 | Devotions in the ancient way of offices |  |
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Sunday Complin.
Hymn IV.
[Dear Jesu, when, when will it be]
Dear Jesu, when, when will it be,
That I no more shall break with Thee!
When will this war of passions cease;
And let my soul injoy thy peace!
That I no more shall break with Thee!
When will this war of passions cease;
And let my soul injoy thy peace!
Here I repent, and sin again;
Now I revive, and now am slain:
Slain with the same unhappy dart;
Which, O, too often wounds my hart.
Now I revive, and now am slain:
Slain with the same unhappy dart;
Which, O, too often wounds my hart.
When, dearest Lord, when shall I be
A garden seal'd to all but Thee!
No more expos'd, no more undone;
But live and grow to Thee alone.
A garden seal'd to all but Thee!
No more expos'd, no more undone;
But live and grow to Thee alone.
'Tis not alas, on this low earth
That such pure flow'rs can find a birth:
Only they spring above the skys;
Where none can live, till here he dys.
That such pure flow'rs can find a birth:
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Where none can live, till here he dys.
Then let me dy, that I may go
And dwell where those bright lillys grow:
Where those blest plants of glory rise;
And make a safer Paradise.
And dwell where those bright lillys grow:
Where those blest plants of glory rise;
And make a safer Paradise.
No dangerous fruit, no tempting Eve,
No crafty Serpent, to deceive:
But we like Gods indeed shall be;
O let me dy, that life to see.
No crafty Serpent, to deceive:
But we like Gods indeed shall be;
O let me dy, that life to see.
Thus says my song; but does my hart
Joyn with the words, and sing its part?
Am I so thorow-wise to chuse
The Other world, and this refuse?
Joyn with the words, and sing its part?
Am I so thorow-wise to chuse
The Other world, and this refuse?
Why should I not? what do I find
That fully here contents my mind?
What is this meat, and drink, and sleep,
That such poor things from heav'n should keep?
That fully here contents my mind?
What is this meat, and drink, and sleep,
That such poor things from heav'n should keep?
What is this honour, or great place
Or bag of mony, or fair face?
What's all the world that thus we shou'd
Still long to dwell with flesh and blood?
Or bag of mony, or fair face?
What's all the world that thus we shou'd
Still long to dwell with flesh and blood?
Fear not my soul, stand to the word,
Which thou hast sung to thy dear Lord:
Let but thy love be firm and true;
And with more heat thy wish renew.
Which thou hast sung to thy dear Lord:
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And with more heat thy wish renew.
O may this dying life make hast,
To dy into true life at last:
No hope have I to live before;
But then to live, and dy no more.
To dy into true life at last:
No hope have I to live before;
But then to live, and dy no more.
Great Everliving God! to Thee,
In Essence One, in Persons Three;
May all thy works their tribute bring,
And every age thy glory sing.
In Essence One, in Persons Three;
May all thy works their tribute bring,
And every age thy glory sing.
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[Blest Mother of our Lord! whose pray'rs display]
Blest Mother of our Lord! whose pray'rs displayThe gates of heav'n, whose light directs our way
Here in these dangerous Seas; obtain supplies
For those who often fall, yet strive to rise:
Thou, at whom Nature stood amaz'd to see
The world's Creator humbly born of Thee:
Thou, whom the Angel did that homage pay,
All-spotless Virgin, for us sinners pray.
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[Hail Queen of Angels holy Quires]
Hail Queen of Angels holy Quires;Hail whom the Court of heav'n admires;
Thou art the Root whence our joys spring;
The Gate that light to us didst bring;
Heav'ns brightest Saints thy grace outshines;
Thy Glory, all the Seraphins:
Live, happy Favorite of Thy Son,
And plead our cause at his dread Throne.
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[Rejoyce chast Queen of Angels, and apply]
Rejoyce chast Queen of Angels, and applyAll those blest Quires to sing this Victory:
He that was born of Thee, and dy'd for us,
Has conquer'd death; is risen glorious:
Sing then, and in thy hymns this mercy crave,
That thy great Son our souls in Judgment save.
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[Hail Queen of Saints; Hail mercies Mother]
Hail Queen of Saints; Hail mercies Mother
Our life, our hope, our comfort, Hail:
To thee, deploring one another,
We poor Eves banish't off-spring wail.
Our life, our hope, our comfort, Hail:
To thee, deploring one another,
We poor Eves banish't off-spring wail.
To thee we cry; and our sad moans
Sigh out into thy tender ears:
To thee our harts weep bitter groans
In this doleful vale of tears.
Sigh out into thy tender ears:
To thee our harts weep bitter groans
In this doleful vale of tears.
Hear, glorious Advocate, O hear,
And towards wretched us incline
The gracious aspect of those dear
Compassionating eys of thine.
And towards wretched us incline
The gracious aspect of those dear
Compassionating eys of thine.
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Soft source of pity, mil'd, and sweet,
O Mary, ever Virgin-pure;
Behold us prostrate at thy feet
And by thy pow'rful pray'rs procure,
O Mary, ever Virgin-pure;
Behold us prostrate at thy feet
And by thy pow'rful pray'rs procure,
That an unweary'd close persuit,
Of life, may bring us so to dy,
We may on JESUS, thy blest Fruit,
Feast our glad eys eternally.
Of life, may bring us so to dy,
We may on JESUS, thy blest Fruit,
Feast our glad eys eternally.
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