THY works, not mine, O Christ, For sin atone, Thy pains, not mine, O Christ, 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, Thy blood, not mine, O Christ, Thy blood so freely spilt, Thy death, not mine, O Christ, 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, 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, Is a thousand times more bright. When I see, in spring-tide gay, If I trace the fountain's source, Sweet the song the night-bird sings, Sweetness fills the air around, Angelius Silesius, tr. by F. E. Cox. I see Thee not, I hear Thee not, And earth hath ne'er so dear a spot As where I meet with Thee. Like some bright dream that comes unsought, And charms my ravish'd soul. Yet though I have not seen, and still I love Thee, dearest Lord,-and will, When death these mortal eyes shall seal, All glorious as Thou art.-Ray Palmer. 489. CHRISTIAN. The: his future glory. CHILD of the sun! pursue thy rapturous flight, Yet wert thou once a worm; a thing that crept 490. CHRISTIAN. The: his peace. LET not your heart be faint: Such peace as reason never plann'd, 'Tis not the noiseless calm 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, 'Tis not the sleep of death, Low in the darksome grave, Where the worm spreads its couch, and feeds,— It speaks a ransom'd world, bear witness for Christ. I HEARD of a quaint old story 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, He plann'd in the stone so grandly, 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, 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! Within thy gates the persecuted few And worship Him whose sacred form it bore, Were first called Christians. In thy sad conceit, While, save for this, thy name were scarcely known, Of dim antiquity.-F. L. Chester. 493. CHRISTIAN SERVICE. 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. The road foul; and where one goes right, Shot o'er some cloud, May clear much away, And guide a crowd. God's saints are shining lights: who stays O'er dark hills, swift streams, and steep ways But these all night, Like candles, shed Their beams, and light Us into bed. They are indeed our pillar-fires, They are that city's shining spires A sword-like gleam Will guide him in.-Henry Vaughan. 495. CHRISTIANITY: its mysteries. THE Christian's faith had many mysteries too. Coming unseen, unseen departing thence; 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: God wills that peace should be in earth, 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; 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 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, A DAY, a Day of Glory! A Day that ends our woe! And let the Child be born! With Glory in the Highest,' He comes, His throne the manger, The ox and ass His courtiers, Who made and governs all; Tr. by J. M. Neale. 500. CHRISTMAS: how to keep it. He came, heaven's glories to unfold, 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, 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; With joyful accord! He comes from the skies; He doth not despise. All glory be given !' To Thee, then, O Jesus! Through heaven and earth! Omnipotent Word! Oh, come, let us hasten To worship the Lord!-From the Latin. |