Part 6

He placed an angel at thy side, And strewed joys round thee on thy way; He gave thee rights thou couldst not claim, And life, free life, before thee lay.

Had God in heaven no work to do, But miracles of love for thee? No world to rule, no joy in self, And in his own infinity?

So must it seem to our blind eyes; He gave His love no Sabbath rest, Still plotting happiness for men, And now designs to make them blest.

From out His glorious bosom came His only, His eternal Son; He freed the race of Satan's slaves, And with His blood sin's captives won.

The world rose up against his love: New love the vile rebellion met, As though God only looked at sin, Its guilt to pardon and forget.

For His Eternal Spirit came, To raise the thankless slaves to sons, And with the sevenfold gifts of love To crown His own elected ones.

Men spurned His grace, their lips blasphemed The Love who made Himself their slave; They grieved that blessed Comforter, And turned against Him what He gave.

Yet still the sun is fair by day, The moon still beautiful by night; The world goes round, and joy with it, And life, free life, is men's delight.

No voice God's wondrous silence breaks; No hand put forth, His anger tells; And He, the Omnipotent and Dread, On high in humblest patience dwells.

The Son hath come; and maddened sin The world's Creator crucified; The Spirit comes, and stays, while men, His presence doubt, His gifts deride.

And now the Father keeps Himself, In patient and forbearing love, To be His creature's heritage, In that undying life above.

O wonderful, O passing thought! The love that God hath had for thee, Spending on thee no less a sum Than the undivided Trinity.

Father and Son, and Holy Ghost, Exhausted for a thing like this,-- The world's whole government disposed For one ungrateful creature's bliss.

What hast thou done for God, my soul? Look o'er thy misspent years and see; Cry for thy worse than nothingness; Cry for His mercy upon thee.

--_F. W. Faber._

Some murmur when their sky is clear, And wholly bright to view, If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue. And some with thankful love are filled, If but one streak of light, One ray of God's good mercy, gild The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask, In discontent and pride, Why life is such a dreary task, And all good things denied: And hearts in poorest huts admire How love has in their aid (Love that not ever seems to tire) Such rich provision made.

--_Richard Chenevix Trench._

IF THOU COULDST KNOW.

I think if thou couldst know, O soul that will complain, What lies concealed below Our burden and our pain; How just our anguish brings Nearer those longed-for things We seek for now in vain,-- I think thou wouldst rejoice, and not complain.

I think if thou couldst see, With thy dim mortal sight, How meanings, dark to thee, Are shadows hiding light; Truth's efforts crossed and vexed, Life's purpose all perplexed,-- If thou couldst see them right, I think that they would seem all clear, and wise, and bright.

And yet thou canst not know, And yet thou canst not see; Wisdom and sight are slow In poor humanity. If thou couldst _trust_, poor soul, In Him who rules the whole, Thou wouldst find peace and rest: Wisdom and sight are well, but Trust is best.

--_Adelaide Procter._

COMPENSATION.

O the compensating springs! O the balance-wheels of life, Hidden away in the workings under the seeming strife! Slowing the fret and the friction, weighting the whirl and the force, Evolving the truest power from each unconscious source.

How shall we gauge the whole, who can only guess a part? How can we read the life, when we cannot spell the heart? How shall we measure another, we who can never know From the juttings above the surface the depth of the vein below?

Even our present way is known to ourselves alone, Height and abyss and torrent, flower and thorn and stone; But we gaze on another's path as a far-off mountain scene, Scanning the outlined hills, but never the vales between.

How shall we judge their present, we who have never seen That which is past forever, and that which might have been? Measuring by ourselves, unwise indeed are we, Measuring what we _know_ by what we can hardly _see_.

Ah! if we knew it all, we should surely understand That the balance of sorrow and joy is held with an even hand, That the scale of success or loss shall never overflow, And that compensation is twined with the lot of high and low.

The easy path in the lowland hath little of grand or new, But a toilsome ascent leads on to a wide and glorious view; Peopled and warm is the valley, lonely and chill the height, But the peak that is nearer the storm-cloud is nearer the stars of light.

