A translation of the psalms of David :: :: University of Virginia Library

When Abraham was bless'd,
And on his face profess'd
The Saviour Christ hereafter born,
“Thou pilgrim and estrang'd,
“Thy name, said God, is chang'd,
“Thy lot secur'd from want and scorn.

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“O Abraham, my friend,
“My covenant attend,
“Which Shilo's self shall not repeal,
“Chastise from carnal sin
“Thy house and all thy kin,
“Thy faith by circumcision seal.”

The promis'd Shilo came,
And then receiv'd the name
Of Jesus, Saviour of the soul;
As he the law fulfill'd
Which checks the fleshly-will'd,
And o'er the passion gives controul.

O clean and undefil'd!
Thou shalt not be beguil'd
By youthful heat and female art,
To thee the strains belong
Of that mysterious song
Where none but virgins bear a part.

Come every purer thought,
By which the mind is wrought
From man's corruption, nature's dust;
Away each vain desire,
And all the fiends that fire
The soul to base and filthy lust.

Ye swans that sail and lave
In Jordan's hallow'd wave,
Ah sweet! ah pensive! ah serene!
Thou rose of maiden flush,
Like Joseph's guiltless blush,
And herb of ever-grateful green;

Ye lilies of perfume,
That triumph o'er the loom,
And gaudy greatness far outshine;
And thou the famous tree,
Whose name is chastity,
And all the brilliants of the mine;

Ye doves of silver down
That plume the seraph's crown,
All, all the praise of Jesus sing,
The joy of heav'n and earth,
And Christ's eternal worth,
The pearl of God, the Father's ring.

Let elegance, the flow'r
Of words, in tune and pow'r,
Find some device of cleanest choice
About that gem to place—
“This is my HEIR of GRACE,
“In whose perfections I rejoice.”

HYMN III. EPIPHANY.

Grace, thou source of each perfection,
Favour from the height thy ray;
Thou the star of all direction,
Child of endless truth and day.

Thou that bidst my cares be calmer,
Lectur'd what to seek and shun,
Come, and guide a western palmer
To the Virgin and her Son.

Lo! I travel in the spirit,
On my knees my course I steer
To the house of might and merit
With humility and fear.

Poor at least as John or Peter
I my vows alone prefer;
But the strains of love are sweeter
Than the frankincense and myrrh.

Neither purse nor scrip I carry,
But the books of life and pray'r;
Nor a staff my foe to parry,
'Tis the cross of Christ I bear.

From a heart serene and pleasant
'Midst unnumber'd ills I feel,
I will meekly bring my present,
And with sacred verses kneel.

Muse, through Christ the Word, inventive
Of the praise so greatly due;
Heav'nly gratitude retentive
Of the bounties ever new.

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Fill my heart with genuine treasures,
Pour them out before his feet,
High conceptions, mystic measures,
Springing strong and flowing sweet.

Come, ye creatures of thanksgiving,
Which are harmoniz'd to bless,
Birds that warble for your living,
Beasts with ways of love express.

Thou the shepherd's faithful fellow,
As he lies by Cedron's stream,
Where soft airs and waters mellow
Take their Saviour for their theme.

Thou too gaily grave domestic,
With whose young fond childhood plays,
Held too mean for verse majestic,
First with me thy Maker praise.

Brousing kids, and lambkins grazing,
Colts and younglings of the drove,
Come with all your modes of praising,
Bounding through the leafless grove.

Ye that skill the flow'rs to fancy,
And in just assemblage sort,
Pluck the primrose, pluck the pansy,
And your prattling troop exhort.

“Little men, in Jesus mighty,
“And ye maids that go alone,
“Bodies chaste, and spirits flighty,
“Ere the world and guilt are known.

“Breath so sweet, and cheeks so rosy—
“Put your little hands to pray,
“Take ye ev'ry one a posy,
“And away to Christ, away.”—

Youth, benevolence, and beauty,
In your Saviour's praise agree,
Which this day receives our duty,
Sitting on the virgin's knee.

That from this day's institution
Ev'ry penitent in deed,
At his hour of retribution,
As a child, through him may speed.

HYMN IV. CONVERSION OF SAINT PAUL.

Thro' him, the chief, begot by Nun,
Controul'd the progress of the sun;
The shadow too, through him, retir'd
The ten degrees it had acquir'd.

The barren could her fruit afford,
The woman had her dead restor'd,
The statesman could himself demean
To seek the river, and be clean.

At his command, ev'n Christ I Am,
The cruse was fill'd, and iron swam;
The floods were dry'd to make a track,
And Jordan's wave was driven back.

All these in ancient days occurr'd,
The great atchievements of the Word,
By Joshua's hand, by Moses' rod,
By virtue of the men of God.

But greater is the mighty deed
To make a profligate recede,
And work a boist'rous madman mild,
To walk with Jesus like a child.

To give a heart of triple steel
The Lord's humanity to feel;
And there, where pity had no place,
To fill the measure of his grace;

To wash internal blackness white,
To call the worse than dead to light;
To make the fruitless soil to hold
Ten thousand times ten thousand fold.

To turn a servant of the times
From modish and ambitious crimes;
To pour down a resistless blaze,
“Go, persecutor, preach and praise.”

HYMN V. KING CHARLES THE MARTYR.

The persecutor was redeem'd,
And preach'd the name he had blasphem'd;
But, ah! tho' worded for the best,
How subtle men his writings wrest.

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Hence heresies and sects arose
According to the saint they chose,
All against Christ alike—but all
Of some distorted text of Paul.

Had not such reas'ners been at strife
With Christ's good doctrine and his life,
The land of God's selected sheep
Had 'scap'd this day to fast and weep.

Ah great unfortunate, the chief
Of monarchs in the tale of grief,
By marriage ill-advis'd, akin
To Moab and the man of sin!

When Christ was spitted on and slain,
The temple rent her veil in twain;
And in the hour that Charles was cast
The church had well nigh groan'd its last.

But now aloft her head she bears,
Accepted in his dying pray'rs;—
Great acts in human annals shine—
Great sufferings claim applause divine.

HYMN VI. THE PRESENTATION OF CHRIST IN THE TEMPLE.

Preserver of the church, thy spouse,
From sacrilege and wrong,
To whom the myriads pay their vows,
Give ear, and in my heart arouse
The spirit of a nobler song.

When Hiero built, from David's plan,
The house of godlike style,
And Solomon, the prosp'rous man,
Whose reign with wealth and fame began,
O'erlaid with gold the glorious pile;

Great was the concourse of mankind
The structure to review;
Such bulk with sweet proportion join'd
The labours of a vaster mind,
In all directions grand and true.

And yet it was not true and grand
The Godhead to contain;
By whom immensity is spann'd,
Which has eternal in his hand
The globe of his supreme domain.

Tho' there the congregation knelt
The daily debt to pay,
Tho' there superior glories dwelt,
Tho' there the host their blessings dealt,
The highest GRACE was far away.

At length another fane arose,
The fabrick of the poor;
And built by hardship midst her foes,
One hand for work and one for blows,
Made this stupendous blessing sure.

