Hymns from the East

Hymns from the East Being Centos and Suggestions from the Office Books of the Holy Eastern Church

INTRODUCTION

This fourth series of Hymns from the Office Books of The Holy Eastern Church, differs from the preceding three in this, that the hymns are less translations or renderings, and more centos and suggestions.

One cannot continue long to interest himself in any work, and receive from time to time the observations and criticisms of his fellows, without, if he have his eyes and mind open to receive impressions, feeling himself impelled to alter his methods in some particular or other.

In previous volumes the author has been careful to give, for the most part, carefully executed – that is to say, truthfully rendered translations from the originals. Work of that kind is useful, and absolutely necessary for certain purposes; but, unless for the hymnologist, or for the liturgiologist, it is far from being attractive. To be true, renderings can hardly be graceful, and they must lack much of the literary charm which attaches itself to productions which are more untrammelled. Hence, unless, as has been said, to the few who are specialists, translations are not much in favour. They have earned a reputation, and that reputation adheres to them: they are cold and uninspiring. Such is their reputation, not always just, but who can say that it has not, on the whole, been earned?

Perhaps it would be wrong to say that there is any prejudice against translations from the Greek or any other language whatever, as such. The reluctance to welcome translations is really reluctance to welcome poems which do not find their way to the heart. For this reason there is perhaps not more than a score of translations which have won their way from permanent hymnals to a permanent place in the affections of our devout fellow-countrymen. In this connection it is to be noted that we speak of translations, and not of suggestions such as, “Art thou weary,” or “O, happy band of pilgrims,” and many others, which have advanced into great favour, and are termed translations, but are not.

True hymns are sacred lyrics, and a lyric to be lyrical and heart appealing, must be inevitable. It must be the spontaneous expression of the heart of the author – an expression which had to come. It is the latent secret of the power of true hymns, for what must be uttered will assuredly, sooner or later, find its way to some heart. Such jets of living poetry must be awaited: they cannot be forced. But a translator must deliberately sit down at his desk and work – manufacture, if you will – and endeavour to turn on the lathe of graceful culture, elegancies which readers may admire, but will never feel.

Perhaps translators from the Greek have a singular temptation to eschew. Hymns from the Offices have to be created in Greek, as has been pointed out in a former Introduction, before they can be the source of living poetic inspiration. No doubt the necessity of forming a cento is also the privilege, but it may easily entice a translator to be satisfied with a lifeless stringing of inept fragments. All this and much more has been brought home to the writer times without number.

If one would have his work to be permanently useful; if he would aim at any particular employment of his hymns, he must observe the conditions which such an aim implies. A translator who aims at the use of his work in public worship, must aim at pellucid simplicity both of phraseology and of structure; and if they are to be widely, permanently, or deservedly popular, they must be gifted with becoming grace. This cannot be done in translations pure and simple. The present collection gives the result of an experiment. The Greek has been used as a basis, a theme, a motive; oriental colour, and it is to be hoped some of the oriental warmth has been preserved. Now and again an oriental figure is retained, and to those who have any knowledge of the worship of the Eastern Church, it must be obvious that the peculiar themes of her praise are in abundant evidence.

What, then, is the net result? To an unpractised eye, if no indication of the source of these hymns had been given, could anything about them have suggested their source? To the unpractised eye, nothing. But no one who knows the Greek Offices will travel far before he overtakes well-known landmarks. This is just as it should be. It is sufficient that a fertile source of suggestion has been found – of theme, thought, form, colour – and that from this ancient source it is possible to procure much that is beautiful for the adornment of the worship of God’s house to-day. And this gratifying fact is made plain, that the themes of Greek Church praise are the grand themes of the praise of the Church in our land and in all Christian lands; – The Christ in all the Might and Glory of His Person and Work: the need of our humanity, and the way in which Christ met it: His miraculous birth, which is not shorn of any of its mystery, and the embellishments of the event, which are never toned down, but, in true oriental fashion, made, if possible, more dazzling: His Passion and His Death, and the fulness of their atoning efficacy. But, as is to be expected, the grand theme of the Greek singers, as became those who, more than we have done, caught the first inspiration of their praise from the apostles, is the glorious Resurrection of our Lord from the dead. Here, the praise of the Greek Church touches its highest note, and pours forth its most enchanting melody. “Christ is risen,” and the glad response, “He is risen indeed” – these words constitute the keynote of all that is best and most beautiful in Greek worship. The Knowledge and the Wisdom of God are everywhere extolled, and the attribute of Light is continually and cordially applied to the Deity.

