Note 21, page 12, col. 1. Note 23, page 12, col. 1. Bethulia's matron. "He looked and saw what numbers numberless." Judith. Note 24, page 12, col. 1. Who treads the wine-press of the world alone. The ancient siege of Saguntum has been now “I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of rivalled by Zaragoza. The author is happy to the people there was none with me, for I will tread refer his readers to the interesting narrative of his them in mine anger, and trample them in my friend Mr. Vaughan. fury.”—Isaiah Ixiï. 3. Lymns WRITTEN FOR THE WEEKLY CHURCH SERVICE OF THE YEAR. Several of these hymns were originally published in the in India; but the arduous duties of his station left little time, Christian Observer, in the years 1811 and 1812, and were during the short life there allotted to him, for any employment then accompanied by the following prefatory notice, which it not immediately connected with his diocese. This arrange. is thought due to the author, should be here preserved. ment or them has been published in England since his death, "The following Hymns are part of an intended series, ap- and republished in this country. propriate to the Sundays, and principal holidays of the year; connected in some degree with their particular Collects and Gospels, and designed to be sung between the Nicene Creed ADVENT SUNDAY. and the Sermon. The effect of an arrangement of this kind, though only partially adopted, is very striking in the Romish Matt. xxi. liturgy; and its place should seem to be imperfectly supplied by a few verses of a Psalm, entirely unconnected with the HOSANNA to the living Lord! peculiar devotions of the day, and selected at the discretion of Hosanna to the incarnate Word! a clerk or organist. On the merits of the present imperfect essays, the author is unaffectedly diffident; and as his labours To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, are intended for the use of his own congregation, he will be Let earth, let heaven, Hosanna sing! thankful for any suggestion which may advance or correct Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest! them. In one respect, at least, he hopes the following poems will not be found reprehensible;-no fulsome or indecorous Hosanna, Lord! thine angels cry; language has been knowingly adopted: no erotic addresses to him whom no unclean lip can approach, no allegory ill un Hosanna, Lord! thy saints reply; derstood, and worse applied. It is not enough, in his opinion, Above, beneath us, and around, to object to such expressions that they are fanatical; they The dead and living swell the sound; are positively profane. When our Saviour was on earth and Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest! in great humility conversant with mankind; when he sat at the tables, and washe the feet, and healed the diseases of his creatures; yet did not his disciples give him any more farni. Oh, Saviour! with protecting care, liar name than Master or Lord. And now at the right hand Return to this thy house of prayer! of his Father's majesty, shall we address him with ditties of Assembled in thy sacred name, embraces and passion, or language which it would be dis Where we thy parting promise claim graceful in an earthly sovereign to endure ? Such expressions, Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest ! it is said, are taken from Scripture ; but even if the original application, which is often doubtful, were clearly and unequivocally ascertained, yet, though the collective Christian But chiefest, in our cleansed breast, church may very properly be personified as the spouse of Eternal! bid thy spirit rest, Christ, an application of such language to individual believers And make our secret soul to be is as dangerous as it is absurd and unauthorized. Nor is it A temple pure, and worthy thee! going too far to assert, that the brutalities of a common swearer can hardly bring religion into more sure contempt, or more Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest! scandalously profane the Name which is above every name in heaven and earth, than certain epithets applied to Christ in So, in the last and dreadful day, our popular collections of religious poetry.” When earth and heaven shall melt away, Bishop Heber subsequently arranged these hymns, with Thy flock, redeemed from sinful stain, some others by various writers, in a regular series adapted to the services of the Church of England throughout the year, Shall swell the sound of praise again, and it was his intention to publish them soon after his arrival Hosanna! Lord! Hosanna in the highest ! SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. JOHN I. The Lord will come! the earth shall quake, The hills their fixed seat