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly. 1809, 
 
 ccccn. 
 
 Rejoice, though storms assail thee ; 
 
 Rejoice, when skies are bright ; 
 Rejoice, though round thy pathway 
 
 Is spread the gloom of night : 
 If the good hope be in thee 
 
 That all at last is well, 
 Then let thy happy spirit 
 
 With joyful feelings swell ! 
 
 Look back on early childhood, 
 
 And let thy soul rejoice ! 
 Who then upheld thy goings, 
 
 And tuned thy feeble voice ? 
 Look back on youth's gay visions 
 
 When life one glory seem'd : 
 Who pour'd those rays of gladness 
 
 Which on thy prospect beam'd ? 
 
 Recall the hours of anguish, 
 
 And let thy soul rejoice, 
 Though wave on wave of sorrow 
 
 Rush on with fearful noise : 
 Was not the Bow of Promise 
 
 Still seen amidst the gloom, 
 Shedding its hallow'd lustre 
 
 E'en round the silent tomb ? 
 
43° The Book of Praise. 
 
 Rejoice, rejoice for ever, 
 
 Though earthly friends be gone ! 
 For silently and swiftly 
 
 The wheels of time roll on ; 
 And still they bear thee forward 
 
 Nearer that happy shore, 
 While the triumphant song is, 
 
 Rejoice for evermore ! 
 
 Henry Fletcher. [1825.] 
 
 CCCCIII. 
 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 E'en though it be a cross 
 
 That raiseth me ; 
 Still all my song would be, 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
 Though like the wanderer, 
 The sun gone down, 
 
 Darkness be over me, 
 My rest a stone ; 
 
 Yet in my dreams I'd be 
 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
 There let the way appear 
 Steps unto Heaven ; 
 
 All that Thou send'st to me 
 In mercy given ; 
 
 Angels to beckon me 
 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
Patience. 43 1 
 
 Then with my waking thoughts 
 
 Bright with Thy praise, 
 Out of my stony griefs 
 
 Bethel I'll raise ; 
 So by my woes to be 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
 Or if on joyful wing 
 
 Cleaving the sky, 
 Sun, moon, and stars forgot, 
 
 Upwards I fly, 
 Still all my song shall be, 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
 Sarah Flower Adams. 1840. 
 
 cccciv. 
 
 Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom, 
 
 Lead Thou me on ; 
 The night is dark, and I am far from home ; 
 
 Lead Thou me on ; 
 Keep Thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
 The distant scene ; one step enough for me. 
 
 I was not ever thus, nor pray'd, that Thou 
 
 Shouldst lead me on ; 
 I loved to choose and see my path ; but now 
 
 Lead Thou me on ! 
 I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, 
 Pride ruled my will : Remember not past years ! 
 
452 The Book of Praise. 
 
 So long Thy Power has blest me, sure it still 
 
 Will lead me on 
 O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till 
 
 The night is gone, 
 And with the morn those angel faces smile 
 Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile I 
 
 John Henry Newman. 1833. 
 
 ccccv. 
 
 Abide with mt ! fast falls the even-tide ; 
 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 ! 
 
 Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word ; 
 But, as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord, 
 Familiar, condescending, patient, free, 
 Come, not to sojourn, but abide, with me ! 
 
 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 
 
Patience. 433 
 
 I need Thy Presence every passing hour : 
 What but Thy grace can foil the Tempter's power ? 
 Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
 Through cloud and sunshine, 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 ! 
 Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ! 
 Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows 
 
 flee ; 
 In life and death, O Lord, abide with me ! 
 
 Henry Francis Lyte. 1847. 
 
 CCCCVI. 
 
 Commit 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 stedfast eye, 
 So shall thy work be done. 
 F F 
 
434 The Book oj Praise. 
 
 No profit canst thou gain 
 By self-consuming care ; 
 To Him commend thy cause ; His ear 
 Attends the softest prayer. 
 
 Thy everlasting Truth, 
 Father ! Thy ceaseless love, 
 Sees all Thy children's wants, and knows 
 What best for each will prove. 
 
 And whatsoe'er Thou will'st 
 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 Thy hand ? 
 
 Give to the winds thy fears ; 
 Hope, and be undismay'd ; 
 God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears, 
 God shall lift up thy head. 
 
 Through waves and clouds and storms, 
 He gently clears thy way ; 
 Wait thou His time ; so shall this night 
 Soon end in joyous day. 
 
Patience. 435 
 
 Still heavy is thy heart ? 
 Still sink thy spirits down ? 
 Cast off the weight, let fear depart, 
 And every care be gone. 
 
 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 stedfast Truth declare, 
 And publish, with our latest breath, 
 Thy love and guardian care ! 
 
 John Wesley. 1739. 
 {From Paul Gerhardt. 1659.; 
 
 CCCCVII. 
 Your harps, ye trembling saints, 
 Down from the willows take ; 
 Loud to the praise of Love divine, 
 Bid every string awake. 
 F F 2 
 
436 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Though in a foreign land, 
 We are not far from home ; 
 And nearer to our house above, 
 We every moment come. 
 
 His Grace will to the end 
 Stronger and brighter shine ; 
 Nor present things, nor things to come, 
 Shall quench the spark divine. 
 
 Fasten'd within the vail, 
 Hope be your anchor strong ; 
 His loving Spirit the sweet gale 
 That wafts you smooth along. 
 
 Or, should the surges rise, 
 And peace delay to come, 
 Blest is the sorrow, kind the storm, 
 That drives us nearer home. 
 
 The people of His choice 
 He will not cast away ; 
 Yet do not always here expect 
 On Tabor's mount to stay. 
 
 When we in darkness walk, 
 Nor feel the heavenly -flame, 
 Then is the time to trust our God, 
 And rest upon His Name. 
 
 Soon shall our doubts and fears 
 Subside at His control ; 
 His loving-kindness shall break through 
 The midnight of the soul. 
 
Patience. 437 
 
 No wonder, when His Love 
 Pervades your kindling breast, 
 You wish for ever to retain 
 The heart-transporting Guest, 
 
 Yet learn, in every state, 
 To make His will your own ; 
 And, when the joys of sense depart, 
 To walk by faith alone. 
 
 By anxious fear depress'd, 
 When from the deep ye mourn, 
 " Lord, why so hasty to depart, 
 " So tedious in return ?" 
 
 Still on His plighted Love 
 At all events rely ; 
 The very hidings of His face 
 Shall train thee up to joy. 
 
 Wait, till the shadows flee ; 
 Wait thy appointed hour ; 
 Wait, till the Bridegroom of thy soul 
 Reveal His Love with power. 
 
 The time of Love will come, 
 When thou shalt clearly see, 
 Not only that He shed His Blood, 
 But that it flowed for thee ! 
 
 Tarry His leisure, then, 
 Although He seem to stay ; 
 A moment's intercourse with Him 
 Thy grief will overpay. 
 
438 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Blest is the man, O God, 
 That stays himself on Thee ! 
 Who wait for Thy salvation, Lord, 
 Shall Thy salvation see ! 
 
 Augustus Montague Toplady. 1772. 
 
 CCCCVIII. 
 
 Through the love of God our Saviour 
 
 All will be well ; 
 Free and changeless is His favour ; 
 
 All, all is well ! 
 Precious is the Blood that heal'd us, 
 Perfect is the grace that seal'd us, 
 Strong the Hand stretch'd forth to shield us ; 
 
 All must be well ! 
 
 Though we pass through tribulation, 
 
 All will be well ; 
 Ours is such a full salvation, 
 
 All, all is well ! 
 Happy, still to God confiding, 
 Fruitful, if in Christ abiding, 
 Holy, through the Spirit's guiding ; 
 
 All must be well ! 
 
 We expect a bright to-morrow, 
 
 All will be well ; 
 Faith can sing through days of sorrow. 
 
 All, all is well ! 
 On our Father s love relying, 
 Jesus every need supplying, 
 Or \n living, or in dying, 
 
 All must be well ! 
 
 Mary Bowly. 1 847. 
 
Patience. 439 
 
 CCCCIX. 
 
 Rest weary soul ! 
 The penalty is borne, the ransom paid, 
 For all thy sins full satisfaction made ; 
 Strive not to do thyself what Christ has done, 
 Claim the free gift, and make the joy thine own ; 
 No more by pangs of guilt and fear distrest, 
 
 Rest, sweetly rest ! 
 
 Rest, weary heart, 
 From all thy silent griefs, and secret pain, 
 Thy profitless regrets, and longings vain ; 
 Wisdom and love have ordered all the past, 
 All shall be blessedness and light at last ; 
 Cast off the cares that have so long opprest ; 
 
 Rest, sweetly rest ! 
 
 Rest, weary head ! 
 Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb : 
 Light from above has broken through its gloom ; 
 Here, in the place where once thy Saviour lay, 
 Where He shall wake thee on a future day, 
 Like a tired child upon its mother's breast, 
 
 Rest, sweetly rest ! 
 
 Rest, spirit free ! 
 In the green pastures of the heavenly shore, 
 Where sin and sorrow can approach no more, 
 With all the flock by the Good Shepherd fed, 
 Beside the streams of Life eternal led, 
 For ever with thy God and Saviour blest, 
 
 Rest, sweetly rest ! 
 
 Jane Borthwick. 1 859. 
 
44° The Book of Praise. 
 
 CCCCX. 
 
 For ever with the Lord ! 
 Amen ! so let it be ! 
 Life from the dead is in that word, 
 ; Tis immortality ! 
 
 Here in the body pent, 
 Absent from Him I roam, 
 Yet nightly pitch my moving tent 
 A day's march nearer home. 
 
 My Father's house on high, 
 Home of my soul ! how near, 
 At times, to faith's far-seeing eye, 
 Thy golden gates appear ! 
 
 Ah ! then my spirit faints 
 To reach the land I love, 
 The bright inheritance of saints, 
 Jerusalem above ! 
 
 Yet clouds will intervene, 
 And all my prospect flies ; 
 Like Noah's dove, I flit between 
 Rough seas and stormy skies. 
 
 Anon the clouds depart, 
 The winds and waters cease ; 
 While sweetly o'er my gladden'd heart 
 Expands the bow of peace ! 
 
 Beneath its glowing arch, 
 Along the hallow'd ground, 
 I see cherubic armies march, 
 A camp of fire around. 
 
Patience. 441 
 
 I hear at morn and even, 
 At noon and midnight hour, 
 The choral harmonies of Heaven 
 Earth's Babel tongues o'erpower. 
 
 Then, then I feel, that He, 
 Remember d or forgot, 
 The Lord, is never far from me, 
 Though I perceive Him not. 
 
 James Montgomery. 1835. 
 
 CCCCXI. 
 
 The 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 : 
 
442 The Book of Praise. 
 
 He calls a worm His friend ! 
 He calls Himself my God ! 
 And He shall save me to the end 
 Through Jesus' Blood. 
 
 He by Himself hath sworn, 
 I on His oath depend ; 
 I shall, on eagle's wings upborne, 
 To Heaven ascend ; 
 I shall behold H is 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 : 
 There milk and honey flow, 
 And oil and wine abound, 
 And trees of life for ever grow, 
 With Mercy crown'd. 
 
 There dwells the Lord our King, 
 The Lord our Righteousness, 
 Triumphant o'er the world and sin, 
 The Prince of Peace ! 
 
Patience. 443 
 
 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 ; 
 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, 
 " 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 ransom 1 d nations bow, 
 O'erwhelm'd at His Almighty grace, 
 For ever new : 
 
444 The Book of Praise. 
 
 He shows His prints of love ; 
 They kindle to a flame, 
 And sound, through all the worlds above, 
 The slaughter'd Lamb ! 
 
 The whole triumphant host 
 Give thanks to God on high ; 
 « Hail ! Father, Son, and Holy Ghost !" 
 They ever cry : 
 Hail ! Abraham's God, and mine ! 
 I join the heavenly lays ; 
 All might and majesty are Thine, 
 And endless praise ! 
 
 Thomas Olivers. 1772. 
 
 CCCCXTI. 
 
 Rev. vii. 9 — 17. 
 
 I saw, and lo ! a countless throng, 
 Th' elect of every nation, name, and tongue, 
 Assembled round the everlasting Throne ; 
 
 With robes of white endued, 
 
 The Righteousness of God ; 
 
 And each a palm sustain'd 
 
 In his victorious hand ; 
 When thus the bright melodious choir begun : 
 
 " Salvation to Thy Name, 
 " Eternal God, and co -eternal Lamb ! 
 " In power, in glory, and in Essence, One !" 
 
 So sung the Saints. Th' Angelic train 
 Second the anthem with a loud Amen : 
 (These in the outer circle stood, 
 The Saints were nearest God ;) 
 
Patience. 445 
 
 And prostrate fall, with glory overpower'd, 
 And hide their faces with their wings, 
 And thus address the King of kings : 
 
 " All hail ! by Thy triumphant Church adored ! 
 " Blessing and thanks and honour too 
 
 " Are Thy supreme, Thy everlasting due, 
 
 " Our Triune Sovereign, our propitious Lord !" 
 
 While I beheld th' amazing sight, 
 A Seraph pointed to the Saints in white, 
 And told me who they were, and whence they came : 
 " These are they, whose lot below 
 " Was persecution, pain, and woe ; 
 " These are the chosen purchased Flock, 
 " Who ne'er their Lord forsook ; 
 "Through His imputed Merit free from blame ; 
 
 " Redeem'd from every sin ; 
 "And, as thou seest, whose garments were made 
 
 clean, 
 " Wash'd in the Blood of yon Exalted Lamb. 
 
 " Saved by His Righteousness alone, 
 " Spotless they stand before the Throne, 
 
 " And in th' ethereal Temple chant His praise : 
 " Himself among them deigns to dwell, 
 " And face to face His Light reveal : 
 " Hunger and thirst, as heretofore, 
 " And pain, and heat, they know no more, 
 
 " Nor need, as once, the sun's prolific rays : 
 " Immanuel here His people feeds, 
 " To streams of joy perennial leads, 
 
 "And wipes, for ever wipes, the tears from every face." 
 
 Happy the souls released from fear, 
 And safely landed there I 
 
446 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Some of the shining number once I knew, 
 And travell'd with them here : 
 Nay some, my elder brethren now, 
 Set later out for Heaven, my junior saints below : 
 Long after me, they heard the call of Grace 
 Which waked them unto Righteousness : 
 How have they got beyond ! 
 Converted last, yet first with glory crown'd ! 
 Little, once, I thought that these 
 Would first the Summit gain, 
 And leave me far behind, slow journeying through 
 the Plain. 
 
 Loved while on earth ! nor less belov'd, tho' gone ! 
 
 Think not I envy you your crown : 
 No ! if I could, I would not call you down ! 
 Though slower is my pace, 
 To you I'll follow on, 
 Leaning on Jesus all the way ; 
 Who, now and then, lets fall a ray 
 Of comfort from His Throne : 
 The shinings of His grace 
 Soften my passage through the wilderness ; 
 And vines, nectareous, spring where briers grew 
 
 The sweet unveilings of His Face 
 Make me, at times, near half as blest as you ! 
 O ! might His Beauty feast my ravish'd eyes, 
 His gladdening Presence ever stay, 
 And cheer me all my journey through ! 
 But soon the clouds return ; my triumph dies ; 
 
 Damp vapours from the valley rise, 
 And hide the hill of Sion from my view. 
 
 Spirit of Light ! thrice holy Dove ! 
 Brighten my sense of interest in that Love 
 
Patience. 447 
 
 Which knew no birth, and never shall expire ! 
 Electing Goodness, firm and free, 
 My whole salvation hangs on thee, 
 Eldest and fairest daughter of Eternity ! 
 Redemption, grace, and glory too, 
 Our bliss above, and hopes below, 
 From her, their parent-fountain, flow. 
 Ah ! tell me, Lord, that Thou hast chosen me ! 
 Thou, who hast kindled my intense desire, 
 Fulfil the wish Thy influence did inspire, 
 
 And let me my election know ! 
 Then, when Thy summons bids me come up 
 higher, 
 Well pleased I shall from life retire, 
 And join the burning hosts, beheld at distance now. 
 Augustus Montague Top lady. 1759 — 1774. 
 
ADDITIONAL HYMNS. 
 
 (iG 
 
ADDITIONAL HYMNS. 
 
 Christ Incarnate, 
 1 
 
 When Thou, O Lord, in flesh wert drest, 
 The world Thou mad'st to free, 
 
 The Inn, where weary travellers rest, 
 Had not a room for Thee. 
 
 The Holy Babe in manger rude 
 
 Was all His birth-night laid ; 
 Pondering God's words, in thoughtful mood, 
 
 Nigh watched the Mother Maid. 
 