That God should in the world appear
Incarnate—as a child—
That he should be presented here,
At once our utmost doubts to clear,
And make our hearts with wonder wild.

Present ye therefore, on your knees,
Hearts, hands resign'd and clean;
Ye poor and mean of all degrees,
If he will condescend and please
To take at least what orphans glean—

I speak for all—for them that fly,
And for the race that swim;
For all that dwell in moist and dry,
Beasts, reptiles, flow'rs and gems to vie
When gratitude begins her hymn.

Praise him ye doves, and ye that pipe
Ere buds begin to stir;
Ev'n every finch of every stripe,
And thou of filial love the type,
O stork! that sit'st upon the fir.

Praise him thou sea, to whom he gave
The shoal of active mutes;
(Fit tenants of thy roaring wave)
Who comes to still the fiends, that rave
In oracles and school disputes.

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By Jesus number'd all and priz'd,
Praise him in dale and hill;
Ye beasts for use and peace devis'd,
And thou which patient and despis'd,
Yet shalt a prophecy fulfill.

Praise him ye family that weave
The crimson to be spread
There, where communicants receive,
And ye, that form'd the eye to grieve,
Hid in green bush or wat'ry bed.

Praise him ye flow'rs that serve the swarm
With honey for their cells;
Ere yet the vernal day is warm,
To call out millions to perform
Their gambols on your cups and bells.

Praise him ye gems of lively spark,
And thou the pearl of price;
In that great depth or caverns dark,
Nor yet are wrested from the mark,
To serve the turns of pride and vice.

Praise him ye cherubs of his breast,
The mercies of his love,
Ere yet from guile and hate profest,
The phenix makes his fragrant nest
In his own paradise above.

HYMN VII. ASH WEDNESDAY.

FIRST DAY OF LENT.

O charity! that couldst receive
The dying thief's repentant pray'r;
And didst upon the cross relieve
Thy fellow-suff'rer there!

Tho' he revil'd among the rest—
Before the point of utmost dread,
Grace unto pray'r was first imprest,
And then forgiveness sped.

Alas! the more of us defraud
The Lord of his most righteous due,
And live by guiding truth unaw'd,
And vanities pursue.

The harlot vice with joy we clasp,
Nor shun to meet her tainted breath;
And leave repentance to the gasp
Of hope-retarded death;

Albeit there are appointed times
For men to worship and to fast;
Then purge your conscience of its crimes
At least while those shall last.

The words of vengeance threat the tree,
And fix their axes to the helves—
Pray therefore—pray for such as flee
Their Saviour and themselves.

Since some are but the more defil'd,
As canons urge them to comply,
And Christ's example in the wild
By thwarting texts deny;

Read on your knees the holy book
That's penn'd to sooth despondent fears—
And if the Lord but deign a look,
Remember Peter's tears.

HYMN VIII. ST. MATTHIAS.

Hark! the cock proclaims the morning,
Match the rhime, and strike the strings;
Heav'nly muse, embrace the warning,
Raise thy voice, and stretch thy wings.

Lo! the poor, alive and likely
Midst desertion and distress,
Teach the folk that deal obliquely,
They had better bear and bless.

If we celebrate Matthias,
Let us do it heart and soul;
Nor let worldly reasons bias
Our conceptions from their goal.

As the fancy cools and rambles,
Keep her constant, keep her chaste;
Ward from wine, and from the shambles,
Sight and appetite, and taste.

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Tho' thy craving bowels murmur
And against thy pray'r rebell;
Yet be firmer still, and firmer
In the work begun so well.

Sick and weakly, pris'ners, strangers,
Cold in nakedness we lie;
Train'd in hunger, thirst and dangers,
As in exercise to die.

All avail not to dispirit
Toil, determin'd to succed;
And we trust in Christ his merit,
As we have his woes to plead.

Yea, our lot is fallen fairer
Than the sons of wealth and pride;
While our Saviour is a sharer
In all hardships that betide.

Hard and precious are together,
Stripes and wounds are endless gain;
If with him the storm we weather,
With him also we shall reign.

We shall take the traitors places,
And their forfeit office hold,
And to Christ shall show our faces,
Not betray'd by us or sold.

Lord, our spirits disencumber,
From the world our hearts dismiss;
Let us reckon to the number
Of thy saints in fruitful bliss.

Let the few of Christ be hearty
In the cause they bleed to win,
And religion make her party
Good against the pow'r of sin.

Let us pray—by self-denial
Every sense to Christ resign,
Till we from the fiery trial
Pure as purity refine.

HYMN IX. THE ANNUNCIATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN.

O purity, thou test
Of love amongst the blest,
How excellent thou art,
The Lord Jehovah's heart,
Whose sweet attributes embrace,
Every virtue, praise and grace.

Thou fair and good dispos'd,
'Midst glories undisclos'd,
Inspire the notes to play
Upon the virgin's day;
High above all females nam'd,
And by Gabriel's voice proclaim'd.

Glad herald, ever sent
Upon some blest event,
But never sped to men
On such a charge till then—
When his Saviour's feet he kiss'd,
To promulge his birth dismiss'd.

Hail mystery! thou source
Of nature's plainest course,
How much this work transcends
Thine usual means and ends—
Wherefore call'd, we shall not spare
Louder praise, and oft'ner pray'r.

But if the work be new,
So shou'd the song be too,
By every thought that's born
In freshness of the morn;
Every flight of active wings,
Every shift upon the strings.

To praise the mighty hand
By which the world was mann'd,
Which dealt to great and small
Their talents clear of all;
Kind to kind by likeness linkt,
Various all, and all distinct.

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Praise him seraphic tone
Of instruments unknown,
High strains on golden wire,
Work'd by etherial fire;
Blowing on unceasing chords,
“King of kings, and lord of lords.”

Praise Hannah, of the three,
That sang in Mary's key;
With her that made her psalm
Beneath the bow'ring palm;
With the dame—Bethulia's boast,
Honour'd o'er th'Assyrian host.

Praise him faith, hope, and love
That tend Jehovah's dove;
By men from lust repriev'd
As females best conceiv'd;
To remount the man and muse
For above all earthly views.

HYMN X. THE CRUCIFIXION OF OUR BLESSED LORD.

The world is but a sorry scene,
Untrue, unhallow'd, and unclean,
And hardly worth a man;
The fiend upon the land prevails,
And o'er the floods in triumph sails,
Do goodness all she can.

How many works for such a day?
How glorious? that ye scourge and slay
Ye blind, by blinder led;
All hearts at once devising bad,
Hands, mouths against their Maker mad,
With Satan at the head—

Are these the race of saints profest,
That for authorities contest,
And question and debate?
Yet in so foul a deed rebell,
Beyond example, ev'n from hell,
To match its barb'rous hate.

Behold the man! the tyrant said,
As in the robes of scoff array'd,
And crown'd with thorns he stood;
And feigning will to let him go
He chose Barabbas, open foe
Of human kind and good.

And was it He, whose voice divine,
Could change the water into wine,
And first his pow'r averr'd;
Which fed in Galilea's groves
The fainting thousands with the loaves
And fishes of his word!

