Path of the lowly,
Prize at the end,
Breath of the holy,

Saviour and Friend!

When my feet stumble,
I'll to Thee cry:
Crown of the humble,
Cross of the high.
When my steps wander,
Over me bend,
Truer and fonder,
Saviour and Friend!

Ever confessing

Thee, I will raise
Unto Thee blessing,
Glory, and praise;
All my endeavor,

World without end,

Thine to be ever,

Saviour and Friend!
John S. B. Monsell.

388. CHRIST, Humiliation of.
Now Thou, by whom the world was made,
Art in Thy manger-cradle laid;
Maker of all things great, art small,
Naked Thyself, though clothing all.

Thou, who both heaven and earth dost sway,
In strangers' inn art fain to stay;
And though Thy power makes angels blest,
Dost seek Thy food from human breast.

Paul Gerhardt, tr. by F. E. Cox.

389. CHRIST, a King.
Gird thy sword on, mighty Saviour,
Make the word of truth Thy car;
Prosper in Thy course triumphant.
All success attend Thy war:
Gracious Victor,

Bring Thy trophies from afar.
Majesty combined with meekness,
Righteousness and peace unite
To insure Thy blessed conquests,
Take possession of the right:
Ride triumphant,

Decked in robes of purest light.
Blest are they that touch Thy sceptre,
Blest are all that own Thy reign;
Freed from sin, that worst of tyrants,
Rescued from its galling chain;
Saints and angels,

All who know Thee bless Thy reign! 390. CHRIST, Kingdom of

O North, with all thy vales of green!
O South, with all thy palms!
From peopled towns and fields between
Uplift the voice of psalms.
Raise, ancient East! the anthem high,
And let the youthful West reply.

Lo! in the clouds of Heaven appears
God's well-beloved Son.

He brings a train of brighter years,
His kingdom is begun.

He comes a guilty world to bless
With mercy, truth, and righteousness.
O Father! haste the promised hour,
When at His feet shall lie
All rule, authority, and power,
Beneath the ample sky;

When He shall reign from pole to pole,
The Lord of every human soul;

When all shall heed the words He said, Amid their daily cares,

And by the loving life. He led

Shall strive to pattern theirs: And He who conquered Death shall win The mightier conquest over Sin. William Cullen Bryant.

391. CHRIST, Life of

No stern recluse, As His forerunner; but the Guest and Friend Of all who sought Him, mingling with all To breathe His holiness on all. No film [life Obscured His spotless lustre. From His lips Truth limpid without error flow'd. Disease

Fled from His touch. Pain heard Him, and was not.

Despair smiled in His presence. Devils knew,
And trembled. In the omnipotence of faith
Unintermittent, indefectible,

Leaning upon His Father's might, He bent
All nature to His will. The tempest sank,
He whispering, into waveless calm. The
bread,
[spare.
Given from His hands, fed thousands and to
The stormy waters, as the solid rock,
Were pavement for His footstep. Death itself
With vain reluctancies yielded its prey
To the stern mandate of the Prince of life.
Edward Henry Bickersteth.

392. CHRIST, Litany to.

My faith looks up to Thee,
Thou Lamb of Calvary:

Saviour divine,

Now hear me while I pray;
Take all my guilt away;
O let me, from this day,
Be wholly Thine.

May Thy rich grace impart
Strength to my fainting heart;
My zeal inspire;

As Thou hast died for me,
O may my love to Thee
Pure, warm, and changeless be-
A living fire.

While life's dark maze I tread,
And griefs around me spread,

Be Thou my Guide;
Bid darkness turn to day;
Wipe sorrow's tears away,
Nor let me ever stray

From Thee aside.

When ends life's transient dream; "When death's cold, sullen stream Shall o'er me roll;

Blest Saviour, then, in love,
Fear and distress remove;

O, bear me safe above,—
A ransom'd soul.

393. CHRIST, Ode to.

Immortal Love, forever full, Forever flowing free,

Ray Palmer.

Forever shared, forever whole,
A never-ebbing sea!

Our outward lips confess the name
All other names above:
Love only knoweth whence it came,
And comprehendeth love.

Blow, winds of God, awake, and blow
The mists of earth away;
Shine out, O Light divine! and show
How wide and far we stray.

Hush every lip, close every book,

The strife of tongues forbear:
Why forward reach, or backward look,
For love that clasps like air?
We may not climb the heavenly steeps
To bring the Lord Christ down:
In vain we search the lowest deeps,
For Him no depths can drown.