 But oh ! that wondrous midnight round 
 What light, what glories throng, 
 
 When man his infant Saviour found, 
 And heard the angels' song ! 
 
 Sweet anthem ! caught from hosts on high, 
 
 Dwell thou our hearts within ; 
 Blest bridal of the earth and sky, 
 
 Long separate through sin. 
 
 Though all unmeet that gladsome hymn 
 
 For harps by sin unstrung, 
 That psalm, by white-robed seraphim 
 
 In God's own presence sung, 
 G G 2 
 
452 The Book of Praise* 
 
 Yet sometimes, when our spirit tires, 
 
 By toil and darkness worn, 
 Lord ! make us hear seraphic choirs, 
 
 And give a glimpse of morn ! 
 
 If love wax cold, and strife increase, 
 
 Chant in our hearts again, 
 " Glory to God on high, and peace 
 
 " On earth, good will to men ! " 
 
 Joseph A nstice. 1 83 6. 
 
 Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! 
 
 Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid ! 
 Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
 
 Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid ! 
 
 Cold on His cradle the dew-drops are shining ; 
 
 Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall ; 
 Angels adore Him, in slumber reclining. 
 
 Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all 
 
 Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, 
 Odours of Edom and offerings divine ? 
 
 Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean, 
 Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine ? 
 
 Vainly we offer each ample oblation ; 
 
 Vainly with gifts would His favour secure : 
 Richer by far is the heart's adoration ; 
 
 Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. 
 
Christ Crucified. 453 
 
 Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! 
 
 Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid ! 
 Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
 
 Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid ! 
 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1 8 1 1 . 
 
 Christ Crucified. 
 3 
 And was crucified for us under Pontius Pilate; 
 He suffered, a?id was buried." 
 
 Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! 
 Hark ! all the tribes Hosanna cry ! 
 Thine humble beast pursues his road, 
 With palms and scattered garments strow'd. 
 
 Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! 
 
 In lowly pomp ride on to die ! 
 
 O Christ ! Thy triumphs now begin 
 
 O'er captive Death and conquer'd Sin. 
 
 Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! 
 The winged squadrons of the sky 
 Look down with sad and wondering eyes 
 To see the approaching Sacrifice. 
 
 Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! 
 Thy last and fiercest strife is nigh ; 
 The Father on His sapphire Throne 
 Expects His own anointed Son. 
 
 Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! 
 In lowly pomp ride on to die ! 
 Bow Thy meek Head to mortal pain ! 
 Then take, O God ! Thy power, and reign ! 
 Henry Hart Milman. 1827, 
 
454 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Bound upon th' accursed tree, 
 Faint and bleeding, Who is He ? 
 By the eyes so pale and dim, 
 Streaming blood, and writhing limb, 
 By the flesh, with scourges torn, 
 By the crown of twisted thorn, 
 By the side, so deeply pierc'd, 
 By the baffled burning thirst, 
 By the drooping death-dew'd brow, 
 Son of Man ! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou ! 
 
 Bound upon th' accursed tree, 
 Dread and awful, Who is He ? 
 By the sun at noonday pale, 
 Shivering rocks, and rending veil, 
 By earth, that trembles at His doom, 
 By yonder saints, that burst their tomb, 
 By Eden, promised ere He died 
 To the felon at His side, 
 Lord, our suppliant knees we bow \ 
 Son of God ! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou ! 
 
 Bound upon th' accursed tree, 
 Sad and dying, Who is He? 
 By the last and bitter cry, 
 The ghost giv'n up in agony ; 
 By the lifeless Body, laid 
 In the chamber of the dead ; 
 By the mourners, come to weep 
 Where the bones of Jesus sleep ; 
 Crucified ! we know Thee now ; 
 Son of Man ! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou ! 
 
Christ Crucified. 4.55 
 
 Bound upon th' accursed tree, 
 
 Dread and awful, Who is He? 
 
 By the prayer for them that slew, 
 
 u Lord ! they know not what they do ! " 
 
 By the spoil'd and empty grave, 
 
 By the souls He died to save, 
 
 By the conquest He hath won, 
 
 By the saints before His Throne, 
 
 By the rainbow round His brow, 
 
 Son of God ! 'tis Thou, 'tis Thou ! 
 
 Henry Hart Mi Im a ji. 1827. 
 
 Not all the blood of beasts, 
 
 On Jewish altars slain, 
 Could give the guilty conscience peace, 
 
 Or wash away the stain. 
 
 But Christ, the heavenly Lamb, 
 
 Takes all our sins away ; 
 A Sacrifice of nobler name 
 
 And richer blood than they. 
 
 My faith would lay her hand 
 
 On that dear Head of Thine, 
 While like a penitent I stand, 
 
 And there confess my sin. 
 
 My soul looks back to see 
 
 The burdens Thou didst bear, 
 When hanging on th' accursed tree, 
 
 And hopes her guilt was there. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
456 The Book of Praise. 
 
 6 
 
 Come, let us join our cheerful songs 
 With angels round the Throne ; 
 
 Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, 
 But all their joys are one. 
 
 w Worthy the Lamb that died," they cry, 
 
 "To be exalted thus ! " 
 " Worthy the Lamb ! " our lips reply, 
 
 <' For He was slain for us," 
 
 Jesus is worthy to receive 
 
 Honour and power divine, 
 And blessings, more than we can give, 
 
 Be, Lord, for ever Thine. 
 
 Let all that dwell above the sky, 
 
 And air, and earth, and seas, 
 Conspire to lift Thy glories high, 
 
 And speak Thine endless praise. 
 
 The whole Creation join in one 
 
 To bless the sacred Name 
 Of Him, that sits upon the Throne, 
 
 And to adore the Lamb ! 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1709. 
 
 Christ Risen. 
 7 
 
 Lo ! the day the Lord hath made ! 
 From the tomb's funereal shade 
 Now the Sun of goodness brings 
 Healing on His radiant wings : 
 
Christ Risen. 457 
 
 And before His bridal light 
 
 All the denizens of night, 
 
 Fear, and shame, and sorrow fade : 
 
 Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 
 
 Angels, who the morn outrun 
 To adore the glorious Sun ; 
 At whose step the firm earth shakes, 
 From whose eye the lightning breaks ; 
 Ye, whose hand excels in might ; 
 Ye, whose accents breathe delight ; 
 Forms in dazzling white array'd ; 
 Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 
 
 Holy women, whom the dawn 
 Sees by pious duty drawn 
 To the Saviour's rock-hewn bed, 
 Tears, and unguents rich, to shed ; 
 Stay your tears, your gifts withhold ; 
 Angel-led, the cave behold, 
 Where the Saviour's corse was laid : 
 Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 
 
 Holy men, beloved pair, 
 
 Who with rival speed repair 
 
 To explore the inmost gloom 
 
 Of the yet untrodden tomb ; 
 
 Mark the clothes, that wrapped Him round, 
 
 Swathed His limbs, His temples bound, 
 
 All in seemliest order laid : 
 
 Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 
 
 First of all the faithful train 
 To behold thy Lord again, 
 Stay not, Mary, weeping here ; 
 See, thy Saviour's self is near : 
 
458 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Quick thy mighty Master greet, 
 Fall in homage at His feet : 
 All thy griefs are now repaid : 
 Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 
 
 Doubtful hearts, whom late He taught, 
 Musing now in anxious thought, 
 Cease your doubts, your sorrows cease, 
 Hear Him speak the words of peace : 
 Deem your eyes no spirit meet ; 
 Mark His pierced hands and feet, 
 Mark His wounded side displayed : 
 Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 
 
 Church of God, whom this fair morn 
 
 Sees to life and glory born, 
 
 Founded on the living Stone, 
 
 Which by Judah's builders thrown, 
 
 Thrown with infamy aside, 
 
 Now becomes thy Strength and Pride ; 
 
 Be thy debt of duty paid ; 
 
 Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 
 
 Ever, as this day shall rise 
 Beaming in the vernal skies, 
 Duly to the Saviour's praise, 
 Church of God, the anthem raise ! 
 Christ our passover was slain ! 
 Keep the feast, and swell the strain ; 
 Christ is raised from the dead ! 
 Bless the day the Lord hath made ! 
 
 Bishop Richard Man/. 1 83 o. 
 
Christ Risen 459 
 
 Ad templa uos rursus vocal. 
 
 Morning lifts her dewy veil 
 
 With new-born blessings crown' d : 
 Let us haste her light to hail 
 
 In courts of holy ground. 
 Christ hath shed a fairer morn, 
 
 From darkness rising free ; 
 In His glorious light new-born, 
 
 Let us lift the jubilee. 
 
 From the swaddling bands of night 
 
 When sprang the world so fair, 
 Putting on her robes of light, 
 
 O what a power was there ! 
 When our God, who gave His Son, 
 
 His guilty foes to spare, 
 Woke to life the guiltless One, 
 
 O what a love was there ! 
 
 When from the Eternal' s hand 
 
 The earth in beauty stood, 
 Deck'd in light at His command, 
 
 He saw, and called it good. 
 Yet a goodlier world it stood 
 
 In the Creator's sight, 
 In the Lamb's all-cleansing blood 
 
 Wash'cl to celestial white. 
 
 Isaac Williams, 1834. 
 
460 The Book of Praise, 
 
 Christ Ascended, 
 
 9 
 
 Where 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 man their Surety stood, 
 And poured on earth His precious Bloody 
 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. 
 
 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 sympathises 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. 
 
 Michael Bruce. 1768. 
 Variation by John Logan. 1781, 
 
Christ Ascended. 461 
 
 10 
 
 Lord of mercy and of might ! 
 Of mankind the Life and Light ! 
 Maker, Teacher Infinite ! 
 
 Jesus ! hear and save ! 
 
 Who, when sin's tremendous doom 
 Gave creation to the tomb, 
 Didst not scorn the Virgin's womb, 
 Jesus ! hear and save ! 
 
 Mighty Monarch ! Saviour mild ! 
 Humbled to a mortal child, 
 Captive, beaten, bound, reviled, 
 
 Jesus ! hear and save ! 
 
 Throned above celestial things, 
 Borne aloft on angels' wings, 
 Lord of lords, and King of kings, 
 Jesus ! hear and save ! 
 
 Who shalt yet return from high, 
 Robed in might and majesty, 
 Hear us ! help us when we cry ! 
 
 Jesus ! hear and save ! 
 Bishop Reginald Heber. 1 8 1 1 . 
 
 11 
 
 Thou the cup of death didst drain, 
 Thou within the tomb wert laid ; 
 
 Thou art Risen, Thou dost reign, 
 Seraphim Thy subjects made ! 
 
462 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Lord ! when we recal the story 
 Of Thy lowliness and glory, 
 Keep us, lest we fall from Thee, 
 Through that awful mystery. 
 
 Who can fathom the abyss 
 
 Where Thou plunged'st for our love ? 
 Who conceive the glorious bliss 
 
 Waiting on Thy steps above ? 
 Cradled in the lowliest shed, 
 Weeping, toiling, suffering, dead ! 
 Mighty Monarch, throned on high, 
 Ruling all in earth and sky ! 
 
 Who is equal to these things ? 
 
 Who such mysteries can brook ? 
 Faith, with eagle eye and wings, 
 
 Scarcely there may soar or look. 
 Thought must seek that height in vain, 
 All her musings turn to pain, 
 Whelmed beneath the mighty load 
 Of that word, Incarnate God ! 
 
 . Blessed, blessed be the Lord ! 
 Who on simple souls and poor 
 Gently has the knowledge pour'd, 
 
 Which the wise can scarce endure. 
 Saved from sinning, happy, healed 
 By those mystic truths revealed, 
 Changed by power above their own, 
 Christ to them is fully known. 
 
 Known when drawing infant breath, 
 Known in labour and in pain, 
 
 Known victorious over death, 
 Known in His triumphant reign. 
 
Christ Ascended. 463 
 
 All He suffered, all He won, 
 God, and woman's wondrous Son : 
 All alike from sin restrain, 
 All to them is wise and plain. 
 
 Other days may come at last, 
 
 When our purer eyes shall see, 
 By no whelming thoughts o'ercast, 
 
 Our salvation's mystery. 
 Give us grace meanwhile to rest, 
 By obedience taught and blest, 
 Sure, that truths which make us free, 
 God of counsel, flow from Thee ! 
 
 Joseph A 11st ice. 1836. 
 
 12 
 
 One there is, above all others, 
 Well deserves the name of Friend : 
 
 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 their 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 : 
 
464 The Book of Praise. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 John Newton. 1 779. 
 
 Chrisfs Kingdo7ii and Judgment. 
 13 
 
 When came in flesh th' Incarnate Word, 
 
 The heedless world slept on, 
 And only simple shepherds heard 
 
 That God had sent His Son. 
 
 When comes the Saviour at the last, 
 From west to east shall shine 
 
 The awful pomp, and earth aghast 
 Shall tremble at the sign. 
 
 Then shall the pure in heart be blest ; 
 
 As mild He comes to them, 
 As when upon the Virgin's breast 
 
 He lay at Bethlehem : 
 
Christ's Kingdom and Judgment. 465 
 
 As mild to meek-eyed love and faith ; 
 
 Only more strong to save ; 
 Strengthened, by having bowed to death 
 
 By having burst the grave. 
 
 Lord ! who could dare see Thee descend 
 
 In state, unless he knew 
 Thou art the sorrowing sinner's Friend, 
 
 The gracious, and the true ? 
 
 Dwell in our hearts, O Saviour blest ! 
 
 So shall Thine Advent dawn 
 'Twixt us and Thee, our bosom-Guest, 
 
 Be but the veil withdrawn. 
 
 Joseph Anstice. 1836. 
 
 14 
 
 Great God, what do I see and hear ! 
 
 The end of things created ! 
 The Judge of mankind doth appear 
 
 On clouds of glory seated ! 
 The trumpet sounds ; the graves restore 
 The dead which they contained before : 
 
 Prepare, my soul, to meet Him ! 
 
 The dead in Christ are first to rise 
 And greet th' Archangel's warning, 
 
 To meet the Saviour in the skies 
 On this auspicious morning : 
 
 No gloomy fears their souls dismay ; 
 
 His Presence sheds eternal day 
 On those prepared to meet Him. 
 
 Far over space, to distant spheres, 
 
 The lightnings are prevailing : 
 Th' ungodly rise, and all their tears 
 
 And sighs are unavailing : 
 H H 
 
466 The Book of Praise. 
 
 The day of grace is past and gone ; 
 They shake before the Judge's throne, 
 All unprepared to meet Him. 
 
 Stay, fancy, stay, and close thy wings, 
 
 Repress thy flight too daring ! 
 One wondrous sight my comfort brings, 
 
 The Judge my nature wearing. 
 Beneath His cross I view the day 
 When Heaven and Earth shall pass away, 
 And thus prepare to meet Him. 
 
 William Bengo Co I Iyer. 1812. 
 {First stanza Anon, from Bartholo?new Ringwald.) 
 
 1550. 
 
 15 
 
 That day of wrath, that dreadful day 
 When heaven and earth shall pass away, 
 What power shall be the sinner's stay ? 
 How shall he meet that dreadful day ? 
 
 When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, 
 The flaming heavens together roll ; 
 When louder yet, and yet more dread, 
 Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ; 
 
 O ! on that day, that wrathful day, 
 When man to judgment wakes from clay, 
 Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay, 
 Though heaven and earth shall pass away ! 
 Sir Walter Scott. 1805. 
 
The Holy Catholic Church.. 467 
 
 16 
 
 (i Urbs Syon aurea, P atria lacteal 
 
 Jerusalem the golden, 
 
 With milk and honey blest, 
 Beneath thy contemplation 
 
 Sink heart and voice opprest. 
 
 I know not, O I know not, 
 
 What social joys are there ; 
 What radiancy of glory, 
 
 What light beyond compare. 
 
 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 daylight is serene ; 
 The pastures of the Blessed 
 
 Are decked in glorious sheen. 
 
 There is the Throne of David ; 
 
 And there, from care releas'd, 
 The song of thorn that triumph, 
 
 The shout of them that feast. 
 
 And they, who, with their Leader, 
 
 Have conquer'd in the fight, 
 For ever and for ever 
 Are clad in robes of white. 
 
 John Mason Neale. 1858. 
 From Bernard 0/ Morlaix. 
 
 11 11 2 
 
468 The Book or Praise, 
 
 17 
 
 Songs of praise the angels sang, 
 Heaven with hallelujahs rang, 
 When Jehovah's work begun, 
 When He spake, and it was done. 
 
 Songs of praise awoke the morn, 
 When the Prince of Peace was born ; 
 Songs of praise arose, when He 
 Captive led captivity. 
 