And was it He, whose mandate freed
The palsied suppliant, and in deed
The sabbath-day rever'd;
Which bade the thankful dumb proclaim
The Lord omnipotent by name,
Till loosen'd deafness heard!

And was it He, whose hand was such,
As lighten'd blindness at a touch,
And made the lepers whole;
Could to the dropsy health afford,
And to the lunatic restor'd
Serenity of soul!

The daughter that so long a term
By Satan's bonds had been infirm,
Was rescued and receiv'd;
Yea, with the foes of faith and hope
His matchless charity cou'd cope,
When Malchus was reliev'd.

The woman in his garment's hem
Conceiv'd a prevalence to stem
The sources of her pain;
He calls—the dead from death arise,
And as their legions he defies
The dev'ls descend again.

His irresistable command
Convey'd the vessel to the land,
As instant as his thought;
He caus'd the tempest to forget
Its rage, and into Peter's net,
The wond'rous capture brought.

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The roarings of the billows cease
To hear the gospel of his peace
Upon the still profound—
He walk'd the waves—and at his will,
The fish to pay th'exactor's bill
To Judah's coast was bound.

The wither'd hand he saw and cur'd,
And health from gen'ral ail secur'd
Where'er disease was rife;
And was omniscient to tell
The woman at the patriarch's well
The story of her life.

But never since the world was known,
One so stupendous as his own,
And rich of vast event;
From love ador'd, as soon as seen,
Had not his hated message been
To bid the world repent.

Ah, still desirous of a king,
To give voluptuous vice its swing
With passions like a brute;
By Jesus Christ came truth and grace,
But none indulgence, pension, place,
The slaves of SELF to suit.

The Lord on Gabbatha they doom,
Before the delegate of Rome,
Deserted and exposed—
They might have thought on Israel's God,
Which on the sapphire pavement trod,
To sev'nty seers disclos'd.

They might have thought upon the loss
Of Eden, and the dreadful cross
That happen'd by a tree;
Ere yet with cursed throats they shout
To bring the dire event about,
Tho' prophesy'd to be.

O God, the bonds of sin enlarge,
Lay not this horror to our charge,
But as we fast and weep,
Pour out the streams of love profuse,
Let all the pow'rs of mercy loose,
While wrath and vengeance sleep.

HYMN XI. EASTER DAY.

Awake—arise—lift up thy voice,
Which as a trumpet swell,
Rejoice in Christ—again rejoice,
And on his praises dwell.

The muse at length, no more perplext
In search of human wit,
Shall kneel her down, and take her text
From lore of sacred writ.

My lot in holy ground was cast,
And for the prize I threw;
And in the path by thousands past
The Lord shall make me new.

O let the people, with the priest,
Adorn themselves to pray,
And with their faces to the east
Their adoration pay.

Let us not doubt, as doubted some,
When first the Lord appear'd;
But full of faith and rev'rence come
What time his voice is heard.

And ev'n as John, who ran so well,
Confess upon our knees
The prince that locks up death and hell,
And has himself the keys.

'Tis He that puts all hearts in tune
With strings that never jar,
And they that rise to praise him soon,
Shall win the MORNING STAR.

The morning star, and pearl of price,
And stone of lucid white,
Are all provocatives from vice,
To heav'n and true delight.

O GLADNESS! that suspend'st belief
For fear that rapture dreams;
Thou also hast the tears of grief,
And failst in wild extreams.

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Tho' Peter make a clam'rous din,
Will he thy doubts destroy?
Will little Rhoda let him in,
Incredulous with joy?

And thus thro' gladness and surprize
The saints their Saviour treat;
Nor will they trust their ears and eyes
But by his hands and feet.

These hands of lib'ral love indeed
In infinite degree,
Those feet still frank to move and bleed
For millions and for me.

A watch, to slavish duty train'd,
Was set by spiteful care,
Lest what the sepulchre contain'd
Should find alliance there.

Herodians came to seal the stone
With Pilate's gracious leave,
Lest dead and friendless, and alone,
Should all their skill deceive.

O dead arise! O friendless stand
By seraphim ador'd—
O solitude! again command
Thy host from heav'n restor'd.

Watchmen sleep on, and take your rest,
And wake when conscience stings;
For Christ shall make the grave his nest
Till God return his wings.

He died—but death itself improv'd
To triumph o'er the foe,
And preach'd, as God's great spirit mov'd,
To sinners chain'd below.

The souls that perish'd in the flood
He bid again to bliss;
And caus'd his rod with hope to bud
From out the dread abyss.

The seventh day above the week
Still would he keep and bless;
The pain'd to sooth, the lost to seek,
And grievance to redress.

Yet never such a day before
Of holy work was spent,
While hardship infinite he bore
That malice might relent.

And whether from success exempt
The story is not told;
But sure most glorious was th'attempt,
Whose fame in heav'n's enroll'd.

And each man in his spirit knows
That mercy has no bound;
And from that upmost zenith flows
The lowest depth to sound.

And therefore David calls for praise
From all the gulphs that yawn,
Our thoughts by greater strokes to raise
Than e'er before were drawn.

Beyond the height that science kens,
Where genius is at home;
And poets take their golden pens
To fill th'immortal tome.

Ye that for psalmody contend,
Exert your trilling throats;
And male and female voices blend
With joys divinest notes.

By fancy rais'd to Zion's top
Your swelling organ join;
And praise the Lord on every stop
Till all your faces shine.

With sweetest breath your trumpets fill'd,
Shall forward strength and grace;
Then all your warbling measures build
Upon the grounding bass.

The boxen pipe, for deepness form'd,
Involve in strains of love,
And flutes, with inspiration warm'd,
Shall imitate the dove.

Amongst the rest arouse the harp,
And with a master's nail;
And from the quick vibrations carp
The graces of the scale.

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The flow'rs from every bed collect,
And on the altar lift;
And let each silver vase be deckt
With nature's graceful gift.

And from the steeple's summit stream
The flag of golden gloss,
Exposing to the glancing beam
The glorious English cross;

And let the lads of gladness born
The ringers be renew'd;
And as they usher'd in the morn,
Let them the day conclude.

Rev. i. 18.

Rev. ii. 28.

Rev. ii. 17.

HYMN XII. ST. MARK.

Pull up the bell-flow'rs of the spring,
And let the budding greenwood ring
With many a chearful song;
All blessing on the human race,
From CHRIST, evangelist of grace,
To whom these strains belong.

To whom belong the tribe that vie
In what is musick to the eye,
Whose voice is “stoop to pray”—
While many colour'd tints attire
His fav'rites, like the golden wire,
The beams on wind flow'rs play.

To whom belong the dress and airs
Of nature in her warbling pairs,
And in her bloomy pride;
By whom the man of pray'r computes
His year, and estimates the fruits
Of every time and tide.

To whom the sacred penman cries,
And as he heav'nwards lifts his eyes,
With meekness kneels him down;
Then what inspiring truth indites,
His strengthen'd memory recites,
The tale of God's renown.