One cannot acquaint himself with the Church of the Apostles, with its glowing service, and with the noble stand it has made, and still maintains, for the truth of God and for the Kingdom of Christ in the world, and not feel pained with the fact, so little to the credit of the Church of the West, that, of our sympathy it has little or none. This is largely due to our ignorance. But is ignorance in many cases not culpable? Is it not so in our case? A little more acquaintance with the Eastern Church would vastly alter our attitude towards it, and speedily remove most of our prejudices.

More than once have we listened to depreciations of the Greek Church, and the epithet “stagnant” has always been incorporated as a first-rate misdemeanour of the Orthodox Church of the East. The assumption in the epithet is that the Greek Church is not missionary and aggressive, and the implication is that it has been so from earliest times. Until men acquaint themselves with the history of this Church, and open their eyes to facts which are readily accessible, it is useless to attempt to lift them out of their prejudices.

How much did the Church of the East suffer by the great Roman schism of 1054! After, in the words of Dr. A. van Millingen, in his Byzantine Constantinople, having in “the empire of which New Rome was the capital, defended the higher life of mankind against the attacks of formidable antagonists, and rendered eminent service to the cause of human welfare;” after having elaborated the Christian doctrines and formed the creed of Christendom for the world, she was shorn of much of her strength by the departure of the West. The spring, and energy, and enterprise were largely taken from her. No fault of hers that she was left with the meditative souls who could ponder the mysteries of God, but could not trade in the merchandise of the Kingdom. So she was left in possession of her splendid attainment, without the aptitude to fit herself to aggressive enterprise, while Rome, with all the qualifications which have fitted her for an aggressive task, has made for herself a place and a name which have eclipsed the glory of the old home. And so we forget the Church of the Apostles, to which we owe so much.

But worse. How much did the Church of the East suffer, and how much does she still suffer, by the overthrow of the empire by the Turks in 1453 – by the overthrow of the empire, and the domination of a powerful, unscrupulous, and fanatical race, down through the 600 years succeeding! How would the Church in these islands have stood such fiery trials? Would we have continued an enterprising missionary Church through it all? It might be good for us to try to understand that, when a despotic Sultan stands over you, allowing you to breathe on condition of no proselytising, the conditions are not favourable to well advertised missionary effort. All that can be done in such circumstances, and under such conditions, is to hold fast to the faith, and let the light shine, which the Greek Church actually does.

Since the tenth century, Russia stands to the credit of Greek missionaries. Not that Russia can be considered much credit in the meantime by the West; but the ground for hope in Russia is the Christian element that has entered into her national life. And our Protestantism has not yet succeeded on the same national scale in missionary effort, a fact which ought to incline us to think less of the stagnation of the Greek Church. But why refer specially to Russia as a product of Greek missionary effort? Would Rome, or the Church of the Reformation in the West, be what they are to-day, but for the zeal and devotion of that Church in bye-gone days?

It is an easy matter for us in these days, with our national liberty and recognition of the Christian faith; with the noble souls around us who are the products of centuries of grace; with wealth, and all that Christian work calls for to its aid, to look disparagingly upon the Church of the East, the mother of us all, as she lies in sore straits despoiled of her splendour, and trampled under the heel of the Turk. Well we know the theory of cross-bearing, but, in comparison with the Church of the East from the very earliest down to the present day, we know but little of its practice. Our laurels are not too firmly knit upon our brows: let us take heed, and let us exercise the grace of charity and a spirit of sympathy.

