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Hail! Gladdening Light.

HAIL! gladdening LIGHT, of his pure glory poured

Who is th' immortal FATHER, heavenly, blest, Holiest of Holies-JESUS CHRIST our LORD! Now we are come to the sun's hour of rest, The lights of evening round us shine, We hymn the FATHER, SON, and HOLY SPIRIT divine!

Worthiest art thou at all times to be sung

With undefiled tongue,

SON of our GOD, GIVER of Life, alone! Therefore in all the world, thy glories, LORD,

they own.

ANON.

Hannah's Thanksgiving.
GOD hath raised my head on high:

O my heart, enlarge my joy!

God hath now my tongue untied,
To retort their scorn and pride.
In thy grace I will rejoice;

Praise Thee while I have a voice.
Who so holy as our Lord!

Who but He to be adored!
Who such wonders can effect!
Who so strongly can protect!
Be no longer arrogant,
Nor in folly proudly vaunt:

God our secret thoughts displays;
All our works his balance weighs.
Giants' bows his forces break;
He with strength invests the weak.
Who were full, now serve for bread;
Those who served, enfranchised.
Barren wombs with children flow;
Fruitful mothers childless grow.
God, frail man of life deprives ;
Those who sleep in death, revives:
Leads us to our silent tombs,
Brings us from those horrid rooms:
Riches sends; sends poverty:
Casteth down and lifts on high.
He, from the despised dust,
From the dunghill, takes the just;
To the height of honour brings;
Plants them on the throne of kings.-
God, earth's mighty pillars made;
He the world upon them laid.
He, his servants' feet will guide:
Wicked souls, who swell with pride,
Will in endless darkness chain,
Since all human strength is vain.
He shall grind his enemies;

Blast with lightning from the skies:

Judge the habitable earth,

All of high and humble birth:

Shall with strength his King renown,

And his Christ with glory crown.

GEORGE SANDYS.

Hymn to the Sabbath.

BRIGHT shadows of true rest! some shoots

of bliss!

Heaven once a week;

The next world's gladness prepossessed in this; A day to seek

Eternity in time; the steps by which

We climb above all ages; lamps that light Man through his heap of dark days; and the rich And full redemption of the whole week's flight:

The pulleys unto headlong man; time's bower:
The narrow way;

Transplanted paradise; God's walking hour;
The cool o' the day;

The creature's jubilee; God's parle with dust; Heaven here; man on those hills of myrrh, of flowers;

Angels descending; the returns of trust;

A gleam of glory after six days' showers; The Church's love-feasts; time's prerogative And interest

Deducted from the whole; the combs and hive, And home of rest;

The milky-way chalked out with suns; a clue That guides through erring hours, and in full story;

A taste of heaven on earth; the pledge and cue Of a full feast, and the out-courts of glory. HENRY VAUGHAN.

Hail! Source of Uncreated Light. CREATOR Spirit, by whose aid

The world's foundations first were laid,
Come visit ev'ry pious mind,

Come pour thy joys on human kind;
From sin and sorrow set us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee.
O source of uncreated light,
The Father's promis'd Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
Come, and thy sacred unction bring
To sanctify us, while we sing.

Plenteous of grace, descend from high,

Rich in thy sevenfold energy!

Thou strength of his Almighty hand,

Whose pow'r does heaven and earth command,
Proceeding Spirit, our defence,

Who dost the gift of tongues dispense,
And crown thy gift with eloquence!
Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice control,
Submit the senses to the soul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.
Chase from our minds th' infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And, lest our feet should step astray,
Protect and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truth receive,
And practise all that we believe :
Give us thyself, that we may see
The Father, and the Son, by thee.
Immortal honor, endless fame,
Attend th' Almighty Father's name:
Thy Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for lost man's redemption died;
And equal adoration be,

Eternal Paraclete, to thee!

JOHN DRYDEN.

I

Hymn to the Night.

HEARD the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls!

I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light
From the celestial walls!

I felt her presence, by its spell of might,
Stoop o'er me from above;

The calm, majestic presence of the Night,
As of the one I love.

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,
The manifold, soft chimes,

That fill the haunted chambers of the Night,
Like some old poet's rhymes.

From the cool cisterns of the midnight air

My spirit drank repose;

The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,From those deep cisterns flows.

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