O holy Mark! ordain'd in youth
To be historian of the truth
From heav'ns first fountain brought;
And Christ his hand was on thy head,
To bless thee that thou shouldst be read,
And in his churches taught.

And tho', as Peter's scribe and son,
Thou mightst a charity have done
To cover his disgrace;
Yet strictly charg'd thou wouldst not spare
At large the treason to declare,
And in its order place.

Thus in the church, to cleanse our sin,
By fair confession we begin,
And in thanksgiving end;
And they that have the Lord deny'd,
Must not come there the crime to hide,
But promise to amend.

Then let us not this day refuse,
With joy to give the Christian dues
To Lazars at the door;
“O for the name and love of Christ
“Spare one poor dole from all your grist,
“One mite from all your store!”

And those that in by-places lurk,
Invite with overpay to work,
Thy garner'd hay to fill;
And worship on the new mown sod,
And active to the Lord thy God,
Keep lust and conscience still.

HYMN XIII. ST. PHILIP AND ST. JAMES.

Now the winds are all composure,
But the breath upon the bloom,
Blowing sweet o'er each inclosure,
Grateful off'rings of perfume.

Tansy, calaminth and daisies,
On the river's margin thrive;
And accompany the mazes
Of the stream that leaps alive.

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Muse, accordant to the season,
Give the numbers life and air;
When the sounds and objects reason
In behalf of praise and pray'r.

All the scenes of nature quicken,
By the genial spirit fann'd;
And the painted beauties thicken
Colour'd by the master's hand.

Earth her vigour repossessing
As the blasts are held in ward;
Blessing heap'd and press'd on blessing,
Yield the measure of the Lord.

Beeches, without order seemly,
Shade the flow'rs of annual birth,
And the lily smiles supremely
Mention'd by the Lord on earth.

Couslips seize upon the fallow,
And the cardamine in white,
Where the corn-flow'rs join the mallow,
Joy and health, and thrift unite.

Study sits beneath her arbour,
By the bason's glossy side;
While the boat from out its harbour
Exercise and pleasure guide.

Pray'r and praise be mine employment,
Without grudging or regret,
Lasting life, and long enjoyment,
Are not here, and are not yet.

Hark! aloud, the black-bird whistles,
With surrounding fragrance blest,
And the goldfinch in the thistles
Makes provision for her nest.

Ev'n the hornet hives his honey,
Bluecap builds his stately dome,
And the rocks supply the coney
With a fortress and an home.

But the servants of their Saviour,
Which with gospel-peace are shod,
Have no bed but what the paviour
Makes them in the porch of God.

O thou house that hold'st the charter
Of salvation from on high,
Fraught with prophet, saint, and martyr,
Born to weep, to starve and die!

Great to-day thy song and rapture
In the choir of Christ and WREN
When two prizes were the capture
Of the hand that fish'd for men.

To the man of quick compliance
Jesus call'd, and Philip came;
And began to make alliance
For his master's cause and name.

James, of title most illustrious,
Brother of the Lord, allow'd;
In the vineyard how industrious,
Nor by years nor hardship bow'd!

Each accepted in his trial,
One the CHEERFUL one the JUST;
Both of love and self-denial,
Both of everlasting trust.

Living they dispens'd salvation,
Heav'n-endow'd with grace and pow'r;
And they dy'd in imitation
Of their Saviour's final hour.

Who, for cruel traitors pleading,
Triumph'd in his parting breath;
O'er all miracles preceding
His inestimable death.

HYMN XIV. THE ASCENSION OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST.

“And other wond'rous works were done
“No mem'ry can recall;
“Which were they number'd every one,
“Not all the space beneath the sun
“Cou'd hold the fair detail of all.”

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The text is full, and strong to do
The glorious subject right;
But on the working mind's review
The letter's like the spirit true,
And clear and evident as light.

For not a particle of space
Where'er his glory beam'd,
With all the modes of site and place,
But were the better for his grace,
And up to higher lot redeem'd.

For all the motley tribe that pair,
And to their cover skim,
Became his more immediate care,
The raven urgent in his pray'r,
And those that make the woodland hymn.

For every creature left at will
The howling WASTE to roam,
Which live upon the blood they spill,
From his own hands receive their fill,
What time the desart was his home.

They knew him well, and could not err,
To him they all appeal'd;
The baest of sleek or shaggy fur,
And found their natures to recur
To what they were in Eden's field.

For all that dwell in depth or wave,
And ocean—every drop—
Confess'd his mighty pow'r to save,
When to the floods his peace he gave,
And bade careering whirlwinds stop.

And all things meaner from the worm
Probationer to fly;
To him that creeps his little term,
And countless rising from the sperm
Shed by sea-reptiles, where they ply.

These all were bless'd beneath his feet,
Approaching them so near;
Vast flocks that have no mouths to bleat,
With yet a spirit to intreat,
And in their rank divinely dear.

For on some special good intent,
Advancement or relief,
Or some great evil to prevent,
Or some perfection to augment,
He held his life of tears and grief.

'Twas his the pow'rs of hell to curb,
And men possess'd to free;
And all the blasting fiends disturb
From seed of bread, from flow'r and herb,
From fragrant shrub and stately tree.

The song can never be pursu'd
When Infinite's the theme—
For all to crown, and to conclude,
He bore and bless'd ingratitude,
And insult in its worst extreme.

And having then such deeds atchiev'd
As never man before,
From scorn and cruelty repriev'd,
In highest heav'n he was receiv'd,
To reign with God for evermore.

HYMN XV. WHITSUNDAY.

King of sempiternal sway,
Thou hast kept thy word to-day,
That the COMFORTER should come,
That gainsayers should be dumb.
While the tongues of men transfus'd
With thy spirit should be loos'd,
And untutor'd Hebrew speak,
Latin, Arabic, and Greek.

That thy praises might prevail
On each note upon the scale,
In each nation that is nam'd,
On each organ thou hast fram'd;
Every speech beneath the sun,
Which from Babel first begun;
Branch or leaf, or flow'r or fruit
Of the Hebrews ancient root.

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This great miracle was wrought,
That the millions might be taught,
And themselves of hope assure
By the preaching of the poor—
O thou God of truth and pow'r
Bless all Englishmen this hour;
That their language may suffice
To make nations good and wise.

Yea, the God of truth and pow'r
Blesses Englishmen this hour;
That their language may suffice
To make nations good and wise—
Wherefore then no more success—
That so much is much to bless—
Revelation is our own,
Secret things are God's alone.

Deut. xxix. 29.

HYMN XVI. TRINITY SUNDAY.

If Jesus be reveal'd,
There is no truth conceal'd
For honour or for awe,
That tends to drive or draw
To the hope of heav'nly bliss,
From the dread of hell's abyss.

If oracles be mute,
And every dull dispute
Of ostentatious gloom
In Athens or in Rome;
We should, sure, amend our ways
By submission, pray'r and praise.

O THREE! of blest account
To which all sums amount,
For if the church has two
The work of pray'r to do,
God himself, th'Almighty word,
Will be there to make the third.

