Chapter XC: Preface (2)

Thy glory, Lord, o’er all the earth,
Like morning’s light doth shine,
Where mountain’s heave their giant birth,
Where rolls that sea of thine;
That glorious sea, that mirrors thee
More wonderful and vast,
Whose throne was reared, eternally
In clouds and darkness cast.

2.

Thy glory, Lord, though thou art great,
Is not thy power alone,
Though seraphs in thy service wait,
And burn before thy throne;
Thy glory, Lord, is not the sword
Of vengeance on thy thigh;
Nor thunders that await thy word,
To rend the shrivelled sky.

3.

Thy glory, Lord, is not the light
That crowns thine awful head,
Nor e’en the amber lustre bright
Around thy presence shed:
For there the hymn, of cherubim,
And lyres that flame above,
Proclaims it, to thy glory dim,
The glory of thy love!

* * * * *

HYMN FOR THE DEAD.

Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth.

1. SOLO.

So, from the earth, the godly go!
Help, Lord, the faithful fail!
Ah, who are left to thee below,
Ah, what to soothe our sorrow’s flow,
Save the bright hope that calms our wo,
As, o’er the dead, we wail!

2. TRIO.

’Tis o’er the early dead we weep;
But peaceful is their hallow’d sleep;
And, Saviour, when thy light they see,
When from the dust they rise to thee,
How glorious shall their waking be!

3. CHORUS.

Blest leader of the bright array,
That yet shall break their cerements dread,
And change their cold corrupted clay,
To rise, undying, from the dead;
Be thou our helper, and our stay,
When comes creation’s final day,
When roll the parching skies away,
And loud the archangel trumpets ring!
That such our triumph-song may be,
As rapt, we rise to life and thee,
Oh grave where is thy victory,
Where, Spoiler, is thy sting!

* * * * *

THE FIRST PSALM.

Beatus vir.

1.

Oh the blessings of him who hath turned from the path,
Where wander bewildered the children of wrath:
Who stands not with scorners, nor sits in the seat,
Where triumph the godless, and atheists meet!

2.

The Lord is his pleasure, his song, and delight:
He dwells with Jehovah from morning to night:
His leaf shall not wither, his fruit never fall;
And look! what he doeth shall prosper withal!

3.

He shall stand like a tree in the garden of God,
His boughs high in heaven, his root in the sod,
All goodly and green as the olives that bend,
Where rills of the desert through oases wend.

4.

And this, while the godless up-torn by the root,
Shall blast in the blossom and blight in the fruit!
Oh dreadful their lot! Like the chaff they shall fly,
Or the sands of the waste when the whirlwind is high.

* * * * *

OUR GOD IN GLORY.

Dominus regnavit.

1.

Our God in glory reigneth
Majestical, on high,
The Lord, whose hand sustaineth,
The earth and starry sky.
And glorious there his throne, of old,
That shall for aye endure,
Was fixt ere yonder planets rolled,
Or this round world was sure!

2.

The waves, the seas, the waters
Have lifted up their voice,
But God’s unfearing daughters,
Above the storm rejoice;
Their father’s word can still the roar,
For, mightier far than they,
The floods, the winds, the sounding shore,
Shall hear him, and obey.

3.

Oh yes, though loudly raging,
Old Ocean mocks the sky,
His word is heard assuaging,
And down the billows die!
And glory, Lord, thy saints shall sing,
To thee their God alone,
For holiness, Almighty King,
Becomes thy glorious throne!

* * * * *

WHEN ISRAEL FROM THE LAND OF NILE.

In exitu.

1.

When Israel, from the land of Nile,
Went up in triumph o’er the sea,
And left, beneath that cloudy pile,
The shores where heathen altars be,
In Juda was Jehovah known,
And there the mighty God was shown!

2.

The rolling waters saw and fled,
The mountains leaped like Nebo’s rams,
And Jordan trembled in its bed,
And skipped the little hills like lambs.
Oh Jordan then what ailed thee!
Why fleddest thou eternal sea!

3.

Why fled ye so, ye little rills,
Or what, old Ocean, broke thy calm!
Why leaped ye so, ye high, high hills,
Why skipped ye like the mountain lamb?
The tribes went up across the sea;
Say, ye big waves, why trembled ye!

4.

Tremble, oh earth—it was the Lord!
The pillar of His presence led;
The God of Jacob bared His sword,
The startled waters saw and fled!
Gushed into tears the flinty stone;
Tremble, oh earth; ’twas God alone!

* * * * *

RIGHT GLAD WAS I.

Lætatus sum.

1.

