Kitobni o'qish: «Hymns from the East», sahifa 4

 
On thy God.
 

IV

 
See Him faint beneath the load,
As He bears the ghastly tree;
Hear His weary spirit sigh,
All for thee.
 

V

 
Sad and doubting, lo! the sun
Shines upon a glorious day:
He is risen! come, see the place
Where He lay.
 

VI

 
Glory to our suffering Lord,
Praise to our exalted King, —
Source of life and endless bliss, —
Let us bring.
 

I

 
To Thee, O Christ, our God,
Great Shepherd, who didst bear
The wandering sheep that strayed
Back to Thy shepherd care;
 

II

 
Who, pitying, gav’st Thy life,
That we might stray no more, —
To Thee our hearts we raise,
And Thee our songs adore.
 

III

 
Blest Spirit, source of life,
From Hades’ fearful gloom
Thou brought’st the Shepherd, Christ,
Who lay in mortal tomb,
 

IV

 
That He might still provide,
And tend, and guard, and keep,
Where’er His flock, abides
One Shepherd, of His sheep.
 

I

 
Glory shone within the gloom,
Vacant eyes in wonder gazed;
Shook the portals of the tomb,
And the prisoners stood amazed.
 

II

 
“Who is this in garb of light,
Come to chase our night away?
Who is this in glorious might,
Brings to us eternal day?”
 

III

 
“Back! the triumph has been won;”
Prone the powers of darkness lie,
At the feet of God’s own Son,
Fresh from fields of victory.
 

IV

 
Glory, glory, life is ours!
Hades heard the shout and feared;
Sin and all satanic powers
Saw the Victor as He neared.
 

V

 
Burst the gates and cast them down,
Set the sighing prisoners free;
Fear not though the tyrant frown,
Christ hath purchased liberty,
 

VI

 
Sin is crushed and death is slain,
See the Cross and Him who died!
From the grave He rose again,
Who for man was crucified.
 

VII

 
Hail! the Resurrection day,
Hail! the gladness and the gain;
“He is risen,” the angels say,
Yea, the Lord is risen again.
 

I

 
When Adam heard the voice of sin
And fell before its power,
The flowers of Paradise were shorn
Of beauty in that hour.
 

II

 
And clouds obscured the heavenly light,
And e’en the stars were dim;
For O ’twas night, and only night,
Dark night ’twixt God and him.
 

III

 
“O whence that flashing sword that gleams?
And whence those angels there?”
Out from the garden of their bliss,
Was thrust the guilty pair.
 

IV

 
Life is not theirs, the tree of Life
The Cherubim surround;
Death dogs our guilty parents’ steps,
Curse blasts the fertile ground.
 

V

 
O dreary, dreary, dark and dread,
O misery of sin!
“God make another garden fair,
And take Thy wanderers in.”
 

VI

 
All praise to Christ our glorious Lord,
For sin and death are slain;
The gates of heaven are open wide,
And life is ours again.
 

I

 
Within the garden’s sombre shade,
The Christ of God in anguish prayed; —
And who that agony could tell,
As from his brow the blood-drops fell?
 

II

 
“Can you not watch one hour?” He saith,
“My soul is sorrowful to death.”
But He alone the vigil kept,
While worn disciples slumbering slept.
 

III

 
O dark the cloud that threatening hung,
And sore the grief His soul that wrung, —
The hate of man, the guilty name,
The bitter Cross, the sin and shame.
 

IV

 
“If I must drink this cup,” He prayed,
“The burden bear upon me laid,
My God, I bow Me to Thy will,
And meekly Thy behest fulfil.”
 

V

 
My soul, when to the garden led,
And clouds are gathering overhead,
When none the hour of anguish shares,
To God direct thy earnest prayers.
 

VI

 
“Thy will be done, Thy will is best, —
Even then the bitter cup is blest, —
If ’tis Thy will the cup I’ll drain,
Despite the agony of pain.”
 