One Lord, one faith, one font,
Are all good christians want
To make the fiend retreat,
And build the saint compleat;
Where the Godhead self-allied,
Faith, hope, charity reside.

Man, soul and angel join
To strike up strains divine;
O blessed and ador'd,
Thine aid from heav'n afford;
HOLY, HOLY, HOLY THREE,
Which in One, as One agree.

For angel, man and soul
Make up upon the whole,
One individual here,
And in the highest sphere;
Where with God he shall repose,
From whose image first he rose.

Ye books, that load the shelves,
To lead us from ourselves,
Where things, in doubt involv'd,
Are rather made than solv'd;
Render to the dust and worm
All ye question or affirm.

Ye poets, seers and priests,
Whose lore the spirit feasts,
And keep the banquet on,
From Moses ev'n to John;
On your truth I will regale,
“Which is great and must prevail.”

The Trinity is plain,
So David's psalms maintain,
—Who made not God his boast
But by the HOLY GHOST;
Thence prophetick to record
All the suff'rings of the Lord.

Yet all the Scriptures run
That God is great and one,
Or else there is no cause
Of nature or her laws;
To controul and comprehend
All beginning, course and end.

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HYMN XVII. THE KING'S RESTORATION.

Almighty Jesu! first and last,
The sole original and cause
Of all heroic actions past,
The God of patriot deeds, and gracious laws;
Which didst at sea this western empire found
The chief, the lords and people in thy love renown'd.

We thank thee that we were despis'd,
And as unblest barbarians held;
For then and therefore thou devis'd
All things in which we have the rest excell'd;
The progeny, that God's free woman bare,
In all their leagues and dealings faithful, just and fair.

We thank thee for the spacious stream,
Thrice rolling thro' the sounding arch;
O'er which the dome of CHRIST supreme
Sees George's gallant horse exalt their march,
And thence their prosp'rous embarkation speed,
Against the fraud and pride of Moab's spurious seed.

We thank thee for the naval sway
Which o'er the subject seas we claim;
And for the homage nations pay,
Submissive to the great Britannic fame;
Who soon as they thy precious cross discern,
Bow lowering to the staff on our imperial stern.

We thank thee for Eliza's reign,
When to the realm thy spirit spake;
And for thy triumphs on the main
By Howard, Forbisher, and glorious Drake;
Whose heart was offer'd, resolute and free,
To bleed for Englishmen, but that was done by thee.

We thank thee for thy pow'r divine,
By which our ships were mann'd from heav'n;
What wonder then if three should join
To play their destin'd balls and conquer scorn,
That Forest, Suckling, Langdon should prevail,
When thou hadst weigh'd the combatin thy righteous scale.

The glory to thy name we yield,
By which the vast exploit was done;
At Poictier's and in Cressey's field
Against vain Moab must'ring ten to one,
“Enough to kill, to take and put to flight,”
By faith of Englishmen in God's redoubted might.

The glory to thy name for Cam,
Immortal from the hour he bled,
Who stoutly fixt himself to dam
The torrent, rushing on his LEADER's head;
The glory to thy name, for each and all,
Of Henry's gifted sword, or Edward's noble stall.

The glory to thy name for Ann,
And for the houses that she built;
And for that great victorious man,
Who ran profane oppression to the hilt;
Born HIS sublime atchievement to fulfill,
Which bids IMPOSSIBLE make speed to do his will.

The glory to thy name for Ann,
Sweet princess, with thy grace endu'd;
And for that charitable plan,
By which the poor may preach, and have his food;
And for the special pray'r that she preferr'd,
Which for the famous march of deathless Webb was heard.

The glory to thy name for Ann,
Again a princess, and most sweet,
To meet her Saviour Christ she ran,
And gently stoopt to wash the poor man's feet;
Queen of the wave, to cherish with her wing
A Russel, Shovel, Rook, a Benbow, and a Byng.

We give the glory for the means
By which the reformation rose;
Thy grace to stop the bloody scenes
Of pride and cruelty, thy deadly foes;
Whence now the church in dignity sublimes,
The simple truth of Christ, and praise of pristine times.

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We give the glory for thy word,
That it so well becomes our tongue;
And that thy spirit is transferr'd
Upon the strains of old in Hebrew sung.
And for the services dispers'd abroad,
—The church her seemly course of practic pray'r and laud.

We give the glory for the eyes
Of science, and the realm around;
The two great rivals for the prize,
Ingenuous to a blessing on the sound.
Well may their schools and num'rous chapels teach,
“The word is very Christ, that we adore and preach.”

O fair possessions! ghostly wealth!
Nigh laid and lost on Charles's block,
What time the constitution's health
Was broke, and ruin'd by the general shock;
Till God was with the loyal pray'r implor'd,
And THIS DAY saw the heir acknowledg'd and restor'd.

On this day, therefore, we support
The joy with such applause begun,
Which sounding from th'imperial fort,
Redoubles clam'rous roar from gun to gun.
Controuling unto good the sulph'rous blaze,
And making Satan's wrath benevolent of praise.

List!—as ye bless at each discharge,
Remember where the glory's due
(In every house, and bow'r and barge)
To Christ his love for everlasting true.
Accordant to the prophecies express,
His people to redeem, revisit and redress.

Remember all the pious vows
Made by our ancestors, for us,
That we should thus dispose the boughs,
And wear the royal oak in triumph thus;
And to the skies, the caps of freedom hurl'd,
Should thus proclaim the queen of islands and the world.

Ye soldiers reverend with scars,
Remember Chelsea's pleasant groves;
And you, ye students of the stars,
Remov'd from seaman's toils to fair alcoves;
Remember Edward's children train'd in art,
Which now can con the card, and now can plan the chart.

Remember all ye may of good,
Select the nosegay from the sod;
But leave the brambles in the wood—
Remember charity is God—
Which, scorning custom, her illib'ral crowds
Brings virtue to the sun, while slips and crimes she clouds.

HYMN XVIII. ST. BARNABAS.

Daring as the noon-tide ray
On the summer's longest day,
Is the truth of Christ supreme;
Proving at its sacred touch,
Whether Ophir's gold be such,
Or a shift to seem.

Joses, who can doubt thee now,
Who will not thy faith allow,
With thy lands, for Christ, at sale?
By foul lucre undefil'd,
In the spirit Jesus' child,
Son of comfort, hail!

For a substance to endure
Hast thou listed with the poor,
Triumph o'er thyself atchiev'd—
Thee thy Saviour God inrolls
In the calendar of souls,
Sainted and receiv'd.

Heroes of the Christian cause,
Candidates for God's applause,
—Leaving all for Christ his sake;
Scorning temporal reward,
Ready to confess the Lord
At the cross or stake.

174

Shew your everlasting store
To one great believer more,
And your ghostly gifts impart—
Grutching treasures for the moth,
To the Lord he pledg'd his troth,
And ally'd his heart.

Hence instructed, let us learn
Heav'n and heav'nly things to earn,
And with want by pray'r to cope;
To the Lord your wealth resign,
Destribution is divine,
Misers have no hope.

