262 No. 37. HAIL! HAIL TO THEE, MELODY!

Moderato.

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German.

1. Hail! hail to thee, Mel-o-dy! daugh-ter of love!
2. Hail! hail to thee, Mu-sic thy glo- ri - ous art,

While
Go

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gladly our voic-es we raise;
O bear our hearts upward to
forth with its holiest strain! Go calm the wild surg-es that

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man-sions above, And speed our sweet anthems of praise. Hail! roll o'er the heart, Fall soft-ly on grief and on pain, Sweet

hail to thee, Har - mo ny! spread thy light wing
Music, pure beauty, that knows no alloy,

To Thy

waft our glad singing above; O tune our bright voices, while loftiest hymn we would raise; O kindle our voices and

HAIL! HAIL TO THEE, MELODY!-Concluded.

How from her. grateful bo-som
Father! what may we offer?

The herb and flow'r spring forth,
Thy chosen flow'r is love,

All Nature's fountains sparkle-Shall ours have less-er light?

A thous-and liv-ing voic-es,

Awak-ing har-mo-ny,

How from her grateful bo-som,
Fa-ther! what may we of-fer?
All Nature's fountains sparkle-
A thous-and liv-ing voic-es,

The herb and flow'r spring forth.
Thy chosen flow'r is love.
Shall ours have less-er light?
A wak-ing har-mo-ny.

ev'ry crys-tal fountain, While its sparkling waters glide.
gild time's rolling bil-low. As it bears us on our way.

Moderato.

German.

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1. There's mu-sic in the midnight breeze, There's music in the morn; 2. The winds that sweep the mountain-top Their joyous echoes bear; 3. The heart, too, has its mel - o - dies, A con-se-crat - ed spring,

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The day-beam and the ger - tle eve, Sweet sounds have ever borne;
Young Zephyrs on the streamlet play, And make sweet music there;
From which mysterious voic - es flow, And songs of gladness ring.

The val-ley hath its welcome notes, The grove its tuneful throng,
With rustling sound the for-est leaves Bend to the pass-ing breeze;
Why Nature's mu-sic-but that man May join the myriad throng

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And o-cean's mighty caves resound With Nature's endless song.
And pleasant is the bus-y hum Of flow-er seek-ing bees.
Of all her glorious works in one Har-mo-nious burst of song.

266

No. 41. ALL SERVICE IS HALLOWED.
Not too fast.

Danish.

1. You can-not pay with mon-ey, The mil-lion sons of toil; The sail or on the o-cean. The peas-ant on the soil; S 2. The work-shop must be crowded To fill the home with light; If plough-men did not la-bor, The poet could not write; 3. Ye men of tho't and knowledge, Rise, like a band inspired And poets let your vers-es With hope for man be fired; S