27 Light Sbining out of Darkness.

GOD moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

2 Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill

He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.

3 Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.

4 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

5 His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

6 Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain ;
God is His own Interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

The famous poet William Cowper (born 1731, died 1800) wrote this hymn straight from the heart. It was first printed in 1774 in a little book of "Letters on Religious Subjects,” which Cowper's friend, John Newton, published while they were living together at Olney (see under No. 11). There are times in the life of every one when the ways of God's providence seem dark and hard to understand. But Cowper's lot was made particularly hard by brain trouble which made him subject to fits of insanity. Under the shadow of one of these dreadful attacks he wrote this hymn of trust in God's providence.

28 The Most Holy Name of Jesus.

JESUS, the very thought of Thee

JESUS

With sweetness fills my breast;

But sweeter far Thy face to see,

And in Thy presence rest.

2 Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame, Nor can the memory find,

A sweeter sound than Thy blest Name, O Saviour of mankind.

3 O Hope of every contrite heart, O Joy of all the meek,

To those who fall, how kind Thou art! How good to those who seek!

4 But what to those who find? Ah, this Nor tongue nor pen can show: The love of Jesus, what it is

None but His loved ones know.

5 Jesus, our only Joy be Thou,
As Thou our Prize wilt be;
Jesus, be Thou our Glory now,
And through eternity.

Like No. 15, this hymn is translated from the Latin, and the original of this, as of that, was written by a monk, and the name of the writer of each was the same,— Bernard. But the other Bernard was an obscure monk in the Abbey of Cluny, while the writer of this, Bernard of Clairvaux (born 1091, died 1153), was head of the Abbey of that name, an orator, scholar, and statesman, and indeed one of the most prominent figures in the history of the middle ages. He had beautiful thoughts in his heart, and expressed some of them in lovely hymns. These five verses are from a translation of his hymn upon the Name of Jesus, made by the Rev. Edward Caswall in 1849. Caswall was then a clergyman in the Church of England, but in the next year joined the Roman Catholic Church.

29 A bymn for the Children of God in the Days of their Pilgrimage.

CHILDREN of the heavenly King,

ye journey, sweetly sing;

Sing your Saviour's worthy praise,
Glorious in His works and ways.

2 We are travelling home to God
In the way the fathers trod;
They are happy now, and we
Soon their happiness shall see.

3 Shout, ye little flock and blest;
Ye on Jesus' throne shall rest ;
There your seat is now prepared,
There your kingdom and reward.

4 Lift your eyes, ye sons of light,
Zion's city is in sight;

There our endless home shall be,
There our Lord we soon shall see.

5 Fear not, brethren; joyful stand
On the borders of your land;
Jesus Christ, your Father's Son,
Bids you undismayed go on.

6 Lord, obediently we go,
Gladly leaving all below;
Only Thou our Leader be,

And we still will follow Thee.

The author of this hymn was the Rev. John Cennick, born 1718. He was at one time a helper of the Wesleys in the Methodist meetings (see under No. 3), and afterward a clergyman in the Moravian Church. He published this in 1742 with many other hymns, and died at the early age of thirty-eight years. It is pleasant to think of him as safely home, while we travelers sing his cheerful hymn.

30 A Prospect of heaven makes Death Easy.

"HERE is a land of pure delight,

THERE

Where saints immortal reign;

Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.

2 There everlasting spring abides,
And never-withering flowers;
Death, like a narrow sea, divides
This heavenly land from ours.