 Heaven and earth must pass away, 
 Songs of praise shall crown that day ; 
 God will make new heavens, new earth, 
 Songs of praise shall hail their birth. 
 
 And can man alone be dumb, 
 Till that glorious kingdom come ? 
 No : the Church delights to raise 
 Psalms, and hymns, and songs of praise. 
 
 Saints below, with heart and voice, 
 Still in songs of praise rejoice, 
 Learning here, by faith and love, 
 Songs of praise to sing above. 
 
 Borne upon their latest breath, 
 Songs of praise shall conquer death ; 
 Then, amidst eternal joy, 
 Songs of praise their powers employ. 
 
 James Montgomery. 1819. 
 
Resurrection and Eternal Life. 469 
 
 Resurrection and Eternal Life. 
 
 18 
 
 " Hie breve vivitur, hie breve plangitur? 
 
 Brief life is here our portion, 
 
 Brief sorrow, short-liv'd 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 wand'rers, 
 
 To have our home on high ! 
 That worms should seek for dwellings 
 
 Beyond the starry sky ! 
 
 To all one happy guerdon 
 
 Of one celestial grace : 
 For all, for all, who mourn their fall, 
 
 Is one eternal place. 
 
 And martyrdom hath roses 
 
 Upon that heavenly ground : 
 And white and virgin lilies 
 
 For virgin souls abound. 
 
 There grief is turned to pleasure ; 
 
 Such pleasure, as below 
 No human voice can utter, 
 
 No human heart can know 
 
470 The Book of Praise. 
 
 And, after fleshly scandal, 
 And after this world's night, 
 
 And after storm and whirlwind, 
 Is calm, and joy, and light. 
 
 And now we fight the battle ; 
 
 But then shall wear the crown 
 Of full and everlasting 
 
 And passionless renown. 
 
 And now we watch and struggle 
 
 And now we live in hope, 
 And Sion, in her anguish, 
 
 With Babylon must cope 
 
 But He, Whom now we trust in, 
 Shall then be seen and known, 
 And they who know and see Him 
 Shall have Him for their own. 
 
 John Mason Neale. 1858. 
 From Bernard of Morlaix. 
 
 " Thy Kingdom Come." 
 
 19 
 
 Almighty God ! Thy word is cast 
 Like seed upon the ground : 
 
 Oh ! may it grow in humble hearts, 
 And righteous fruits abound. 
 
 Let not the foe of Christ and man 
 
 This holy seed remove ; 
 But give it root in praying souls 
 
 To bring forth fruits of love. 
 
"Thy Will be Done^ 471 
 
 Let not the world's deceitful cares 
 
 The rising plant destroy, 
 But may it in converted minds 
 
 Produce the fruits of joy. 
 
 Let not Thy word so kindly sent 
 
 To raise us to Thy Throne 
 Return to Thee, and sadly tell 
 
 That we reject Thy Son. 
 
 Great God ! come down, and on Thy word 
 
 Thy mighty power bestow ; 
 That all who hear the joyful sound 
 
 Thy saving grace may know. 
 
 John Cawood. 1816. 
 
 " Thy Will be Done? 
 20 
 
 Lord, as to Thy dear cross we flee, 
 
 And plead to be forgiven, 
 So let Thy life our pattern be, 
 
 And form our souls for Heaven. 
 
 Help us, through good report and ill, 
 
 Our daily cross to bear, 
 Like Thee, to do our Father's will, 
 
 Our brethren's griefs to share. 
 
 Let grace our selfishness expel, 
 
 Our earthliness refine, 
 And kindness in our bosoms dwell, 
 
 As free and true as Thine. 
 
472 The Book of Praise. 
 
 If joy shall at Thy bidding fly, 
 
 And grief's dark day come on, 
 We, in our turn, would meekly cry, 
 
 Father ! Thy will be done ! 
 
 Should friends misjudge, or foes defame, 
 
 Or brethren faithless prove, 
 Then, like Thine own, be all our aim 
 
 To conquer them by love. 
 
 Kept peaceful in the midst of strife, 
 
 Forgiving and forgiven, 
 O may we lead the pilgrim's life, 
 
 And follow Thee to Heaven ! 
 
 John Hampden Gumey. 1838. 
 
 21 
 
 Eternal Beam of Light Divine, 
 
 Fountain of unexhausted love, 
 In Whom the Father's glories shine 
 
 Through earth beneath, and Heaven above: 
 
 Jesu ! the weary wanderer's Rest ! 
 
 Give me Thy easy yoke to bear ; 
 With stedfast patience arm my breast, 
 
 With spotless love, and lowly fear. 
 
 Fhankful I take the cup from Thee, 
 Prepar'd and mingled by Thy skill : 
 
 Though bitter to the taste it be, 
 Powerful the wounded soul to heal. 
 
 Be Thou, O Rock of Ages, nigh ! 
 
 So shall each murmuring thought be gone : 
 And grief, and fear, and care shall fly 
 
 As clouds before the mid-day sun. 
 
" Give us this day our Daily Bread? 473 
 
 Speak to my warring passions peace ; 
 
 Say to my trembling heart, Be still : 
 Thy power my strength and fortress is, 
 
 For all things serve Thy sovereign will. 
 
 O Death, where is thy sting ? where now 
 
 Thy boasted victory, O Grave ? 
 Who shall contend with God, or who 
 
 Can hurt whom God delights to save ? 
 
 Charles Wesley. 1740, 
 
 " Give Us this day our Daily Bread? 
 
 22 
 
 All wondering on the desert ground 
 The hungry thousands gazed around, 
 While Jesus for their need display'd 
 The power that once the worlds had made. 
 
 Few were the words the Saviour spake ; 
 He only blest the bread and brake ; 
 The scanty loaves, the fishes few, 
 At His commandment ceaseless grew. 
 
 No meagre store, O Lord, have we 
 
 Of grace and blessings shower'd from Thee ; 
 
 Yet in our barren hearts and dry 
 
 More scanty grows the rich supply. 
 
 On desert sands we seem to roam, 
 Weary, and faint, and far from home, 
 Though pastures green around us grow, 
 And Thy still waters near us flow. 
 
474 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Oh ! with a living growth inspire, 
 Not Thy blest gifts, but our desire, 
 That we may taste Thy mercy's store, 
 And thirst and hunger never more ! 
 
 John Ernest Bode. 1 860. 
 
 " And forgive ns our Trespasses? 
 
 23 
 
 When rising from the bed of death, 
 O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear, 
 
 I see my Maker face to face, 
 O how shall I appear ! 
 
 If yet, while pardon may be found, 
 
 And mercy may be sought, 
 My heart with inward horror shrinks, 
 
 And trembles at the thought, 
 
 When Thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd 
 
 In majesty severe, 
 And sit in judgment on my soul, 
 
 O how shall I appear ! 
 
 But Thou hast told the troubled soul, 
 
 Who does her sins lament, 
 The timely tribute of her tears 
 
 Shall endless woe prevent. 
 
 Then see the sorrows of my heart, 
 
 Ere yet it be too late, 
 And add my Saviour's dying groans 
 
 To give those sorrows weight. 
 
Noonday. 475 
 
 For never shall my soul despair 
 
 Her pardon to procure, 
 Who knows Thy only Son has died 
 
 To make that pardon sure. 
 
 Joseph Addison. 1719. 
 
 Noonday. 
 24 
 
 Up to the throne of God is borne 
 The voice of praise at early morn, 
 And He accepts the punctual hymn, 
 Sung as the light of day grows dim. 
 
 Nor will He turn His ear aside 
 From holy offerings at noontide : 
 Then here reposing let us raise 
 A song of gratitude and praise. 
 
 What though our burthen be not light, 
 We need not toil from morn to night ; 
 The respite of the mid-day hour 
 Is in the thankful Creature's power. 
 
 Blest are the moments, doubly blest, 
 That, drawn from this one hour of rest r 
 Are with a ready heart bestowed 
 Upon the service of our God. 
 
 Each field is then a hallowed spot, 
 An altar is in each man's cot, 
 A church in every grove that spreads 
 Its living roof above our heads. 
 
476 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Look up to Heaven ! the industrious sun 
 Already half his race hath run ; 
 He cannot halt nor go astray ; 
 But our immortal Spirits may. 
 
 Lord ! since his rising in the east, 
 If we have faltered or transgressed, 
 Guide, from Thy love's abundant source, 
 What yet remains of this day's course. 
 
 Help with Thy grace, through life's short day 
 Our upward, and our downward, way ; 
 And glorify for us the west, 
 When we shall sink to final rest ! 
 
 William Wordsworth. 1834. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 25 
 
 Father ! by Thy love and power, 
 Comes again the evening hour : 
 Light has vanished, labours cease, 
 Weary creatures rest in peace. 
 Thou, whose genial dews distil 
 
 On the lowliest weed that grows, 
 Father ! guard our couch from ill, 
 
 Lull Thy children to repose : 
 We to Thee ourselves resign, 
 Let our latest thoughts be Thine ! 
 
 Saviour ! to Thy Father bear 
 This our feeble evening prayer ; 
 Thou hast seen how oft to-day 
 We, like sheep, have gone astray : 
 Worldly thoughts, and thoughts of pride, 
 Wishes to Thy Cross untrue, 
 
The Old and New Year. 477 
 
 Secret faults and undescried, 
 
 Meet Thy spirit-piercing view. 
 Blessed Saviour ! yet, through Thee, 
 Pray that these may pardoned be. 
 
 Holy Spirit ! Breath of balm ! 
 Fall on us in evening's calm : 
 Yet awhile, before we sleep, 
 We with Thee will vigil keep. 
 Lead us on our sins to muse ; 
 
 Give us truest penitence ; 
 Then the love of God infuse, 
 
 Breathing humble confidence ; 
 Melt our spirits, mould our will, 
 Soften, strengthen, comfort still ! 
 
 Blessed Trinity ! be near 
 
 Through the hours of darkness drear ; 
 
 When the help of man is far, 
 
 Ye more clearly present are. 
 
 Father ! Son ! and Holy Ghost ! I 
 
 Watch o'er our defenceless head, 
 Let Your angels' guardian host 
 
 Keep all evil from our bed, 
 Till the flood of morning rays 
 Wake us to a song of praise. 
 
 Joseph Anstice. 1836. 
 
 The Old and New Year. 
 
 26 
 
 Now, gracious Lord, Thine arm reveal, 
 
 And make Thy glory known ; 
 Now let us all Thy presence feel, 
 
 And soften hearts of stone \ 
 
478 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Help us to venture near Thy Throne, 
 
 And plead a Saviour's Name ; 
 For all that we can call our own 
 
 Is vanity and shame. 
 
 From all the guilt of former sin 
 
 May mercy set us free : 
 And let the year we now begin, 
 
 Begin and end with Thee. 
 
 Send down Thy Spirit from above, 
 That saints may love Thee more, 
 
 And sinners now may learn to love, 
 Who never loved before. 
 
 And when before Thee we appear 
 
 In our eternal home, 
 May growing numbers worship here, 
 
 And praise Thee in our room ! 
 
 John Newton, 1779. 
 
 Baptism and Childhood. 
 27 
 
 Saviour, who didst from Heaven come down, 
 
 A little Child awhile to be, 
 Whose precious blood and thorny crown 
 
 From death and sin have ransomed me 
 
 Teach me, dear Saviour, some return 
 
 Of lowly service for Thy love, 
 Such as a thankful child may learn, 
 
 Such as Thy Spirit shall approve. 
 
Holy Communion. 479 
 
 Young hearts, I hear them say, are claimed 
 
 For God's own altar by Thy word : 
 May I lay there my own, unblamed ! 
 And wilt Thou lift it heavenward, Lord ? 
 
 James Bulliv ant Tomalin. [i860.] 
 From Louts, Count Zinzendorf. 
 
 Holy Communion. 
 28 
 
 Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face ; 
 
 Here would I touch and handle things unseen ; 
 Here grasp with firmer hand the eternal grace, 
 
 And all my weariness upon Thee lean. 
 
 Here would I feed upon the Bread of God ; 
 
 Here drink with Thee the royal Wine of Heaven ; 
 Here would I lay aside each earthly load, 
 
 Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven. 
 
 This is the hour of banquet and of song, 
 This is the heavenly Table spread for me ; 
 
 Here let me feast, and, feasting, still prolong 
 The brief bright hour of fellowship with Thee. 
 
 Too soon we rise ; the symbols disappear ; 
 
 The Feast, though not the Love, is past and gone ; 
 The Bread and Wine remove ; but Thou art here, 
 
 Nearer than ever ; still my Shield and Sun. 
 
 1 have no help but Thine ; nor do I need 
 Another arm save Thine to lean upon : 
 
 It is enough, my Lord ; enough, indeed ; 
 
 My strength is in Thy might, Thy might alone. 
 
480 The Book of Praise. 
 
 I have no wisdom, save in Him Who is 
 My Wisdom and my Teacher, both in one ; 
 
 No wisdom can I lack while Thou art wise, 
 No teaching do I crave, save Thine alone. 
 
 Mine is the sin, but Thine the Righteousness ; 
 
 Mine is the guilt, but Thine the cleansing Blood ; 
 Here is my robe, my refuge, and my peace, 
 
 Thy blood, Thy Righteousness, O Lord my God ! 
 
 I know, that deadly evils compass me, 
 Dark perils threaten, yet I would not fear, 
 
 Nor poorly shrink, nor feebly turn to flee ; 
 Thou, O my Christ, art buckler, sword, and spear. 
 
 But see, the Pillar-Cloud is rising now, 
 And moving onward through the desert night ; 
 
 It beckons, and I follow ; for I know 
 It leads me to the heritage of Light. 
 
 Feast after feast thus comes, and passes by ; 
 
 Yet, passing, points to the glad Feast above, 
 Giving sweet foretaste of the festal joy, 
 
 The Lamb's great Bridal Feast of bliss and love. 
 Horatius Bonan 1856. 
 
 My God, and is Thy Table spread ? 
 
 And does Thy cup with love o'erflow ? 
 Thither be all Thy children led, 
 
 And let them all its sweetness know. 
 
 Hail, sacred Feast, which Jesus makes ! 
 
 Rich banquet of His Flesh and Blood ! 
 Thrice happy he, who here partakes 
 
 That sacred stream, that heavenly Food ! 
 
Holy Communion. 481 
 
 Why are its dainties all in vain 
 Before unwilling hearts display'd ? 
 
 Was not for you the victim slain ? 
 Are you forbid the children's Bread ? 
 
 O let Thy Table honour'd be, 
 And furnished well with joyful guests ; 
 
 And may each soul salvation see, 
 That here its sacred pledges tastes. 
 
 Let crowds approach, with hearts prepar'd ; 
 
 With hearts inflamed let all attend ; 
 Nor, when we leave our Father's board, 
 
 The pleasure or the profit end. 
 
 Revive Thy dying churches, Lord ! 
 
 And bid our drooping graces live ; 
 And more, that energy afford, 
 
 A Saviour's love alone can give. 
 
 Ph Hip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 30 
 
 Thou, who hast call'd us by Thy Word 
 
 The marriage feast to share 
 Of Thy dear Son, our only Lord, 
 
 Thy bidden guests prepare ! 
 
 No vain excuse we dare to make, 
 
 Thy call we do not slight ; 
 We come unworthy ; for His sake 
 
 Help us to come aright ! 
 
 The marriage-garment we require 
 
 Thyself to us impart, 
 And with Thy precious gifts inspire 
 
 A pure and thankful heart. 
 I 1 
 
482 The Book of Praise. 
 
 And Thou, to whom the Father's love 
 The wedding guests has brought, 
 
 Who ever helpest from above 
 
 Those whom Thy blood has bought, 
 
 Lord of the feast ! our coming bless, 
 
 And round our souls entwine 
 The garment of Thy Righteousness, 
 
 In which Thy saints shall shine. 
 
 John Ernest Bode. i860. 
 
 31 
 
 For mercies, countless as the sands, 
 
 Which daily I receive 
 From Jesus my Redeemer's hands, 
 
 My soul, what canst thou give ? 
 
 Alas ! from such an heart as mine, 
 What can I bring Him forth ? 
 
 My best is stain'd and dyed with sin, 
 My all is nothing worth. 
 
 Yet this acknowledgment I'll make 
 
 For all He has bestow'd ; 
 Salvation's sacred cup I'll take, 
 
 And call upon my God. 
 
 The best return for one like me. 
 
 So wretched and so poor, 
 Is from His gifts to draw a plea, 
 
 And ask Him still for more. 
 
 William Cow per. 1779. 
 
