701

When thy statutes I forsake,
When my graces dimly shine,
When the covenant I break,
Jesus, then remember thine;
Check my wanderings
By a look of love divine.

Then if heavenly dews distil,

And my views are bright and clear, While I sit on Zion's hill,

Temper joy with holy fear;

Keep me watchful,

Safe alone while thou art near.

When afflictions cloud my sky,

When the tide of sorrow flows, When the rod is lifted high,

Let me on thy love repose;

Stay thy rough wind,

When thy chilling east-wind blows.

When the vale of death appears,
Faint and cold this mortal clay,
Kind Forerunner, soothe my fears,
Light me through the darksome way;
Break the shadows,

Usher in eternal day.

Starting from this dying state,
Upward bid my soul aspire,
Open thou the crystal gate,

To thy praise attune my lyre;

Dwell forever,

Dwell on each immortal wire.

From the sparkling turrets there,

Oft I'll trace my pilgrim way, Often bless thy guardian care, Fire by night, and cloud by day; While my triumphs

At my Leader's feet I lay.

And when mighty trumpets blown Shall the judgment dawn proclaim, From the central burning throne, Mid creation's final flame,

With the ransomed, Judge and Saviour, own my name ! JANE TAYLOR.

CHRIST THE PRIEST FOREVER.

"Mein Jesu, dem die Seraphinen."

My Jesus, if the seraphim,

The burning host that near thee stand, Before thy majesty are dim,

And veil their face at thy command;

How shall these mortal eyes of mine,
Now dark with evil's hateful night,
Endure to gaze upon the light
That aye surrounds that throne of thine?

Yet grant the eye of faith, O Lord,
To pierce within the holy place;
For I am saved and thou adored,
If I am quickened by thy grace.
Behold, O King, before thy throne

My soul in lowly love doth bend ;
Oh, show thyself her gracious Friend,
And say, "I choose thee for mine own."

Have mercy, Lord of love, for long
My spirit for thy mercy sighs:
My inmost soul hath found a tongue,
"Be merciful, O God!" she cries:
I know thou wilt not bid me go,

Thou canst not be ungracious, Lord,
To one for whom thy blood was poured,
Whose guilt was cancelled by thy woe.

Here in thy gracious hands I fall,

To thee I cling with faith's embrace: O righteous Sovereign, hear my call, And turn, oh, turn to me in grace! For through thy sorrows I am just,

And guilt no more in me is found: Thus reconciled, my soul is bound To thee in endless love and trust.

And let thy wisdom be my guide,

Nor take thy light from me away; Thy grace be ever at my side,

That from the path I may not stray That thou dost love, but evermore In steadfast faith my course fulfil, And keep thy word, and do thy will, Thy love within, thy heaven before! Reach down, and arm me with thy hand, And strengthen me with inner might, That I, through faith, may strive and stand, Though craft and force against me fight: So shall the kingdom of thy love

Be through me and within me spread, That honors thee, our glorious Head, And crowneth us in realms above.

Yes, yes, to thee my soul would cleave:

Oh, choose it, Saviour, for thy throne! Couldst thou in love to me once leave The glory that was all thine own? So honor thou my life and heart

That thou mayst find a heaven in me: And, when this house decayed shall be. Then grant the heaven where now thou art.

To thee I rise in faith on high:

Oh, bend thou down in love to me! Let nothing rob me of this joy,

That all my soul is filled with thee : As long as I have life and breath,

Thee will I honor, fear, and love ;

And when this heart hath ceased to move, Yet love shall live and conquer death.

WOLFGANG CHRISTOPH DESSLER, 1692. Translated by CATHERINE WINKWORTH, 1858.

Thou saidst, "What art thou seeking?"

"O Lord! that I might see!" Oh, then I heard thee speaking: "Believe, and it shall be."

Our hope, Lord, faileth never,

When thou thy word dost plight:
My fears then ceased forever,
And all my soul was light.
Thou gavest me thy blessing;
From former guilt set free,
Now heavenly joy possessing,

O Lord! I follow thee!

FRIEDRICH Freiherr de la MOTTE-FOUQUE.
Translated by FRANCES ELIZABETH COX.

Fouqué, the author of "Undine," was born at Neubrandenberg, Feb. 12, 1777, and died at Berlin, Jan. 23, 1843.

MISS FRANCES ELIZABETH Cox was born at Oxford, England, where she lives. She is one of the earliest and most successful translators of German hymns.

A THOUSAND years have fleeted,
And, Saviour, still we see
Thy deed of love repeated

On all who come to thee.
As he who sat benighted,

Afflicted, poor, and blind,
So now, thy word is plighted,
Joy, light, and peace I find.

