THY works, not mine, O Christ,
Speak gladness to this heart;
They tell me all is done;
They bid my fear depart.
To whom save Thee,
Who can alone

For sin atone,
Lord, shall I flee!

Thy pains, not mine, O Christ,
Upon the shameful tree,
Have paid the law's full price,
And purchased peace for me.
Thy tears, not mine, O Christ,
Have wept my guilt away;
And turn'd this night of mine

Into a blessed day.

Thy bonds, not mine, O Christ,

Unbind me of my chain, And break my prison-doors, Ne'er to be barr'd again.

Thy wounds, not mine, O Christ,
Can heal my bruised soul;
Thy stripes, not mine, contain
The balm that makes me whole.

Thy blood, not mine, O Christ,

Thy blood so freely spilt,
Can blanch my blackest stains,
And purge away my guilt.
Thy cross, not mine, O Christ,
Has borne the awful load
Of sins, that none in heaven
Or earth could bear, but God.

Thy death, not mine, O Christ,
Has paid the ransom due:
Ten thousand deaths like mine,
Would have been all too few.

Thy righteousness, O Christ,

Alone can cover me; No righteousness avails

Save that which is of Thee.

Thy righteousness alone

Can clothe and beautify:

HE is a path, if any be misled;

He is a robe, if any naked be; If any chance to hunger, He is bread; If any be a bondman, He, He is free; If any be but weak, how strong is He! To dead men, life He is; to sick men, health; To blind men, sight; and, to the needy, wealth; A pleasure without loss, a treasure without stealth. Giles Fletcher.

485. CHRIST: suggested.

EARTH has nothing sweet or fair,
Lovely forms or beauties rare,
But before my eyes they bring
Christ, of beauty Source and Spring.
When the morning paints the skies,
When the golden sunbeams rise,
Then my Saviour's form I find
Brightly imaged on my mind.

When the day-beams pierce the night,

Oft I think on Jesu's light,

Think how bright that light will be,

Shining through eternity.

When, as moonlight softly steals,

Heaven its thousand eyes reveals,
Then I think: Who made their light

Is a thousand times more bright.

When I see, in spring-tide gay,
Fields their varied tints display,
Wakes the thrilling thought in me,
What must their Creator be!

If I trace the fountain's source,
Or the brooklet's devious course,
Straight my thoughts to Jesus mount,
As the best and purest fount.

Sweet the song the night-bird sings,
Sweet the lute, with quivering strings;
Far more sweet than every tone
Are the words 'Maria's Son.'

Sweetness fills the air around,
At the echo's answering sound;
But more sweet than echo's fall
Is to me the Bridegroom's call.
Lord of all that's fair to see!
Come, reveal Thyself to me;
Let me, 'mid Thy radiant light,
See Thine unveil'd glories bright.

Angelius Silesius, tr. by F. E. Cox.

I see Thee not, I hear Thee not,
Yet art Thou oft with me;

And earth hath ne'er so dear a spot

As where I meet with Thee.

Like some bright dream that comes unsought,
When slumbers o'er me roll,
Thine image ever fills my thought,

And charms my ravish'd soul.

Yet though I have not seen, and still
Must rest in faith alone,

I love Thee, dearest Lord,-and will,
Unseen, but not unknown.

When death these mortal eyes shall seal,
And still this throbbing heart,
The rending veil shall Thee reveal,

All glorious as Thou art.-Ray Palmer.

489. CHRISTIAN. The: his future glory.
(To a Butterfly.)

CHILD of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight,
Mingle with her thou lovest in fields of light;
And, where the flowers of Paradise unfold,
Quaff fragrant nectar from their cups of gold:
There shall your wings, rich as an evening sky,
Expand and shut with silent ecstasy.

Yet wert thou once a worm; a thing that crept
On the bare earth, then wrought a tomb, and slept !
And such is man; soon from the cell of clay
To burst a seraph, in the blaze of day.-Rogers.

490. CHRISTIAN. The: his peace.

LET not your heart be faint:
My peace I give to you,—

Such peace as reason never plann'd,
As worldlings never knew.

'Tis not the noiseless calm
That bodes a tempest nigh,

Or lures the heedless mariner

Where rocks and quicksands lie.

'Tis not fallen nature's sleep,

The stupor of the soul

That knows not God, nor owns His hand,
Though wide His thunders roll.

