EARTH HAS NOTHING SWEET OR FAIR.

(Keine Schönheit hat die Welt.)

From the German of ANGELUS SILESIUS (JOHANN ANGELUS SCHEFFLER), b. at Breslau, Silesia, 1624; d. 1677; author of 205 hymns and poetic proverbs, most of which were composed before he joined the Roman-Catholic Church. Several of his hymns are among the deepest and most tender in the German language, and breathe a glowing love to the Saviour. Of the following poem, we have two excellent English translations, -one by CATHerine WinkworTH ("Nothing fair on earth I see, But I straightway think of Thee"), and one by FRANCES ELIZABETH COX (Lond 1841). The latter is more literal, and is here given.

ARTH has nothing sweet or fair,

EAR

Lovely forms or beauties rare,

But before my eyes they bring
Christ, of beauty Source and Spring.

When the morning paints the skies,
When the golden sunbeams rise,
Then my Saviour's form I find
Brightly imaged on my mind.

When the day-beams pierce the night,

Oft I think on Jesu's light,

Think how bright that light will be,

Shining through eternity.

When, as moonlight softly steals,
Heaven its thousand eyes reveals,
Then I think: Who made their light
Is a thousand times more bright.

EARTH HAS NOTHING SWEET OR FAIR.

When I see, in spring-tide gay,
Fields their varied tints display,
Wakes the thrilling thought in me,
What must their Creator be!

If I trace the fountain's source,
Or the brooklet's devious course,
Straight my thoughts to Jesus mount,
As the best and purest fount.

Sweetly sings the nightingale,
Sweet the flute's soft, plaintive tale;
Sweeter than the richest tone
Is the name of Mary's Son.1

Sweetness fills the air around,
At the echo's answering sound;
But more sweet than echo's fall,
Is to me the Bridegroom's call.

Lord of all that's fair to see!
Come, reveal Thyself to me;
Let me, 'mid Thy radiant light,

See Thine unveiled glories bright.

137

This stanza I have borrowed from Miss Winkworth's trans

lation. Miss Cox renders it, less happily,

"Sweet the song the night-bird sings,

Sweet the lute, with quivering strings;

Far more sweet than every tone
Are the words 'Maria's Son.'"

Let Thy Deity profound

Me in heart and soul surround;
From my mind its idols chase,
Weaned from joys of time and place.

Come, Lord Jesus! and dispel
This dark cloud in which I dwell;
Thus to me the power impart,

To behold Thee as Thou art.

MY DEAR REDEEMER, AND MY LORD.

By Isaac WATTS, 1674-1748. From his Hymns and Spiritual Songs, 1709.

Y

MY

dear Redeemer, and my Lord!

I read my duty in Thy word;

But in Thy life the law appears,
Drawn out in living characters.

Such was Thy truth, and such Thy zeal,
Such deference to Thy Father's will,
Such love and meekness so divine,

I would transcribe and make them mine.

Cold mountains and the midnight air
Witnessed the fervor of Thy prayer;
The desert Thy temptations knew,
Thy conflict, and Thy victory too.

JESUS, STILL LEAD ON.

Be Thou my pattern; make me bear
More of Thy gracious image here:

Then God, the Judge, shall own my name
Among the followers of the Lamb.

139

JESUS, STILL LEAD ON.

(Jesu, geh voran.)

Count NIKOLAUS LUDWIG VON ZINZENDORF, 1721. (SCHAFF's G. H. B., No 106.) Translation from the Hymns from the Land of Luther, Edinb. 1853.

JESUS, still lead on,

Till our rest be won!

And, although the way be cheerless,
We will follow, calm and fearless:
Guide us by Thy hand

To our Fatherland!

If the way be drear,

If the foe be near,

Let not faithless fears o'ertake us,
Let not faith and hope forsake us;
For, through many a foe,
To our home we go!

When we seek relief

From a long-felt grief,

When temptations come alluring,
Make us patient and enduring:

Show us that bright shore
Where we weep no more!

Jesus, still lead on,

Till our rest be won!
Heavenly Leader, still direct us,
Still support, console, protect us,
Till we safely stand

In our Fatherland!

OH FOR A HEART TO PRAISE MY GOD'

CHARLES WESLEY, 1742.

OH for a heart to praise my God!

A heart from sin set free!

A heart that always feels Thy blood,
So freely spilt for me!

A heart resigned, submissive, meek,
My great Redeemer's throne!
Where only Christ is heard to speak,
Where Jesus reigns alone:

A humble, lowly, contrite heart,
Believing, true, and clean;

Which neither life nor death can part
From Him that dwells within: