GLORIA in excelsis Deotis. Et in terra pax ho

minibus voluntatis.

Laudamus te.

Glorificamus te.

Benedicimus te. Adoramus te.

Gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam. [potens. Domine Deus, Rex cælestis, Deus Pater omniDomine Fili unigenite Jesu Christe. Domine Deus. Agnus Dei, Filius Patris. Qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.

Qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem

nostram.

Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis. Quoniam tu solus sanctus. Tu solus Dominus. Tu solus altissimus Jesu Christe. Cum sancto Spiritu, in gloria Dei Patris. Amen.

This hymn is believed to have been the morning song of the Christians in primitive days, the hymn sung by the martyrs as the day dawned on which they were to be butchered, to make a Roman holiday. For nearly nineteen centuries it spans the history of our race with a ray of melody and light. This hymn has helped indeed.

22-NUNC DIMITTIS.

SIMEON'S Song of thankfulness on seeing the infant Christ has been frequently paraphrased, but the nonmetrical version is most used and best known.

LORD, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace: according to Thy word.

For mine eyes have seen Thy salvation.

Which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people.

A light to lighten the Gentiles: and the glory of Thy people Israel.

Glory be to the Father, etc.

Ant. Salva nos.

JUNC dimittis servum tuum, Domine: * secun

Ndum verbum tuum in pace.

Quia viderunt oculi mei * salutare tuum.

Quod parasti ante faciem omnium populorum. Lumen ad revelationem gentium,* et gloriam plebis tuæ Israel.

Gloria Patri.

Ant. Salva nos, Domine, vigilantes, custodi nos dormientes: ut vigilemus cum Christo, et requiescamus in pace.

23-THE CANDLE-LIGHT HYMN.

THE Evening Hymn, the Phos Hilaron, quoted by St. Basil in the fourth century, dates from the first or second century. As the Gloria was the Christian's salute to the rising sun, so the Phos Hilaron was sung at eventide when the time of the lighting of lamps had come. It is still used as the Vesper Hymn in the Greek churches. The following is Keble's translation :

HAIL

:

AIL, gladdening Light, of His pure glory pour'd

Who is the Immortal Father, Heavenly, Blest, Holiest of Holies, Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Now we are come to the sun's hour of rest, The lights of evening round us shine, We hymn the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit Divine. Worthiest art Thou at all times to be sung With undefilèd tongue,

Son of our God, Giver of life, Alone! Therefore in all the world Thy glories, Lord, they own. Amen.

on the

24-THE HYMN OF THE CATACOMBS. THOSE Who have wandered through any part of the ten miles of the labyrinth known as the Catacombs of Calixtus, which are said to contain the remains of a million Christian dead, will be familiar with the constant, almost infantile, persistence of the reference to Christ in inscriptions. Whether it is the dove, or the palm, or the fish, or the sacred monogram, it is always Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour. They had fallen in love with Jesus of Nazareth, had these hunted Christians, and they carved his name everywhere, or his symbol, as the lovelorn Orlando chiselled Rosalind's name bark of the trees in the forest of Ardennes. From these early days, when for the first time the human heart felt the fresh gush of passionate love for the Divine, made Man in order to become the Heavenly Bridegroom of his Spouse of the Church, there has come down to us little in the shape of authentic song save that hymn which, versified as the hymn "Shepherd of Tender Youth," is still to be heard in our churches today. But how different the circumstances of the modern congregation and those under which the little flock of the persecuted mustered in the black subterranean City of the Dead to enjoy the ecstasy of singing to Him whose love made the horrors of the torture-chamber and the shame of the Colosseum sweeter than all the

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honours and glories of the world. 'Nowhere," says Zola, in his masterly picture of Rome, "had there been more intimate and touching life than in these buried cities of the unknown lowly dead, so gentle, so beautiful, and so chaste. And a mighty breath had formerly come from them, the breath of a new humanity destined to renew the world. With the advent of meekness, contempt of the flesh, relinquishment of terrestrial joys, and a passion for death, which delivers and opens the portals of Paradise, a new world had begun.' And this ancient hymn, sole survivor of many such which

helped them to the hidden source of their strength, still, after all these centuries, exhales somewhat of the mystic fragrance which lingered around that mighty love by which they overcame the world. The following is the translation of Dean Plumptre:

URB for the stubborn steed,

CUR

Wing that directest right

The wild bird's wandering flight;
Helm for the ships that keep
Their pathway o'er the deep;
Shepherd of sheep that own
Their Master on the Throne,
Stir up Thy children meek
With guileless lips to speak,
In hymn and song Thy praise,
Guide of their infant ways.
O King of saints, O Lord,
Mighty, all-conquering Word;
Son of the highest God
Wielding His wisdom's rod;
Our stay when cares annoy,
Giver of endless joy;
Of all our mortal race
Saviour of boundless grace,

O Jesus, hear!

Shepherd and Sower Thou,
Now helm, and bridle now,
Wing for the heavenward flight
Of flock all pure and bright,
Fisher of men, the blest,
Out of the world's unrest,
Out of Sin's troubled sea
Taking us, Lord, to Thee;
Out of the waves of strife,

With bait of blissful life,
With choicest fish, good store,
Drawing Thy nets to shore.
Lead us, O Shepherd true,
Thy mystic sheep, we sue,
Lead us, O holy Lord,
Who from Thy sons dost ward,
With all-prevailing charm,
Peril, and curse, and harm :
O path where Christ has trod,
O Way that leads to God,
O Word, abiding aye,
O endless light on high,
Mercy's fresh-springing flood.
Worker of all things good,
O glorious life of all

That on their Maker call,

Christ Jesus, hear;
O milk of Heaven, that prest
From full o'erflowing breast
Of her, the mystic Bride,
Thy wisdom hath supplied;
Thine infant children seek,
With baby lips, all weak,
Filled with the Spirit's dew
From that dear bosom true,
Thy praises pure to sing,

Hymns meet for Thee, our King,

For Thee, the Christ;

Our holy tribute this,

For wisdom, life and bliss,

Singing in chorus meet,

Singing in concert sweet,
The Almighty Son.

We, heirs of peace unpriced,