5 All glory, Jesus, be to Thee

For this Thy glad Epiphany :
Whom with the Father we adore,
And Holy Ghost for evermore.

Latin (5th Cent.) Tr. J. M. Neale. 216

8,7,8,7,7,7
Thou to whom the sick and dying

Ever came, nor came in vain,
Still with healing words replying

To the wearied cry of pain ;
Hear us, Jesus, as we meet,

Suppliants at Thy mercy seat.
2 Still the weary, sick, and dying

Need a brother's, sister's care ;
On Thy higher help relying

May we now their burden share,
Bringing all our offerings meet,

Suppliants, to Thy mercy-seat.
3 May each child of Thine willing,

Willing both in hand and heart,
All the law of love fulfilling,

Comfort ever to impart,
Ever bringing offerings meet,

Suppliant to Thy mercy-seat.
4 Then shall sickness, sin, and sadness,

To Thy healing power yield,
Till the sick and sad, in gladness,

Rescued, ransomed, cleansèd, healed,
One in Thee together meet,
Pardoned at Thy judgment-seat.

G. Thring. 217

8,7,8,7,7,7
JESUS wept ! those tears are over,

But His heart is still the same;
Kinsman, friend, and elder brother,

Is His everlasting name.

Saviour, who can love like Thee,

Gracious One of Bethany ?
2 When the pangs of trial seize me,

When the waves of sorrow roll,
I will lay my head on Jesus,

Pillow of the troubled soul.
Surely, none can feel like Thee,

Weeping One of Bethany !
3 Jesus wept ! and still in glory,

He can mark each mourner's tear ;
Living to retrace the story

Of the hearts He solaced here.
Lord, when I am called to die,

Let me think of Bethany.
4 Jesus wept ! That tear of sorrow

Is a legacy of love ;
Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow,

He the same doth ever prove.
Thou art all in all to me,
Living One of Bethany !

J. R. Macduff. 218

L. M. 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. 2 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.

3 Cold mountains and the midnight air

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

4 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.

I. Watts.

219

L. M. HOW BEAUTEOUS were the marks divine, That in Thy meekness used to shine; That lit Thy lonely pathway, trod

In wondrous love, O Son of God !
2 Oh, who like Thee so calm, so bright,

Thou God of God, Thou Light of light?
Oh, who like Thee did ever go

So patient through a world of woe? 3 Oh, who like Thee so humbly bore

The scorn, the scoffs, of men before ?
So meek, forgiving, godlike, high,

So glorious in humility ? 4 E'en death, which sets the prisoner free,

Was pang, and scoff, and scorn to Thee; Yet love thro' all Thy torture glowed,

And mercy with Thy life-blood flowed. 5 Oh, in Thy light be mine to go,

Illumine all my way of woe ;
And give me ever on the road
To trace Thy footsteps, Son of God !

A. C. Coxe.

220

L. M.
WHERE'ER have trod Thy sacred feet,
Teach us, O Lord, Thy steps to trace,
Where men in busy concourse meet,
Or in the lonely wilderness.

2 Bid us with Thee to watch and pray,

With Thee to die, with Thee to rise,
With Thee to bear our cross each day,

With Thee to soar beyond the skies. 3 Where'er Thou art may we remain ;

Where'er Thou goest may we go :
With Thee, O Lord, no grief is pain ;

Away from Thee, all joy is woe. 4 Oh, may we in each holy tide,

Each solemn season, dwell with Thee,
Content if only by Thy side
In life or death we still may be.

Anon.

221

L. M. HOW SHALL I follow Him I serve?

How shall I copy Him I love ? Nor from those blessed footsteps swerve

Which lead me to His seat above?

2 Privations, sorrows, bitter scorn,

The life of toil, the mean abode, The faithless kiss, the crown of thorn,

Are these the consecrated road ? 3 'Twas thus He suffered, though a Son,

Foreknowing, choosing, feeling all, Until the perfect work was done,

And drunk the cup of bitter gall. 4 Lord, should my path through suffering lie,

Forbid that I should e'er repine ; Still let me turn to Calvary,

Nor heed my griefs, rememb’ring Thine. 5 To faint, to grieve, to die for me!

Thou camest not Thyself to please ; And, dear as earthly comforts be,

Shall I not love Thee more than these?

6 Yes, I would count them all but loss,

To gain the notice of Thine eye ; Flesh shrinks and trembles at the cross, But Thou canst give the victory.

J. Conder.

222

L. M. O LOVE! how deep, how broad, how high, How passing thought and fantasy, That God, the Son of God, should take

Our mortal form for mortals' sake. 2 He sent no angel to our race,

Of higher or of lower place,
But wore the robe of human frame

And He Himself to this world came. 3 For us to wicked men betrayed, Scourged, mocked, in crown of thorns ar

rayed, For us He bore the cross's death,

For us at length gave up His breath. 4 For us He rose from death again,

For us He went on high to reign,
For us He sent His Spirit here
To guide, to strengthen, and to cheer.

Anon. (Latin, 15th Cent.) Tr. J. M. Neale.

223

L. M. 81. O MASTER, it is good to be High on the mountain here with Thee, Where stand revealed to mortal gaze Those glorious saints of other days, Who once received on Horeb's height Th’ eternal laws of truth and right; Or caught the still small whisper, higher Than storm, than earthquake, or than fire.