Holy Communion. 483 
 
 32 
 
 Lord, when my soul her secrets doth reveal, 
 All self-condemned, before Thy Throne I kneel, 
 And own my thoughts unclean, my words untrue, 
 Deeds nothing worth, eyes blind, and nattering too. 
 
 Oh ! from this death who shall deliver me ? 
 Oh ! from this torment whither can I flee ? 
 No virtue have I left, no strength within, 
 Corrupt at heart, enslaved and bound in sin. 
 
 But, Lord, Thy mercy to the Heavens ascends ; 
 Thy faithfulness beyond the clouds extends ; 
 Like the strong mountains stands Thy Righteous- 
 ness ; 
 Deep are Thy Judgments, as the vast Abyss. 
 
 Thou, excellent in Mercy, savest still 
 Men and mute creatures with a Father's will : 
 Under Thy gracious shadow, Good and Just, 
 The children of mankind shall put their trust. 
 
 They from Thy house of plenty shall be fed, 
 And drink Joy's River from the Fountain-Head ; 
 For Life's eternal well-spring is with Thee ; 
 And in Thy Light, light only shall we see. 
 
 O Lord ! to the true-hearted men of love 
 Still may Thy loving-kindness constant prove ! 
 And save Thy servant from the foot of pride : 
 While Thy foes fall around, be Thou my guide ! 
 
 Roundell Palmer. 1865. 
 
 1 I 2 
 
4^4 The Book of Praise. 
 
 Church Dedication. 
 33 
 
 O Lord, our languid souls inspire, 
 For here, we trust, Thou art ! 
 
 Send down a coal of heavenly fire, 
 To warm each waiting heart. 
 
 Dear Shepherd of Thy people, hear, 
 Thy Presence now display ; 
 
 As Thou hast given a place for prayer, 
 So give us hearts to pray. 
 
 Shew us some token of Thy love, 
 
 Our fainting hope to raise ; 
 And pour Thy blessings from above, 
 
 That we may render praise. 
 
 Within these walls let holy peace, 
 And love, and concord, dwell ; 
 
 Here give the troubled conscience ease, 
 The wounded spirit heal. 
 
 The feeling heart, the melting eye, 
 The humbled mind bestow ; 
 
 And shine upon us from on high, 
 To make our graces grow. 
 
 May we in faith receive Thy word, 
 In faith present our prayers, 
 
 And in the presence of our Lord 
 Unbosom all our cares. 
 
Ordination of Ministers. 485 
 
 And may the Gospel's joyful sound, 
 
 Enforced by mighty grace, 
 Awaken many sinners round, 
 
 To come and fill the place, 
 
 John Newton. 1 779. 
 
 Ordination of Ministers. 
 34 
 
 Pour out Thy Spirit from on high ; 
 
 Lord, Thine assembled servants bless ; 
 Graces and gifts to each supply, 
 
 And clothe Thy priests with righteousness. 
 
 Within Thy temple when we stand 
 To teach the truth, as taught by Thee, 
 
 Saviour, like stars in Thy right hand 
 The angels of the Churches be ! 
 
 Wisdom, and zeal, and faith impart, 
 Firmness, with meekness from above, 
 
 To bear Thy people on our heart, 
 And love the souls whom Thou dost love : 
 
 To watch, and pray, and never faint, 
 By day and night strict guard to keep, 
 
 To warn the sinner, cheer the saint, 
 
 Nourish Thy lambs, and feed Thy sheep : 
 
 Then, when our work is finish'd here, 
 In humble hope our charge resign ! 
 
 When the chief Shepherd shall appear, 
 O God ! may they and we be Thine ! 
 
 James Montgomery. 1825. 
 
486 The Book of Praise. 
 
 35 
 
 Fearless, calm, and strong in love, 
 Would'st thou ply the Gospel net ? 
 Then remember God above, 
 And thyself forget. 
 
 Like the fisher, patient be ; 
 Try at morn, and try at even, 
 Hope, where thou canst nothing see ; 
 And still trust in Heaven. 
 
 Never shall the net be cast 
 All in vain, though cast amiss : 
 Wait the great Day and the last, 
 Ere thou judge of this. 
 
 O what issues that may show 
 Even of thy poor toil and care ! 
 But, till then, enough to know 
 Thou dost neither spare. 
 
 Spend, then, and be spent, in love ; 
 Take the task before thee set ; 
 Souls to win for Heaven above, 
 And thyself forget. 
 
 Thomas Davis. 1862. 
 
 The Call 
 
 36 
 
 Awake, my soul ! lift up thine eyes, 
 See where thy foes against thee rise, 
 In long array, a numerous host ; 
 Awake, my soul ! or thou art lost. 
 
The Call. 487 
 
 Here giant Danger threatening stands, 
 Mustering his pale terrific bands ; 
 There pleasure's silken banners spread, 
 And willing souls are captive led. 
 
 See where rebellious passions rage, 
 And fierce desires and lusts engage ; 
 The meanest foe of all the train 
 Has thousands and ten thousands slain. 
 
 Thou tread'st upon enchanted ground, 
 Perils and snares beset thee round ; 
 Beware of all, guard every part, 
 But most, the traitor in thy heart. 
 
 Come then, my soul, now learn to wield 
 The weight of thine immortal shield ; 
 Put on the armour from above 
 Of heavenly truth and heavenly love. 
 
 The terror and the charm repel, 
 And powers of earth, and powers of hell ; 
 The Man of Calvary triumphed here : 
 Why should His faithful followers fear? 
 
 Anna Lcetitia Barbauld. 1773. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 ii.— Part of Hymn No. 100 in Mant's Ancient Hymns, &c. Three 
 
 stanzas out of eight are omitted, 
 iv. — The text of this hymn is from The Devout Chorister (Masters ; 
 Third Edition, 1854) ; in which hook it was first published ; 
 and the author's name is given, by his kind permission. 
 v. — The text of this is from the Fifth Edition (Newcastle, no date, 
 but water-mark 1810); of the Rev. Thomas Cotterill's Psalms 
 and Hymns. 
 
 vii. — From Hymns for the Church of England (Longman, 1857). 
 The first and third stanzas are adapted, by Mr. Darling, from 
 Nos. 49 and 36 of John Quarles' Divine Ejaculations. 
 
 viii. — From John and Charles Wesley's Collection of Psalms and 
 Hymns (the first edition published in 1741) ; but it had been 
 previously published in John Wesley's Charlestown book of 
 1737. The Psalm, as rendered by Watts, is in six stanzas, of 
 which Wesley omitted the first and fourth, and varied the 
 second by substituting the well-known lines, 
 
 " Before Jehovah's awful throne, 
 Ye nations, bow with sacred joy ; " 
 
 for Watts' original, 
 
 " Nations, attend before his throne 
 With solemn fear, with sacred joy." 
 
 The only other change is the word " shall " instead of" must," 
 
 in the third line of the last stanza. 
 xii.— Three stanzas out of six. The first, second, and fifth of Watts' 
 
 are omitted. 
 xv. — Nine stanzas out of twelve (the first, third, and eleventh of 
 
 Watts' being omitted). The word ' ' God " is brought down into 
 
 the first line, from the first (omitted) stanza, instead of 
 
 "Him." 
 xvi.— The four first stanzas of Hymn No. 11, Book II. in Gibbons* 
 
 Hymns adapted to Divine Worship (London, 1784) ; sometimes 
 
 wrongly ascribed to Berridge. Gibbons has seven stanzas. 
 
490 Notes. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 xvm. — Altered from a poem by Eliza Lee Cabot first published in 
 182G, by Emily Taylor in Sabbath Recreations (Wellington, 
 Salop,) 1826. 
 
 xxi. — This, attributed in error to Charles Grant, is in the Rev. E. 
 H. Bickersteth's Christian Psalmody,- lb33 ; but must have 
 been in circulation for nearly twenty years before. 
 
 xxiii. — Four out of five stanzas, Lyte's fourth being omitted. 
 
 xxviii. — The first thirteen out of forty-two stanzas. The poem is 
 the last of several in Skelton's Appeal to Common Sense on 
 the Subject of Christianity, (Dublin, 1784.) 
 
 xxxii. — Stanzas 1, 6, 9, and 10, of a poem in ten stanzas (No. 68 
 of T. Grinfleld's Century of Sacred Songs). I have adhered to 
 the selection made by the late Rev. John Hampden Gurney 
 in the Marylebone Hymn-Book of 1851. 
 
 xxxtii. — My only authority for ascribing this to Tate is the late 
 Rev. Edward Bickersteth ; but the authorship seems probable, 
 as this is one of the hymns included in the " Supplement to the 
 New Version," for the use of which Brady and Tate obtained 
 from Queen Anne an Order in Council, dated the 30th July, 
 1703. It was advertised as ready, and issued, as early as 1698. 
 
 xxxiv. — The text is that of the fourth edition (1743) of Hymns and 
 Sacred Poems, by John and Charles Wesley ; differing in one 
 word only ("Heavenly," instead of "Inner," in the second 
 line of the last stanza) from the first edition, published in 
 1739. The common variation, beginning, " Hark, the herald 
 angels sing," is probably by Martin Madan (1760), who, be- 
 sides altering several lines, has left out part (but not the 
 whole) of the two last stanzas, which are usually omitted at 
 the end of modern editions of the New Version of the Psalms. 
 The word " welkin," in the first line, is open to criticism, but 
 in other respects I prefer Wesley's original to Madan's varia- 
 tion. 
 
 xxxviii. — Mr. Sears is an American writer. 
 
 xl. — From the volume, published in 1829 (London : Cadell & Co.), 
 under the title Spirit of the Psalms, which is not to be con- 
 founded with the work of the Rev. H. F. Lyte, afterwards 
 published under the same title, in 1834. 
 
 xli. — This hymn is from Hymns Ancient and Modern, for Use in 
 the Services of the Church (London : Novello ; 1861). I am 
 indebted to the Rev. Sir Henry Williams Baker, Bart, (one of 
 the editors of that collection), for the permission, which he 
 has kindly obtained for me from the author, to publish his 
 name, as well as for the authentication of the text. I am 
 also indebted to him and his co-editors for their consent to 
 the use which I have made of this hymn, and of three others, 
 contributed by Sir Henry Williams Baker himself to the 
 same collection, to which he has allowed me to affix his name. 
 
 xlii. — Five out of seven stanzas. Those omitted are Doddridge's 
 second and sixth. 
 
 xlvi. — Five stanzas out of a hymn which, as first published in 
 1740 (then beginning " Glory to God, and praise, and love "), 
 
Notes. 491 
 
 HYMN 
 
 consisted of eighteen stanzas ; and which, in the seventeenth 
 edition of Hymns and Spiritual Songs (Pine, Bristol; 1773), 
 was reduced to eleven stanzas ; then beginning as in the 
 present text. In the Hymn-Book for Methodists, it consists 
 of ten stanzas; one of which is taken from the earlier 
 edition, and is not in that of 1773. 
 
 xlviii. — Four out of five stanzas. That omitted is the fourth 
 of Watts. 
 lii.— Five out of eight stanzas. Those omitted are the fourth, 
 fifth, and seventh of Watts. 
 
 lv.— Six out of seven stanzas. That omitted is the third of 
 Newton. 
 
 i/vii. — This hymn, as here given, was introduced into the Marylebone 
 Collection (1851) from a poem of some length, published in 
 1831, in The Iris, a volume edited by the Rev. Thomas Dale. 
 The text (which will be found at page 139 of that volume) 
 is unaltered, except that the first word " Saviour," has been 
 brought down from a preceding line, in substitution for the 
 words "And then," so as to give to these stanzas an independ- 
 ent beginning. 
 
 lviii. — Nine out of eleven stanzas. Those omitted are the fifth 
 
 and seventh of Mrs. Barbauld. 
 lx. — From Lyra Davidica, 1708, but brought into general use 
 in The Compleat Psalmodist, by John Arnold; of which the 
 second edition was published in 1750. The " Gloria," which 
 constitutes the fourth stanza, goes with the hymn in some 
 modern books, and suits it so well, that I have ventured to 
 retain it. This "Gloria" is certainly by Charles Wesley ; 
 it will be found at page 242 of the fourth edition (1743) of 
 the Hymns and Sacred Poems, by the two brothers. 
 
 lxi. — This hymn (No. 2, in the Rev. John Chandler's Hymns of the 
 Primitive Church) is, as stated by himself in his Preface to 
 that work, a variation from a translation of the same Latin 
 original, by the Rev. Isaac Williams ; which had previously 
 appeared in the British Magazine, and which is No. 2 in Mr. 
 Williams' Hymns Translated from the Parisian Breviary 
 (Rivingtons; 1839). 
 
 lxii. — A selection, adopted by me out of the Marylebone Hymn 
 Book of 1851 (where it is erroneously ascribed to A. Gray), 
 from a hymn in nine stanzas of eight lines each, by the late 
 Mr. George Mogridge, popularly known as " Old Humphrey." 
 There is no alteration in the words ; but the two tetrastichs 
 composing the first stanza are transposed. The entire hymn 
 will be found in My Poetry Book, published by the Religious 
 Tract Society, at p. 128. 
 
 lxiv. — Dr. Neale's hymn is divided into thirteen unequal parts, 
 the first seven of which constitute the present text. 
 
 lxv.— Three out of five stanzas contributed to the S.P.C.K. Hymnal, 
 1852 ; but the first stanza was added at a later revision. 
 
 lxviii.— The date assigned to this hymn, and to No. cccxcvm. are 
 
49 2 Notes. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 those of their publication, by the author himself, in the 
 Christian Observer. The other hymns of Sir Robert Grant, 
 in this collection, bear the date of the posthumous republi- 
 cation of his collected hymns, by his brother, Lord Glenelg. 
 
 i,xix. — Four out of nine stanzas, of unequal length, from Bishop 
 Mant's Holy day 8 of the Church; or, Scriptural Narratives 
 and Biographical Notices, vol. ii. p. 536 (Oxford : Parker : 
 1831). 
 
 lxx. — The Offices of John Austin, containing some excellent 
 hymns, were adapted to the use of members of the 
 Church of England, first by Theophilus Dorrington, and 
 afterwards by the Nonjuring Bishop Hickes. Dorrington, 
 in some cases, altered Austin's hymns ; Hickes almost always 
 reprinted them without alteration. This hymn is No. 31 in 
 Austin's Offices, where it consists of seven stanzas ; the first 
 of which was omitted, and some of the others slightly altered, 
 by Charles Wesley. The present text is taken from the first 
 edition (1739) of the Wesleys' Hymns and Sacred Poems, 
 page 130, where it is entitled Hymn to Christ ; altered from 
 Dr. Hickes' " Reformed Devotions." 
 
 lxxi. — The text of this hymn is given from Toplady's Collection'' 
 published in 1776. Whether it is Mr. Bake well's genuine 
 work, or was altered by Toplady, is not certain. The hymn, 
 as first published by Madan, in 1760, wants the last stanza, 
 (which is by some ascribed to James Allen ;) and differs 
 from the present text in some other respects. Both Madan 
 and Toplady were friends of the author ; and the probability 
 seems to be, that it was revised and altered by the author 
 himself, for Toplady's Collection. 
 
 lxxiii. — Twenty-three out of twenty-eight stanzas, communicated 
 by Mr. Turner, one of the authors, to Dr. Rippon in 1791. 
 (See Rippon's Baptist Annual Register, vol. iii. p. 471.) The 
 composition is generally the same as one which appeared in the 
 Gospel Magazine, for June, 1776 : but with a good many 
 verbal differences. The first four stanzas of the text are by 
 Fanch, who also wrote the three which follow them in the 
 original, but which are here omitted, because they are re- 
 peated in substance towards the end of the part contributed 
 by Turner. The stanzas, from "Blest angels," to the end, 
 are by Turner, and were published by him separately, with 
 variations (not improvements), in a little volume, printed in 
 1794. Abridgments of this hymn, more or less varied 
 (usually beginning "Beyond the glittering starry skies"), 
 occur in several modern hymn-books ; one of the first of 
 them appeared in Dr. Rippon's own Collection. 
 
 lxxiv. — The three last out of five stanzas (Hymn lviii. in Book I. of 
 Watts' Hymns and Spiritual Songs, beginning " Let mortal 
 tongues attempt to sing "). 
 
 lxxix. — This hymn, (composed in 1833,) was originally published 
 in Metrical Psalms and Hymns for singing in Churches 
 (Worcester, 1849). 
 