Launch on the foaming stream that bears you along like a dart,-- There is danger of rapid and rock, there is tension of muscle and heart; Glide on the easy current, monotonous, calm, and slow, You are spared the quiver and strain in the safe and quiet flow.

O the sweetness that dwells in a harp of many strings, While each, all vocal with love, in tuneful harmony rings! But O, the wail and the discord, when one and another is rent, Tensionless, broken or lost, from the cherished instrument.

For rapture of love is linked with the pain or fear of loss, And the hand that takes the crown must ache with many a cross; Yet he who hath never a conflict hath never a victor's palm, And only the toilers know the sweetness of rest and calm.

Only between the storms can the Alpine traveler know Transcendent glory of clearness, marvels of gleam and glow; Had he the brightness unbroken of cloudless summer days, This had been dimmed by the dust and veil of a brooding haze.

Who would dare the choice, _neither_ or _both_ to know, The finest quiver of joy or the agony-thrill of woe? Never the exquisite pain, then never the exquisite bliss, For the heart that is dull to that can never be strung to this.

Great is the peril or toil if the glory or gain be great; Never an earthly gift without responsible weight; Never a treasure without a following shade of care; Never a power without the lurk of a subtle snare.

For the swift is not the safe, and the sweet is not the strong; The smooth is not the short, and the keen is not the long; The much is not the most, and the wide is not the deep, And the flow is never a spring, when the ebb is only neap.

Then, hush! oh, hush! for the Father knows what thou knowest not, The weed and the thorn and the shadow lurked with the fairest lot; Knows the wisest exemption from many an unseen snare, Knows what will keep thee nearest, knows what thou couldst not bear.

Hush! oh, hush! for the Father portioneth as He will, To all His beloved children, and shall they not be still? Is not His will the wisest, is not His choice the best? And in perfect acquiescence is there not perfect rest?

Hush! oh, hush! for the Father, whose ways are true and just, Knoweth and careth and loveth, and waits for thy perfect trust; The cup He is slowly filling shall soon be full to the brim, And infinite compensations forever be found in Him.

Hush! oh, hush! for the Father hath fullness of joy in store, Treasures of power and wisdom, and pleasures for evermore; Blessing and honor and glory, endless, infinite bliss;-- Child of His love and His choice, oh, canst thou not wait for this?

--_Francis Ridley Havergal._

VALIANT FOR THE TRUTH.

Fight the good fight; lay hold Upon eternal life; Keep but thy shield, be bold, Stand through the hottest strife; Invincible while in the field, Thou canst not fail, unless thou yield.

No force of earth or hell, Though fiends with men unite, Truth's champion can compel, However pressed, to flight; Invincible upon the field, He cannot fall, unless he yield.

Apollyon's arm may shower Darts thick as hail, and hide Heaven's face, as in the hour, When Christ on Calvary died; No power of darkness in the field Can tread thee down, unless thou yield.

Trust in thy Saviour's might; Yea, till thy latest breath, Fight, and like Him in fight, By dying conquer death; And all-victorious in the field, Then with thy sword, thy spirit yield.

Great words are these, and strong; Yet Lord, I look to thee, To whom alone belong Valor and victory. With thee, my Captain in the field, I must prevail, I cannot yield.

--_James Montgomery._

ADVENT.

The Church has waited long Her absent Lord to see; And still in loneliness she waits, A friendless stranger she. Age after age has gone, Sun after sun has set, And still in weeds of widowhood She weeps a mourner yet. Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

Saint after saint on earth Has lived, and loved, and died; And as they left us one by one, We laid them side by side; We laid them down to sleep, But not in hope forlorn; We laid them but to ripen there, Till the last glorious morn. Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

The serpent's brood increase, The powers of hell grow bold, The conflict thickens, faith is low, And love is waxing cold. How long, O Lord our God, Holy and true, and good, Wilt Thou not judge Thy suffering Church, Her sighs and tears and blood? Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

We long to hear Thy voice, To see Thee face to face, To share Thy crown and glory then, As now we share Thy grace. Should not the loving bride The absent bridegroom mourn? Should she not wear the weeds of grief Until her Lord return? Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

The whole creation groans, And waits to hear that voice, That shall restore her comeliness, And make her wastes rejoice. Come Lord and wipe away The curse, the sin, the stain, And make this blighted world of ours Thine own fair world again. Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

--_Horatius Bonar._

A BETHLEHEM HYMN.