Dark gloom my spirit filling,
Beside the way I sat ;
Desire my heart was thrilling:
But anguish more than that.
To me no ray was granted,

Although I heard the psalms
The faithful sweetly chanted,

And felt the waving palms.
With grief my heart was aching;
O'erwhelming were my woes,
Till, heaven-born courage taking,
To thee my cry arose :
"O David's Son, relieve me,
My bitter anguish quell ;
Thy promised succor give me,
And this dark night dispel!"

With tears that fast were flowing,

I sought thee through the crowd,
My heart more tender growing,
Until I wept aloud:
Oh, then my grief diminished;

For then they cried to me,
"Blind man, thy woe is finished;
Arise, he calleth thee!"

I came with steps that faltered;
Thy course I felt thee check;
Then straight my mind was altered,
And bowed my stubborn neck:

ON THE GLORY DEPICTED ROUND THE HEAD OF THE SAVIOUR.

A BLAMELESS fancy it perchance might be Which first with glory's radiant halo crowned thee;

Art's reverent homage, eager all should see
The majesty of Godhead beaming round thee.

But if thine outward image had been such,
The glory of the inner God revealing,
What hand had dared thy vesture's hem to
touch,

Though conscious even touch was fraught with healing!

More truly, but more darkly, prophecy
The form of thy humanity had painted :
One not to be desired of the eye,

A man of sorrows, and with grief acquainted.
Saviour and Lord! if in thy mortal hour
Prophets and saints alone could tell thy story,
Oh, how shall painter's art, or poet's power,
Describe thee coming in thy promised glory!

JOHN BAKEWELL was born in Derbyshire in 1721, and began to preach in 1744- He afterwards removed to London, and became one of the circle which included the Wesleys, Toplady, Madan, and others. Thomas Olivers is said to have composed his hymn, "The God of Abraham praise," at his house. He died in Lewisham in 1819 Toplady published the following hymn in his collection in 1776, after having made alterations in it to make it meet his views.

HAIL, thou once despised Jesus!
Hail, thou Galilean King!
Who didst suffer to release us;

Who didst free salvation bring:

1760

Hail, thou universal Saviour,

Who hast borne our sin and shame! By whose merits we find favor;

Life is given through thy name. Paschal Lamb, by God appointed,

All our sins were on thee laid; By almighty Love appointed,

Thou hast full atonement made: Every sin may be forgiven

Through the virtue of thy blood; Opened is the gate of heaven;

Peace is made 'twixt man and God.

Jesus, hail enthroned in glory,

There forever to abide; All the heavenly hosts adore thee, Seated at thy Father's side: There for sinners thou art pleading: "Spare them yet another year"; Thou for saints art interceding,

Till in glory they appear.

Worship, honor, power, and blessing,
Christ is worthy to receive;
Loudest praises, without ceasing,
Meet it is for us to give.
Help, ye bright angelic spirits!
Bring your sweetest, noblest lays!
Help to sing our Jesu's merits;
Help to chant Immanuel's praise.
JOHN BAKEWELL.

For his love's inviting call,
All embracing, seeking all;

For the grace and truth he brought,
For the ransom he hath wrought.

For the crown of thorns he wore;
For the painful cross he bore;
For the dying word he said,
Sealed with blood of sprinkling shed.

For the radiant rising dawn,
For the sting of death withdrawn;
For the victory gained so well
O'er the grave and over hell.

For his glorious reign on high,
When he rose from Bethany;
For the heavenly peace he leaves;
For the Comforter he gives.

For his parting promise dear
Of his presence, alway near;
For the blest assurance made
Of his intercessory aid.

For the pledge that we shall rise,
In his likeness, to the skies;
For the merciful decree

That our Friend our Judge shall be.

All redeeming bounty gives,
All that humble faith receives,
All that rising doubt restrains,
All that drooping hope sustains,-
Saviour! these to thee we owe,
From thy dying love they flow;
And we praise, for grace so free,
Thee, Jehovah-Jesus, thee!

703

WILLIAM BALL.

THE HUMILIATION AND GLORY OF CHRIST.

THE head that once was crowned with thorns Is crowned with glory now;

A royal diadem adorns

The mighty Victor's brow.

The highest place that heaven affords Is his, is his by right

The King of kings, and Lord of lords, And heaven's eternal light.

The joy of all who dwell above,
The joy of all below,
To whom he manifests his love,
And grants his name to know.

CHRIST THE LAMB ENTHRONED.