PENTECOST

Ἔργῳ, ὡς πάλαι τοῖς μαθηταῖς ἐπηγγείλω

I

 
Even as Thou saidst, the Spirit came,
In fiery tongues of living flame;
And men were moved to spread abroad,
The Wisdom of th’ Incarnate God.
 

II

 
And nations heard the truth, and gave
Their souls to Him who came to save;
And toiling in their sins, arose
The power of Satan to oppose.
 

III

 
Even as Thou saidst; the Spirit’s power
Came at the Pentecostal hour,
And drooping souls with zeal were fired,
And felt the life that power inspired.
 

IV

 
Even as Thou saidst, the Spirit’s voice
Spake to dull hearts, and bade rejoice;
And men that dwelt in sorrow’s night,
Felt hope awake as morning light.
 

V

 
Even as Thou saidst; His power can still
Our empty lives to fulness fill;
Can charge with hope, with zeal inspire,
And kindle life, and light, and fire.
 

VI

 
Even as Thou saidst! – O Spirit, come,
Make with Thy people here Thy home;
In all their need Thy gifts supply,
And Christ our Lord still glorify.
 

I

 
O may the Spirit of all grace
Descend and in our hearts abide,
And what of good or ill betide,
Find in them aye a resting-place.
 

II

 
There is no peace to mortals given,
Save when the Spirit finds His rest
Within the secret of our breast,
And there inspires the calm of heaven.
 

III

 
Our earthly calms a storm presage,
They whisper peace, and tempests rise,
And clouds obscure the brightest skies,
And winds, and waves in tumult rage.
 

IV

 
No storm disturbs the heavenly peace,
No whispering fills the soul with fears
As when the brooding tempest nears,
And clouds around our path increase.
 

V

 
’Tis lasting calm, ’tis heavenly rest;
Come, Spirit of the Living God,
And in our spirits shed abroad
The peace that makes the troubled blest.
 

COMMUNION

I

 
Let Thy Blood in mercy poured,
Let thy gracious Body broken,
Be to me, O gracious Lord
Of Thy boundless love the token;
Thou didst give Thyself for me,
Now I give myself to Thee.
 

II

 
Thou didst die that I might live; —
Blessed Lord Thou cam’st to save me;
All that love of God could give,
Jesus by His sorrows gave me; —
Thou didst give Thyself for me,
Now I give myself to Thee.
 

III

 
By the thorns that crowned Thy brow,
By the spear wound and the nailing;
By the pain and death I now
Claim, O Christ, Thy love unfailing;
Thou didst give Thyself for me,
Now I give myself to Thee.
 

IV

 
Wilt Thou own the gift I bring?
All my penitence I give Thee;
Thou art my exalted King,
Of Thy matchless love forgive me; —
Thou didst give Thyself for me,
Now I give myself to Thee.
 

I

 
O Lord of bounty, let this bread
Be Thy pure Body unto me;
And let the wine in symbol poured,
Tell of the glorious Mystery; —
O let me here Thy presence feel;
And all my sins in mercy heal.
 

II

 
I am not worthy to partake
Of Thy pure Body, gracious Lord;
Nor of the Blood so freely shed
By Thee, O Thou Incarnate Word;
Yet grant Thy presence unto me,
And let me now commune with Thee.
 

JUDGMENT

I

 
When in the clouds the Lord appears,
And angels stand around His throne;
When judgment fills the soul with fears,
And none can aught of sin disown; —
Spare me, O Lord, Thy creature spare,
And let my soul Thy mercy share.
 

II

 
Even in Thy judgment mercy shew; —
But ere that awful day awakes,
Make me my guilty state to know,
And from my evil courses break; —
Spare me, O Lord, Thy creature spare,
And let my soul Thy mercy share.
 

III

 
For Thou art pitiful and kind,
And Thou hast died, O Judge of men,
That, ere the Judgment, I may find
The path that leads to life again; —
Spare me, O Lord, Thy creature spare,
And let my soul Thy mercy share.
 