But our prejudices, which are, as usual, due to imperfect knowledge, culpable or otherwise, charge this Church, which claims to be Orthodox, with being heretical in doctrine and worship. To put the common view, this Church, which is the repository of Apostolic doctrine, and from which we, in common with others, have derived, has, along with the truth, a large admixture of error, which renders her dangerous and to be avoided.

We, who plume ourselves on the orthodoxy of our doctrines and purity of worship, have a remarkable facility for detecting and magnifying the errors of others: of creating them where they do not exist, and of exaggerating them where they do. This facility has this advantage, that it keeps our eyes away from ourselves and from the errors which are nearer home. Like the beams of the winter sun which have little warmth in them, the line of our vision is somewhat oblique.

This is a subject much too large to occupy our attention to any extent here. It may be enough to remark in regard to the major charges, that nowhere does the Eastern Church address worship, either to the Mother of our Lord, or to the saints and angels. They are venerated and invoked, but worshipped, never. Worship, as we understand it, is addressed to the Triune God, and to Him alone. This is a rather dangerous subject to touch, and this is not the place to safely approach it; but it may suffice to say that we might be a great deal the better, and none the worse, and it might be comforting and strengthening in times of affliction and trial, to realise more than we do, that our Lord wore our flesh when He sojourned with us on the earth, and that He derived His humanity from Mary. We might thus even be induced to use Her name with greater veneration and affection than have yet characterised our references to Her, when these have had to be made, and so aid the fulfilment of Her own prophecy, “Behold, from henceforth, all generations shall call me blessed.” And might it not be good for us to remember that there are saints and angels, and that we are “compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses?” Who doubts the fact? Do not they who tacitly ignore the existence of the Blessed Dead?

If any of the hymns contained in this volume should touch the heart of anyone who reads them, or, better still, at any future time, sings them, may he, as he remembers the source from which they have come, think reverently and sympathetically of the struggling Church of the East.

HYMNS FROM THE EAST

MORNING

INow, God of Light, the morn appears,And life revives, and beauty glows;The night has gone with all its fears,And lo! the light in brightness grows.IIThine be the glory, God of Light,For all the joy from morn that springs;O may a morn dispel each night,And bless our lives with beauteous things.IIIGive us this day the light that dwellsIn every heart Thy presence fills;That night with all its fears dispels,And life, and hope, and joy instils.IVThen shall our nights no darkness bring,But morn, bright morn, for ever shine;And when night spreads her dusky wings,More bright shall be the light divine.VAll praise to Thee, the God of Light;All praise to Christ, the glorious Son;And to the Spirit, Lord of might,Now, and while endless ages run.IUp, up, my soul! with gladness rise,And greet the ever-brightening skies.The morn hath come, sweet morn, awake!And from thy pinions slumber shake.IIPure as the morn God’s presence shines;Love like its beams, thy life entwines;Richer the gifts thy God bestowsThan morning beauty can disclose.IIISweet as the breath that fans the bowers,And stirs the leaves and opening flowers,Comes with the morn, the breath divineTo stir thee, slumbering soul of mine.IVO Thou, the Morn, the Light, the Sun,With Thee be every day begun;Brightness shall clothe my life always,And fill my soul with grateful praise.VGlory to Thee, O Christ! my Lord,Light of my soul, Incarnate Word!Come with the morn, abide alway,And cheer my course to endless day.IThe saffron tints appear,The morning comes – ’tis here.Wipe slumber from thine eyes,Behold the sun arise!IIClad in his garb of gold,Bright as he shone of old;Beams o’er the heavens extend,Shafts from his orb descend.IIISun, that in morning lightRises, nor sinks in night,Shine in my soul alway,Make there an endless day.IVLife for my deadness give;Shine, that my soul may live;Joy to my sorrow bring;Light on Thy glowing wing.VIf ’neath the cloud I lie,Darkness obscure my sky;Yet, may my faith beholdGlints of the hidden gold.VIFather, to Thee, always,And Holy Ghost, be praise;Glory, while ages run,To Thee, O Christ! our Sun.INow glows the morn in beauty rare,O haste my soul to fervent prayer,And let the wings of morning raiseTo God the tribute of thy praise.IIThe night is gone; now disappearThe clouds that hung in threatening near;Day comes apace, and terrors flee,For light illumes the earth and sea.IIIO soul dismayed! when darkness fillsThe dismal days with darkling ills,Rest in the calm the promise gives,That Christ, thy Light and Glory, lives.IVMorn shall appear and scatter night;Light shall appear in noonday might.Strong in the joy the daylight brings,Soul, thou shalt rise on glowing wings.VMorn of my soul, O Christ, Thou art;Light of my life; my drooping heartSings, when Thy countenance benignShines as the joys of noonday shine.

