Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Or vice; who never understood

How deepest wounds are given by praise;
Nor rules of state, but rules of good;

Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great;

Who God doth late and early pray,
More of his grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a religious book or friend ;-

This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.

SIR W. WOTTON.

Hallelujah! Christ in God.
HARK! the song of Jubilee !

Loud as mighty thunders roar,

Or the fulness of the sea

When it breaks upon the shore:
Hallelujah! for the Lord

God omnipotent shall reign;

Hallelujah; let the word

Echo round the earth and main.

Hallelujah!—hark! the sound
From the centre to the skies,
Wakes above, beneath, around,
All creation's harmonies:
See Jehovah's banner's furled,

Sheathed his sword: He speaks-'tis done,
And the kingdoms of the world
Are the kingdoms of his Son.

He shall reign from pole to pole,
With illimitable sway;

He shall reign when like a scroll
Yonder heavens have passed away :
Then the end!-beneath his rod
Man's last enemy shall fall;
Hallelujah! Christ in God,
God in Christ, is all in all.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

Hymn for the Morning. AWAKE, my soul! awake, mine eyes! Awake, my drowsy faculties!

Awake, and see the new-born light
Spring from the darksome womb of night!
Look up and see the unwearied sun,

Already has his race begun.

The pretty lark is mounted high,
And sings her matins in the sky.
Arise, my soul! and thou, my voice,
In songs of praise early rejoice!

O great Creator! heavenly King!
Thy praises ever let me sing!

Thy power has made, thy goodness kept,
This fenceless body while I slept;

Yet one day more has given me
From all the powers of darkness free.
Oh! keep my heart from sin secure,
My life unblameable and pure;

That when the last of all my days is come

Cheerful and fearless I may wait my doom.

THOMAS FLATMAN.

Hope, and be Undismay'd.

IVE to the winds thy fears;

GIVE

Hope, and be undismay'd;

God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears, God shall lift up thy head.

Through waves, through clouds and storms,

He gently clears thy way;

Wait thou His time; so shall the night
Soon end in joyous day.

He everywhere hath sway,

And all things serve His might;

His every act pure blessing is,

His path unsullied light, When He makes bare His arm,

What shall his work withstand?

When He His people's cause defends,
Who, who shall stay His hand?

Leave to his sovereign sway,

To choose, and to command;

With wonder fill'd, thou then shalt own,
How wise, how strong his hand;
Thou comprehend'st Him not,
Yet earth and heaven tell,
God sits as sovereign on the throne,
He ruleth all things well.

Thou seest our weakness, Lord;

Our hearts are known to Thee: O lift thou up the sinking hand, Confirm the feeble knee!

Let us, in life and death,

Boldly Thy truth declare;

And publish with our latest breath,

Thy love, and guardian care.

FROM THE GERMAN.

WH

His Heart Beats High.

HEN heart and head are both o'erflowing,
When eager words within are glowing,

And all at once for utterance crowd and throng,
How hard to find no tongue!

The little babe upon the breast
Wails out his wail and is at rest:

These may but look and long.

Perhaps some deed of sacred story,
Or lesson deep of God's high glory,

For many a toilsome hour rehears'd or read,
In holy Church is said,

He knows it all-none half so well,-
And longs in turn his tale to tell,
But all his words are fled.

Perhaps on high the chant is ringing,
The youthful choir the free notes flinging,
To soar at will the mazy roof around:
But his to earth are bound.

In every chord his heart beats high,
But vainly would his frail lips try
The tones his soul hath found.

gaze not so in wistful sadness:
Ere long a morn of power and gladness
Shall break the heavy dream; the unchained voice
Shall in free air rejoice;

Thoughts with their words and tones shall meet,
The unfaltering tongue harmonious greet
The heart's eternal choice.

Even now the call that wakes the dying
Steals on thine ear with gentle sighing:

The breath, the dew of heaven hath touched thy tongue :

Far to the winds are flung

The bonds unseen, ill spirits' work :

Satan no more may round thee lurk,
Thine Ephphatha is sung.

L

ANON.

« VorigeDoorgaan »