IV

 
I have no penitence nor tears,
I have no merit of my own;
But, ah! my soul is filled with fears,
And gladly would its sin disown; —
Spare me, O Lord, Thy creature spare,
And let my soul Thy mercy share.
 

V

 
And bring me nigh the throne of grace,
That, ere the day of Judgment dire,
I may behold Thy loving face,
And flee Thine all consuming ire; —
Spare me, O Lord, Thy creature spare,
And let my soul Thy mercy share.
 

VI

 
Swift draws the day of Judgment nigh;
Wake, wake, my soul, the Judge is near!
And call for mercy while thy cry
Can enter His inclining ear; —
Spare me, O Lord, Thy creature spare,
And let my soul Thy mercy share.
 

I

 
The Bridegroom comes! My soul, awake,
And slumber from thine eyelids shake;
Hark! in the midnight hour the cry;
Bestir, my soul, for He is nigh.
 

II

 
Now trim your lamp, and let its light
Illume the darkness of the night;
And with the tarrying host attend
The Bridegroom, as the Bridegroom’s friend.
 

III

 
Hast thou no oil? O foolish soul!
Why didst thou not the hours control?
Why in the darkness slumber still,
Without the oil your lamp to fill?
 

IV

 
Go, get your oil, – but no, too late!
The Bridegroom’s come, and closed the gate; —
“O let me knock, for He is kind,
And will not leave my soul behind.”
 

V

 
“O let me in, my lamp’s aglow;
How could I, Lord, Thy coming know?
’Twas night, I slumbered, – let me in:
Forgive, O Lord, forgive my sin.”
 

VI

 
Too late! The time has gone apace;
Too late, ’tis gone, the hour of grace;
O soul of mine, awake, awake,
And slumber from thine eyelids shake.
 

I

 
O Judge of all, when sinful men
To Thy dire judgment seat are brought, —
Tell not the error of my life,
O tell it not.
 

II

 
When bowed with grief my tears are shed,
Because my life with sin is fraught,
To angel hosts tell not my sin,
O tell it not.
 

III

 
O hide the secrets of my soul,
And give the pardon I have sought,
And to the myriads round Thy throne,
O tell them not.
 

IV

 
O merciful and just Thou art;
In pity view my woeful lot,
And shame me not because of sin, —
O tell it not.
 

I

 
I brought my merits to the throne,
And set them forth in order there;
I said, “O Lord, Thy servant own,
And let his brow the garland wear;
The grace and virtue of his life,
He won as victor in the strife.”
 

II

 
The song that erstwhile filled the place,
Where high the throne of Christ was set,
Grew faint, as on each pensive face
Joy mixed with pain, and pity met; —
Their song had told the debt they owed,
And how the Christ His grace bestowed.
 

III

 
O, silence fell, so sharp and chill, —
My soul to meanness pined and shrank,
Forth went my cry in accent shrill,
“My Lord, have I no grace to thank?”
Its echo dying, lingered, sank,
“My Lord, have I no grace to thank?”
 

IV

 
I saw His piercéd hands and side,
I saw the thorn-wounds on His brow, —
“My Lord, forgive my sinful pride,
Accept my sore repentance now;”
Then rose high heaven’s adoring prayers,
My grateful song went forth with theirs.
 

I

 
The time is drawing nigh,
Even now the day is near,
When Christ from heaven high
To Judgment shall appear; —
Keep watch, my soul, in fear,
The Judge of men is near.
 

II

 
Then kings and princes great,
The rich and poor shall meet;
And high and low estate,
Shall gather round His feet; —
Keep watch, my soul, in fear,
The Judge of men is near.
 

III

 
No crafty words shall mar,
Nor sophistry distract;
No parrying counsel jar
With the eternal fact; —
Keep watch, my soul, in fear,
The Judge of men is near.
 

IV

 
O Christ, in mercy then,
Forbid my soul should go
With lost and ruined men