EVENING

IWhen night her sable curtain spreads,And darkness falls on sea and land,In silent beauty, o’er our heads,The stars shine grand.IIThe orb of day his race hath run,But see what glory comes to view,As, full of radiance, one by one,The stars shine true.IIINow bright their silver light appears,And reverent eyes behold the sight;Hope lights the darkness of our fears —The stars shine bright.IVWhen on our life the curtain falls,And fast descends a threatening night,Then, lest dismay the soul appals,The stars shine bright.VO great the wisdom, great the power, —God draws the curtains of the night,And, in the dark and lonesome hour,The stars shine bright.VIThe glory and the truth of God,His lovingkindness and His care, —Such is the light He sheds abroad,His stars shine rare.IA crown of gold surpassing rare,The western hills, in beauty, wear;And earth and sea reflect the light,That fades before th’ approach of night.IIO Glorious Sun! whose peerless rayIllumes the realm of endless day,Shine on a world where darkness dwells,And all the joy of day dispels.IIISoft o’er the land the twilight creeps;Night falls apace, and nature sleeps;O let not night my life control,And plunge in sleep my drowsy soul.IVSleep to the weary pilgrim give,But let the soul through slumber live;Wake when the first faint gleam of mornTells that another day is born.VLight of my life! bid night depart,Sing to my soul, and cheer my heart;That morn, and noon, and night may beOne beauteous day of joy to me.VIAnd when the brightest morn shall break,And bid the eternal day awake,O Glorious Sun! in radiance shine,To guard from night the realm divine.

