« PreviousContinue »
216. The stream of faith. St. Agnes, 31. From heart to heart, from creed to creed,
The hidden river runs;
It binds the sires to sons,—
Whose sound, the sound of prayer, Whose meadows are the holy lives
And fresher, fuller grows
Towards which the river flows.
That rises in each soul,
That ever deepening roll!
218. Out of the dark. Ward, 18.
see, Pause now; exchange with cheer the
word,The unchanging watchword, Liberty! Look backward, how much has been won! Look round, how much is yet to win! The watches of the night are done; The watches of the day begin. O Thou, whose mighty patience holds The night and day alike in view, Thy will our dearest hope enfolds: O keep us steadfast, patient, true!
W, C. GANNETT,
Heirship. Noyes, 38.
Nuremburg, 39. 21% HEIR of all the ages, I, Heir of all that they have wrought! All their store of emprise high, All their wealth of precious thought! Every golden deed of theirs Sheds its lustre on my way; All their labors, all their prayers, Sanctify this present day. Heir of all that they have earnea By their passion and their tears; Heir of all that they have learned Through the weary, toiling years; Heir of all the faith sublime On whose wings they soared to heaven; Heir of every hope that Time To earth’s fainting sons hath given; Aspirations pure and high; Strength to do and to endure; Heir of all the ages, I, Lo, I am no longer poor!
219. Old and new. Hamburg, 12. O, SOMETIMES gleams upon our sight, Through present wrong, the Eternal
Right! And step by step, since time began, We see the steady gain of man ;That all of good the past hath had Remains to make our own time glad, Our common daily life divine, And every land a Palestine. Through the harsh noises of our day A low, sweet prelude finds its way; Through clouds of doubt and creeds of
fear A light is breaking, calm and clear.
JULIA C. R. DORR.
220, A song of faith. Arlington, 19. We pray no more, made lowly wise,
For miracle and sign;
The common, the divine.
And in unwonted ways,
The temples of thy praise.
To hearts of old were dear,
That feels thee ever near!
And more shall worship be,
And all our life in thee.
223. For the new earth. Laban, 33.
SEND down thy truth, O God!
Too long the shadows frown,
Thy truth, O Lord, send down!
Till wilderness and town
Thy Spirit, О send down!
Our lesser lives to crown,
Thy living love send down!
Earth's bitter voices drown
F, L. HOSMER.
221. With wider view. Germany, 11.
E. R, SILL.
Onward ! Sicily, 48.
(Repeat lines 3, 4.) Shall things withered, fashions olden,
Keep us from life's flowing spring?
Onward, onward !
The dawn. Azmon, 20. Lo! on the morn that now is here
No night shall ever fall,
Till God be all in all!
The day will follow soon,
And morn be lost in noon.
JOY. 88 & 5s, or 8s, 78, 88 & 5s. 8 lines.
Arranged from BEETHOVEN.
For to the seed that's sown to-day
A harvest-time is given, When charity, with faith to stay,
Shall make on earth a heaven.
225. “Thy kingdom come. Marlow, 27. Thy kingdom come, with power and grace,
In every heart of man;
In all our bosoms reign!
Our outward lips confess the Name
All other names above;
And comprehendeth Love.
And every symbol wanes ;-
Eternal Love, remains.
But makes an end of sin;
Now to our souls bring in!
Which can no more remove;
The omnipotence of Love!
Eden. Noyes, 38.
Forever flowing free,
A never ebbing sea!
Large amid the sons of men,
Than in censure's keenest ken.
And its secret throb of joy;
Dying not, though death destroy.
Warning us to self-control, -
That shall yet transform the soul;
Sin doth in the sinner leave,
He hath lost,- I do believe.
All that sin hath swept away,
Night by night and day by day :
In the grace of its reprieve,
Its perfection,- I believe.
Fixed in God's unchanging will,
Hath a depth that's deeper still!
To forbear and to retrieve,
Let me lie patient, like the earth,
And say, “This shall be rest; And then, O Lord, at thy dear call,
Arise renewed and blest.
J. V. BLAKE.
Nuremburg, 39. 229. All seasons.
Summer. Channing, 58. The sun darts down his sheaf of golden
rays; Earth answers with her sheaves of golden
grain; And vapors, like sweet incense, spread a
haze Of quivering shadow on the blooming
plain. As soon as come thy living beams, O Sun, O summer Sun, thy fervent, living powers, The earth is stirred, the sterile days are
done, And glowing life pervades the radiant
hours. So God's great love pours down upon the
heart: Answer, O Heart! bring forth thy ripened
sheaves ! Love, praise and duty be thy fervent part, Like to the living love thy soil receives.
MRS. A. L. BARBAULD.
J. V. BLAKE.
Spring. Aznion, 20. The softened mould is brown and warm,
The early blossoms break,
A mossy verdure make.
A sweetness new and rare,
With music wake the air.
The secret of the Spring!
Or as a bird on wing.
As sometime I may be;
Come whirling down on me
232. Summer days. Lloyd, 24. The summer days are come again;
Once more the glad earth yields Her golden wealth of ripening grain,
And breath of clover-fields; And deepening shade of summer woods,
And glow of summer air, And winging thoughts, and happy words
Of love and joy and prayer.
The summer days are come again,
The birds are on the wing;
Unconsciously they sing:
That doth our cup o'erbrim:
Harvest. Ward, 18. Once more the liberal year laughs out O’er richer stores than gems or gold; Once more with harvest-song and shout Is Nature's bloodless triumph told. O favors every year made new! O blessings with the sunshine sent! The bounty overruns our due, The fullness shames our discontent. We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on; We murmur, but the corn-ears fill; We choose the shadow, but the sun That casts it shines behind us still. Now let these altars, wreathed with flow
it on mountain and moorland; We glean it from meadow and lea; We garner it in from the cloudland;
We bind it in sheaves from the sea.
Of harvests that eye cannot see;
Are reaped by the brave and the free:
nered, Some golden with honor and gain, And some as with heart's-blood are ruddy,
The harvests of Sorrow and Pain.
The Giver who gladdens our days,
Thanksgiving and honor and praise!
J. W. CHADWICK.
And piled with fruits, awake again
J. G. WHITTIER.
Harvests. Harvest, 63. Now sing we a song for the Harvest:
Thanksgiving and honor and praise For all that the bountiful Giver
Hath given to gladden our days!
For fruits of the garden and field,
To delver and husbandman yield!
For that which the hands cannot hold; The harvest eyes only can gather,
And only our hearts can enfold!
With heart unblest to know
The sweet flowers wait to blow.
The wrecks of Autumn's gold,
Their starry hosts unfold, -
Your silence, more than speech,
That faith and duty teach.
And ever this foreknow,-
A. Leighton. 236.
Winter. Hebron, 13.