"Mundum implens, in præsepio jacens."--AUGUSTINE.

He has come! the Christ of God;-- Left for us his glad abode Stooping from his throne of bliss, To this darksome wilderness.

He has come! the Prince of Peace;-- Come to bid our sorrows cease; Come to scatter, with his light, All the shadows of our night.

He the mighty King has come! Making this poor earth his home; Come to bear sin's sad load;-- Son of David, Son of God!

He has come, whose name of grace Speaks deliverance to our race; Left for us his glad abode; Son of Mary, Son of God!

Unto us a child is born! Ne'er has earth beheld a morn Among all the morns of time, Half so glorious in its prime.

Unto us a Son is given! He has come from God's own heaven; Bringing with Him from above, Holy peace and holy love.

--_Horatius Bonar._

A DESIRE.

O, to have dwelt in Bethlehem When the star of the Lord shone bright! To have sheltered the holy wanderers On that blessèd Christmas night; To have kissed the tender wayworn feet Of the mother undefiled, And, with reverent wonder and deep delight, To have tended the Holy Child!

Hush! such a glory was not for thee; But that care may still be thine; For are there not little ones still to aid For the sake of the Child divine? Are there no wandering Pilgrims now, To thy heart and thy home to take? And are there no mothers whose weary hearts You can comfort for Mary's sake?

O to have knelt at Jesus' feet, And to have learned his heavenly lore! To have listened the gentle lessons He taught On mountain, and sea, and shore! While the rich and the mighty knew Him not To have meekly done His will:-- Hush! for the worldly reject Him yet, You can serve and love Him still. Time cannot silence His mighty words, And though ages have fled away, His gentle accents of love divine Speak to your soul to-day.

O to have solaced that weeping one Whom the righteous dare despise! To have tenderly bound up her scattered hair, And have dried her tearful eyes! Hush! there are broken hearts to soothe, And penitent tears to dry, While Magdalen prays for you and them, From her home in the starry sky.

O to have followed the mournful way Of those faithful few forlorn! And grace, beyond even an angel's hope, The Cross for our Lord have borne! To have shared in his tender mother's grief, To have wept at Mary's side, To have lived as a child in her home, and then In her loving care have died!

Hush! and with reverent sorrow still, Mary's great anguish share; And learn, for the sake of her son divine, Thy cross, like His, to bear. The sorrows that weigh on thy soul unite With those which thy Lord has borne, And Mary will comfort thy dying hour, Nor leave thy soul forlorn.

O to have seen what we now adore, And, though veiled to faithless sight, To have known, in the form that Jesus wore, The Lord of Life and Light! Hush! for He dwells among us still, And a grace can yet be thine, Which the scoffer and doubter can never know,-- The Presence of the Divine. Jesus is with his children yet, For His word can never deceive; Go where His lowly Altars rise And worship and believe.

--_Adelaide Procter._

It came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth To touch their harps of gold: "Peace to the earth, good-will to man, From heaven's all-gracious King:" The earth in solemn stillness lay, To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come, With peaceful wings unfurled; And still celestial music floats O'er all the weary world; Above its sad and lowly plains They bend on heavenly wing, And ever o'er its Babel sounds, The blessed angels sing.

Oh ye, beneath life's crushing load, Whose forms are bending low, Who toil along the climbing way, With painful steps and slow, Look up! for glad and golden hours Come swiftly on the wing: Oh rest beside the weary road, And hear the angels sing!

For lo, the days are hastening on, By prophet-bards foretold, When with the ever-circling years Comes round the age of gold! When peace shall over all the earth Its final splendors fling, And the whole world send back the song Which now the angels sing!

