English

HYMN V.

To us our god his love commends,
When by our sins undone;
That he might spare his enemies,
He would not spare his son;

His only son, on whom he plac'd
All his delight and love,
Before he form'd the earth below,
Or spread the heavens above.

He charg'd the darling of his soul
To veil his glorious face,
To wear our mortal flesh, and feel

HYMN IV.

Behold the king of glory sits
At table with his guests:
Welcomes them all with gracious smiles,
Them all with dainties feasts.

No common food he here presents,
No common drink provides:
For meat he gives his flesh; for wine
The spear his heart divides.

Lord, give us faith to raise our thoughts
Beyond the views of sense:

HYMN III.

That doleful night, when our dear Lord
Into the garden did retreat,
To vent his grief in groans, and cries,
In tears, and in a bloody sweat;

That ne'er to be forgotten night,
When our redeemer was betray'd;
Before his sufferings he took bread,
Gave thanks to God, broke it, and said:

Take, eat; this is my body broke
For you upon the cursed tree:
Perform this ord'nance as I do,
And when you do't, remember me.

He took the cup too, crown'd with wine,

HYMN II.

Thou art all love, my dearest Lord,
Thou art all lovely too:
Thy love I at thy table taste,
Thy loveliness I view.

Thy divine beauty, veil'd with flesh,
Thy enemies despise;
Thy mangled body they disdain,
And turn from thee their eyes.

But thou more lovely art to me
For all that thou hast borne:
Each cloud sets off thy lustre more;

O Thou whom angels with their hymns address!
To whom all knees must bow, all tongues confess!
Sacred to thee, this sacrifice of praise
A willing hand upon thy altar lays;
Encourag'd by that goodness which approves
A poor man's gift, tho but a pair of doves.
May I have one accepting smile from thee;
'Tis more than all the world's applause to me.
Happy! if I a contrite spirit bring,
And feel my breast warm'd with the love I sing;
Happy! if these my songs successful prove
To make one sinner look on thee, and love;

C ANTICLE

" O Day so bright,
Bring thou my Love to me,
In blinding, deep delight
And ecstacy.

" O Night so wide,
So black, keep close till He,
The light within my side
Seen, comes to me.

" O wandering Wind,
Sing in His ears the sum
Of longing, mad His mind,
Compel He come.

" Earth I adore,
From whom to whom I go,

IN IMITATION OF HORACE'S ART OF POETRY .

Should some strange poet in his piece affect
Pope's nervous style, with Cibber's jokes bedeck'd,
Prink Milton's true sublime with Cowley's wit,
And garnish Blackmore's Job with Swift's conceit,
Would you not laugh? Trust me, that priest's as bad,
Who in a style now grave, now raving mad,
Gives the wild whims of dreaming schoolmen vent,
Whilst drowsy congregations nod assent.
Painters and priests, 'tis true, great licence claim,
And by bold strokes have often rose to fame:

XI.

If audible utterance then was mine
I know not; but my spirit cried
To her who from the far confine
Of bliss had wander'd to my side —
" O, earliest, latest, only love,
Forgive the heart where thou wast throned,
Its lapses from the life above,
Thy better influence disown'd!

XII.

" Forgive me for the scoffer's taunt,
The worldling's greed of wealth and power,

VI.

One eve within a tangled wood
I roam'd ere sunset; pine and oak
And young acacia stemm'd the flood
Of tidal gold that else had broke
In dazzling glory o'er my course;
Now, glancing through the leafy shade,
It struck the boughs with softening force,
Or, wavering round the stems, it play'd.

VII.

The woodbine quiver'd in its glow;
The wild bee, with transfigured wing,

I.

Escaped the noise and whirl of town,
The feverish toil, the narrow aim
Of those who struggle for the crown
Of fortune or of fleeting fame,
A wearied mind, a heart bereft
Of trust and love, I with me bore,
Nor sigh'd to quit the land I left,
Nor smiled to reach the further shore.

II.

And yet that new-found coast was fair —
A bay where arching aisles of rock