SECTION XVIII

HYMNS AND SPIRITUAL SONGS

SUNDAY

DAY most calm, most bright,

The fruit of this, the next world's bud, The indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a Friend, and with His blood; The couch of Time, Care's balm and bay; The week were dark but for thy light; Thy torch doth show the way.

Sundays the pillars are,

On which Heaven's Palace archéd lies:
The other days fill up the spare

And hollow room with vanities:

They are the fruitful beds and borders
In God's rich garden: that is bare
Which parts their ranks and orders.

The Sundays of man's life,

Threaded together on Time's string,
Make bracelets to adorn the Wife
Of the eternal glorious King:

On Sunday, Heaven's gate stands ope;
Blessings are plentiful and rife,
More plentiful than hope.

Thou art a day of mirth;

And where the week-days trail on ground,
Thy flight is higher, as thy birth:

O let me take thee at the bound,

Leaping with thee from seven to seven, Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, Fly hand in hand to heaven!

B

George Herbert.

HIS OWN BLEST DAY

EHOLD we come, dear Lord, to Thee,
And bow before Thy throne;

We come to offer on our knee

Our vows to Thee alone.

Whate'er we have, whate'er we are,
Thy bounty freely gave;

Thou dost us here in mercy spare,

And wilt hereafter save.

Come then, my soul, bring all thy powers,
And grieve thou hast no more,
Bring every day thy choicest hours,
And thy great God adore.

But, above all, prepare thine heart
On this, His own blest day,

In its sweet task to bear thy part,
And sing, and love, and pray.

MORNING HYMN

John Austin.

WHAT'S this Morn's bright eye to me,

If I see not Thine and Thee,

Fairer Jesu; in whose Face

All my Heaven is spread! Alas,

Still I grovel in dead night,
Whilst I want Thy living light;
Dreaming with wide open eyes
Fond fantastic vanities.

Shine, my only Day-Star, shine:
So mine eyes shall wake by Thine;
So the dreams I grope in now
To clear visions all shall grow;
So my day shall measured be
By Thy grace's clarity;
So shall I discern the path
Thy sweet law prescribéd hath;
For Thy ways cannot be shown
By any light but by Thine own.

R

Joseph Beaumont.

SAVIOUR, BE MY LIGHT

OUND me falls the night;

Saviour, be my Light:

Through the hours in darkness shrouded

Let me see thy face unclouded;

Let thy glory shine

In this heart of mine.

Earthly work is done,

Earthly sounds are none;

Rest in sleep and silence seeking,
Let me hear thee softly speaking;

In my spirit's ear

Whisper, "I am near."

Blessed, heavenly Light,

Shining through earth's night;
Voice, that oft of love hast told me;

Arms, so strong to clasp and hold me;
Thou thy watch wilt keep,
Saviour, o'er my sleep.

W. Romaine.

GOOD NIGHT

LOSE now thine eyes, and rest secure; Thy soul is safe enough; thy body sure; He that loves thee, He that keeps And guards thee, never slumbers, never sleeps. The smiling Conscience in a sleeping breast Has only peace, has only rest:

The music and the mirth of kings Are all but very discords, when she sings: Then close thine eyes and rest secure; No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure. Francis Quarles.

T

ALL'S WELL (A Pillow Prayer)

HE day is ended. Ere I sink to sleep, My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine, Father! forgive my trespasses, and keep This little life of mine.

With loving-kindness curtain Thou my bed And cool in rest my burning pilgrim-feet; Thy pardon be the pillow for my head;

So shall my sleep be sweet.

At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and Thee,

No fear my soul's unwavering faith can shake;

All's well, whichever side the grave for me The morning light may break.

T

Harriet McEwen Kimball.

"O VANISHED DAY!"

HE night is come, O vanished day! What record hast thou borne away? The early dawn was fair and bright, With wishes pure, and purpose right.

What of the hours? Have Faith and Love

Been diligent themselves to prove

My guardian angels, covering

Both speech and act with shining wing?

Has Truth been near me with her brow

As sunlight on the driven snow?

And Joy and Peace-have these stayed by, With an unwearied constancy?

What graces have I entertained?

What sinful inclinations chained?

Have heart and hands been freely given
In holy charities, to Heaven?

Was every passing moment fraught

With good, in word, or deed, or thought? The night is come, O vanished day!

What record hast thou borne away?

Though fond hopes perish, His love I cherish, Who giveth songs in the silent night.

I muse and ponder, my thoughts still wander And seek Him yonder

In glory bright,

Forever living, my sin forgiving,

Who giveth songs in the silent night.