HYMN XIX. THE NATIVITY OF ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST.

Great and bounteous BENEFACTOR,
We thy gen'rous aid adjure,
Shield us from the foul exactor,
And his sons, that grind the poor.

Lo the swelling fruits of summer,
With inviting colours dy'd,
Hang, for ev'ry casual comer,
O'er the fence projecting wide.

See the corn for plenty waving,
Where the lark secur'd her eggs—
In the spirit then be saving,
Give the poor that sings and begs.

Gentle nature seems to love us
In each fair and finish'd scene,
All is beauteous blue above us,
All beneath is cheerful green.

Now when warmer rays enlighten
And adorn the lengthen'd time,
When the views around us brighten,
Days a rip'ning from their prime,

She that was as barren reckon'd,
Had her course completely run,
And her dumb-struck husband beckon'd
For a pen to write a son.

JOHN, the child of Zacharias,
Just returning to his earth,
Prophet of the Lord Messias,
And fore-runner of his birth.

He too martyr'd, shall precede him,
Ere he speed to heav'n again,
Ere the traitors shall implead him,
And the priest his God arraign.

John beheld the great and holy,
Hail'd the love of God supreme;
O how gracious, meek, and lowly,
When baptiz'd in Jordan's stream!

If from honour so stupendous
He the grace of pow'r deriv'd,
And to tyrants was tremendous,
That at fraud and filth conniv'd;

If he led a life of rigour,
And th'abstemious vow obey'd;
If he preach'd with manly vigour,
Practis'd sinners to dissuade;

If his voice by fair confession
Christ's supremacy avow'd;
If he check'd with due suppression
Self-incitements to be proud.

Vice conspiring to afflict him
To the death that ends the great,
Offer'd him a worthy victim
For acceptance in the height.

HYMN XX. ST. PETER.

High above the world's pursuit,
Far beyond the fool's conceit,
Where the cherub plays her lute,
Dwells the man of God complete.

Greatness here severely shunn'd,
Falls in heav'n to virtue's share,
And the poor man finds a fund
Of eternal treasures there.

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To the Lord is not access
But by magnitude above,
And exalted strength must bless
In yon upper flights of love.

Peter from repentance rose
To the magnitude requir'd,
First of all his master chose
In celestial pomp attir'd.

But he is a stranger still
To the Roman frauds and fees;
He nor sold to vice her will,
Nor to Mammon left his keys.

Hence the practice, prais'd at Rome,
Christian principle confounds—
What! at eminence presume,
And not skill to know the grounds?

What! can pride and kingly pow'r,
With the soldier kept in pay,
And a crown like Babel's tow'r,
Suit the sons of YEA and NAY?

YEA is Christ avouch'd by truth,
Sharing hardship with her prince,
Feed my lambs—instrust the youth—
Feed my sheep—the old convince.

NAY is quit thy house and land,
And all carnal things abjure;
NAY is neither rich nor grand,
But refuses for the poor.

Peter, when with Christ he went,
Made this excellence his plea—
“Here we are, and rest content,
“Quitting all, and tending thee.”

Wherefore he was worthy deem'd
On the mountain-top to tread,
While surpassing glories beam'd
On his master's hallow'd head.

Wherefore too this day we hold
As of honourable note,
We of Christ's peculiar fold,
That protest against the goat.

Wheresoe'er we are dispers'd,
In the ocean, or ashore,
Still the service is rehears'd,
Still we worship and adore.

Thanks to God we have a form
Of sound words aboard the ship,
In the calm, or in the storm,
To exalt him heart and lip.

There Jehovah's dove may perch
On the topmast as she swims—
Ev'ry vessel is a church
Meet for praise, for pray'r, and hymns.

HYMN XXI. ST. JAMES.

Sure a seaman's lot is bless'd,
Gen'rous, faithful, frank, and brave,
Since the Lord himself possess'd
Of disciples from the wave.
Sure a realm, whose fame depends
On their deeds the rest transcends.

Yea, from fishers on the coast,
Poor, and by the nations scorn'd,
With our navy's gallant host
Seas are crouded and adorn'd,
Wheresoe'er the billows toss,
Bearing Christ's triumphant cross.

Lo! the Lord is on the cliff,
Peter's partner, come away;
Leave thy tackle and thy skiff
For a life to preach and pray—
James shall answer the command,
Soon as he can make the land.

Let the net no more be hawl'd,
Zebedee, thy sire neglect
Now, the son of thunder call'd,
E'en the word of God direct—
Thou disputing sects shall foil,
And conviction bless thy toil.

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Having now obtain'd release
From thy low conerns and cares,
Go, and preach the Spaniard peace,
Teach ambitious pomp her pray'rs,
Fav'ring still, in Jesus' stead,
God in England at the head.

O that all the human race
In what region, clime, or zone,
Would the genuine faith embrace,
As in these thy kingdom's known;
Prosper thou the pilgrims sent
To prepare the great event.

Prosper thou, O God of light,
Them which propagate thy word
In the realms that fiends benight—
By no seas or toils deterr'd;
More and more in this employ
Thy cherubic guard convoy.

God of heartiness and strength,
God of English pray'r and laud,
May good-nature speed at length,
Join'd with grace, to foes abroad,
Thou that lend'st a special ear
To the simple and sincere.

HYMN XXII. ST. BARTHOLOMEW.

“Behold an Israelite indeed,
“In whom there is no guile,”—
Whom neither wordly ways mislead,
Nor treach'rous thoughts defile.

SINCERITY, belov'd of Christ,
For him herself has kept,
And neither purchas'd, nor intic't,
With him has smil'd and wept.

Her Jesus in his arms infolds,
And to his church ascribes—
She wears the precious ring that holds
Each jewel of the tribes.

Gold is not very gold, nor myrrh
True myrrh, nor rubies glow,
If first not try'd and prov'd by her
That they indeed are so.

She is a fountain from the truth,
And floods embracing all;
Hypocrisy shall gnash its tooth
Whene'er it hears her call.

Who then amongst mankind can thrive
That has such ghostly worth?
The saint must needs be flay'd alive,
Possessing her on earth.

Come then, or sword, or fire, or ax,
Devour me branch and stem,
I will not fail to pay the tax
Of life for such a gem.

HYMN XXIII. ST. MATTHEW.

Ev'n exactors of the toll,
And the harlot of the stew,
Sooner give the Lord his due
Than men disguis'd of soul.

Matthew made the Lord a feast,
Wealth and business left behind,
Of his tribe, and of his kind,
Among the worst and least.

Yet he had an eye to God
Soon as Jesus Christ drew near,
And with meekness, faith, and fear,
He worship'd to his nod.

Humbl'd therefore by the shame
Of his worldly filth and guilt,
By his hand the Lord has built
A pillar to his name.

One for ev'ry point are four,
Matthew for an obvious praise,
His in Hebrew chose to raise,
That easterns might adore.

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Of a meaner order, Mark,
As he would the north address,
Yet his word of God express
Illuminates the dark.

Luke diffusive takes a sweep,
Rising to command the west,
And by Jesus Christ is blest,
Historic high and deep.