CHRISTMAS

CAROL 1 καὶ Ποιμένες εἶδον τὸ θαῦμα,Ἀγγέλων ἀνυμνούντων, καὶ λεγόντων·ΔόξαIThe Lord of Life to earth came down, —Come, gaily sound His praises high;O ’twas a day of high renown,While angels praise Him in the sky.RefrainThe shepherds saw a wondrous sight,In Bethlehem’s fields at even,When, lo! a star, in radiance bright,Shed o’er the plains its glorious light,And angel bands, harmonious quite,His praises sang from heaven.IISay, came He forth by myriads led? —Come, gaily sound his praises high;A crown of gold upon his head?While angels praise Him in the sky.Refrain.IIIOf earthly pomp the Lord had none, —Come, gaily sound His praises high;His kingly crown had not been won,While angels praise Him in the sky.Refrain.IVA little child the Lord became, —Come, gaily sound His praises high,To bear our guilt, and share our shame,While angels praise Him in the sky.Refrain.VO Jesu, Who in manger lay, —Come, gaily sound his praises high,Make me a little child to-day,While angels praise Thee in the sky.Refrain.VIAnd may I come, with spirit meet, —Come, gaily sound His praises high,To lay my tribute at Thy feet,While angels praise Thee in the sky.Refrain.VIITo Father, Spirit, One with Christ, —Come, gaily sound His praises high,Be endless praise, Whose love sufficed,While angels praise Him in the sky.Refrain. CAROL 2 εὐφράνθητι ἹερουσαλὴμIJerusalem, rejoice!Keep festival and sing;All ye who dwell in Zion’s courts,Bring forth an offering.Rejoice, rejoice,Jerusalem, rejoice;And sing with glee, right merrily,Let every heart and voice.IITo-day the chain is loosedThat long hath bound our race,The condemnation is removedThrough God’s abounding grace.Rejoice, rejoice, etc.IIIThe gates of heaven are wide,And Satan’s work undone;For She3 who fell beneath his power,Now gives the world God’s Son.Rejoice, rejoice, etc.IVO depth of riches great!O height of wisdom strong!O knowledge of the Living God,To right such grievous wrong!Rejoice, rejoice, etc.VNow, let creation singAnd leap, nor brook control,For Christ hath come to call it back,And save each ruined soul.Rejoice, rejoice,Jerusalem rejoice;And sing with glee, right merrily,Let every heart and voice.IThe best that heaven could bring —First fruits, an offering free —Was brought from far, when, by the star,The wise men came to Thee.IINo sceptre, and no throne!The magi were amazed,As, with surprise, on humble guiseAnd poverty, they gazed.IIIBut there Thy God-head shone,Despite the manger bed;O Christ, the Lord, Incarnate Word!’Twas there Thou laid’st Thy head.IOut from the rising of the sun,O’er tracts of desert wild,The Magi came on journey lone,To seek the heaven-born child;The star o’erhead their footsteps led,And hope their way beguiled.IIThey bore Him costly gifts of gold,And myrrh and spices sweet:“For He is King,” they had been told,Whom they would meekly greet;And they would go, in reverence low,And worship at His feet.IIIO humble Child, in manger laid!The wise beheld Thee there,And reverently their homage paid,And gave their offerings rare.Their quest was found, and to the groundThey bowed the head in prayer.IVO Jesu, who in manger lay,The Son of God most high,Let me my humble homage pay,And bring my offerings nigh,And humbly greet Thee at Thy feet,And low in worship lie.

