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Path of the lowly,

He comes a guilty world to bless
Prize at the end,

With mercy, truth, and righteousness.
Breath of the holy,
Saviour and Friend!

O Father! haste the promised hour,

When at His feet shall lie
When my feet stumble,

All rule, authority, and power,
I'll to Thee cry:

Beneath the ample sky;
Crown of the humble,

When He shall reign from pole to pole,
Cross of the high.

The Lord of every human soul;
When my steps wander,
Over me bend,

When all shall heed the words He said,
Truer and fonder,

Amid their daily cares,
Saviour and Friend !

And by the loving life. He led

Shall strive to pattern theirs :
Ever confessing

And He who conquered Death shall win
Thee, I will raise

The mightier conquest over Sin.
Unto Thee blessing,

William Cullen Bryant.
Glory, and praise;

391. CHRIST, Life of. All my endeayor,

No stern recluse, World without end,

As His forerunner; but the Guest and Friend Thine to be ever,

Of all who sought Him, mingling with all Saviour and Friend!

To breathe His holiness on all. No film (life John S. B. Monsell.

Obscured His spotless lustre. From His lips 388. CHRIST, Humiliation of.

Truth limpid without error flow'd. Disease Now Thou, by whom the world was made, Fled from His touch. Pain heard Him, and Art in Thy manger-cradle laid;

was not. Maker of all things great, art small,

Despair smiled in His presence. Devils knew, Naked Thyself, though clothing all. And trembled. In the omnipotence of faith

Unintermittent, indefectible, Thou, who both heaven and earth dost sway, Leaning upon His Father's might. He bent In strangers' inn art fain to stay;

All nature to His will. The tempest sank, And though Thy power makes angels blest,

He whispering, into waveless calm. The Dost seek Thy food from human breast.


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

Given from His hands, fed thousands and to 389. CHRIST, a King.

The stormy waters, as the solid rock, Gird thy sword on, mighty Saviour,

Were pavement for His footstep. Death itself Make the word of truth Thy car;

With vain reluctancies yielded its prey Prosper in Thy course triumphant." To the stern mandate of the Prince of life. All success attend Thy war:

Edward Henry Bickersteth. Gracious Victor,

392. CHRIST, Litany to. Bring Thy trophies from afar.

My faith looks up to Thee,

Thou Lamb of Calvary:
Majesty combined with meekness,

Saviour divine,
Righteousness and peace unite
To insure Thy blessed conquests,

Now hear me while I pray;
Take possession of the right:

Take all my guilt away;
Ride triumphant,

O let me, from this day,
Decked in robes of purest light.

Be wholly Thine.
Blest are they that touch Thy sceptre,

May Thy rich grace impart Blest are all that own Thy reign;

Strength to my fainting heart;
Freed from sin, that worst of tyrants,

My zeal inspire;
Rescucd from its galling chain;

As Thou hast died for me,
Saints and angels,

O may my love to Thee
All who know Thce bless Thy reign!

Pure, warm, and changeless be

A living fire. 390. CHRIST, Kingdom of. O North, with all thy vales of green!

While life's dark maze I tread, O South, with all thy palms |

And griefs around me spread, From peopled towns and fields between

Be Thou my Guide; Uplift the voice of psalms.

Bid darkness turn to day; Raise, ancient East! the anthem high,

Wipe sorrow's tears away, And let thc youthful West reply.

Nor let me ever stray

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

When ends life's transient dream;
He brings a train of brighter years,

· When death's cold, sullen stream His kingdom is begun.

Shall o'er me roll;

Blest Saviour, then, in love,
Fear and distress remove;
O, bear me safe above,

A ransom'd soul. Ray Palmer. 393. CHRIST, Ode to. Immortal Love, forcver full,

Forever flowing free,
Forever shared, forever whole,

A never-ebbing seal
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 divinel 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 wratb 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,

'Al 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, sccure 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. 394. CHRIST, Offices of. Great prophet of our God,

Our tongues shall bless Thy name;
By Thec the joyful news
Of our salvation came.

