We bow before the heavenly voice Amen. Also the following 98 How bright appears the Morning Star 356 Fairest Lord Jesus ST. BARTHOLOMEW 287 8.7.8.7 D. ING of saints, to whom the number Of thy starry host is known, Many a name, by man forgotten, Lives for ever round thy throne: Lights, which earth-born mists have dark. ened, There are shining full and clear, Princes in the court of heaven, Nameless, unremembered here. 2 In the roll of thine apostles One there stands, Bartholomew, He for whom to-day we offer, Year by year, our praises due: How he toiled for thee and suffered None on earth can now record; All his saintly life is hidden In the knowledge of his Lord; 3 None can tell us: all is written In the Lamb's great book of life, All the toiling, and the strife: There are told thy hidden treasures: Number us, O Lord, with them, When thou makest up the jewels Of thy living diadem. Amen. John Ellerton, 1871 St. MATTHEW 288 8.8.7.8.8.7 Sing of those who spread the treasures In the holy Gospels shrined! Blessèd tidings of salvation, Peace on earth their proclamation, Love from God to lost mankind. 2 See the rivers four that gladden, With their streams, the better Eden Planted by our Lord most dear; Christ the fountain, these the waters; Drink, O Sion's sons and daughters! Drink, and find salvation here. 30 that we, thy truth confessing, And thy holy word possessing, Jesus, may thy love adorel Latin cento.; Tr. Robert Campbell, 1850 St. MICHAEL AND ALL ANGELS 289 Four 10's TARS bright, Filled with celestial splendour and light, These that, where night never followeth day, Raise the “Thrice Holy" song ever and aye: STAright of the morning, so gloriously 2 These are thy ministers, these dost thou own, God of Sabaoth, the nearest thy throne; These are thy messengers, these dost thou send, Help of the helpless ones! man to defend. 3 These keep the guard amid Salem's dear bowers, Thrones, principalities, virtues, and powers, Where, with the living ones, mystical Four, Cherubim, seraphim bow and adore. 4 Still let them succour us; still let them fight, Lord of angelic hosts, battling for right; Till, where their anthems they ceaselessly pour, We with the angels may bow and adore. Amen. St. Joseph the Hymnographer, 850; Tr. John Mason Neale, 1862 290 11.10.11.10.9.11 HA TARK! hark, my soul! Angelic songs are swelling O'er earth's green fields and ocean’s wave-beat shore; How sweet the truth those blessèd strains are telling Of that new life when sin shall be no more! Angels of Jesus, angels of light, Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night. 2 Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, “Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come”; And through the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing, The music of the Gospel leads us home. Angels of Jesus, etc. 3 Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea, And laden souls by thousands meekly stealing, to thee. 4 Rest comes at length, though life be long and dreary, The day must dawn, and darksome night be past; Faith's journeys end in welcome to the weary, And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last. Angels of Jesus, etc. 5 Angels, sing on! your faithful watches keeping; Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above; Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping, less love. Frederick W. Faber, 1854, alt. A 291 L.M. ROUND the throne of God a band Of bright and glorious angels stand; Sweet harps within their hands they hold, And on their heads are crowns of gold. 2 Some wait around him ready still To sing his praise and do his will, To guard his servants here below. 3 Lord, give thine angels every day Command to guard us on our way, Their watch around us while we sleep. 4 So shall no wicked thing draw near To do us harm, or cause us fear; Amen. Also the following 266 Ye watchers and ye holy ones ST. LUKE 292 L.M. W THAT thanks and praise to thee we OʻPriest and Sacrifice divine, For thy dear saint through whom we know So many a gracious word of thine; 2 Whom thou didst choose to tell the tale Of all thy manhood's toils and tears, And for a moment lift the veil That hides thy boyhood's spotless years. |