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I.-THIS DID NOT ONCE SO TROUBLE ME.

HIS did not once so trouble me,

But now I feel and know

That only when we love, we find
How far our hearts remain behind
The love they should bestow.

Thee;

While we had little care to call
On Thee, and scarcely prayed at all,
We seemed enough to pray :
But now we only think with shame,
How seldom to Thy glorious Name
Our lips their offerings pay.

And when we gave yet slighter heed
Unto our brother's suffering need,
Our hearts reproached us then
Not half so much as now, that we
With such a careless eye can see
The woes and wants of men.

In doing is this knowledge won,
To see what yet remains undone;
With this our pride repress,
And give us grace, a growing store,
That day by day we may do more,
And may esteem it less.

Christopher Wordsworth.

1807-1885

was

CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH, nephew of William Wordsworth the father of the poetry of the nineteenth century, was born at Lambeth on the 30th of October, 1807. His father, also Christopher Wordsworth, was at that time Rector of Lambeth, and afterwards Master of Trinity College, Cambridge. Christopher, who was his youngest son, educated at Winchester and Trinity College, and his career, both at school and at the University, was a brilliant one. He carried off many prizes, graduated as Senior Classic in the Classical Tripos, and 14th Senior Optime in the Mathematical in 1830, and was elected a Fellow of Trinity. He became a Classical Lecturer, and in 1836 Public Orator for the University, and Headmaster of Harrow School. In 1844 he was appointed to a Canonry at Westminster, in 1848-9 to the Hulsean lectureship at Cambridge. In 1850 he accepted the living of Stamford-in-the-Vale-cum-Grosey in Berkshire, and devoted himself assiduously to parochial work for nineteen years. In 1869 he was elevated to the Bishopric of Lincoln, an office which he continued to hold for fifteen years. He died on the 20th of March, 1885.

Christopher Wordsworth was a voluminous writer upon classical and ecclesiastical subjects, and among

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other works of a more general character wrote the "Memoirs of William Wordsworth (his Uncle), published in 1851, and “A Commentary on the whole Bible" (1856-70). In the "Holy Year," published in 1862, he wrote hymns for all the Christian seasons, dealing with the many phases of the various seasons as enumerated in the Book of Common Prayer. The value of hymns as a means of teaching and impressing on the memory Christian doctrines was recognised by him, and he wrote them avowedly for the purpose of inculcating religious truth, with the result that poetic excellence was often lost in the pursuit of a didactic aim. Some of his hymns, however, are of high excellence, and some have become widely popular. Among the more successful, as well as the better known of these are "O Day of Rest and Gladness," "Hark the sound of Holy Voices," "Gracious Spirit, Holy Ghost," and "See the Conqueror mounts in Triumph," the first three of which are given in the following pages.

ALFRED H. MILES.

THE HOLY YEAR.

1862

CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH.

1.-GRACIOUS SPIRIT, HOLY GHOST.

(QUINQUAGESIMA.)

RACIOUS Spirit, Holy Ghost,
U Taught by Thee, we covet most
Of Thy gifts at Pentecost,

Holy, heavenly Love.

Faith, that mountains could remove,
Tongues of earth or Heaven above;
Knowledge-all things-empty prove,
Without heavenly love.

Though I as a Martyr bleed,

Give my goods the poor to feed,
All is vain, if Love I need;

Therefore, Give me Love.

Love is kind, and suffers long,
Love is meek, and thinks no wrong,
Love, than death itself more strong;
Therefore, Give us Love.

Prophecy will fade away,
Melting in the light of day;
Love will ever with us stay!
Therefore, Give us Love.

Faith will vanish into sight;
Hope be emptied in delight;

Love in heaven will shine more bright;
Therefore, Give us Love.

Faith and Hope and Love we see
Joining hand in hand agree;
But the greatest of the three,
And the best, is Love.

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From the overshadowing
Of Thy gold and silver wing,
Shed on us, who to Thee sing,
Holy, heavenly Love!

II. O LORD OF HEAVEN.

(ALMSGIVING.)

LORD of heaven, and earth, and sea,

To Thee all praise and glory be; How shall we show our love to Thee, Giver of all?

The golden sunshine, vernal air,

Sweet flowers and fruits Thy Love declare,
When harvests ripen, Thou art there,
Giver of all!

For peaceful homes, and healthful days,
For all the blessings Earth displays,
We owe Thee thankfulness and praise,
Giver of all !

Thou didst not spare Thine only Son,
But gav'st Him for a world undone,
And e'en that gift Thou dost outrun,
And give us all!

Thou giv'st the Spirit's blessèd dower,
Spirit of life, and love, and power,
And dost His sevenfold graces shower
Upon us all.

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