'Tis not the sleep of death,

Low in the darksome grave,

Where the worm spreads its couch, and feeds,—
No hand put forth to save.

It speaks a ransom'd world,
A Father reconciled,
A sinner to a saint transform'd,
A rebel to a child.

bear witness for Christ.

I HEARD of a quaint old story
In a far-away Eastern land,
Of a mosque of Mahomet that rises
Not far from the sloping strand.

There bow'd in his chains a captive

Who had come from a Northern town, Where the sun that runs low in the winter Shines cold on the frozen ground.

Rare powers he had at building,

For the forest, so grand and wild, He could shape it again in the marble, Trunk, foliage, arches, and aisle.

They offer'd the slave his ransom

With a pass to the Northern land,
If a mosque to Mahomet he builded
To tower above the strand.

He plann'd in the stone so grandly,
And he wrought for his life, that man ;
But they saw in the beautiful outlines
The cross he had dared to plan.

They mockingly gave the ransom,

Out of fetters his soul was sent, From the land of the fiery summer, But death-was the way he went.

He left for us all a lesson:

To whatever you put your hand,

Be it deeds that you dare or may cherish,
The cross-let it mark the plan.

In patient endeavour be Christ-like,

In your trials and pains and loss,

That all who look at your living

May see in your life the cross.-E. A. Rand.

492. 'CHRISTIAN:' origin of the name.

O ANTIOCH, thou teacher of the world!
From out thy portals pass'd the feet of those,
Who, banish'd and despised, have made thy name
The next in rank to proud Jerusalem.

Within thy gates the persecuted few
Who dared to rally round the holy cross

And worship Him whose sacred form it bore,

Were first called Christians. In thy sad conceit,
Thou mad'st a stigma of reproach and shame,
This noblest title of the sons of earth;

While, save for this, thy name were scarcely known,
Except among the mouldering vestiges

Of dim antiquity.-F. L. Chester.

493. CHRISTIAN SERVICE.
WE, who so tenderly were sought,
Shall we not joyful seekers be,
And to Thy feet divinely brought,

Bring weaker souls, dear Lord, to Thee?

Celestial seeker! send us forth!

Almighty lover! teach us love! When shall we yearn to help our earth, As yearn'd the Holy One above?

494. CHRISTIANS: the lights of the world.
STARS are of mighty use: the night
Is dark and long ;

The road foul; and where one goes right,
Six may go wrong.
One twinkling ray

Shot o'er some cloud,

May clear much away,

And guide a crowd.

God's saints are shining lights: who stays
Here long, must pass

O'er dark hills, swift streams, and steep ways
As smooth as glass;

But these all night,

Like candles, shed

Their beams, and light

Us into bed.

They are indeed our pillar-fires,
Seen as we go ;

They are that city's shining spires
We travel to.

A sword-like gleam
Kept man from sin
First out; this beam

Will guide him in.-Henry Vaughan.

495. CHRISTIANITY: its mysteries.

THE Christian's faith had many mysteries too.
The uncreated Holy Three in One;
Divine Incarnate, Human in Divine;
The inward call; the Sanctifying Dew;

Coming unseen, unseen departing thence;
Anew creating all, and yet not heard ;
Compelling, yet not felt: mysterious these;
Not that Jehovah to conceal them wish'd;
Not that Religion wish'd. The Christian faith,
Unlike the timorous creeds of Pagan priest,
Was frank, stood forth to view, invited all
To prove, examine, search, investigate,
And gave herself a light to see her by.
Mysterious these-because too large for eye

Of man, too long for human arm to mete.-Pollok.

496. CHRISTMAS. A Christmas Carol.

ALL my heart this night rejoices, As I hear,

Far and near,

Sweetest angel voices :

'Christ is born,' their choirs are singing, Till the air

Everywhere

Now with joy is ringing.

Hark! a voice from yonder manger, Soft and sweet,

Doth entreat :

'Flee from woe and danger;

Brethren, come: from all that grieves you You are freed;

All you need

I will surely give you.'

Come, then, let us hasten yonder;

Here let all,

Great and small,

Kneel in awe and wonder;

Love Him who with love is yearning; Hail the Star

That from far

Bright with hope is burning!

Ye who pine in weary sadness, Weep no more,

For the door

Now is found of gladness.

Cling to Him, for He will guide you

Where no cross,

Pain or loss,

Can again betide you.