--_Sears._

Hail to the Lord's Anointed, Great David's greater Son; Hail, in the time appointed, His reign on earth begun! He comes to break oppression, To set the captive free, To take away transgression, And rule in equity.

He comes with succor speedy, To those who suffer wrong; To help the poor and needy, And bid the weak be strong; To give them songs for sighing, Their darkness turn to light, Whose souls, condemned and dying, Were precious in His sight.

He shall descend like showers Upon the fruitful earth; And love and joy, like flowers, Spring in His path to birth; Before Him, on the mountains, Shall peace, the herald, go; And righteousness, in fountains, From hill to valley flow.

Arabia's desert-ranger To Him shall bow the knee, The Ethiopian stranger His glory come to see; With offerings of devotion, Ships from the Isles shall meet, To pour the wealth of ocean In tribute at His feet.

Kings shall fall down before Him, And gold and incense bring, All nations shall adore Him, His praise all people sing: For He shall have dominion O'er river, sea, and shore, Far as the eagle's pinion Or dove's light wing can soar.

To Him shall prayer unceasing, And daily vows ascend; His kingdom, still increasing, A kingdom without end: The tide of time shall never His covenant remove; His name shall stand forever; That name to us is Love.

--_Montgomery._

I think, when I read that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men, How He called little children as lambs to his fold, I should like to have been with them then.

I wish that his hands had been placed on my head, That his arms had been thrown around me, And that I might have seen his kind look, when He said, "Let the little ones come unto me."

Yet still to his footstool in prayer I may go, And ask for a share in his love; And if I thus earnestly seek him below, I shall see Him and hear Him above--

In that beautiful place He has gone to prepare, For all who are washed and forgiv'n; And many dear children are gathering there, "For of such is the kingdom of heav'n."

I long for the joys of that glorious time, The sweetest, and brightest, and best, When the dear little children of every clime, Shall crowd to his arms and be blest.

--_Jemima Luke._

My Jesus, as Thou wilt; Oh, may Thy will be mine; Into Thy hand of love I would my all resign: Thro' sorrow or thro' joy, Conduct me as Thine own, And help me still to say, My Lord, Thy will be done.

My Jesus, as Thou wilt; Tho' seen thro' many a tear, Let not my star of hope Grow dim or disappear: Since Thou on earth hast wept, And sorrowed oft alone, If I must weep with Thee, My Lord, Thy will be done.

My Jesus as Thou wilt; All shall be well for me; Each changing future scene I gladly trust with Thee: Straight to my home above I travel calmly on, And sing in life or death,-- My Lord, Thy will be done.

--_Unidentified._

How beauteous were the marks divine, That in Thy meekness used to shine, That lit Thy lonely pathway trod In wondrous love, O Son of God!

Oh, who like Thee, so calm, so bright, So pure, so made to live in light? Oh, who like Thee did ever go So patient through a world of woe?

Oh, who like Thee, so humbly bore The scorn, the scoffs of men, before? So meek, forgiving, god-like, high, So glorious in humility?

The bending angels stooped to see The lisping infant clasp Thy knee, And smile as in a father's eye, Upon Thy mild divinity.

And death, which sets the prisoner free, Was pang and scoff, and scorn to thee; Yet love through all Thy torture glowed, And mercy with Thy life-blood flowed.

Oh, in Thy light be mine to go, Illuming all my way of woe; And give me ever on the road To trace Thy footsteps, Son of God!

--_A. C. Coxe._

O sacred Head, now wounded With grief and shame weigh'd down, Now scornfully surrounded With thorns, thine only crown; O sacred Head, what glory, What bliss, till now, was thine! Yet, though despis'd and gory, I joy to call thee mine.

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered Was all for sinners' gain; Mine, mine was the transgression, But thine the deadly pain: Lo, here I fall, my Saviour! 'Tis I deserve Thy place; Look on me with Thy favor, Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

What language shall I borrow To thank Thee, dearest Friend; For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end? O make me thine forever; And should I fainting be, Lord, let me never, never, Outlive my love to Thee!