Notes. 493 
 
 HYMN 
 
 lxxx.— Seven stanzas out of eight. That omitted is Montgomery's 
 third. 
 
 lxxxi. — This is one of a small number of compositions by Michael 
 Bruce (a Scottish schoolmaster, who died very young), which 
 have been the subject of much controversy in Scotland, and, 
 indeed, of a kind of literary romance. They appear to have 
 been intrusted in manuscript by Michael Bruce, or by his 
 father, to John Logan, who, some time after Bruce's death, 
 published them with variations in his own name. The 
 eighteenth "Paraphrase" is a variation of this hymn; no 
 doubt contributed by Logan. The present is Bruce's original 
 text, as given in Mr. Mackelvie's collection of his poems 
 (Edinburgh : Paterson ; 1837). 
 
 lxxxii.— Six out of eight stanzas. The second and third of Watts' 
 are omitted. 
 
 lxxxiii. — Four out of six stanzas. The second and third of Watts' 
 are omitted. 
 
 lxxxiv. — The dates assigned to this hymn, and to Nos. cxli. and 
 clxxvii. and the two "Additional Hymns," Nos. 2 and 9, 
 are those of their original publication in the Christian 
 Observer. The rest of Bishop Heber's Hymns (as well as 
 Dean Milman's), in this volume, bear the date of the publi- 
 cation of the Bishop's Hymn-book, in 1827. 
 
 ucxxvi. — The text of this hymn, and of No. cm. as now corrected 
 is from the first edition of Psalms and Hymns (Ipswich, 
 1813), by the author, the Rev. William Hum, formerly Vicar 
 of Debenham. 
 
 lxxxviii.— The text is from Conder's Hymns (London : Snow ; 
 1856) ; where this is a complete hymn. As first published 
 by the author, in The Choir and the Oratory (Jackson and 
 Walford, 1837), these were the last four of thirteen stanzas, 
 on " Thy Kingdom Come." 
 
 xc. — This popular hymn is a cento, composed by Martin Madan, 
 with some variations, out of two hymns by Charles Wesley 
 (Nos. 38 and 39 of Hymns of Intercession for all Mankind), 
 and one by John Cennick (No. 128 in his Collectionof Sacred 
 Hymns ; Fifth Edition, Dublin ; 1752). The choice and 
 arrangement of the stanzas, as made by Madan, is here pre- 
 served, as are his variations of the third and fourth stanzas 
 (Cennick's), of which the last lines do not rhyme in the 
 original. The first two stanzas and the last are from Wesley's 
 No. 39, a hymn of four stanzas. Madan made some alter- 
 ations in the first and the last, which (with the exception of 
 "O come quickly," taken by him from Cennick, instead of 
 Wesley's "Jah, Jehovah!") I have not retained. The 
 second, and the fifth (which is the concluding stanza of 
 Wesley's No. 38), he did not alter. 
 
 xci. — The preceding hymn is generally, by a popular error, at- 
 tributed to Olivers, the only foundation for that error being, 
 that he adopted its first line as the beginning of one of his 
 stanzas, which (though the first of those selected here) is 
 
494 Notes. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 not the first in either edition of his Judgment Hymn. His 
 hymn was greatly altered and enlarged in its second edition, 
 from which the present text is taken ; being a selection of 
 eleven out of thirty-six stanzas. 
 
 xciv. — This translation of Veni Creator, from the Bishop's Collec- 
 tion of Private Devotions, 1627, was first introduced into 
 the Office for the Ordination of Priests upon the revision of 
 the Liturgy of the Church of England, in 1662. 
 
 xcviii. — Seven out of nine stanzas. Hart's seventh and eighth 
 are omitted. 
 c. — Jacobi's translation will be found at page 43 of Haberkorn's 
 Psalmodia Qermanica (London, 1765). It consists of ten 
 stanzas, of which Toplady adopted and altered six. Top- 
 lady's third stanza is here omitted. 
 ci. — Five out of six stanzas ; from Mant's Holydays of the Church 
 (vol. ii. page 317). The Bishop's first stanza is omitted. 
 
 civ. — The last seven out of eleven stanzas (No. 24 of John 
 Mason's Songs of Praise). 
 
 cvi.— Four out of eight stanzas: (the fourth, fifth, sixth, and- 
 seventh of Watts' are omitted). 
 
 cviii. — Fourteen out of twenty-six stanzas. This is the most ancient 
 of all the compositions included in this volume, and it is the 
 true English source of all the " New Jerusalem Hymns " of 
 the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It is printed at 
 length in Dr. Bonar's interesting Preface to his edition, 
 published in 1852 (Edinburgh : Johnstone and Hunter), of 
 David Dickson's New Jerusalem, which is itself a mere va- 
 riation of this hymn, with thirty-six more stanzas added, to 
 it, from William Prid's Glasse of Vaine Glorie, 1585. The 
 original hymn is contained in a MS. quarto volume, num- 
 bered 15,225, in the British Museum, the date of which 
 seems (from the internal evidence, as stated by Dr. Bonar), 
 to be about 1616. The hymn itself (which is entitled, A 
 Song by F. B. P. to the tune of Diana) is, probably, of Queen 
 Elizabeth's time. 
 
 cix. — The text of this hymn (printed in the first edition of the 
 present volume, from the Ninth Edition of Crossman), has 
 been now corrected, and restored as it originally appeared in 
 the first Edition of the Young Man's Calling, or the whole 
 Duty of Youth, fyc, with Divine Poems: except that the third 
 stanza, which was omitted by Crossman in his second and all 
 subsequent editions, is also omitted here. 
 ex. — I have been unable to trace this hymn higher than to the 
 Collection of Dr. Williams and Mr. Boden, first published in 
 1801, in which it is stated to be from " Eckinton Collection ;" 
 and I have not discovered the author, or the original text. 
 In the collections which give it most fully, there are seven 
 stanzas : of which one, the third (a stanza of inferior merit, 
 and borrowed directly from an older hymn), is here omitted. 
 
 cxiii. — Five out of six stanzas ; from Hymn cxliii. of Berridge's 
 Sion's Songs. The stanza omitted is Berridge's fourth. The 
 
Notes. 495 
 
 HYMN 
 
 last couplet of the second stanza is taken by Berrldge, with 
 very little alteration, from Ralph Erskine's Gospel Sonnets 
 (Part V. section 6) ; and the whole hymn follows so closely 
 in Erskine's track, that it might properly be described as a 
 variation from him. 
 
 cxiv.— The text is that of the 66th Scotch Paraphrase, in which 
 Cameron, taking the general plan, and much of the detail 
 and expression of Watts' hymn (No. 41 of Watts' Book I.), 
 has recast the whole composition, with excellent effect. 
 
 cxvi.— Four out of five stanzas. That omitted is Newton's fourth. 
 
 cxxn. — The first ten lines of this hymn were left a fragment by 
 Kirke White, written on the back of one of his mathematical 
 papers. They came after his death into the hands of Dr. 
 Collyer, who published them, with six (not very successful) 
 lines of his own added, in his Hymn-Book of 1812, where 
 the hymn is numbered 867. The task of finishing it was 
 more happily accomplished by Miss Maitland, in the form in 
 which it is here given, which first appeared in a volume 
 published by Hatchard in 1827, under the title of Hymns 
 for Private Devotion, selected and original. 
 
 cxxiii. — Five out of ten stanzas. 
 
 cxxv. — Six out of seven stanzas. That omitted is Newton's third. 
 
 cxxvi. — Eight out of twelve stanzas. Those omitted are the third, 
 ninth, tenth, and eleventh of Cennick. 
 
 cxx vi i.— Hammond's hymn (which will be found at page 85 of his 
 Psalms, Hymns, and Spirihial Songs; London, 1745) is in 
 fourteen stanzas. Of these, the first, second, and thirteenth, 
 are the same, except some very slight verbal changes, with 
 the three first stanzas of Madan's variation. The last two 
 stanzas of the variation aro an expansion by Madan of 
 Hammond's concluding stanza. 
 
 cxxviii. — Chandler concludes this hymn with a " Gloria," which 
 is omitted here. 
 
 cxxxiii. — Three out of seven stanzas. 
 
 cxlii.— Six out of eight stanzas. 
 
 cxLvni. — This and No. clxiii. are taken, by permission of the 
 authoress, from The Legend of the Golden Prayers, and other 
 Poems (London : Bell and Daldy ; 1859 ; pages 139—142). 
 Both hymns had been previously published at or before the 
 dates marked in the text. 
 
 (lv. — This is a variation from the first four and the last two stanzas 
 of James Montgomery's Verses to the. Memory of the late Joseph 
 Brown-\ of Lethersdale, a poem in fourteen stanzas (of four 
 lines each), which was written about 1803, and published in 
 The Wanderer of Switzerland and other Poems, in 1806. The 
 hymn, in its present form, seems to have first appeared in 
 Dr. Collyer's Collection, published in 1812; but I have not 
 been able to ascertain whether the variation is due to Dr. 
 Collyer, or (as, from the internal evidence, I should have 
 thought probable) to Montgomery himself. It is not, 
 however, included in Montgomery's Collection of his own 
 
496 Notes. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 hymns, published in 1853, nor is it in his Christian Psalmist, 
 
 published in 1825. 
 clviii. — The last four out of five stanzas. (The hymn is No. 86, 
 
 Book II. of Watts.) 
 clx. — Eight out of eleven stanzas. (Theodosia's Poems, vol. i. page 
 
 159 ; Bristol edition of 1780.) The stanzas omitted are the 
 
 fourth, fifth, and sixth of the authoress. 
 clxviii. — Seven out of nine stanzas. The fourth and eighth of 
 
 "Watts are omitted. 
 clxxi. — Four out of six stanzas. The fourth and fifth of Watts' 
 
 are omitted. 
 clxxvi. — From Hymns and Poems, by Sir Edward Denny, Bart. 
 
 (Nisbet, 1848.) 
 clxxviii.— The first five out of six stanzas. 
 clxxx.— The text of this hymn is from Dr. Raffles' Collection, 
 
 whom I understand (on Mr. Sedgwick's authority) to have 
 
 had it from the author. 
 clxxxii. — This, and No. ccxcvi. are by Dr. Ray Palmer, a living 
 
 American writer. The text has been compared with authentic 
 
 American copies, and found correct. 
 clxxxvi. — Eight out of eleven four-line stanzas, which constitute 
 
 the latter part of The Covenant and Confidence of Faith, in 
 
 Baxter's Poems (Pickering's edition, 1821 ; page 71). The 
 
 stanzas omitted are the first, third, and fifth, at the page 
 
 referred to. 
 clxxxix.— Four stanzas out of eight. The hymn is No. 32 in John 
 
 Austin's Offices. The stanzas omitted are the first three, and 
 
 the " Gloria " at the end. 
 cxc. — Five stanzas out of six. The stanza omitted is Cowper's fifth. 
 
 cxci. — Five stanzas out of eight. Those omitted are Wesley's fifth, 
 sixth, and seventh. The hymn is at page 30 of the Hymns 
 and Sacred Poems (Second Edition ; Bristol, 1743). 
 
 cxciii. — The last stanza is wanting in Miss Elliott's Hours of Sorrow 
 cheered and comforted (Fourth Edition, 1849 ; page 136). It 
 is, however, as I have ascertained, the concluding stanza of 
 the hymn, as originally composed by the authoress. 
 
 cxciv. — From a memoir of the Life of Oberlin. published anony- 
 mously in 1830 (London, Ball). The translator is Mrs. 
 Daniel Wilson, of Islington ; who has kindly permitted 
 me to give her name. It is very doubtful if the original 
 is Oberlin's, though its true source has not been ascer- 
 tained. 
 
 cxcv. — Five out of ten stanzas {Theodosia's Poems ; vol. 1, p. 134, 
 of the edition of 1780). The stanzas omitted are the third to 
 the seventh inclusive. 
 
 ecu. — From The Rivulet (Longman and Co. ; Second Edition 
 1856). 
 
 cciii. — Five out of ten stanzas, from Mant's Holydays of the Church 
 
Notes. 497 
 
 HYMN 
 
 r (vol. ii. page 563). The Bishop's fifth, sixth, seventh, ninth, 
 and tenth stanzas are omitted. 
 
 ccv.— From The Church of England Magazine, February, 1838, 
 with a X signifying it to he original. It is there in seven 
 stanzas, and is signed, O ; Chelsea. 
 
 ccvi. — A curious example of a successful cento. Each stanza is 
 taken from a different hymn by Mason ; the four hymns, 
 which have each contributed one stanza, being Nos. 6, 7, 9 
 and 8, of Mason's Songs of Praise. Mr. Gurney (who had 
 been to some extent anticipated in this operation, by former 
 Collectors — e.g. Montgomery, in the Christian Psalmist, gives 
 a composite hymn of greater length, from the same sources) 
 has introduced some slight verbal alterations, which are here 
 retained. 
 
 ccix. — Five out of eight stanzas (Conder's Hymns; London, Snow ; 
 p. 140). The stanzas omitted are Conder's second, third, and 
 fourth. 
 
 ccxiii. — The text is that of the second Scotch Paraphrase. It is 
 slightly different from that printed in Logan's works, where 
 some of the pieces, now ascertained to be by Michael Bruce, 
 are still ascribed to Logan, who originally published them as 
 his own. The true original (which begins, "O God of Jacob," 
 &c.) is No. 4 of Doddridge's hymns ; it has been re-written, 
 and certainly improved, by Bruce or Logan. 
 
 ccxix.— The first five out of six stanzas. 
 
 ccxx. — The first five out of six stanzas (from Watts' Divine Songs 
 for Children ; Song 9). 
 
 ccxxin. — Six stanzas out of eight (from Lyte's Poems, chiefly 
 religious ; London, Nisbet ; p. 158). The stanzas omitted 
 are the fourth and eighth of Lyte. 
 
 ccxxiv.— The text of this hymn is from Le Bas' Life of Bishop 
 Middleton (Rivingtons, 1831). 
 
 ccxxvi. — The original of this is the Humble Lamentation of 
 a Sinner; usually appended to the "Old Version" of the 
 Psalms. Some recent students of hymnology have thought 
 it probable that the author of the Humble Lamentation was 
 John Marchant (not Mardley) ; but their opinion seems to rest 
 on no higher ground than conjecture. In Bishop Heber's 
 book, it is erroneously ascribed to Sternhold ; and no notice 
 is there taken of the Bishop's extensive variations. 
 
 ccxxvm. — Three out of four stanzas. The stanza omitted is Mr. 
 Russell's third. 
 
 ccxxix.— This and No. cclii. were communicated to me in manu- 
 script by the kindness of my friend, Mr. Palgrave. 
 
 ccxxxi.— Three out of four stanzas ; the fourth is that omitted. 
 
 ccxliii. — From Hymns for Sunday Schools, Original and Selected 
 (Cambridge : Second Edition, 1844) ; by the Rev. C. J. Phipps 
 Eyre. The first two and the fourth lines are by Waring, 
 the rest by a different hand, but whose, I have not been able 
 to ascertain. 
 
 K K 
 
493 
 
 Notes. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 ccxliv. — This, and ccxciv. first appeared in Hall'8 Collection 
 (1836). The present text is from a collection of tracts and 
 hymns, published in 1837, with the author, Mr. Osier's, name, 
 under the title of Church and King. (Smith, Elder, and Co.) 
 
 ccxlvi.— The text of this, and of Nos. cclvii. and cclxv. is from 
 the edition of 1709, containing Bishop Ken's latest correc- 
 tions. That of the earlier editions will be found in Mr. 
 Anderdon's Life of Ken, and in Mr. Sedgwick's recent edition 
 of Ken's hymns ; since the publication of which, the discovery 
 of a copy of the edition of 1709 (now in my possession) has 
 settled the controversy, previously raised, as to the genuine- 
 ness of the present text. This text was revised by the Bishop 
 for an undated edition of the hymns issued as a twopenny 
 tract for general use, not earlier than 1705, and not later than 
 1707. A copy (probably unique) is in the British Museum 
 Library. Ken's Evening Hymn, in its original form, first 
 appeared, with a musical setting by Jeremiah Clarke, in 
 Playford's Harmonia Sacra, of 1693. 
 
 ccxlviii. — The last twelve of sixteen stanzas, from the first poem 
 in the Christian Year. 
 
 ccliii. — I am indebted for the communication of this hymn and 
 No. cclxvi. to the kindness of the author, the Rev. James 
 Ford, Prebendary of Exeter. 
 
 cclvi.— A variation from "Watts' "Dread Sovereign, let my evening 
 song " (No. vn. of Watts' Hymns, Book II.). Browne has 
 altered the metre, and has re-written and improved the whole 
 composition. 
 
 cclix. — The last twelve of fourteen stanzas, from the second poem 
 in the Christian Year. 
 
 cclx.— This Hymn (originally taken by the Editor from The New 
 Congregational Hymn Book, Jackson, Walford, and Co.) was, 
 by mistake, ascribed in the former impressions of this volume 
 to Thomas Park. It was first published in The Wreck of the 
 Golden Mary, constituting the extra number of Household 
 Words, for Christmas, 1856. 
 
 cclxiv. — One couplet only is omitted; viz. that which, in Doddridge's 
 text, follows the sixteenth line. The hymn, as originally, and 
 generally, printed, is divided into three unequal parts ; the 
 first consisting of eighteen lines, the second of twenty-eight, 
 and the third of twenty-four. I have ventured to adopt a 
 division into stanzas, as being more suitable for music. 
 
 cclxvii. — Five out of seven stanzas. The omitted stanzas are 
 Doddridge's second and fifth. 
 
 cclxix. — This, and No. ccxcix. were first published in Lord Nelson's 
 Salisbury Hymnal; from whence they are taken, and the 
 author's name now for the first time added, by Mr. Keble's 
 and Lord Nelson's kind permission. 
 