Hither come, ye heavy-hearted,

Who for sin,

Deep within,

Long and sore have smarted :

For the poison'd wounds you're feeling

Help is near;

One is here

Mighty for their healing.

Hither come, ye poor and wretched ;

Know His will

Is to fill

Every hand outstretched : Here are riches without measure, Here forget

All regret,

Fill your hearts with treasure.

Blessed Saviour, let me find Thee! Keep Thou me

Close to Thee,

Cast me not behind Thee!

Life of life, my heart Thou stillest, Calm I rest

On Thy breast,

All this void Thou fillest.

Heedfully my Lord I'll cherish, Live to Thee,

And with Thee

Dying shall not perish;

But shall dwell with Thee for ever, Far on high,

In the joy

That can alter never.

Gerhardt, tr. by Miss Winkworth.

497. CHRISTMAS. A Christmas Carol.

TO-DAY in Bethlehem hear I

Sweet angel voices singing: All glory be to God on high,

Who peace to earth is bringing. The Virgin Mary holdeth more

Than highest heaven most holy:
Light shines on what was dark before,
And lifteth up the lowly.

God wills that peace should be in earth,
And holy exultation :

Sweet Babe, I greet Thy spotless birth

And wondrous Incarnation.

To-day in Bethlehem hear I

Even the lowly singing:

With angel-words they pierce the sky;
All earth with joy is ringing.
John of Damascus, tr. by Schaff

498. CHRISTMAS. A Christmas Carol.

LIKE silver lamps in a distant shrine,

The stars are sparkling clear and bright; The bells of the city of God ring out,

For the Son of Mary was born to-night; The gloom is past, and the morn at last Is coming with orient light.

Never fell melodies half so sweet

As those which are filling the skies; And never a palace shone half so fair

As the manger-bed where our Saviour lies; No night in the year is half so dear

As this which has ended our sighs.

The stars of heaven still shine as at first
They gleam'd on this wonderful night;
The bells of the city of God peal out,

And the angels' song still rings in the height; And love still turns where the Godhead burns, Veil'd in the flesh from fleshly sight.

Faith sees no longer the stable floor,

The pavement of sapphire is there;

The clear light of heaven streams out to the world,
And angels of God are crowding the air;
And heaven and earth through the spotless birth
Are at peace on this night so fair.-W. C. Dix.

A DAY, a Day of Glory!

A Day that ends our woe!
A Day that tells of triumph
Against the vanquish'd foe!
Yield, summer's brightest sunrise,
To this December morn :
Lift up your gates, ye Princes,

And let the Child be born!

With Glory in the Highest,'
Archangels tell their mirth :
With Lord, have mercy on us,'
Men answer upon earth:
And Angels swell the triumph,
And mortals raise the horn,
Lift up your gates, ye Princes,
And let the Child be born!

He comes, His throne the manger,
He comes, His shrine the stall;

The ox and ass His courtiers,

Who made and governs all;
The House of Bread' His birthplace,
The Prince of Wine and Corn;
Lift up your gates, ye Princes,
And let the Child be born!

Tr. by J. M. Neale.

500. CHRISTMAS: how to keep it.

He came, heaven's glories to unfold,
To bring the captive a release,
For age of iron, an age of gold,—

Emmanuel, the Prince of Peace.

So chime the bells for weald and wold, Hang the bright holly up on high;

Aye fresh and green His love untold,
He died, but ne'er again shall die.
Then bear a joy where joys are not,
Go speak a kindly word in love;
Less bitter make some loveless lot,
Now earth is link'd to heaven above;
And day by day, in common round,
Or dark or light, in joy or ill,

Let faith and love and peace be found,

So ever work a Father's will.-W. S. Lee.

501. CHRISTMAS. Hymn for

COME hither, ye faithful;
Triumphantly sing;
Come, see in the manger
Our Saviour and King!
To Bethlehem hasten,

With joyful accord!
Oh, come ye, come hither,
To worship the Lord!
True Son of the Father,

He comes from the skies;
To be born of a Virgin

He doth not despise.
To Bethlehem hasten, etc.
Hark, hark to the angels!
All singing in heaven :
'To God in the highest

All glory be given !'
To Bethlehem hasten, etc.

To Thee, then, O Jesus!
This day of Thy birth,
Be glory and honour

Through heaven and earth!
True Godhead Incarnate!

Omnipotent Word!

Oh, come, let us hasten

To worship the Lord!-From the Latin.