Nor holy bread, nor blood of grape,
The lineaments restore

Of Him we know in outward shape
And in the flesh no more.

He cometh not a King to reign;
The world's long hope is dim:
The weary centuries watch in vain
The clouds of heaven for Him.

Death comes; life goes; the asking eye
And ear are answerless;

The grave is dumb; the hollow sky
Is sad with silentness.

The letter fails, and systems fall,

And every symbol wanes :

The Spirit over-brooding all,
Eternal Love, remains,

And not for signs in heaven above
Or earth below they look,

Who know with John His smile of love,
With Peter His rebuke.

In joy of inward peace, or sense
Of sorrow over sin,

He is His own best evidence:
His witness is within.

No fable old, nor mythic lore,

Nor dream of bards and seers, No dead fact stranded on the shore Of the oblivious years;

But warm, sweet, tender, even yet

A present help is He:

And faith has still its Olivet;

And love, its Galilee.

The healing of His seamless dress

Is by our beds of pain:

We touch Him in life's throng and press, And we are whole again.

Through Him the first fond prayers are said
Our lips of childhood frame;

The last low whispers of our dead
Are burdened with His name.

O Lord and Master of us all!

Whate'er our name or sign,
We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call,
We test our lives by Thine.
Thou judgest us; Thy purity

Doth all our lusts condemn;
The love that draws us nearer Thee
Is hot with wrath to them.

Our thoughts lie open to Thy sight;
And, naked to Thy glance,
Our secret sins are in the light

Of Thy pure countenance.

Thy healing pains; a keen distress
Thy tender light shines in;
Thy sweetness is the bitterness;
Thy grace, the pang of sin.

Yet, weak and blinded though we be,
Thou dost our service own:
We bring our varying gifts to Thee,
And Thou rejectest none.

To Thee our full humanity,

Its joys and pains, belong:
The wrong of man to man on Thee
Infiicts a deeper wrong.

Who hates, hates Thee; who loves, becomes
Therein to Thee allied:

All sweet accords of hearts and homes

In Thee are multiplied.

Deep strike Thy roots, O heavenly Vine! Within our earthly sod,

Most human and yet most Divine,

The flower of man and God.

O Love! O Life!-our faith and sight
Thy presence maketh one;

As through transfigured clouds of white
We trace the noonday sun.

So, to our mortal eyes subdued,
Flesh-veiled, but not concealed,
We know in Thee the fatherhood
And heart of God revealed.

We faintly hear, we dimly see,

In differing phrase we pray;
But, dim or clear, we own in Thee
The Light, the Truth, the Way.
The homage that we render Thee
Is still our father's own:
Nor jealous claim or rivalry

Divides the Cross and Throne.
To do Thy will is more than praise,
As words are less than deeds;

And simple trust can find Thy ways
We miss with chart of creeds.

No pride of self Thy service hath,

No place for me and mine:

Our human strength is weakness, death
Our life, apart from Thine.

Apart from Thee, all gain is loss,
All labor vainly done:

The solemn shadow of Thy cross
Is better than the sun.

Alone, O Love ineffable!

Thy saving name is given:
To turn aside from Thee is hell,
To walk with Thee is heaven.

How vain, secure in all Thou art,
Our noisy championship!
The sighing of the contrite heart
Is more than flattering lip.
Not Thine the bigot's partial plea,

Nor Thine the zealot's ban:
Thou well canst spare a love of Thee
Which ends in hate of man.

Our Friend, Our Brother, and our Lord,
What may Thy service be?
Nor name, nor form, nor ritual word,
But simply following Thee.

We bring no ghastly holocaust,
We pile no graven stone:

He serves Thee best who loveth most
His brothers and Thy own.
Thy litanies, sweet offices
Of love and gratitude;
Thy sacramental liturgies,
The joy of doing good.

In vain shall waves of incense drift
The vaulted nave around,

In vain the minster turret lift

Its brazen weights of sound.

The heart must ring Thy Christmas-bells,
Thy inward altars raise :

Its faith and hope Thy canticles;
And its obedience, praise.

John Greenleaf Whittier.

O thou almighty Lord,

Our Conqueror and our King,
Thy sceptre and Thy sword,
Thy reigning grace, we sing:
Thine is the
power;
Oh, make us sit

In willing bonds

Beneath thy feet. Isaac Watts.

395. CHRIST, Old Story of

Tell me the old, old story,
Of things unseen above;
Of Jesus and His glory,

Of Jesus and His love.
Tell me the story simply,

As to a little child:
For I am weak and weary,

And helpless, and defiled.