John, above the rest divine,
In the church her southern isle,
Stands of plain majestic stile,
Where warmth and brightness join.

These combin'd the church sustain,
But this day assigns to thee,
Matthew, rather than the three,
The heav'n directed strain.

Sure the mother-tongue is great,
Since it is what seraphs use;
Since with that the cherub woos
To mutual praise his mate.

HYMN XXIV. ST. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS.

Angelic natures, great in arms
Against the dragon and his pow'rs,
Whom Michael's excellence alarms
From highest heav'n's imperial tow'rs;

Ye that in Christ his church attend
What time the services are sung,
And your propitious spirits blend
With our united heart and tongue.

O come, celestial watch and ward,
As in the closet I adore
My fellow-servants of the Lord,
To whom these measures I restore.

If Satan's malice was withstood
Where Moses cold and breathless lay,
Give Michael, patient, meek, and good,
Through Christ, the glory of the day.

If Tobit's charitable soul,
A type of Jesus Christ to come,
Was blessed from the poor man's dole
Ev'n to the social sparrow's crumb;

If to the living and the dead
His hand was rich in deeds of love,
First Raphael from his Master fled
By mandate in the heights above.

If Zacharias was inform'd
That God his pious pray'rs should crown,
The barren womb to ripeness warm'd,
'Twas Gabriel brought the tidings down.

Hail mighty princes in the height,
Which o'er stupendous works preside
Of vast authority and weight—
But there are other pow'rs beside.

These, one for every man, are sent
God in the spirit to reveal,
To forward ev'ry good event,
And each internal grief to heal.

HYMN XXV. ST. LUKE.

Luke, physician of the wound,
Where the troubl'd conscience stings,
Far beyond the skill profound
Of the graduates here renown'd,
Or the costly springs.

Thy conversion soon is wrought,
When thou seest thy Saviour's cures,
So surpassing human thought,
What thy books from Greece have taught,
Or thy hope assures.

Henceforth, without scrip or purse,
Go on embassage divine,
Med'cines of the soul disperse
To the wicked and perverse
Thou wert wont to join.

178

Thee thy Saviour shall allot
His great actions to relate,
And thy brethren's sins to blot;
Greater blessing there is not
In a mortal state.

Thou shalt also tell the deeds
Of that apostolic band,
While the happy convert reads
How in Christ the pris'ner pleads
By a master's hand.

Sure thy skill in picture came
To th'assistance of thy pen,
If she was of heav'nly flame,
That is now a sin and shame,
By the frauds of men.

Her the hypocrites adore
In the fane of modern Rome,
And from shadow's aid implore,
That they may blaspheme the more,
And the more presume.

Christ from such detested arts
Guard thy church with watchful eyes,
Keep from Satan's snares and darts,
Innocent as doves our hearts,
But as serpents wise.

HYMN XXVI. THE ACCESSION OF KING GEORGE III.

By me, says Wisdom, monarchs reign,
And princes right decree;
The conduct of the land and main
Is minister'd by me.

Where neither Philip's son was sped,
Nor Roman eagles flew,
The English standard rears its head,
To storm and to subdue.

Our gallant fleets have won success,
Christ Jesus at the helm,
And let us therefore kneel and bless
The sovereign of the realm.

This day the youth began his race,
With angels for allies,
And God shall give him strength and grace
To claim the naval prize.

His righteous spirit he fatigu'd
To speak the nation's peace;
Yet more and more the Papists leagu'd
To mar the world's increase.

The Lord accept his good intent,
And be his great defence,
And may his enemies repent
At no prescrib'd expence.

As yet this isle the proof has stood,
Which God from all disjoins;
O make him singularly good,
And bless with fruit his loins.

His eastern, western bounds enlarge,
Which swarms in vain contest,
And keep the people of his charge
In wealth and godly rest.

HYMN XXVII. ST. SIMON AND ST. JUDE.

Peace be to the souls of those
Which for Jesus Christ have bled,
Or that triumph'd o'er their foes
With the coals upon their head.

Which for him have undergone
Any other dread or death,
Crucify'd, or stabb'd, or sawn,
Blessing to their latest breath.

Simon well may claim a place
In our book of Common Pray'r;
Here he likewise planted grace
By his apostolic care.

He his pilgrimage perform'd
Far as the Britannic coast,
And the ready converts swarm'd
To receive the Holy Ghost.

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Fair sincerity's the ground
For the Lord to sow his seed,
That will flourish and abound
With a goodly crop indeed.

Christ is pow'rful to renew
Men so quick his will to know,
Whence ten thousand churches grew,
And ten thousand more shall grow.

Farther yet, and farther east,
English sails shall be unfurl'd,
Wafting many a pious priest
To protest against the world.

Farther yet, and farther west,
We shall send the faith abroad,
Against nations to protest,
That are still by Christ unaw'd.

We shall cite from holy Jude
Wholesome texts to mend their way,
Whom our praise and pray'rs include
In the duty of to-day.

He is full of just complaint,
As foul deeds his wrath provoke;
And they massacred the saint
For the cutting words he spoke.

Let us therefore well provide
This good festival to hold,
Lest to us they be apply'd
As to wand'rers from the fold.

Lo! the church herself attires
For the work of pray'r and song;
To the strains that Christ inspires
Crowds of either sex shall throng.

HYMN XXVIII. ALL SAINTS.

Many male and female names,
From the cross, the sword, and flames,
To their blessed Saviour dear,
Have escap'd memorial here.

These are all the Lord's elect,
Which the church must not neglect,
But appoints a day to raise
Anthems for a gen'ral praise.

Stars of the superior class,
Which in magnitude surpass,
From the time they rose and shone,
Have their names and places known.

Mazaroth his circuit runs,
With Arcturus and his sons;
Pleiad twinkles o'er the streams
Of Orion's bolder beams.

But what glories in array
Brighten all the milky way,
Where innumerables vie,
Told alone by God Most High!

Enoch of exceeding grace,
Abr'ham of unnumber'd race,
Jael bursting into fame,
Joab of stupendous name.

These the seers of God commit
To the rolls of holy writ,
With a multitude of note,
Which our children have by rote.

There are thousand thousands more,
Like the sand upon the shore,
Through the love of Christ reveal'd,
All in heav'n receiv'd and seal'd.

HYMN XXIX. THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER.

What impression God and reason
Had on some abandon'd times,
Was made evident by treason,
And the most flagitious crimes.

England lay dissolv'd in slumber,
Toil and emulation ceas'd,
Till the malice, strength, and number
Of her foes were all increas'd.

180

Eat and drink, and die to-morrow,
From the cottage to the helm,
Till the blessed man of sorrow
Was not heard in all the realm.

This was deem'd a fit occasion
For the Papists to be bold,
For the children of evasion
To come sneaking from their hold.

What a plan of devastation,
That the dev'l alone could start,
How at once to crush the nation
In the bowels, head, and heart!

There is no such great perdition
In the story of mankind,
Not by craft and superstition,
Yea, and cruelty combin'd.