 CCLxx. — The repeated couplet is taken from Milton's translation of 
 the 136th Psalm ; with the change of Milton's word "aye," 
 into " still." 
 
Notes. 499 
 
 HYMN 
 
 cclxxiii. — From the British Magazine, 1832, there signed with a t. 
 
 cclxxvi. cclxxix. — Both these are taken (with four of his own 
 hymns), by the permission of the Rev. Arthur Tozer Russell, 
 from his Hymn Book (Psalms and Hymns, &c. ; Cambridge ; 
 Deighton, 1851), in which cclxxvi. was first published ; while 
 cclxxix. is from the Church of England Magazine, 1843, 
 where it is in seven stanzas. The author is the Rev. Henry 
 Downton, formerly of Chatham, and afterwards of Geneva. 
 Hymn cclxxvi. though-first published in 1851, hud previously 
 been printed in 1848, in the collection (not published) of 
 Hymns for the German Hospital. 
 
 cclxxxi. — This, and No. ccclxxxix. are from Parish Musings, by 
 the Rev. Dr. J. S. B. Monsell, Vicar of Egham (Rivingtons ; 
 Fifth Edition ; 1S60), and are inserted by his kind permission. 
 
 cclxxxii. — This Hymn (now ascertained to be by Mr. Osier) first 
 appeared in the Rev. W. J. Hall's collection (London : Wix, 
 1836). 
 
 cclxxxv. — Six out of twelve stanzas. Those omitted are the sixth 
 to the eleventh, inclusive, of Jacobi. The hymn is at page 
 189 of Haberkorn's Psalmodia Germanica (London, 1765). 
 
 cclxxxvii. — First published in the Protestant Episcopal Collection 
 of Hymns (1826), appended to the version of the Psalms at 
 the end of the American Prayer-Book. 
 
 cclxxxviii. — The seven last out of fourteen stanzas. (Hymns and 
 Sacred Poems by J. %■ C. Wesley ; second edition : 1843 : page 
 192). 
 
 cclxxxix.— Seven out of eight stanzas. Montgomery's last stanza 
 is omitted. 
 
 ccxc. — The text is from the late Rev. Edward Biekersteth's 
 Christian Psalmody. The third stanza has been altered, and 
 the fifth inserted by some unknown compiler. 
 
 ccxcu. — Crashaw's hymn is a translation from the Adoro te devote 
 of Thomas Aquinas. It consists of fifty-six lines ; from which 
 most of the lines of the present hymn are adopted, with more 
 or less variation. The first abridgment (less varied than the 
 present, and containing only six stanzas), was Hymn 18 in 
 Austin's Offices ; and was repeated, with the change of one or 
 two words, by Hickes (Devotions ; 1706 ; page 210). The 
 present text is that of Dorrington's variation from Austin : in 
 whose Reformed Devotions it is Hymn 23. 
 
 ccxcni.— From the collection of the Rev. R. Whittingham 
 (Simpkin and Marshall : fourth edition, 1843) ; altered from 
 a hymn by the Rev. Thomas Cotterill, 1810. 
 
 ccxcv. — From the Church of England Magazine, June 1838, where 
 it is given in five stanzas. 
 
 ccxcvin. — Ten out of twenty-eight stanzas ; from a poem entitled 
 Jesus teaches to die ; at page 80 of the fourth volume of Bishop 
 Ken's works (London ; 1721). The stanzas omitted are the 
 first four ; the tenth to the eighteenth inclusive ; the twenty- 
 second to the twenty-fifth inclusive ; and the twenty-eighth. 
 
 K K 2 
 
500 Notes. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 ccc— From The Dove on the Cross and other Poems (Bath; Binns 
 and Goodwin), 1849. 
 
 ccci. — Three out of forty-three stanzas. The poem (a translation 
 from the Hymn of Prudentius, Circa exequias defuneti) is in 
 Williams' Thoughts in Past Years (Rivingtons ; third edition) 
 1843 ; page 296). The stanzas selected are at pages 304-5. 
 
 cccii. — The last three stanzas of James Montgomery's, The Grave 
 (Montgomery's Poetical Works complete in one volume; Long- 
 man : page 261). They now constitute, I believe, part of the 
 epitaph on the poet's tomb. 
 
 cccviii.— Four out of five stanzas. The omitted stanza, a "Gloria," 
 is Chandler's last. 
 
 cccx.— Five out of six stanzas. The omitted stanza is Browne's 
 last. (Browne's Hymns and Spiritual Songs, No. 203.) 
 
 cccxi.— Eight out of nine stanzas. The omitted stanza is Herbert's 
 last. There is a copy of this, with a good many variations, in 
 St. Williams' Library. 
 
 cccxii.— In Mason's Songs of Praise (No. 19), this hymn ends (as 
 many of Mason's hymns do) with a half-stanza ; the general 
 scheme of division being into stanzas of eight lines. The 
 concluding half-stanza is omitted here. 
 
 cccxvii.— This hymn was first privately printed in 1833. It was 
 afterwards subdivided into three distinct hymns, in the col- 
 lection of the Rev. H. V. Elliott (the husband of the 
 authoress); by whose kindness I have been enabled to 
 reunite, in this place, the parts so separated. 
 
 cccxx. — From the Missionary Minstrel (London ; Nisbet, 1826), 
 a small collection of 100 hymns, more than fifty of which 
 bear the initials of the anonymous compiler. 
 
 cccxxn. cccxxiv.— The text of both these is from the late Dr. 
 Andrew Reed's collection. Mr. Hastings is an American 
 author ; and, on comparing them with his original text, since 
 the first edition of the present volume was published, they 
 appear to be correctly given ; except that the refrain, "Re- 
 turn, return," in No. cccxxiv. is not in Mr. Hastings' book : 
 {Hymns and Poems, New York, 1850.) 
 
 cccxxni. — I am indebted to Mr. Morris, of Worcester, for the 
 communication of Mrs. Morris' volume, entitled, The Voice 
 and the Eeply (Worcester ; Grainger), from which this hymn 
 is taken. 
 
 cccxxv.— From the twenty-ninth edition (published about 1829) 
 
 of Dr. Rippon's Hymn-Book ; where it is attributed to Dr. 
 
 Collyer. It is not in Dr. Collyer's own collection, of 1812; 
 
 and I have not succeeded in tracing it beyond Dr. Rippon's 
 
 book, 
 cccxxvi.— Communicated by the author to Miss Elliott, the 
 
 authoress of the hymn by which it was suggested, "Just as 
 
 I am," &e. (No. cxlvii. of this volume), 
 cccxxix. — This was kindly communicated to me in manuscript, by • 
 
 the author, Robert Smith, Esq., of Hollo way. 
 
Notes. 501 
 
 HYMN 
 
 cccxxxv. — Thirteen out of sixteen stanzas, from Hymns and Sacred 
 Poems, by Charles Wesley ; vol. i. p. 40 (Farley, Bristol ; 
 second edition, 1755). 
 
 cccxxxvu. — The hymn from which these eight stanzas are taken, 
 was first published in twenty-two stanzas in Spiritual Songs 
 by J. and C. Wesley (vol. i. p. 224, fourth edition, 1743). 
 Afterwards in the seventeenth edition (Pine, Bristol, 1773 ; 
 p. 30) it was reduced to sixteen stanzas. In both it begins, 
 " And wilt Thou yet be found." 
 
 cccxlix. — Miss Elliott's name is now (through the kindness of her 
 brother, the Rev. H. V. Elliott, in obtaining for me her per- 
 mission) first made public, as the authoress of this hymn. 
 Through some accidental error it is ascribed in the Rev. 
 H. V. Elliott's Collection to Wesley ; and the same mistake 
 has been transferred to Ryle's Spiritual Songs, Bourchier's 
 Solace in Sickness and Sorrow, and probably other books. 
 
 cccli. — Six out of seven stanzas (Hymns and Sacred Poems, vol. ii. 
 p. 146; second edition, 1743). Wesley's last stanza is 
 omitted ; and a change of arrangement, which the Wesleys 
 themselves sanctioned in the Hymn Book for Methodists, is 
 adopted, by placing as last of the six the stanza which is 
 second in the original text. 
 
 ccclvi. — Five out of six stanzas. Browne's last is omitted. 
 
 ccclviii. — Five out of eight stanzas. Those omitted are Mr. 
 Massie's third, fourth, and seventh. (From Martin Luther's 
 Spiritual Songs ; translated by B. Massie, Esq. of Eccleston ; 
 Hatchard, 1854.) 
 
 ccclxiii.— From the original, as printed, with music, by the late 
 Baron Bunsen, and communicated to me by a friend. 
 
 ccclxiv.— In most of the editions of Kelly's hymns (including that 
 of 1836), this is a hymn of ten stanzas ; of which the fifth, 
 sixth, seventh, and tenth, are here omitted. In the edition 
 of 1812, it was reduced by the author himself to six stanzas ; 
 being (except the last), the same with the present text. The 
 last stanza of that edition was unequal to the rest ; and was 
 omitted by the author in all the later editions. 
 
 ccclxviii. — From Nugce Sacrcej or, Psalms and Hymns and Spiritual 
 Songs. (Hatchard, 1825). 
 
 ccclxx.— The seven last of twenty stanzas ; from Erskine's Gospel 
 Sonnets (twentieth edition ; Berwick : Phorson ; 1788 : page 
 272). 
 
 ccclxx v.— This is No. 47 in Hymns by B. C. Chapman (London : 
 John R. Bateman, 1, Ivy Lane). This edition, which is with- 
 out date, was published in 1852. The same hymn, in a slightly 
 different form, had appeared in the earlier edition of the 
 Author's hymns, published In 1837 (JohnF. Shaw, Southamp- 
 ton Row, Russell Square). 
 
 ccclxxvi. — (From Lyte's Poems, chiefly Beligious; page 41). This 
 hymn had been in circulation several years before the pub- 
 lication of that volume, and will be found in thti Christian 
 
5<32 Notes. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 Psalmist (1825), and in Hymns for Private Devotion, Selected 
 and Original (Hatchard, 1827). It has sometime^ been 
 erroneously attributed to Miss Grenfell. 
 
 ccclxxxi. ccclxxxii.— I am indebted for the communication of the 
 volumes from which these two pieces are taken (Songs for 
 the Suffering ; and The Family Hymnal ; London : Hamilton, 
 Adams, & Co.), to the kindness of the Author, the Rev. 
 Thomas Davis, Incumbent of Roundhay, Yorkshire. 
 
 ccclxxxvii. — Five out of nine stanzas (from Watts' Hymn 59, of 
 Book II). The stanzas omitted are the first, second, fifth, 
 and sixth. 
 
 cccxc. —Five out of six stanzas. The omitted stanza is the fourth 
 of Watts. 
 
 cccxcu.— This has been made up by putting together two stanzas 
 taken from No. 23 (with some slight variation), and two 
 others taken (without variation) from No. 28 of Mason's 
 Songs of Praise. Lady Huntingdon added two stanzas more 
 from the latter hymn, which are here omitted. 
 
 cccci. — Six out of eight stanzas. The stanzas omitted are Kelly's 
 second and third. 
 
 ccccii.— This hymn (in five stanzas, of which the fourth is here 
 omitted) appears in the second series of Sacred Poetry (Edin- 
 burgh: Oliphant), first published in 1828. Dr. Bonar spoke 
 of it to Mr. Sedgwick as one which he remembered as early 
 as 1825. In the Chelsea Collection (Psalms and Hymns for 
 Public Worshiji ; Seeleys ; second edition ; 1S53) it bears the 
 name of " Newton ; " but the point is settled by its insertion 
 in the author's Poems, 1852. 
 
 cccciii. — From Hymns and Anthems (Fox, Paternoster Row) ; 
 a volume edited by Mr. William Johnson Fox ; to whom this 
 hymn was given for publication by the authoress. 
 
 ccccix.— From Thoughts for thoughtful Hours (Nelson, Edinburgh. 
 1859). 
 
Notes. 503 
 
 NOTES TO ADDITIONAL HYMNS. 
 
 HYMN 
 
 1.— I am indebted to the Rev. J. Keble for permission, obtained 
 through him, to introduce this and the other additional 
 Hymns of the late Professor Joseph Anstice. The two 
 numbered cclxxiii. and cccxxvn. I had previously taken 
 from the Child's Christian Year ; (in which the additional 
 Hymn, No. 24, will also be found.) The collected hymns of 
 the author have never been made public, though they were 
 privately printed, after his death, in 1836. 
 v. — The first four out of five stanzas. 
 
 vii.— From Bishop Mant's Holydays of the Church, &c. vol. i. p. 
 360. 
 
 vni. — This is the original translation of Mr. Williams (omitting the 
 
 last twelve lines), of which Hymn lxi. is a variation, 
 ix. — The text is that of the 58th Scotch Paraphrase ; and, 
 although differing from that given in Logan's works, may be 
 regarded as altered by himself, or with his authority, from the 
 original by Michael Bruce. 
 
 xii. — Five out of six stanzas (Olney Hymns, Book I. No. 53). 
 
 xiv.— This is No. 856 in Dr. Collyer's Hymn-Book of 1812. Dr. 
 Collyer, in a note, states, that he is himself the author of the 
 last three stnnzas, having never seen more than the first 
 which (following a popular error) he assumes to be a trans- 
 lation from Luther, by whose name it is usually called, and 
 to one of whose tunes it is set and sung. The original German 
 hymn, however, on which this is founded (beginning, " Esist 
 gewisslich an der Zeit,") is not by Luther, but by Bartholo- 
 mew Ringwald. I have not been able to discover the author 
 of the first English stanza. 
 
 xvi. xviii. — These two popular hymns constitute parts of Dr. Neale's 
 translation of The Rhythm of Bernard de Morlaix, Monk of 
 Cluny, on the Celestial Country. (London : J. T. Hayes, 1862.) 
 The entire translation is very long (442 lines). The Latin 
 original begins with the line, 
 " Hora novissima, tempora pessima sunt, vigilemus." 
 
 xxi 1. xxx. — From Hymns from the Gospel of the Day for each Sun- 
 day and the Festivals of our Lord, bv the Rev. J. E. Bode. 
 (Oxford and London : J. H. & J. Parker, 1860.) 
 
 xxvii. — I am indebted for this to the kindness of the translator. 
 
 xxxi. — The first four out of five stanzas. Olney Hymns, Book I. 
 No. 50. 
 
 xxxiv. — I am indebted for this to the author. 
 
LIST OF AUTHORS. 
 