EASTER

IO woeful hour! when from the nightEmerged in wrath Satanic might,To crush the Christ, whom God in heaven,To raise our fallen race, had given.IIO woeful hour! when, with the scornOf sinful men, His soul was torn;When sin exulting bowed the knee,And stung the Christ with mockery.IIIO woeful hour! when to the treeThe Christ was nailed in agony;When anguish for our sin He bore,And thorns His throbbing temples tore.IVO woeful hour! O darkest day!The God-Man, still, entombed lay,For death his cruel shaft had drivenTo quell the hope our God had given.VO saddened soul! the night is past,The morn, bright morn, has come at last;The rage of sin its worst hath done,Yet lives in power th’ eternal Son.VIThe dark hath vanished in the light;O futile now, Satanic might;Sin wounded lies, and death is slainBy Him who lives in power again.VIIHail, glorious morn! the Christ hath risen;Hail Victor from the darkest prison!Up, up, my soul! thy praises pourTo Christ, Thy God, for evermore.ICrown the Lord of glory,Angels, crown your King;Saints whose souls He ransomed,Bring your offering;Let no voice be silent,Laud and honour bring.IICrown the Lord of glory, —Once He dwelt below,Bore the cross of sorrow,Drank the cup of woe;Now He reigns triumphant,Let your praises flow.IIICrown the Lord of glory, —On the earth He worePurple robe that mocked Him,Thorns His brow that tore;Now His griefs are ended,Praise Him evermore.IVCrown the Lord of glory,For His work is done;Crown the King of glory,God’s eternal Son;In my life enthroned,Be Thy reign begun!IO Christ, when on the shameful tree,Thou bor’st such cruel pain for me,Thine every member felt the smart,And sent its sorrows to Thy heart.IIA crown of thorns Thy temples tore,Thy face, O Christ, vile spittings bore,And cruel hands, O action base!Smote Thee, defiant, in the face.IIIWhen in Thy thirst, men heard Thee call,Thy lips were drenched with bitter gall;And to Thine ears the words were borneOf blasphemy and ribald scorn.IVThy hands and feet with nails were riven,The spear into Thy side was driven; —O Christ, when dying on the tree,How great the pain Thou bor’st for me!VNow, by Thy Cross, Almighty King,Salvation to the sinner bring,And let Thy sacrifice for meTeach me to sacrifice for Thee.IO God of love, whose mercy cameTo this dark world of sin and shame,And on a Cross of suffering sore,That sin and shame in meekness bore.IISupreme the love the Christ displayed,When He, True God, True Man was made;When He was scorned, His patience thenShone forth divine, with sinful men.IIIDid e’er such mercy lead the greatTo stoop from high to low estate?Did e’er such love incline the heartTo take the erring sinner’s part?IV’Twas God who loved, ’twas God who gaveHis Son our erring souls to save;’Tis Christ that wins us by the loveFrom earth below to heaven above.VWin me, O Lord, whose mercy cameTo this dark world of sin and shame,To that bright world whose beauties shineForever in Thy love divine.VITo Thee, O Father, glory be,And glory, Christ, God-Man, to Thee,And to the Spirit, Three in One,Now, and while countless ages run.IWhen Hades held the Lord of Life,The boast of sin was vaunting high;’Twas much to wound a sinless soul,But more to see the God-Man die.IIWhen Hades held the Lord of Life,The gates were barred to hold Him fast.No prison bars so closely drawnWere e’er by soul of mortal passed.IIIWhen Hades held the Lord of Life,Rejoicing, death beheld Him there; —“Now close the ancient barriers draw,And drive the prisoner to despair.”IVO, blank surprise when Hades shook!O, ringing joy through all the gloom!Asunder fell the gates of night,And rose the Conqueror from the tomb.VImmortal Saviour! death is dead,No more it holds the souls of men;For Thou hast crushed the power of sin,And brought us back to life again.IWhen Thou, O Christ, upon the tree,Wert bearing pain for sinful men,The sun, lamenting, hid his face,And clothed himself with darkness then;IIAnd o’er the world, when noontide came,The light grew faint and faded soon;And men in wonder saw the darkBring in the night at hour of noon.IIIBut, low in Hades’ depths there shoneSuch light as never shone before;And prisoners saw the Light of lights,And joyed to feel their bondage o’er.IVO blessed art Thou, Christ, our Lord,For all the pain so meekly borne;The dark that hid Thee in Thy woe,Has ushered in a glorious morn.ITo Thy Cross and Resurrection,Laud and praise we humbly give;In Thy death and life immortal,We will die, and ever live.IIChrist Incarnate! by Thy Manhood,Thou to God hast brought me nigh;Christ the humble! by Thy meekness,Thou hast raised my horn on high.IIISource of life! O Christ, the anguishBorne upon the cruel treeLifts me to the bliss abiding,Where from suffering, souls are free.IVEndless praises, bright and thankful,Christ, to Thee be ever given,By the souls in sorrow singing,By the souls redeemed in heaven.ILight is dawning ’mong the hills,Light of light Thy beams display,All