Be near me when I'm dying, Oh show Thy cross to me! And for my succor flying, Come, Lord, and set me free! These eyes, new faith receiving, From Jesus shall not move; For he who dies believing, Dies safely, through Thy love.

--_Bernard._

Heart of stone, relent, relent! Break, by Jesus' cross subdued! See His body mangled, rent, Covered with a gore of blood; Sinful soul, what hast thou done? Crucified the Incarnate Son!

Yes, thy sins have done the deed, Driven the nails that fixed Him there, Crowned with thorns His sacred head, Pierced Him with the cruel spear, Made his soul a sacrifice, While for sinful man He dies!

Wilt thou let Him bleed in vain? Still to death thy Lord pursue? Open all his wounds again, And the shameful cross renew? No; with all my sins I'll part; Break, oh break, my bleeding heart!

--_C. Wesley._

"BY THY CROSS AND PASSION."

"He hath given us rest by His sorrow, and life by His death."--JOHN BUNYAN.

What hast Thou done for me, O mighty Friend, Who lovest to the end! Reveal Thyself, that I may now behold Thy love unknown, untold, Bearing the curse, and made a curse for me, That blessed and made a blessing I might be.

Oh, Thou wast crowned with thorns, that I might wear A crown of glory fair; "Exceeding sorrowful," that I might be Exceeding glad in Thee; "Rejected and despised," that I might stand Accepted and complete on Thy right hand.

Wounded for my transgressions, stricken sore, That I might "sin no more:" Weak, that I might be always strong in Thee; Bound, that I might be free; Acquaint with grief, that I might only know Fulness of joy in everlasting flow.

Thine was the chastisement, with no release, That mine might be the peace; The bruising and the cruel stripes were thine, That healing might be mine; Thine was the sentence and the condemnation, Mine the acquittal and the full salvation.

For Thee revilings, and a mocking throng, For me the angel-song; For Thee the frown, the hiding of God's face, For me His smile of grace; Sorrows of hell and bitterest death for Thee, And heaven and everlasting life for me.

Thy cross and passion, and Thy precious death, While I have mortal breath, Shall be my spring of love and work and praise, The life of all my days; Till all this mystery of love supreme Be solved in glory--glory's endless theme!

--_Frances Ridley Havergal._

ABIDE IN HIM.

"Tecum volo vulnerari Te libenter amplexari In cruce desidero." OLD HYMN.

Cling to the Crucified! His death is life to thee,-- Life for eternity. His pains thy pardon seal; His stripes thy bruises heal; His cross proclaims thy peace, Bids every sorrow cease. His blood is all to thee, It purges thee from sin; It sets thy spirit free, It keeps thy conscience clean. Cling to the Crucified!

Cling to the Crucified! His is a heart of love, Full as the hearts above; Its depths of sympathy Are all awake for thee: His countenance is light, Even to the darkest night. That love shall never change-- That light shall ne'er grow dim; Charge thou thy faithless heart To find its all in him. Cling to the Crucified!

--_Horatius Bonar._

Rejoice, all ye believers, And let your lights appear; The evening is advancing, And darker night is near; The Bridegroom is arising, And soon He draweth nigh: Up! pray, and watch, and wrestle! At midnight comes the cry.

The watchers on the mountain Proclaim the Bridegroom near; Go meet Him as He cometh, With hallelujahs clear: The marriage feast is waiting, The gates wide-open stand; Up, up, ye heirs of glory! The Bridegroom is at hand.

Our hope and expectation, O Jesus, now appear; Arise, thou Sun so longed for O'er this benighted sphere! With heart and hands uplifted, We plead, O Lord, to see The day of earth's redemption, That brings us unto Thee.

--_Laurenti._

JOINED TO CHRIST.

Joined to Christ in mystic union, We Thy members, Thou our Head, Sealed by deep and true communion, Risen with Thee, who once were dead-- Saviour, we would humbly claim All the power of this Thy name.