forsake; And, withering, from the vault of night The stars withdraw their feeble light. The Lord will come! but not the same As once in lowly form he came, A silent lamb to slaughter led, The bruised, the suffering, and the dead. The Lord will come ! a dreadful form, With wreath of flame, and robe of storm, On cherub wings, and wings of wind, Anointed Judge of human-kind! Can this be Thee who wont to stray A pilgrim on the world's highway; By power oppressed and mocked by pride ? Oh, God! is this the crucified? Go, tyrants ! to the rocks complain! Go, seek the mountain's cleft in vain ! But faith, victorious o'er the tomb, Shall sing for joy—the Lord is come! Come, Jesus! come! return again; With brighter beam thy servants bless, Who long to feel thy perfect reign, And share thy kingdom's happiness! A feeble race, by passion driven, In darkness and in doubt we roam, And lift our anxious eyes to Heaven, Our hope, our harbour, and our home! Yet mid the wild and wint’ry gale, When Death rides darkly o'er the sea, And strength and earthly daring fail, Our prayers, Redeemer! rest on Thee ! Come, Jesus! come! and, as of yore The prophet went to clear thy way, my grace with heavenly shower Our stony hearts for truth prepare ; Sow in our souls the seed of power, Then come and reap thy harvest there! a So no THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT. SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT. LUKE XXI. Signs and wonders there shall be; Nations with perplexity. Soon shall ocean's hoary deep, Tossed with stronger tempests, rise : Darker storms the mountain sweep, Redder lightning rend the skies. Evil thoughts shall shake the proud, Racking doubt and restless fear; And amid the thunder cloud Shall the Judge of men appear. But though from that awful face Heaven shall fade and earth shall fly, Fear not ye, his chosen race, Your redemption draweth nigh! The world is grown old, and her pleasures are past; The world is grown old, and her form may not last; The world is grown old, and trembles for fear; For sorrows abound and judgment is near! The sun in the heaven is languid and pale ; And feeble and few are the fruits of the vale; And the hearts of the nations fail them for fear, For the world is grown old, and judgment is near! The king on his throne, the bride in her bower, The children of pleasure all feel the sad hour; The roses are faded, and tasteless the cheer, For the world is grown old, and judgment is near! The world is grown old!—but should we complain, Who have tried her and know that her promise is vain? Our heart is in heaven, our home is not here, And we look for our crown when judgment is near! THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT. MATT. XI. No longer might thy grace endure, CHRISTMAS DAY. OH, Saviour, whom this holy morn Gave to our world below; To mortal want and labour born, And more than mortal wo! Incarnate Word! by every grief, By each temptation tried, Who lived to yield our ills relief, And to redeem us died ! If gaily clothed and proudly fed, In dangerous wealth we dwell, Remind us of thy manger bed, And lowly cottage cell ! In envious want we pine, How poor a lot was thine! From sin preserve us free! May we rejoice with Thee ! To see the light that dimly shone, Eclipsed for us in sorrow pale, Pure Image of the Eternal One! Through shadows of thy mortal veil ! Be ours, oh, King of Mercy! still To feel thy presence from above, And in thy word, and in thy will, To hear thy voice and know thy love; And when the toils of life are done, And nature waits thy dread decree, To find our rest beneath thy throne, And look, in humble hope, to Thee ! ST. STEPHEN'S DAY. A kingly crown to gain ; Who follows in his train ? Triumphant over pain, He follows in his train! Could pierce beyond the grave; And called on him to save. Like Him, with pardon on his tongue In midst of mortal pain, He prayed for them that did the wrong i Who follows in his train? INNOCENT'S DAY. Oh weep not o'er thy children's tomb, Oh, Rachel, weep not so ! The bud is cropt by martyrdom The flower in heaven shall blow! Firstlings of faith! the murderer's knife Has missed its deadliest aim: The God for whom they gave their life, For them to suffer came ! Though feeble were their days and few, Baptized in blood and pain, He knows them, whom they never knew, And they shall live again. Then weep not o'er thy children's tomb, Oh, Rachel, weep not so! The flower in heaven shall blow! A glorious band, the chosen few, On whom the spirit came; Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew, And mocked the cross and flame. The lion's gory mane : Who follows in their train? SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS; OR, CIRCUMCISION. Jesus! hear and save! A noble army-men and boys, The matron and the maid, Around the Saviour's throne rejoice, In robes of light arrayed. Through peril, toil, and pain ! To follow in their train! Who, when sin's tremendous doom Jesus! hear and save! Mighty monarch ! Saviour mild ! Jesus! hear and save! ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST'S DAY. Oy, God! who gav'st thy servant grace, Amid the storms of life distrest, To look on thine incarnate face, And lean on thy protecting breast : Throned above celestial things, Jesus! hear and save! Who shall yet return from high, Jesus! hear and save! EPIPHANY. BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning ! Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid ! Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid ! Cold on his cradle the dew drops are shining, Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall, Angels adore him in slumber reclining, Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all ! Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion, Odours of Edom and offerings divine ? Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean, Myrrh from the forest or gold from the mine? Vainly we offer each ample oblation; Vainly with gifts would his favour secure : Richer by far is the heart's adoration; Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid ! Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid ! FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.' How sweet the lily grows! Of Sharon's dewy rose ! The paths of peace have trod; Is upward drawn to God! The lily must decay; Must shortly fade away. Of man's maturer age And stormy passion's rage! Within thy Father's shrine ! Were all alike divine, We seek thy grace alone, To keep us still thine own! FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. LUKE 11. ABASHED be all the boast of age! Be hoary learning dumb! Expounder of the mystic page, Behold an Infant come! Oh, Wisdom, whose unfading power Beside th’ Eternal stood, To frame, in nature's earliest hour, The land, the sky, the flood; Yet didst not Thou disdain awhile An infant form to wear; And lisp thy faltered prayer. With Israel's elders round, Conversing high with Israel's God, Thy chiefest joy was found. So may our youth adore thy name! And, Saviour, deign to bless With fostering grace the timid flame Of early holiness! SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. OA, hand of bounty, largely spread, grace, FOR THE SAME. INCARNATE Word, who, wont to dwell T DO Oh, when our soul from care is free, From the lusts whose deep pollutions Then, Saviour, may we think on Thee, Adam's ancient taint disclose, And seated at the festal board, From the tempter's dark intrusions, In Fancy's eye behold the Lord. Restless doubt and blind repose; Then may we seem, in Fancy's ear, From the miser's cursed treasure, Thy manna-dropping tongue to hear, From the drunkard's jest obscene, Jesus! Master! make us clean! FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EPI- PHANY. streaming, When o'er the dark wave the red lightning is WHEN on her Maker's bosom gleaming, The new-born earth was laid, Nor hope lends a ray the poor seamen to cherish, And nature's opening blossom We fly to our Maker—" Help, Lord ! we perIts fairest bloom displayed; ish!" When all with fruit and flowers Oh, Jesus! once tossed on the breast of the billow, Aroused by the shriek of despair from thy pillow, Now, seated in glory, the mariner cherish, Who cries in his danger—"Help, Lord! or we perish!" No sin his face defiling, The heir of Nature stood, And oh, when the whirlwind of passion is raging, When hell in our heart his wild warfare is waging, Arise in thy strength thy redeemed to cherish, Rebuke the destroyer—" Help, Lord! or we perish !" SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY. The God of glory walks his round, From day to day, from year to year, And warns us each with awful sound, "No longer stand ye idle here! "Ye whose young cheeks are rosy bright, Whose hands are strong, whose hearts are clear, Waste not of hope, the morning light! assuage THIRD SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY. That wait on life's declining year, Secure a blessing for your age, And work your Maker's business here ! Foretell your latest travail near, Jesus ! from thy heavenly dwelling, How swiftly fades your worthless day! Hear us, help us, when we pray! And stand ye yet so idle here? From the filth of vice and folly, “ One hour remains, there is but one ! From infuriate passion's rage, But many a shriek and many a tear Evil thoughts and hopes unholy, Through endless years the guilt must moan Heedless youth and selfish age; Of moments lost and wasted here !" |