 Adams, Sarah Flower (1840) cccciii 
 
 Addison, Joseph (1712) xiii, clxxiii, ccxvi, a 23 
 
 Alexander, Cecil Frances (1853—1858) cxlviii, clxiii 
 
 Alford, Henry (1845) xcn, cxxx, cclxxiv, cclxxxiii, cccix 
 
 Anstice, Joseph (1836) cclxxiii, cccxxvii, a 1, a 11, a 13, a 25 
 
 Auber, Harriett (1829) xl 
 
 Austin, John (1668) xxvi, lxx, clxxxix, ccxcii. ccclxvii 
 
 Baker, Sir Henry Williams (1857—1861) clxii, cxcii, cclxx 
 
 Baker, Thomas Bagnall (1844) xxv 
 
 Bakewell, John (1760) lxxi 
 
 Ball, William (1825) coclxviii 
 
 Barbauld, Anna Lsetitia (1773) lviii, cxxxviii, cclxxi, a 35 
 
 Bathurst, William Hiley (1831) lvi, cii, clxxv, clxxxiv, ccxci 
 
 Baxter, Richard (1681) clxxxvi 
 
 Beddome, Benjamin (1769) cccxlii 
 
 Berridge, John (17S5) cxm, cc 
 
 Bickersteth, Edward Henry (185S) ccxxn 
 
 Bode, John Ernest (1860) a 22, a 30 
 
 Bonar. Horatius (1856) cxcvn, cccxxxiii, ccclxix, ccclxxiv, a 28 
 
 Borthwick, Jane (1859) ccccix 
 
 Bowdler, John (1814) XXII, ccxxxiv 
 
 Bowly, Mary (1847) ccccvin 
 
 Browne, Simon (1720) xcvi, cclvi, cccx, ccclvi 
 
 Browne, Jane Euphemia (1849) ccc 
 
 Bruce, Michael (176S) lxxxi, a 9 
 
 Burns, Jair.es D. (1854) cccxiii 
 
 Byrom, John (1773) cccxxxviii 
 
 Cabot, Eliza Lee (1826) xvin 
 
 Cameron, William (1781) cxiv 
 
 Cawood, John (1816) a 19 
 
 Cennick, John (1742) xc, cxxvi, ccclii 
 
 Chandler, John (1837) lxi, cxxviii, cxxxix, ccli, cccviii 
 
 Chapman, Robert C. (1837) ccclxxv 
 
 Conder, Josiah (1856) lxxvi, lxxxviii, ccix 
 
 Collyer, William Bengo [1829] cccxxv, a 14 
 
 Cooke, Russell Sturgis (1850) cccxxvi 
 
 Cosin, John, Bp. (1627) xciv 
 
 Cotterill, Thomas (1810) v, ccxcm 
 
 Cowper, William (1779) cv, cxxxvi, cxliii, cxc, cccxlvi, ccclxxi, 
 
 ccclxxviii, CCCLXXXV, ccclxxxviii, cccxci, CCCXCV, A 31 
 Crashaw, Richard (1646) ccxcii 
 Crossman, Samuel (1664) cix, CLOT 
 Cox, Frances Elizabeth (1841) cccxxxn 
 
506 List of Authors. 
 
 Davis, Thomas (1859, 1860) ccclxxxi, ccclxxxii, a 34 
 
 Darling, Thomas (1857) vn 
 
 Denny, Sir Edward (1848)clxxvi 
 
 Dix, William Chatterton (1861) xli 
 
 Doddridge, Philip (1755) xlii, cxviii, cxxix, cxxxi, clix, ccvii, 
 
 CCXII, CCXIII, CCLXIV, CCLXVII, CCLXXVII, CCLXXX, CCCIV, CCCXVIII, 
 
 cccxcni, a 29 
 Dorrington, Theophilns (1686) ccxcn 
 Downton, Henry (1851) cclxxvi, cclxxix 
 Drennan, William (1815) cxxxvn 
 Dyson, Charles (1816) ccclix 
 
 Edmeston, J.imes (1820) ccxxvn, cccxcvi 
 
 Elliott, Charlotte (1836) cxlvii, cxciii, cccxxviii, cccxlix, cccl, 
 
 ccclxxii 
 Elliott, Julia Anne (1833) cccxvn 
 Erskine, Ralph (1734) ccclxx 
 
 Fanch, James (1791) lxxiii 
 Fletcher, Henry (1825) ccccn 
 Flowerdew, Alice (1811) cclxviii 
 Ford, James (1856) ccliii, cclxvi 
 
 Gibbons, Thomas (1784) xvi, cccxciv 
 
 Gisborne, Thomas (1803) cxix 
 
 Grant, Sir Robert (1806—1839) xxi, lxviii, cvii, cccxcvui 
 
 Grigg, Joseph (1765) cccxxx 
 
 Grinfield, Thomas (1836) xxxn, ccvm, ccxcvn 
 
 Gurney, John Hampden (1851)xvin, cxlix, ccvi, cclxxit, a 20 
 
 Hammond, William (1745) xcv, cxxvn, ccclxxiii 
 
 Hart, Joseph (1759) xcvm 
 
 Hastings, Thomas [1S42]cccxxii. cccxxiv 
 
 Havergal, William Henry (1833) lxxix 
 
 Haweis, Thomas (1792) ccxxxix 
 
 Heber, Bishop Reginald (1811—1827) i, lxxxiv, lxxxvii, cxvn, 
 
 CXLI, CLXXVII, CCXIV, CCXXV, CCXXVI, CCXLII, CCLXI, CCCV, 
 CCCXXXI, CCCLXI, A 2, A 10 
 
 Herbert, Algernon [1839] ccclxiii 
 
 Herbert, George (1632) xx. cccxi 
 
 Hill, Rowland (1783—1796) cxn, clii 
 
 How, William Walsham (1860) l, cclxxxvi 
 
 Hunt, John (1853) x 
 
 Huntingdon, Selina, Countess of (1780) cccxcn 
 
 Hurn, William (1813) lxxxvi, cm 
 
 Irons, William Josiah (1853) cxcvi 
 
 Jacob i, John Christian (1822) c, cclxxxv 
 
 Keble, John (1827—1857) xiv, xxxi, xcm, ccxlviii, cclix, cclxlx, 
 
 ccxcix 
 Kelly, Thomas (1804 — 1836) xxxv, xliii, xlv, xlix, lxxviii, 
 
List of Authors. 507 
 
 LXXXV, CXX, CXXI, CXXIV, CLXXIX, CCXV, CCLXII, CCCXVI, CCCXXI, 
 CCCLXIV, CCCCI 
 
 Ken, Bishop Thomas (1709—1721) ccxlvi, cclvii, cclxv, ccxcviii 
 Kirke-White, Henry ^1803—1806) cxxn, cclviii 
 
 Logan, John (1770) ccxm, a. 9 
 
 Lynch, Thomas Toke (1S55) ecu 
 
 Lyte, Henry Francis (1^33—1847) xi, xxm, xxiv, liii, cxxxii, 
 
 CLXXXIII, CLXXXVIII, CCXXIII, CCXXXV, CCXXXVI, CCXXXVII, cccxv, 
 CCCLXV, CCOLXXVI, CCCLXXXVI, CCCCV 
 
 Madan, Martin (1760) xc, cxxvn 
 
 Maitland, Fanny Fuller (1827) cxxn 
 
 Mant, Bishop Richard (1828— 1S37) II, lxix, ci, coin, a 7 
 
 Mardley, John (1562) ccxxvi 
 
 Marriott, John (1813) clxxx 
 
 Mason, John (1683) civ, cevi, cccxn, cccxcn 
 
 Massie, Richard (1854) ccclviii 
 
 Medley, Samuel (1789— 1800) cli. cccxl 
 
 Middleton, Bishop Thomas Fanshaw [1831] ccxxiv 
 
 Miles, Sarah Appleton [1840 J lxvi 
 
 Millard, James El win (1848) iv 
 
 Milman, Henry Hart (1822—1827) ccxxxviii, ccevi, a 3, a 4 
 
 Monsell, John S. B. (1837 — 1850) cclxxxi, coclxxxix 
 
 Montgomery, James (1803 — 1853) in, xxxvi, lxxx, xcix, cxi, cxv, 
 
 CLV, CLXIV, CLXIX, CLXX, CLXXVIII, CCXXI, CCLXXXIX, CCCII, 
 CCCVII, CCCXIX, CCCLX, CCCCX, A 17, A 33 
 
 Moore, Henry [1806] ccclxii 
 Morris, Eliza Fanny [1858] cccxxm 
 Morrison, John (1781) xxxix, cccxliv 
 Muhlenberg, William Augustus (1826) cclxxxvii 
 
 Neale, John Mason (1851—1854) xxix, lxiv, ccliv, a 16, a 18 
 
 Neele, Henry (1818) cexe 
 
 Newman, John Henry (1833) cccciv 
 
 Newton, John (1779) xlvii, lv, lxxvii, cxvi, cxxv, clxvi, clxxxi, 
 
 CXCIX, CCXIX, CCXLI, C'CLXXVIII, CCCXXX1V, CCCLXXXIV, cccxcvn, 
 
 a 12, a 26, a 32 
 Nicholas, Tressilian George (1838) ccxcv 
 Noel, Baptist Wriothesley (1841) ccclxxix 
 
 Olivers, Thomas (1757—1772) xci, ccccxi 
 Osler, Edward (1856) ccxliv, ccxciv, cclxxxii 
 
 Palgrave, Francis Turner (1862) ccxxix, cclii 
 Palmer, Ray [1840] clxxxii, ccxcvi 
 Parr, Harriett (1856) cclx 
 
 Quarles, John (1654) vn 
 
 Reed, Andrew (1842) clxvii 
 
 Rickards, Samuel (1825) xxxvn 
 
 Russell, Arthur Tozer (1851) lxvii, ccxxvm, cclxxv, ccclv 
 
 Ryland, John (1777) ccx, OCX] 
 
508 List of Authors. 
 
 Seagrave, Rober (1748) clxv 
 
 Sears, Edmund Hamilton [1850] xxxviii 
 
 Scott, Robert Allan (1839) clxxii 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter (1805) a 15 
 
 Skelton, Philip (1784) xxviii 
 
 Smith, Robert (1862) cccxxix 
 
 Steele, Anne (1760) clx, cxcv, cccxxxvi, cccxli 
 
 Swain, Joseph (1792) cxxxiv 
 
 Tate, Nahum (1699) xxxm 
 
 Taylor, Bishop Jeremy (1653) clxxiv 
 
 Tore, Emma (1851) lxv 
 
 Tomalin, James Bullivant [1860] a 27 
 
 Toplady, Augustus Montague (1759—1777) c, cxlv, clvi, cci, 
 
 cccliv, cccc, ccccvii, ccccxii 
 Turner, Daniel (1791) lxxiii 
 
 Waring, Anne Lsetitia (1850—1860) cxcviii 
 
 Waring, Samuel Miller (1827) ccxliii 
 
 Watts, Isaac (1709—1720) vi, vin, ix, xn, xv, xvn, xliv, xlviii, 
 lii, lxiii, lxxii, lxxiv, lxxxii, lxxxiii, xcvii, cvi, cxiv, 
 cxxiii, cxxxiii, cxlii, cliv, clviii, clxi, clxviii, clxxi, cciv, 
 ccxvii, ccxviii, ccxx, ccxxxiii, ccxlv, ccxlvii, cclvi, ccciii, 
 cccxiv, cccliii, ccclxvi, ccclxxvii, ccclxxxiii, ccclxxxvii, 
 
 CCCXC, A 5, A 6 
 
 Wesley, Charles (1739 — 1762) viii, xxxiv, xlvi, liv, lix, lxxv, 
 
 LXXXIX, XC, CXL, CXLIV, CXLVI, CLVII, CLXXXV, CLXXXVII, CXCI, 
 CC, CCXL, CCL, CCLXIII, CCLXXXVIII, CCCXXXV,CCCXXXVII,CCCXXXIX, 
 CCCXLIII, CCCXLV, CCCXLVII, CCCLI, CCCLVII, A 21 
 
 Wesley, John (1739 — 1743) lxx, cxxxv, ccxxx, cccxlvih, ccccvi 
 
 White, Henry Kirke (see Kirke White) 
 
 Whittingham, Richard (1835) ccxciii 
 
 Williams, Isaac (1838—1842) xix, xxx, lxi, ccci, ccclxxx. a 8 
 
 Williams, William (1759 — 1774) li, ccxxxi, ccxxxii 
 
 Wilson, Mrs. Daniel (1830) cxciv 
 
 Winkworth, Catherine (1858) cccxcix 
 
 Wither, George (1641) xxvii, ccxlix, cclv, cclxxxiv 
 
 Wordsworth, William (1834) a 24 
 
 Anonymous, from miscellaneous Collections, lx, cx, cl 
 Ditto, " F. B. P." [1616] cvm 
 Ditto, "M. G. T." (1831) lvii 
 Ditto, "O." (1838) ccv 
 Ditto, "O. P." (1826) cccxx 
 
INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Abide with me ! fast falls the even-tide 432 
 
 Accept, my God, my evening song 270 
 
 Again the Lord of Life and Light 61 
 
 All praise to Him who dwells in bliss 278 
 
 All praise to thee, my God, this night 271 
 
 All wondering on the desert ground 473 
 
 Almighty God, Thy piercing eye 235 
 
 Almighty God, Thy word is cast 470 
 
 And can it be, that I should gain 363 
 
 And have I measured half my days 355 
 
 And shall I sit alone 369 
 
 Another year has fled ; renew 294 
 
 A poor wayfaring man of grief 385 
 
 Approach, my soul, the mercy-seat 234 
 
 As o'er the past my memory strays 238 
 
 A soldier's course, from battles won , . , 134 
 
 As with gladness men of old 46 
 
 A thousand years have fleeted 351 
 
 Awake, and sing the song 142 
 
 Awake, my soul, and with the sun , 257 
 
 Awake, my soul, awake to prayer 283 
 
 Awake, my soul, lift up thine eyes 486 
 
 Awake, ye saints, and raise your eyes 296 
 
 Away with sorrow's sigh 32 
 
 Before Jehovah's awful throne 7 
 
 Behold ! a Stranger's at the doors " 348 
 
 Behold, the morning sun 118 
 
 Behold ! the Mountain of the Lord 91 
 
 Behold the sun, that seem'd but now 269 
 
 Beneath Thy cross I lay me down .55 
 
 Beyond the glittering starry globe 79 
 
 Blest are the humble souls that see 220 
 
 Blest be Thy love, dear Lord 205 
 
 Blow ye the trumpet, blow 57 
 
 Bound upon th' accursed tree 454 
 
 Brief life is here our portion 469 
 
 Brightest and best of the sons of the morning 452 
 
 3 right was the guiding star that led 46 
 
 Brother, thou art gone before us ; and thy saintly soul is flown 322 
 
 By faith in Christ I walk with God 410 
 
 Calm me, my God, and keep me calm 395 
 
 Child of sin and sorrow 341 
 
 Children of the Heavenly King 141 
 
 Christ is our corner-stone 324 
 
 Christ, my hidden Life, appear 382 
 
 Christ the Lord is risen to-day 62 
 
 Christ, whose glory fills the skies . 263 
 
 Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire 106 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit, come 110 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove 108 
 
5 1 o Index of First Lines. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove J 09 
 
 Come, let us join our cheerful songs 456 
 
 Come, let us join our friends above 153 
 
 Come, let us to the Lord our God 364 
 
 Come, my soul, thy suit prepare 198 
 
 Come, O come ! in pious lays 27 
 
 Come, O thou Traveller unknown 365 
 
 Come, take my yoke, the Saviour said 347 
 
 Come, we that love the Lord 138 
 
 Come, ye thankful people, come ... - 292 
 
 Commit thou all thy griefs 433 
 
 Compared with Christ, in all beside 379 
 
 Day of anger, that dread Day 102 
 
 Dearest of names, our Lord and King 163 
 
 Deathless principle, arise 169 
 
 Early, my God, without delay 417 
 
 Earth to earth, and dust to dust 162 
 
 Ere another Sabbath close 337 
 
 Eternal Beam of Light Divine . . . ., 472 
 
 Eternal God, of beings First 381 
 
 Eternal source of every joy 2SG 
 
 Exalted high at God's right hand 127 
 
 Fain would my thoughts fly up to Thee 393 
 
 Far from my heavenly home 391 
 
 Far from these narrow scenes of night 173 
 
 Far from the world, O Lord, I flee 405 
 
 Father, by Thy love and power 476 
 
 Father, l' know that all my life 213 
 
 Father of Love, our Guide and Friend 211 
 
 Fearless, calm, and strong in love 486 
 
 Fierce passions discompose the mind 397 
 
 For ever with the Lord 440 
 
 Forth from the dark and stormy sky ' . . . 238 
 
 Forth in Thy Name, O Lord, I go 201 
 
 For mercies, countless as the sands 482 
 
 For Thy mercy and Thy grace 297 
 
 Fountain of mercy ! God of love 286 
 
 Friend after friend departs 177 
 
 From all that dwell beloAv the skies 254 
 
 From Egypt lately come , 139 
 
 From Greenland's icy mountains .... ...... 93 
 
 Full of weakness and of sin 114 
 
 Glorious things of Thee are spoken 131 
 
 God eternal, Lord of all 3 
 
 God is our Refuge, tried and proved ... 247 
 
 God moves in a mysterious way 417 
 
 God of mercy, throned on high ' 308 
 
 God of my salvation, hear , 159 
 
 God of that glorious gift of grace 299 
 
 God of the morning, at whose voice ! . . 259 
 
 God, that madest earth and heaven 277 
 
 Go up. go up, my heart . 400 
 
 Go, worship at Emanuel's feet . , 377 
 
 Gracious Spirit, dwell with me 218 
 
 Great God, what do I see and hear 465 
 
 Great God, Whose universal sway . - , , „ 93 
 
 Guide me, O Thou rreat Jehovah . , . . 4 . , . , - , 243 
 
Index of First L ines. en 
 
 Hail, thou bright and sacred morn 334 
 
 Hail, Thou once despised Jesus 76 
 
 _Hail to the Lord's Anointed 89 
 
 Happy soul! thy days are ended , 171 
 
 Happy the man, whose hopes rely 1 , 11 
 
 Hark ! how all the welkin rings . . 38 
 
 Hark, my soul, how every thing 25 
 
 Hark, my soul! it is the Lord ' * 268 
 
 Hark, the glad sound ! the Saviour comes .... 47 
 
 Hark, 'tis a martial sound ! ..... 135 
 
 Harp, awake ! tell out the story ! . 295 
 
 Haste, traveller, haste ! the night comes on 343 
 
 He, Who on earth as man was known 86 
 
 Hear, gracious God ! a sinner's cry 361 
 
 Hear, gracious God ! my humble moan 362 
 
 Hear my prayer, O heavenly Father 276 
 
 Heavenly Father, to Whose eye 224 
 
 Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face 479 
 
 Holy Ghost, dispel our sadness llf 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord 2 
 
 Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty 1 
 
 Holy Spirit, gently come 107 
 
 Holy Spirit, in my breast 113 
 
 Hosanna ! raise the pealing hymn 88 
 
 Hosanna to the Living Lord ! 154 
 
 How blest the sacred tie that binds 151 
 
 How bright these glorious spirits shine 129 
 
 How gentle God's commands . . . 228 
 
 How rich Thy favours, God of grace 145 
 
 How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds 5] 
 
 How vast the treasure we possess 409 
 
 I give immortal praise 5 
 
 I heard the voice of Jesus say 353 
 
 I praised the earth, in beauty seen 387 
 
 1 saw, and lo ! a countless throng ... - 444 
 
 I sing th' almighty power of God 16 
 
 In evil long I took delight 354 
 
 In memory of the Saviour's love 311 
 
 Interval of grateful shade 278 
 
 In token that thou shalt not fear 300 
 
 It came upon the midnight clear 43 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home 120 
 
 Jerusalem, my happy home - . 125 
 
 Jerusalem the golden 467 
 
 Jesu ! behold, the Wise from far 74 
 
 Jesu ! guide our way 241 
 
 Jesu, lover of my soul 251 
 
 Jesu, my strength, my hope 374 
 
 Jesu, Thou art my Righteousness 157 
 
 Jesu ! who for my transgression * *r . . 380 
 
 Jesus, cast a look on me 215 
 
 Jesus Christ is risen to-day 64 
 
 Jesus, I my cross have taken . . \V . .!£ . . _ V- . . . . 402 
 
 Jesus ! lead us with Thy power 244 
 
 Jesus, my all, to Heaven is gone 375 
 
 Jesus shall reign where'er the sun 92 
 
 Jesus, the Shepherd of the sheep 230 
 
5 1 2 Index of First Lines. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts 313 
 
 Jesus, Thy Church with longing eyes 191 
 
 Jesus, when near th' expected hour 315 
 
 Jesus, where'er Thy people meet 150 
 
 Join all the glorious names 77 
 
 Joy to the world, the Lord is come 49 
 
 Just as I am, without one plea 160 
 
 Just as thou art, without one trace 345 
 
 Lamb of God, I look to Thee 306 
 
 Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom 431 
 
 Lead us, heavenly Father, lead us 240 
 
 Let all the world in every corner sing 19 
 
 Let all the world rejoice 9 
 
 Let Jacob to his Maker sing 419 
 
 Let me be with Thee where Thou art 398 
 
 Light of the lonely pilgrim's heart 192 
 
 Lo ! God is here ! Let us adore 149 
 
 Lo ! He comes ! let all adore Him 48 
 
 Lo ! He comes, with clouds descending 99 
 
 Lo ! He comes with clouds descending 100 
 
 Lo ! the day the Lord hath made . , 456 
 
 Long did 1 toil, and knew no earthly rest 412 
 
 Lord, as to Thy dear cross we flee . 471 
 
 Lord ! come away . 191 
 
 Lord God of morning and of night ... 266 
 
 Lord God the Holy Ghost ill 
 
 Lord, I feel a carnal mind .. 216 
 
 Lord, in the day Thou art about 222 
 
 Lord, in Thy Name Thy servants plead . \ ...... 287 
 
 Lord Jesu. when we stand afar 54 
 
 Lord, may the inward grace abound 299 
 
 Lord of hosts ! to Thee we raise 323 
 
 Lord of mercy and of might 461 
 
 Lord of my life, whose tender care 222 
 
 Lord of the harvest ! once again 292 
 
 Lord of the harvest ! Thee we hail 291 
 
 Lord of the Sabbath ! hear our vows 335 
 
 Lord of the worlds above 147 
 
 Lord, thou hast form'd mine every part 188 
 
 Lord, when before Thy throne we meet 312 
 
 Lord, when I lift my voice to Thee 201 
 
 Lord, when my soul her secrets doth reveal 483 
 
 Mercy alone can meet my case 235 
 
 Morning lifts her dewy veil 459 
 
 Much in sorrow, oft in woe 137 
 
 Must friends and kindred droop and die 319 
 
 My faith looks up to Thee 199 
 
 My God and Father, while I stray 208 
 
 My God, and is Thy Table spread 4S0 
 
 My God, my King, Thy various praise 187 
 
 My God, now I from sleep awake ..... ..... 281 
 
 My God, the Spring of all my joys 404 
 
 My life's a shade, my days 166 
 
 My Lord, my love was crucified 329 
 
 My Shepherd will supply my need 232 
 
 My soul, amid this stormy world 400 
 
 My soul, repeat His praise 155 
 
 My spirit longeth for Thee 359 
 
Index of First Lines. 5 1 3 
 
 PAGE 
 
 My spirit on Thy cure 204 
 
 My trust is in the Lord 246 
 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee 430 
 
 Not all the blood of beasts 455 
 
 Not unto us, Almighty Lord 10 
 
 Now, gracious Lord, Thine arm reveal 477 
 
 Now I have found the ground wherein 370 
 
 Now is the hour of darkness past 83 
 
 Now it belongs not to my care 202 
 
 Now let our mourning hearts revive 320 
 
 Now let us join with hearts and tongues 58 
 
 Now may He, who from the dead 252 
 
 Now morning lifts her dewy veil 64 
 
 Now to Him, who loved us, gave us 253 
 
 O day most calm, most bright . 327 
 
 O for a closer walk with God 415 
 
 O for an heart to praise my God 206 
 
 O for a thousand tongues to sing 51. 
 
 O God of Bethel, by whose hand 228 
 
 O God, Thou art my God alone 186 
 
 O God, Thy grace and blessing give 163 
 
 O God, unseen, yet ever near 311 
 
 O happy saints, who dwell in light 128 
 
 O happy soul, that lives on high 392 
 
 O Holy Saviour, Friend unseen 372 
 
 O Holy Lord, content to live 304 
 
 O house of Jacob, come 95 
 
 O how kindly hast Thou led me 224 
 
 O Israel, to thy tents repair 164 
 
 O Jesu, Lord of heavenly grace 263 
 
 O Jesus, Saviour of the lost 236 
 
 O King of earth, and air, and sea 229 
 
 O King of kings, before whose throne 6 
 
 O Lamp of Life ! that on the bloody Cross 385 
 
 O Lord, another day is flown 273 
 
 O Lord, how good, how great art Thou 56 
 
 O Lord, how joyful 'tis to see 152 
 
 O Lord, how little do we know 399 
 
 O Lord, I would delight in Thee 227 
 
 O Lord, my best desire fulfil 205 
 
 O Lord, our languid souls inspire 484 
 
 O Lord, Thy heavenly grace impart 209 
 
 O Lord, turn not Thy face away 239 
 
 O most merciful 253 
 
 O Saviour! is Thy promise fled 193 
 
 O Saviour, may we never rest 59 
 
 O send me down a draught of love 396 
 
 O Spirit of the living God 194 
 
 O that my load of sin were gone 363 
 
 O Thou, from whom all goodness flows 250 
 
 O Thou, the contrite sinners' Friend 371 
 
 O Thou, to whose all-searching sight 242 
 
 O Thou, who earnest from above 203 
 
 O Thou, whose tender mercy hears 357 
 
 time of tranquil joy and holy feeling 330 
 
 O timely happy, timely wise 2G0 
 
 O worship the King 20 
 
 L L 
 
5 1 4 Index of First L ines. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Of Thy love some gracious token 338 
 
 O help us, Lord ! each hour of need ' 249 
 
 Oh what, if we are Christ's \ \ 207 
 
 On God the race of man depends . . . 14 
 
 On the mountain's top appearing :.'.'.". 94 
 
 One there is, above all others . . . 463 
 
 Our God, our help in ages past 181 
 
 Our life is hut an idle play . . . . . 388 
 
 Our praise Thou need'st not ; but Thy love ....... 19 
 
 Palms of glory, raiment bright 130 
 
 Pleasant are Thy courts above ..." 146 
 
 Plunged in a gulf of dark despair . . . . 56 
 
 Poor child of sin and woe ' 342 
 
 Pour out Thy Spirit from on high .......... 485 
 
 Praise, my soul, the King of heaven ] 23 
 
 Praise, O praise our God and King . ! ! 288 
 
 Praise the Lord, His glories show '.'.'. 24 
 
 Praise the Lord of Heaven, praise Him in the height . .' . '. 25 
 
 Praise to God, immortal praise .' 289 
 
 Praise to the radiant Source of bliss ......... '. 143 
 
 Prayer is the soul's sincere desire . . . . . . . '.'.". 185 
 
 Quiet, Lord, my froward heart 214 
 
 Receive him, Earth, unto thine harbouring shrine 318 
 
 Redeem'd from guilt, redeem' d from fears 200 
 
 Rejoice, the Lord is King 83 
 
 Rejoice, though storms assail thee 429 
 
 Rest, weary soul 439 
 
 Return, O wanderer, to thy home 343 
 
 Ride on, ride on in majesty 453 
 
 Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings 178 
 
 Rock of Ages, cleft for me 158 
 
 Round the Lord in glory seated 2 
 
 Salvation ! oh ! the joyful sound 67 
 
 Saviour, I lift my trembling eyes 60 
 
 Saviour, when in dust to Thee 71 
 
 Saviour, who didst from Heav'n come down 478 
 
 Saviour, who, exalted high +. 73 
 
 Saviour, who Thy flock art feeding 305 
 
 See, the ransomed millions stand 97 
 
 Shall I fear, O Eafth, thy bosom 409 
 
 Shepherd of Israel, from above 309 
 
 Shine on our souls, eternal God 223 
 
 Since Thou hast added now, O God 262 
 
 Sing to the Lord, our might 332: 
 
 Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice 22 
 
 Sleep well, my dear; sleep safe and free 303 
 
 Sometimes a light surprises 411 
 
 Songs of praise the angels sang 468 
 
 Source of good, whose power controls 384 
 
 Sovereign Ruler of the skies 225 
 
 Speed Thy servants, Saviour, speed them 195 
 
 Spirit ! leave thine house of clay 168 
 
 Star of morn and even 241 
 
 Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear 274 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep ! 'what ails my dear 301 
 
 Sweet is the Spirit's strain ... 345 
 
 
Index of Fust Lines. 5 1 5 
 
 PAGfc 
 
 Sweet is the work, my God, my King :m 
 
 Sweet place, sweet place alone 121 
 
 That day of wrath, that dreadful day 466 
 
 The child leans on its parent's breast 406 
 
 The billows swell, the winds are high ......... 420 
 
 The day, O Lord, is spent 269 
 
 The day of rest once more comes round 333 
 
 The foe behind, the deep before G7 
 
 The God of Abraham praise 441 
 
 The Head that once was crown'd witli thorns 87 
 
 The heaven of heavens cannot contain 151 
 
 The Lord is King! lift up your voice 85 
 
 The Lord Jehovah reigns 8 
 
 The Lord my pasture shall prepare 231 
 
 The Lord my Shepherd is 233 
 
 The Lord of Might from Sinai's brow 96 
 
 The lovely form of God's own Church 325 
 
 The race that long in darkness pined 45 
 
 The roseate hues of early dawn 177 
 
 The scene around me disappears 41 
 
 The Son of God goes forth to war 132 
 
 The Son of God ! the Lord of life 66 
 
 The spacious firmament on high 12 
 
 The spring-tide hour 415 
 
 The starry firmament on high 118 
 
 The strain upraise of joy and praise 30 
 
 The voice that breathed o'er Eden 317 
 
 The waves of trouble, how they rise 172 
 
 The winds were howling o'er the deep 350 
 
 The world can neither give nor take 418 
 
 Thee we adore, eternal Lord 4 
 
 There is a blessed Home 176 
 
 There is a book, who runs may read 13 
 
 There is a calm for those who weep 319 
 
 There is a dwelling-place above 219 
 
 There is a fountain fill'd with blood 156 
 
 There is a land of pure delight 175 
 
 There is a pure and peaceful wave 394 
 
 There is a River, deep and broad 115 
 
 There is a safe and secret place 248 
 
 There is a Stream, which issues forth 116 
 
 There is an hour, when I must part 180 
 
 There's not a bird, with lonely nest 405 
 
 They talk'd of Jesus, as they went 313 
 
 Thou art gone to the grave : but we will not deplore thee . . 321 
 
 Thou art gone up on high 69 
 
 Thou God of Love ! beneath thy sheltering wings 818 
 
 Thou, great Creator, art possest 143 
 
 Thou Judge of quick and dead 07 
 
 Thou the cup of death didst drain 461 
 
 Thou, who didst stoop below 70 
 
 Thou, who hast call'd us by Thy word 4S1 
 
 Thou, Whose Almighty word 197 
 
 Though, by sorrows overtaken 389 
 
 Though rude winds usher thee, sweet day 48 
 
 Through the day Thy love hath spared us 277 
 
 Through the love of God our Saviour 438 
 
 Thus saith God of His Anointed > . . 50 
 
5i6 Index of First Lines. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 Thy goodness, Lord, our souls confess 16 
 
 Thy way, not mine, O Lord . . . ."• 212 
 
 'Tis come, the time so oft foretold . . . v 36 
 
 'Tis Heaven begun below 148 
 
 To God, ye choir, above, begin 28 
 
 To Heaven I lift mine eye 246 
 
 To Him, who for our sins was slain 71 
 
 To-morrow, Lord, is Thine . . . 298 
 
 To Thee, my God, whose Presence fills 420 
 
 To Thy temple I repair . 336 
 
 Up to the hills I lift mine eyes 245 
 
 Up to the throne of God is borne 475 
 
 We seek a rest beyond the skies 180 
 
 We sing His love, Who once was slain 165 
 
 We sing the praise of Him Who died 53 
 
 Weary of wandering from my God 359 
 
 Welcome, sweet day, of days the best 32C 
 
 We'll sing, in spite of scorn ... 40 
 
 We're bound for yonder land 428 
 
 We've no abiding city here 390 
 
 What are these in bright array 126 
 
 What sudden blaze of song . 34 
 
 Whate'er my God ordains is right 424 
 
 When all Thy mercies, O my God 189 
 
 When at mid-day my task I ply 266 
 
 When at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend 237 
 
 When came in flesh th' Incarnate Word 464 
 
 When Christ the Lord would come on earth 144 
 
 When Christ, with all His graces crown'd 414 
 
 When gathering clouds around I view 423 
 
 When God of old came down from Heaven 104 
 
 When languor and disease invade 426 
 
 When I survey life's varied scene 210 
 
 When I survey the wondrous cross 53 
 
 When Israel, by Divine command 140 
 
 When Jesus left His Father's throne 307 
 
 When rising from the bed of death 473 
 
 When shall Thy love constrain 358 
 
 (Vhen Thou, O Lord, in flesh wert drest 451 
 
 When wounded sore the stricken heart 161 
 
 Where high the heavenly Temple stands 460 
 
 While shepherds watched their flocks by night 37 
 
 While with ceaseless course the sun 296 
 
 Why comes this fragrance on the summer breeze 407 
 
 Why do we mourn departing friends 167 
 
 Why should I fear the darkest hour 422 
 
 Why should I, in vain repining 421 
 
 With all the powers my poor soul hath 310 
 
 With tearful eyes I look around 346 
 
 Worship, honour, glory, blessing . . . . • 253 
 
 Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell 172 
 
 Ye servants of the Lord 133 
 
 Ye sons of earth, prepare the plough 117 
 
 Yes, God is good : in earth and sky 18 
 
 Your harps, ye trembling saints 435 
 
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