God, in a stupendous manner,
Bade a spendthrift nation home—
Let us therefore fix the banner
On the high cathedral's dome.

Play the musick—call the singers—
Open wide the prison door—
Make a banquet for the ringers—
Give to poverty the store.

Fire away the joyful volley,
Deck your houses, bless your wine;
Triumph o'er the Papists folly,
Who their God would undermine.

HYMN XXX. ST. ANDREW.

O Lord, thou God of bliss,
Which highest natures leave
To rectify the things amiss
Amongst the sons of Eve.

From time to time they came
To warn and to correct;
But ah! the dreadful sin and shame,
With small or none effect.

At length no more with-held
By seraph's tears and pray'r,
The God of heav'n himself compell'd
This fleshly veil to wear.

But how to find a friend
In poverty and woe,
Omnipotence must needs attend
His steps where'er they go.

When John his Saviour spy'd,
Behold the LAMB (said he).
If it be so, St. Andrew cry'd,
No more I follow thee.

His teacher he forsook,
And on his face he fell,
And instantly himself betook
To life's eternal well.

Then from a life reform'd,
He spread example wide,
And multitudes with zeal he warm'd
To take their Saviour's side.

At length the words prevail
Which Christ prophetic spake,
And to the cross the saint they hale
That ruffian traitors make.

Tormented, tried, and bound
Two well-supported days,
His life his dying accents crown'd,
E'en to their last essays.

His body was remov'd
From Patræ to the Turk,
Where it, through Christ, shall be improv'd
To do a glorious work.

The Spirit shall descend,
And churches shall aspire,
—And they that now the mosques attend,
Of Jesus shall inquire.

Yea Edom one and all
Shall choose the Lord their chief;
And he shall finally recall
The sons of unbelief.

181

HYMN XXXI. ST. THOMAS.

Ah! Thomas, wherefore wouldst thou doubt,
And put the Lord in pain,
And mad'st his wounds to spout
Anew from ev'ry vein?

Lo! those of God are blessed most,
Which, simple and serene,
Believe the Holy Ghost,
That operates unseen.

This is that great and prior proof
Of God and of his Son,
Beneath whose sacred roof
To-day the duty's done.

Tho' seventeen hundred years remote,
We can perform our part,
And to the Lord devote
The tribute of our heart.

O Lord, the slaves of sin release,
Their ways in Christ amend,
Our faith and hope increase,
Our charities extend.

Make thou our alter'd lives of use
To all the skirts around,
And purge from each abuse
Thy church, so much renown'd.

Enlarge from Mammon's spells her priests,
And from all carnal cares,
And bid to ghostly feasts,
To pure cherubic airs.

Thy people in that choir employ
Whose business is above,
In gratitude and joy,
In wonder, praise, and love.

HYMN XXXII. THE NATIVITY OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST.

Where is this stupendous stranger,
Swains of Solyma, advise,
Lead me to my Master's manger,
Shew me where my Saviour lies?

O Most Mighty! O MOST HOLY!
Far beyond the seraph's thought,
Art thou then so mean and lowly
As unheeded prophets taught?

O the magnitude of meekness!
Worth from worth immortal sprung;
O the strength of infant weakness,
If eternal is so young!

If so young and thus eternal,
Michael tune the shepherd's reed,
Where the scenes are ever vernal,
And the loves be love indeed!

See the God blasphem'd and doubted
In the schools of Greece and Rome;
See the pow'rs of darkness routed,
Taken at their utmost gloom.

Nature's decorations glisten
Far above their usual trim;
Birds on box and laurels listen,
As so near the cherubs hymn.

Boreas now no longer winters
On the desolated coast;
Oaks no more are riv'n in splinters
By the whirlwind and his host.

Spinks and ouzles sing sublimely,
“We too have a Saviour born;”
Whiter blossoms burst untimely
On the blest Mosaic thorn.

God all-bounteous, all-creative,
Whom no ills from good dissuade,
Is incarnate, and a native
Of the very world he made.

HYMN XXXIII. ST. STEPHEN.

O maker! of almighty skill,
Whose word all wonders can fulfil,
Where'er the sun, where'er the planets shine,
Exertion and effect at once are thine.

182

God! great and manifest around,
In earth, and air, and depth profound,
In every movement, animals that breathe,
And all the beauties visible beneath.

But nobler works about his throne,
And brighter glories are his own,
Where high o'er heav'n the loves his Spirit mates,
And virtues, graces, mercies he creates.

A saint is a stupendous thing,
Sublimest work of Christ the king;
For ere his blessed Saviour can succeed,
How many foes to foil, and veins to bleed!

Soon as the Lord resum'd the skies,
He put up his immortal prize,
And in a full maturity of soul,
Great Stephen ran the first, and past the goal.

His therefore is the champion's crown—
And his the firstlings of renown—
O GRACE, thou never rais'd a sweeter flow'r.
Which sprang, and gemm'd, and blossom'd in an hour.

Then welcome to a quick reward,
Ev'n in the bosom of the Lord,
To hear, “Well done, thou good and faithful friend,
“Receive thy Saviour's joy, that knows no end.

“Beyond the bliss of ear or eye,
“Beyond the heart's conception high,
“Beyond the topmost flight of mortal ken,
“Hosanna! halelujah! and amen.”—

HYMN XXXIV. ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST.

Hosanna! yet again,
Another glorious day,
Ye cherubs sing and play,
Ye seraphs swell the strain.

Hail! highly favour'd man,
Thy name and lot transcend
All praise that e'er was penn'd
Since first the verse began.

O dear to Christ supreme,
His bosom friend declar'd,
And yet for all he car'd
With tenderness extreme.

As Benjamin was blest,
When he to Egypt came,
By Joseph full of fame,
And honour'd o'er the rest.

But Christ was meek and poor,
No chariot his to ride,
No Goshen to divide,
No favours to procure.

Yet in his realms above,
Which are the highest heav'n,
First of th'elect elev'n,
Thou claim'st thy master's love.

HYMN XXXV. THE HOLY INNOCENTS.

Love and pity are ally'd,
So are cruelty and pride;
But they never met till now,
As in Herod's hellish vow.

Ev'ry tyrant of his time
Stands abash'd at such a crime;
Not a monster since the flood
Was in equal guilt of blood.

Rachael, with a mother's grief,
Sees the ruffians and their chief,
Piercing heav'n and earth with cries,
For her children's rescue tries.

“Cherubs lend your aid in air;
“Seraphim, ye shall not dare
“Such a scene as this to see,
“And not succour God and me.”

183

Woman, speed thee back to bliss—
At a greater price than this,
Ere the plan of Christ we build,
Prophecies must be fulfill'd.

Blessed be the Lord's escape,
When the gulph began to gape,
And the fiends from hell were sent,
Man's salvation to prevent.

By the hope which prophets give,
By the psalmist “he shall live,”
Sav'd for a sufficient space
To perform his work of grace.

Though the heav'n and earth shall fail,
Yet his spirit shall prevail,
Till all nations have concurr'd
In the worship of the WORD.

THE END OF THE HYMNS.