The saints who now with Jesus sleep,
His own almighty power shall keep,
Till dawns the bright illustrious day
When death itself shall die away:

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.

How loud shall our glad voices sing
When Christ his risen saints shall bring
From beds of dust, and silent clay,
To realms of everlasting day!

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.

When Jesus we in glory meet,
Our utmost joys shall be complete ;
When landed on that heavenly shore,
Death and the curse will be no more:
Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
Shall rise to immortality.

Haşten, dear Lord, the glorious day,
And this delightful scene display,
When all thy saints from death shall rise
Raptured in bliss beyond the skies!

THE GLORY OF THE LORD.

BRIGHT the vision that delighted
Once the sight of Judah's seer,
Sweet the countless tongues united
To entrance the prophet's ear.

Round the Lord in glory seated
Cherubim and seraphim
Filled his temple, and repeated
Each to each the alternate hymn.

"Lord, thy glory fills the heaven,
Earth is with its fulness stored;

Unto thee be glory given,

Holy, holy, holy, Lord!"

Heaven is still with glory ringing, Earth takes up the angels' cry, "Holy, holy, holy," singing,

"Lord of hosts, the Lord most High!"

Ever thus in God's high praises,
Brethren, let our tongues unite;
Chief the heart when duty raises
God-ward at his mystic rite:
With his seraph train before him,
With his holy Church below,
Thus conspire we to adore him,

Bid we thus our anthem flow:

This processional hymn for Palm Sunday is said to have been composed by ST. THEODULPH at Metz, or, as others will have it, at Angers, while imprisoned on a false accusation, and to have been sung by him from his dungeon window, or by choristers instructed by him, as the Emperor Louis le Débonnaire, son of Charlemagne, and his Court were on their way to the Cathedral. The good bishop was immediately liberated. St. Theodulph, whose hymns were thought the best of the age in which he lived, was abbot of a Benedictine monastery at Florence, but at the invitation of Charlemagne removed to France, where he died in 821, Bishop of Orleans.

GLORY and honor and laud be to thee, King Christ, the Redeemer!

Children before whose steps raised their hosannas of praise.

Israel's Monarch art thou, and the glorious offspring of David,

Thou that approachest a king blessed in the name of the Lord.

Glory to thee in the highest the heavenly armies are singing:

Glory to thee upon earth man and creation reply.

Met thee with palms in their hands that day the folk of the Hebrews:

We with our prayers and our hymns now to thy presence approach.

They to thee proffered their praise for to herald thy dolorous Passion ;

We to the King on his throne utter the jubilant hymn.

They were then pleasing to thee, unto thee our devotion be pleasing;

Merciful King, kind King, who in all goodness art pleased.

They in their pride of descent were rightly the children of Hebrews:

Hebrews are we, whom the Lord's Passover maketh the same.

IF suddenly upon the street

CHARLES WESLEY.

My gracious Saviour I should meet,
And he should say, "As I love thee,
What love hast thou to offer me?"
Then what could this poor heart of mine
Dare offer to that heart divine?

His eye would pierce my outward show,
His thought my inmost thought would know;
And if I said, "I love thee, Lord,"
He would not heed my spoken word,
Because my daily life would tell
If verily I loved him well.

If on the day or in the place
Wherein he met me face to face,
My life could show some kindness done,
Some purpose formed, some work begun
For his dear sake, then it were meet
Love's gift to lay at Jesus' feet.

1879

CHARLES FRANCIS RICHARDSON.

THE COMING OF THE LORD.

"Take ye heed, watch and pray for ye know not when the time is."-MARK xiii. 33.

COME suddenly, O Lord, or slowly come,
I wait thy will, thy servant ready is ;
Thou hast prepared thy follower a home,
The heaven in which thou dwellest too is his.
Come in the morn, at noon, or midnight deep
Come, for thy servant still doth watch and
pray;

E'en when the world around is sunk in sleep,
I wake, and long to see thy glorious day.

I would not fix the time, the day, nor hour, When thou with all thine angels shalt appear;

When in thy kingdom thou shalt come with

power,

E'en now, perhaps, the promised day is near!

For though in slumber deep the world may lie, And e'en thy Church forget thy great command,

Still year by year thy coming draweth nigh, And in its power thy kingdom is at hand. Not in some future world alone 't will be, Beyond the grave, beyond the bounds of time; But on the earth thy glory we shall see,

And share thy triumph, peaceful, pure, sublime.

Lord! help me that I faint not, weary grow,

Nor at thy coming slumber too, and sleep; For thou hast promised, and full well I know Thou wilt to us thy word of promise keep. JONES VERY.

1874

MORE THAN ALL.

"Eines wünsch ich mir vor allem andern."

This, the best and most popular of Knapp's hymns, was first translated by Prof. T C. Porter for Schaff's "Christ in Song."

MORE than all, one thing my heart is craving, As my food by night or day;

With it blessed, and all trials braving,

Through this wilderness we stray: Ever on the Man to gaze adoring.

Who, with bloody sweat and tears, imploring, On his face submissive sank,

And the Father's chalice drank.

Ever shall mine eyes, his form retaining,
View the Lamb once slain for me,
As he yonder, pale and uncomplaining,
Hangs upon the bitter tree;
As he thirsting, wrestled in his anguish,
That in hell my soul might never languish, -
Of me thinking, when his cry,
"It is finished!" rose on high.

O my Saviour! never shall thy kindness,
Nor my guilt forgotten be :
When I sat a stranger in my blindness,
Thou didst still remember me:
For thy sheep thou long hadst interceded,
Ere the Shepherd's gentle voice was heeded,
And a costly ransom-price!
Bought me with thy sacrifice.

I am thine! Say thou, "Amen, forever!"
Blessed Jesus, mine thou art!

Let thy precious name escape me never;
Stamp it burning on my heart.
With thee all things bearing and achieving;
In thee both to live and die, believing:
This our solemn covenant be,
Till my spirit rest in thee!

ALBERT KNAPP, 1829. Translated by
THOMAS C. PORTER, 1868.

CHRIST'S KINGDOM.

ISAAC WATTS, the best-known of all English hymn-writers, was born at Southampton, England, July 17, 1674, and died Nov. 25. 1748. For fourteen years he was minister to an Independent congregation in London; but his health failed, and in 1712 he accepted the invitation of Sir Thomas Abney to live with him in a quiet place in the country. Here he died thirty-six years afterwards. Dr. Watts was a cheerful and philosophical character, noted for his wit, and had a high reputation as a preacher. At the close of his liberal and useful life Dr. Watts remarked, “It is a great mercy that I have no manner of fear or dread of death. I could, if God please, lay my head back and die without alarm this afternoon or night."

JESUS shall reign where'er the sun Does his successive journeys run;

His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more.

Behold! the islands with their kings, And Europe her best tribute brings; From north to south the princes meet To pay their homage at his feet.

There Persia, glorious to behold, There India, shines in eastern gold; And barbarous nations, at his word, Submit, and bow, and own their Lord.

For him shall endless prayer be made, And princes throng to crown his head; His name, like sweet perfume, shall rise With every morning sacrifice.

People and realms of every tongue
Dwell on his love with sweetest song;
And infant voices shall proclaim
Their early blessings on his name.

Blessings abound where'er he reigns; The prisoner leaps to lose his chains; The weary find eternal rest,

And all the sons of want are blest.