Right glad was I when unto me,
They said with one accord,
Oh let us up to Zion-hill,
The city of our Lord!
Our feet shall stand within thy gates,
Jerusalem, our home,
And to thy temples beauty-built,
Our wearied steps shall come.

2.

Oh thither all the tribes go up,
The people of our God!
And there the golden censers smoke,
And music sounds abroad!
There incense-wreaths forever rise,
And there the Lord is known,
And there is set his judgment seat,
His glory, and his throne!

3.

Oh pray ye for Jerusalem,
Who blesseth her is blest;
Peace be within thy palaces,
And in thy temples rest!
And on her golden shrines be light,
And sunshine ever fair,
For there my father’s children dwell;
Our fathers’ God is there.

* * * * *

ORISONS.

1.

Jesu, in the manger born,
Mid the stabled herd, forlorn;
Jesu, once a babe at rest,
On thy virgin mother’s breast;
Jesu, with thy sacred head,
Pillowed where the oxen fed;
Jesu Saviour, look on me,
Born in dreary earth like thee!
Miserere Domine.

2.

Jesu, in the temple shewn,
By thy mother poor and lone;
Jesu, child of fears and loves,
With the bleeding turtle-doves;
Jesu, in a father’s arms,
Borne from Herod’s vain alarms;
Jesu, Saviour, look on me,
By thine early misery.
Miserere Domine.

3.

Jesu, with the shelly bowl
Sprinkling o’er thy stainless soul;
Jesu, Lamb of God, for aye
Bearing all our sins away;
Jesu, up the mountain led,
Where the howling beasts are bred;
Jesu, tempted once like me,
Give me, too, thy victory.
Miserere Domine.

4.

Jesu, by thy power divine,
Changing water into wine;
Jesu, giving life again,
To the widow’s son of Nain;
Jesu, man’s own brother proved,
Weeping for thy friend beloved;
Jesu, let my worship be
Mary’s spikenard box to thee!
Miserere Domine.

5.

Jesu, in that solemn hall,
Holding love’s last festival;
Jesu, in the garden lone,
Where the paschal moon-beam shone;
Jesu, pouring out thy breath,
Soul and spirit unto death;
Jesu Saviour, pity me,
When I cannot watch with thee.
Miserere Domine.

6.

Jesu, in the purple weed,
Thorny crown, and scornful reed;
Jesu, fainting in the way,
’Neath the cross that on thee lay;
Jesu, with thy tender eye,
Straining for its hour to die;
Jesu, bid thy servant be
Yet in Paradise with thee.
Miserere Domine.

7.

Jesu, scarred but strong to save,
Rising deathless from the grave;
Jesu, in the garden seen
By adoring Magdalene;
Jesu, going up on high,
Leading thy captivity;
Jesu Saviour, let me be
Evermore in Heaven with thee.
Miserere Domine.

* * * * *

ADVENT HYMN.

Theme from the Dies Iræ.

1.

That awful day of ire,
Ah, who shall bear that day!
When earth dissolves in fire,
And heaven shall roll away:
What trembling shall surprise
The guilty child of clay,
When opes that last assize:
Ah, who shall bear that day!

2.

When loud the trump shall sound,
Ah, who shall bear that day!
When shrill it echoes round,
Where long the slumberers lay;
When up from every tomb
Shall start the silent clay;
That dreadful day of doom,
Ah, who shall bear that day!

3.

Oh, death itself shall quake,
And nature shrink away,
When from the clods they break,
To meet that dreadful day!
Ah, when the just are pale,
What shall the guilty say!
Ah, who shall heed their wail;
Ah, who shall bear that day!

4.

Tremendous Monarch! now
To thy majestic sway
Our trembling spirits bow,
Or ere that dreadful day!
Oh, save us, Fount of Love!
Oh, wash our sin away!
Spare—spare us, God above!
Else who shall bear that day!

5.

Oh, Judge Supreme and Just,
Appalled, I bend and pray!
Oh God, I shrink to dust!
How can I bear that day!
That day of dread surprise!
Jesu, be thou my stay,
That awful day of sighs:
Else, who shall bear that day!

6.

That awful day of ire,
When heaven shall roll away,
When earth dissolves in fire;
That day—that awful day!
Its trumpet, in the tomb
Shall stir the shrouded clay;
That dreadful day of doom;
Oh who shall bear that day!

* * * * *

NOT UNTO US.

Theme from the Non Nobis Domine.

1.

Not unto us, oh Lord our God,
Not unto us, the noble laud,
For thine are all things here below,
And earth and skies thy glory show,
And Heaven is thine, and thine are we,
And thine are all things good, we see,
Non nobis decus, Domine.

2.

Now the bright skies thy praise proclaim!
The heavens are letter’d with thy name;
O’er all the world, the sunlight poured,
Is shadow to thy glory, Lord;
And stars, and light, and earth and sea,
Send up one anthem, Lord, to thee,
Non nobis decus, Domine.

3.

Thine is the heaven of heavens, oh God;
How is thy glory spread abroad!
And realms unseen, and worlds divine,
And angel armies, Lord, are thine;
So great art thou, so lowly we;
Not unto us, the glory be,
Non nobis decus, Domine.

* * * * *

THEE, GOD, WE PRAISE.

Te Deum Laudamus.

1.

Thee, God, we praise, acknowledging
Thou art the Lord, and thou our King:
To thee all earth doth lowly bow,
The Father everlasting thou!

2.

To thee all angels loudly cry,
The heavens and all the powers on high,
While seraphs bright, and cherubim,
Upsend their sweet continual hymn!

3.

In homes of light their song is poured,
Oh, holy, holy, holy Lord!
Earth and high heaven are full of thee,
Thy glory and thy majesty!

4.

The glorious company above
Of the apostles hymn thy love,
While with the prophets’ goodly ring,
The martyrs’ noble army sing.

5.

And all throughout this world so wide,
The holy Church, the spotless bride,
Father and Lord confesseth thee,
All infinite in majesty!

6.

Also thy true and only Son,
The church with thee adoreth one;
And one with thee, sent down to her,
O Holy Ghost, the Comforter!

7.

Thou art the King of glory bright,
O Christ! the Lord—the God of might;
Thou art the true, the Holy One,
The Father’s Everlasting Son!

8.

When on thyself, poor man to save,
Thou tookest shame, the cross, the grave,
Thou, sent to suffer in our room,
Didst not abhor the Virgin’s womb.

9.

When death’s sharp bitterness was o’er,
And thou hadst spoiled the conqueror,
Thou to the faithful and forgiven
Didst open wide the gates of heaven.

10.

Now in the Father’s glory high,
Thou sittest clothed with majesty,
At the right hand of God enthroned,
Till foes thy footstool shall be owned.

11.

Thence we believe that thou shalt come,
To be our Judge, that day of doom;
Oh, therefore, help thy servants, Lord,
Bought with thy blood, thy due reward.

12.

Make them with all thy saints to sit,
In glory everlasting writ;
Oh, save thy flock from Satan’s rage!
Lord, bless thy chosen heritage!

13.

O Lord, their King vouchsafe to be,
And daily lift them up to thee,
Whom, day by day, we magnify,
And worship till the world shall die!

14.

Keep us this day from sin abhorr’d,
Have mercy on us—mercy, Lord!
And let thy mercy on us be,
As we have trusted, Lord, in thee!

15.

O Lord, in thee—in thee alone,
My hope from holy faith hath grown,
And since I’ve trusted in thy name,
Oh, let me never suffer shame!

* * * * *

A LENT HYMN.

1.

Alas, which way I turn I err,
My thoughts are vile within,
Ah how shall earth’s poor voyager,
Escape the paths of sin.

2.

Lord, I have wandered and to thee
Have been a faithless son,
But father, still a father be,
And spare thine erring son.

3.

Through His dear love, by whom alone,
We may thy children be,
And by the sorrows He hath known,
My soul from sorrow free.

4.

And smile, my Father, through the gloom
That wraps my suppliant hour,
Nor quench the glowing soul’s perfume,
Nor break the drooping flower.

* * * * *

STANZAS FOR EASTERTIDE.

Thy dew is as the dew of herbs.

1.

How in the flowery spring, my God,
The buds of promise ope,
And blossom o’er life’s thorny road
To cheer the Christian’s hope!
Like them, exulting from the tomb,
We, too, revived, shall rise,
And flourish in immortal bloom,
In Edens of the skies.

2.

What though in pensive Autumn’s wane,
Earth’s sere-grown glories fall,
And sleep through winter’s dull domain,
When death is writ on all;
Exulting, in the breaking year,
The lily doth unclose,
And daisies o’er the waste appear,
And roses from the snows.

3.

So then to dust, our dust shall turn,
So, too, shall rise and sing,
When falls upon the mouldered urn,
The joyous dew of Spring:
The God that rears the tender flowers,
And breathes to life their dust,
From the cold grave shall quicken ours,
And new-create the just.

* * * * *

HYMN FOR HOLY THURSDAY.

1.

