I got me flowers to strew thy way - And brought'st thy sweets along with thee. The sun arising in the east, Though he give light and th' east perfume, If they should offer to contest, With Thy arising, they presume. Can there be any day but this, Though many suns to shine endeavor? We count three hundred, but we missThere is but one, and that one ever. GEORGE HERBERT. Thou remit my sins who knowest All the sinning, to the lowest Knowest all my wounds, and seest All the stripes Thyself decreest; Yea, but knowest all my faith— Seest all my force to death,Hearest all my wailings low That mine evil should be so! Nothing hidden but appears In Thy knowledge, O Divine, O Creator, Saviour mine!Not a drop of falling tears, Not a breath of inward moan, Not a heart-beat- which is gone! ST. JOANNES DAMASCENUS. (Greek.) Translation of MRS. BROWNING. Hymn. FROM my lips in their defilement, Or teach me, which I rather seek, I have sinned more than she Who, learning where to meet with Thee, My God, I Love Thee. My God, I love Thee! not because Thou, O my Jesus, Thou didst me Upon the cross embrace! For me didst bear the nails and spear, And manifold disgrace. And griefs and torments numberless, And sweat of agony, - Yea, death itself and all for one Then why, O blessed Jesus Christ, Not with the hope of gaining aught, O everlasting Lord! E'en so I love Thee, and will love, ST. FRANCIS XAVIER. (Latin.) Translation of EDWARD CASWELL. WRESTLING JACOB. I Journey through a Wesert Wrear and Wild. I JOURNEY through a desert drear and wild, Thoughts of His love -the root of every grace, Thoughts of His sojourn in this vale of tears Thoughts of His glory on the cross I gaze, But who, I ask Thee, who art Thou? Tell me Thy name, and tell me now. In vain Thou strugglest to get free; I never will unloose my hold; Art Thou the man that died for me? The secret of Thy love unfold; Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. Wilt Thou not yet to me reveal Thy new, unutterable name? Tell me, I still beseech Thee, tell; To know it now resolved I am; Wrestling, I will not let Thee go, Till I Thy name, Thy nature know. 803 What though my shrinking flesh complain, And murmur to contend so long; I rise superior to my pain; When I am weak, then am I strong! And when my all of strength shall fail, I shall with the God-man prevail. SECOND PART. YIELD to me now, for I am weak, But confident in self-despair; Be conquered by my instant prayer; "Tis love! 'tis love! Thou diedst for me; My prayer hath power with God; the grace Through faith I see Thee face to face; I see Thee face to face and live! I know Thee, Saviour, who Thou art, Thy mercies never shall remove; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. The sun of righteousness on me Hath rose, with healing in his wings; Withered my nature's strength; from Thee My soul its life and succor brings; My help is all laid up above; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. Contented now upon my thigh I halt, till life's short journey end; All helplessness, all weakness, I On Thee alone for strength depend; Nor have I power from Thee to move; Thy nature and Thy name is Love. Lame as I am, I take the prey; Hell, earth, and sin, with ease o'ercome; I leap for joy, pursue my way, And, as a bounding hart, fly home; CHARLES WESLEY. The Stranger and his Friend. A POOR wayfaring man of grief Hath often crossed me on my way, Who sued so humbly for relief That I could never answer" Nay." I had not power to ask His name, Whither He went, or whence He came; Yet there was something in His eye That won my love, I knew not why. Once, when my scanty meal was spread, I gave Him all; He blessed it, brake, I spied Him where a fountain burst Clear from the rock; His strength was gone; The heedless water mocked His thirst; He heard it, saw it hurrying on. I ran to raise the sufferer up; Thrice from the stream He drained my cup, 'Twas night; the floods were out,— it blew A winter hurricane aloof; I heard His voice abroad, and flew I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest- Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death, I roused His pulse, brought back His breath, In prison I saw Him next, condemned And honored Him midst shame and scorn. Then in a moment, to my view, The stranger darted from disguise; The tokens in His hands I knew— My Saviour stood before mine eyes. He spake; and my poor name he named – "Of me thou hast not been ashamed; These deeds shall thy memorial be; Fear not! thou didst them unto me." JAMES MONTGOMERY. The Call. COME, my way, my truth, my life Such a way as gives us breath; Such a truth as ends all strife; Such a life as killeth death. |