HARK! ten thousand harps and voices
Sound the note of praise above;
Jesus reigns, and heaven rejoices;
Jesus reigns, the God of love:
See, he sits on yonder throne!
Jesus rules the world alone.

Well may angels bright and glorious
Sing the praises of the Lamb;
While on earth he proved victorious,
Now he bears a matchless name.
Well may angels sing of him :
Heaven supplies no richer theme.
Come, ye saints, unite your praises
With the angels round his throne;
Soon, we hope, our God will raise us
To the place where he is gone.

Meet it is that we should sing

66

Glory, glory to our King."

Sing how Jesus came from heaven,
How he bore the cross below,
How all power to him is given,
How he reigns in glory now.
'Tis a great and endless theme;
Oh, 't is sweet to sing of him!

Jesus, hail! whose glory brightens
All above and gives it worth;
Lord of life, thy smile enlightens,

Cheers, and charms thy saints on earth: When we think of love like thine,

Lord, we own it love divine.

King of glory, reign forever!

Thine an everlasting crown;

Nothing from thy love shall sever

Those whom thou hast made thine own: Happy objects of thy grace, Destined to behold thy face.

JAMES MONTGOMERY, one of the most popular of English hymn-writers, was for thirty-one years editor of a liberal newspaper in Sheffield. He was the son of a Moravian minister, and was born Nov. 4. 1771, in Ayrshire, Scotland. Like Cowper, whom he resembles in other traits, Montgomery distrusted his religious character, and did not connect himself with the Moravian Church until his forty-third year. His hymns are expressions of his own feelings, and though not all poems in the highest sense, are, as he said himself, "acceptable vehicles of expression of the experience of his fellow-creatures during the pilgrimage of the Christian life." Montgomery died April 30, 1854. He was the patron of Ebenezer Elliott. 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.

705

The saints who now with Jesus sleep,
His own almighty power shall keep,
Till dawns the bright illustrious day
When death itself shall die away:

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.

How loud shall our glad voices sing
When Christ his risen saints shall bring
From beds of dust, and silent clay,
To realms of everlasting day!

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.

When Jesus we in glory meet,
Our utmost joys shall be complete ;
When landed on that heavenly shore,
Death and the curse will be no more:
Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.

Hasten, dear Lord, the glorious day,
And this delightful scene display,
When all thy saints from death shall rise
Raptured in bliss beyond the skies!

THE GLORY OF THE LORD.

BRIGHT the vision that delighted
Once the sight of Judah's seer,
Sweet the countless tongues united
To entrance the prophet's ear.

Round the Lord in glory seated
Cherubim and seraphim
Filled his temple, and repeated
Each to each the alternate hymn.

"Lord, thy glory fills the heaven,
Earth is with its fulness stored;

Unto thee be glory given,
Holy, holy, holy, Lord!"

Heaven is still with glory ringing,
Earth takes up the angels' cry,
"Holy, holy, holy," singing,

"Lord of hosts, the Lord most High!"

Ever thus in God's high praises,
Brethren, let our tongues unite;
Chief the heart when duty raises

God-ward at his mystic rite:
With his seraph train before him,
With his holy Church below,
Thus conspire we to adore him,

Bid we thus our anthem flow:

This processional hymn for Palm Sunday is said to have been composed by ST. THEODULPH at Metz, or, as others will have it, at Angers, while imprisoned on a false accusation, and to have been sung by him from his dungeon window, or by choristers instructed by him, as the Emperor Louis le Débonnaire, son of Charlemagne, and his Court were on their way to the Cathedral. The good bishop was immediately liberated. St Theodulph, whose hymns were thought the best of the age in which he lived, was abbot of a Benedictine monastery at Florence, but at the invitation of Charlemagne removed to France, where he died in 821, Bishop of Orleans.

GLORY and honor and laud be to thee, King Christ, the Redeemer!

Children before whose steps raised their hosannas of praise.

Israel's Monarch art thou, and the glorious offspring of David,

Thou that approachest a king blessed in the name of the Lord.

Glory to thee in the highest the heavenly armies are singing:

Glory to thee upon earth man and creation reply.

Met thee with palms in their hands that day the folk of the Hebrews:

We with our prayers and our hymns now to thy presence approach.

They to thee proffered their praise for to herald thy dolorous Passion;

We to the King on his throne utter the jubilant hymn.

They were then pleasing to thee, unto thee our devotion be pleasing;

Merciful King, kind King, who in all goodness art pleased.

They in their pride of descent were rightly the children of Hebrews:

Hebrews are we, whom the Lord's Passover maketh the same.