The joyful news.
Of sins forgiven,
Of hell subdued,

And peace with heaven.
Jesus, our great High Priest,

Has shed His blood and died;
Our guilty conscience needs
No sacrifice beside:

His precious blood
Did once atone,
And now it pleads
Before the throne.

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. OHRIST, 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. Bring down the proud mountain, though tow

ering to heaven, And be the low valley exalted on high ; The rough path and crooked be made smooth

and even, For, Zion! your King, your Redeemer is nigh. The beams of salvation His progress illume, The lone dreary wilderness sings of her God; The rose and the myrtle shall suddenly

bloom, And the olive of peace spread its branches

abroad. William Drummond..

397, CHRIST, Questions aboat. 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. Nealo.
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. O. 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 fleé!
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,

Tas 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'U live and dié.

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 Hel. 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 Saggested.
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,

I love to tell the story : Fields their varied tints display,

More wonderful it seems Wakes the thrilling thought in me,

Than all the golden fancies What must their Creator be!

Of all our golden dreams.

I love to tell the story: If I trace the fountain's source,

It did so much for me! Or the brooklet's devious course,

And that is just the reason Straight my thoughts to Jesus mount,

I tell it now to thee. As the best and purest fount.

I love to tell the story: Sweet the song the night-bird sings,

'Tis pleasant to repeat Sweet the lute, with quivering strings;

What seems, each time I tell it, Far more sweet than every tone

More wonderfully sweet. Are the words “ Maria's Son."

I love to tell the story: Sweetness fills the air around,

For some have never heard

The Message of salvation
At the echo's answering sound;
But more sweet than echo's fall

From God's own holy word.
Is to me the Bridegroom's call.

I love to tell the story;

For those who know it best
Lord of all that's fair to see !
Come, reveal thyself to me;

Seem hungering and thirsting

To hear it like the rest.
Let me, 'mid Thy radiant light,
See Thine unveiled glories bright.

And when, in scenes of glory,

I sing the New, NEW SONG,
Angelius Silesius, tr. by F. E. Cox.

'Twill be-the OLD, OLD STORY 402. CHRIST, Star of.

That I have loved so long.

404. CHRIST, Union with. When, marshalled on the nightly plain, The glittering host bestud the sky,

They love their blessed Leader. Not more

close One star alone of all the train · Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

The branches cling unto the parent tree Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks

Than are His followers bound to Christ. From every host, from every gem;

They loose,

[free But one alone the Saviour speaks :

Like Him, their hold on earthly things. They It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Their hearts from the strong bonds of selfish

ness, Once on the raging seas I rode,

And yield for general good their private weal. The storm was loud, the night was dark, Where'er is want, despondency, distress, The ocean yawned, and widely blowed They have the hand to toil, the heart to feel.

The wind that tossed my foundering bark. 'Tis thus the Saviour taught them. They are Deep horror then my vitals froze;

Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem; With Him, and in their souls His image bear, When suddenly a star arose :

Rejoicing in the likeness. As the sun It was the Star of Bethlehem.

Doth spread his radiance through the fields

of air, It was my guide, my light, my all;

And kindle in revolving stars his blaze, It bade my dark foreboding cease; .. He pours upon their hearts the splendor of And thro' the storm and danger's thrall

His rays. Thomas 0. Upham. It led me to the port of peace.

405. CHRISTIAN, Emblem of tho. Now safely moored-my perils o'erI'll sing, first in night's diadem,

Just such is the Christian; his course he beForever and for evermore,

gins The Star! the Star of Bethlehem! Like the sun in a mist when he moums for

H. K. White.

his sins,

And melts into tears; then he breaks out and 403. OHRIST, Telling of

shines, I love to tell the story,

And travels his heavenly way;
Of unseen things above,

But when he comes nearer to finish his race,
Of Jesus and His glory,

Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in Of Jesus and His love.

grace, I love to tell the story,

And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days,
Because I know it's true:

Of rising in brighter array.
It satisfies my longings

Isaao Watts.
As nothing else can do.

406. CHRISTIAN, Peace of the. I love to tell the story:

Let not your heart be faint:
'Twill be my theme in glory

My peace I give to you, -
To tell the old, old story,

Such peace as reason never planned,
Of Jesus and His love.

As worldlings never knew.


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