How mildly beam the closing eyes,
How gently heaves th' expiring breast.

2 So fades a summer cloud away;

So sinks the gale, when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.

3 A holy quiet reigns around,

A calm which life nor death destroys;
And naught disturbs that peace profound,
Which his unfettered soul enjoys.

4 Life's labor done, as sinks the clay, Light from its load the spirit flies; While Heaven and earth combine to say, "How blest the righteous when he dies!"

Mrs. Anna Lætitia Barbauld (1743-1825), 1809. Ab. and alt.

1. There is

2 They stand, those halls of Zion,
All jubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel,
And all the martyr throng:
The Prince is ever in them,
The daylight is serene;
The pastures of the blessed

Are decked in glorious sheen, 3 There is the throne of David;

And there, from care released, The shout of them that triumph, The song of them that feast; And they who, with their Leader, Have conquered in the fight, Forever, and forever,

Are clad in robes of white.

Bernard of Cluny, c. 1145.

Tr. by Rev. John Mason Neale (1818-1866), 1851. Alt.

But He whom now we trust in

Shall then be seen and known; And they that know and see Him Shall have Him for their own. 3 The morning shall awaken,

1 FOR thee, O dear, dear country,
Mine eyes their vigils keep;
For very love, beholding

Thy happy name, they weep.
The mention of thy glory

Is unction to the breast,
And medicine in sickness,
And love, and life, and rest.
2 O one, O only mansion,
O paradise of joy,
Where tears are ever banished,
And smiles have no alloy;
The Lamb is all thy splendor,
The Crucified thy praise;
His laud and benediction
Thy ransomed people raise.

Bernard of Cluny, c. 1145
Tr. by Rev. John Mason Neale, 1851. Alt.

RUTHERFORD. P. M.

193

CHARLES D'URHAN (

), 1845.

sigh'd for, The fair, sweet morn a

wakes: Dark, dark hath been the mid- night, But

See, He sits on

486

Worshipped of Angels.
Heb. i. 6.

2 King of glory, reign forever!

Thine an everlasting crown; Nothing from Thy love shall sever

Those whom Thou hast made Thine Happy objects of Thy grace, [own; Destined to behold Thy face.

3 Saviour, hasten Thine appearing; Bring, O bring the glorious day, When, the awful summons hearing,

Heaven and earth shall pass away: Then, with golden harps, we'll sing, "Glory, glory to our King!"

Rev. Thomas Kelly (1769-1855), 1804. Ab.