the darkness chase away,Light that dawned upon our ills.IIDark the day the Cross was raisedBy the hands of cruel men;Great Thy load of sorrow then;Angel hosts were sore amazed.IIIDark the world while in the tomb,Lone in death the Saviour lay,Till the stone was rolled away,And His Rising quelled the gloom.IVFadeless now, O Light of light,Glory of the Father, Thou,Shine upon Thy people now,Rise upon their darkest night.IHail rising morn! for He hath risen;Hail light that gilds the Eastern skies;For, from the bonds of darkest prison,Thy first beams saw the Christ arise.IIO merciful and gracious One!The gates of Hades Thou hast rent,And by Thy Rising, Christ the Son,No more we lie in bondage pent.IIITo-day the lips of Adam sing;Eve hails the Christ of mankind born;And patriarchs and prophets bringTheir hymns to greet the wondrous morn.IVAnd Thine the glory, Thine the power,By glowing hearts in praise expressed;For Thine the might, this glorious hour,By which the sons of men are blessed.IWe worship, Lord, before Thee now,For great, and good, and pure art Thou.O Christ, the God, our stumblings heal,And lead us all Thy love to feel.IIFor of Thy will it pleased Thee wellHere, in our flesh, with us to dwell,To bear the Cross, that we might beFrom Satan’s servitude set free.IIIWherefore we cry aloud and praise,With thankful voice, Thy name always;For, O! our Saviour, Thou didst bringThe joy that makes our souls to sing.IHeavy laden with thy grief,Do thy tears like raindrops flow?Christ hath all thy sorrows borneLong ago.IISee Him in the garden, prone,While He poured His soul to God;Then He bore affliction keen,And the rod.IIIWeary, laden with thy sin,Dost thou bow beneath the load?Cast the burden of thy woe,On thy God.IVSee Him faint beneath the load,As He bears the ghastly tree;Hear His weary spirit sigh,All for thee.VSad and doubting, lo! the sunShines upon a glorious day:He is risen! come, see the placeWhere He lay.VIGlory to our suffering Lord,Praise to our exalted King, —Source of life and endless bliss, —Let us bring.ITo Thee, O Christ, our God,Great Shepherd, who didst bearThe wandering sheep that strayedBack to Thy shepherd care;IIWho, pitying, gav’st Thy life,That we might stray no more, —To Thee our hearts we raise,And Thee our songs adore.IIIBlest Spirit, source of life,From Hades’ fearful gloomThou brought’st the Shepherd, Christ,Who lay in mortal tomb,IVThat He might still provide,And tend, and guard, and keep,Where’er His flock, abidesOne Shepherd, of His sheep.IGlory shone within the gloom,Vacant eyes in wonder gazed;Shook the portals of the tomb,And the prisoners stood amazed.II“Who is this in garb of light,Come to chase our night away?Who is this in glorious might,Brings to us eternal day?”III“Back! the triumph has been won;”Prone the powers of darkness lie,At the feet of God’s own Son,Fresh from fields of victory.IVGlory, glory, life is ours!Hades heard the shout and feared;Sin and all satanic powersSaw the Victor as He neared.VBurst the gates and cast them down,Set the sighing prisoners free;Fear not though the tyrant frown,Christ hath purchased liberty,VISin is crushed and death is slain,See the Cross and Him who died!From the grave He rose again,Who for man was crucified.VIIHail! the Resurrection day,Hail! the gladness and the gain;“He is risen,” the angels say,Yea, the Lord is risen again.IWhen Adam heard the voice of sinAnd fell before its power,The flowers of Paradise were shornOf beauty in that hour.IIAnd clouds obscured the heavenly light,And e’en the stars were dim;For O ’twas night, and only night,Dark night ’twixt God and him.III“O whence that flashing sword that gleams?And whence those angels there?”Out from the garden of their bliss,Was thrust the guilty pair.IVLife is not theirs, the tree of LifeThe Cherubim surround;Death dogs our guilty parents’ steps,Curse blasts the fertile ground.VO dreary, dreary, dark and dread,O misery of sin!“God make another garden fair,And take Thy wanderers in.”VIAll praise to Christ our glorious Lord,For sin and death are slain;The gates of heaven are open wide,And life is ours again.IWithin the garden’s sombre shade,The Christ of God in anguish prayed; —And who that agony could tell,As from his brow the blood-drops fell?II“Can you not watch one hour?” He saith,“My soul is sorrowful to death.”But He alone the vigil kept,While worn disciples slumbering slept.IIIO dark the cloud that threatening hung,And sore the grief His soul that wrung, —The hate of man, the guilty name,The bitter Cross, the sin and shame.IV“If I must drink this cup,” He prayed,“The burden bear upon me laid,My God, I bow Me to Thy will,And meekly Thy behest fulfil.”VMy soul, when to the garden led,And clouds are gathering overhead,When none the hour of anguish shares,To God direct thy earnest prayers.VI“Thy will be done, Thy will is best, —Even then the bitter cup is blest, —If ’tis Thy will the cup I’ll drain,Despite the agony of pain.”