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. O my heart, enlarge my joy! God hath now my tongue untied, Praise Thee while I have a voice. Who but He to be adored! God our secret thoughts displays; 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: Transplanted paradise; God's walking hour; 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 pour thy joys on human kind; 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, Who dost the gift of tongues dispense, Make us eternal truth receive, Eternal Paraclete, to thee! JOHN DRYDEN. I Hymn to the Night. HEARD the trailing garments of the Night I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light I felt her presence, by its spell of might, The calm, majestic presence of the Night, I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose; The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,From those deep cisterns flows. |