Tell me the story slowly,
That I may take it in-
That wonderful redemption-
God's REMEDY for sin!

Tell me the story often,
For I forget so soon!

The "early dew" of morning
Has passed away at noon!
Tell me the story softly,

With earnest tones and grave; •
Remember, I'm the sinner
Whom Jesus came to save.

Tell me the story always,
If you would really be
In any time of trouble
A comforter to me.

Tell me the same old story

When you have cause to fear
That this world's empty glory
Is costing me too dear.

Yes, and when that World's glory
Shall dawn upon my soul,

Tell me the old, old story,

"Christ Jesus makes thee whole."

396. CHRIST, Prepare the Way of.

A voice from the desert comes awful and

shrill,

[way," "The Lord is advancing-prepare ye the The word of Jehovah He comes to fulfil, And o'er the dark world pours the splendor

of day.

397. CHRIST, Questions about.

Art thou weary, art thou languid, art thou sore distrest?

"Come to me," saith One,-and "coming, be at rest!"

Hath He marks to lead me to Him,—if He be my Guide?

In His feet and hands are wound-prints, and His side!

Is there diadem, as monarch, that His brow adorns ? [thorns! Yea: a crown, in very surety,--but of If I find Him, if I follow, what His guerdon

here?

Many a sorrow, many a labor, many a tear! If I still hold closely to Him, what hath He at last?

Sorrow vanquished, labor ended, Jordan past! If I ask Him to receive me, will He say me nay? [away! Not till earth, and not till heaven pass Finding, following, keeping, struggling, is He sure to bless ?

Angels, martyrs, prophets, pilgrims, answer, Yes!

Stephen, tr. by J. M. Neale.

398. CHRIST, Selling,

If to-day thou turn'st aside
In thy luxury and pride,
Wrapped within thyself, and blind
To the sorrows of thy kind,
Thou a faithless watch dost keep-
Thou art one of them that sleep:
Or if, waking, thou dost see
Nothing of divinity

In our fallen, struggling race-
If in them thou see'st no trace
Of a glory dimmed, not gone,
Of a future to be won,
Of a future, hopeful, high,
Thou, like Peter, dost deny:
But if, seeing, thou believest,
If the Evangel thou receivest,
Yet, if thou art bound to sin,
False to the ideal within,
Slave of ease, or slave of gold,
Thou the Son of God hast sold.
A. C. Lynch.

399. CHRIST a Sin-bearer.
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 turned 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 barred 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;
I wrap it round my soul;
In this I'll live and die.

Horatius Bonar.

400. CHRIST, Sufficiency of.

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.

401. 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 unveiled glories bright.
Angelius Silesius, tr. by F. E. Cox.

402. CHRIST, Star of

When, marshalled on the nightly plain,
The glittering host bestud the sky,
One star alone of all the train

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.
Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks:
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud, the night was dark, The ocean yawned, and widely blowed The wind that tossed my foundering bark. Deep horror then my vitals froze;

Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose:

It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all;
It bade my dark foreboding cease;
And thro' the storm and danger's thrall
It led me to the port of peace.
Now safely moored--my perils o'er-
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
Forever and for evermore,

The Star! the Star of Bethlehem!
H. K. White.

403. CHRIST, Telling of

I love to tell the story,
Of unseen things above,
Of Jesus and His glory,

Of Jesus and His love.
I love to tell the story,

Because I know it's true:
It satisfies my longings

As nothing else can do.
I love to tell the story:
"Twill be my theme in glory
To tell the old, old story,
Of Jesus and His love.

I love to tell the story:

More wonderful it seems
Than all the golden fancies

Of all our golden dreams.
I love to tell the story:
It did so much for me!
And that is just the reason
I tell it now to thee.

I love to tell the story:
'Tis pleasant to repeat
What seems, each time I tell it,
More wonderfully sweet.
I love to tell the story:

For some have never heard
The Message of salvation
From God's own holy word.

I love to tell the story;

For those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting
To hear it like the rest.
And when, in scenes of glory,
I sing the NEW, NEW SONG,
"Twill be-the OLD, OLD STORY
That I have loved so long.
404. CHRIST, Union with.

They love their blessed Leader. Not more close

The branches cling unto the parent tree
Than are His followers bound to Christ.

They loose,

[free Like Him, their hold on earthly things. They Their hearts from the strong bonds of selfish