Oh, crowned with light in glory now,
Though crowned on earth with thorn,
To thee, with all the earth we bow,
And sing the Virgin-born.
And lowly are the notes we raise,
Yet, Saviour, deign to hear,
Though there thou reign’st where seraphs blaze,
And cherubs burn and fear.

2.

For so, to bless the sons of earth,
On earth thou wast forlorn:
A man of sorrows from thy birth,
The lowly Virgin-born:
For us, thy tender hand was scarred:
For us, was bowed thy head,
And all thy human beauty marred,
When Death was captive led.

3.

For us, the crimson cross was stain’d,
For us, thy life-blood given:
For us, the glorious conflict gained,
To bring us home to heaven:
For us, thou art gone up on high,
With victor-beauty crowned:
For us, thy hand hath oped the sky,
And Death in fetters bound.

4.

For us, thy garments stained with blood,
Thee, more than Conqueror show,
The Prince of Peace, the mighty God,
The Lord of all below!
Oh Wonderful!—in glory now,
Though once on earth forlorn,
To thee, with all the earth, we bow,
And laud the Virgin-born!

* * * * *

HYMN FOR TRINITY SUNDAY.

1.

Now, the shining worlds along,
Rises high the angel-song,
Where the emerald rainbows spread,
Glorious round the Eternal head;
Where upon the sapphire throne,
Beams the mystic sardin-stone;
And where veiling seraphs bow,
Crying Holy, Holy, thou!
Thou who art, and art to be
Glorified eternally,
And forevermore adored;
Holy, Holy, Holy Lord!

2.

Streams on earth a dimmer day,
Where thy lowly people pray:
Yet rejoicing in thy light,
And adoring thee aright,
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost;
We, with all the heavenly host,
Here on earth would bend and bow,
Crying Holy, Holy, thou!
Thou who art, &c.

3.

So, forever till we die,
Holy, Holy may we cry!
So forever, honour thee
Glorious God, the Trinity!
Still confessing thee but one,
Father, Holy Ghost and Son,
Till with angel choirs we bow,
Crying Holy, Holy thou,
Thou who art, and art to be
Glorified eternally,
And forevermore adored;
Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord!

* * * * *

LET OUT THY SOUL.

A Lent Lay.

1.

Let out thy soul, and pray
Not for thy home alone!
Away—in prayer, away!
Make all the world thine own!
Let out thy soul in prayer;
Oh, let thy spirit grow!
God gives thee sun and air;
Let the full blossom blow!

2.

There! dost thou not perceive
Thy spirit swell within,
And something high receive,
That is not born of sin?
Oh, paltry is the soul
That only self can heed!
Sail outward—from the shoal,
And bourgeon, from the seed!

3.

Moth and the rust consume
The spangled folds of pride;
Dry-rot doth eat the bloom,
And gnaw the wealth we hide:
The Spirit’s selfish care,
Doth die away the same;
But give it air—free air,
And how the soul can flame!

4.

Yestreen I did not know
How largely I could live;
But Faith hath made me grow,
To more than Earth can give.
Joy! for a heart released
From littleness and pride;
Fast is the Spirit’s feast,
And Lent the soul’s high-tide.

5.

When for the Church I pray’d,
As this dear Lent began,
My thoughts, I am afraid,
Within small limits ran.
By Ember-week I learn’d
How large that prayer might be,
And then, in soul, I burn’d
That all might pray with me.

6.

Plead for the victims all
Of heresy and sect;
And bow thy knees like Paul,
For all the Lord’s Elect!
Pray for the Church—I mean,
For Shem and Japhet pray:
And churches, long unseen,
In isles, and far away!

7.

Oh, pray that all who err
May thus be gather’d in;
The Moslem worshipper,
And all the sects of sin!
For all who love in heart,
But have not found the way,
Pray—and thy tears will start!
’Twas so the Lord did pray.

8.

Now, when the hordes of Rome
Are up against the Lord,
All churches are our home,
And Prayer our mighty sword!
The saints’ communion—one,
One Lord—one Faith—one birth,
Oh, pray to God the Son,
For all his Church on Earth.

* * * * *

WATCHWORDS.

A hymn for the times.

1.

We are living,—we are dwelling
In a grand and awful time;
In an age, on ages telling,
To be living—is sublime.

2.

Hark! the waking up of nations,
Gog and Magog, to the fray;
Hark! what soundeth, is Creation’s
Groaning for its latter day.

3.

Will ye play, then! will ye dally,
With your music, with your wine?
Up! it is Jehovah’s rally!
God’s own arm hath need of thine.

4.

Hark, the onset! will ye fold your
Faith-clad arms in lazy lock?
Up, O up, thou drowsy soldier!
Worlds are charging to the shock.

5.

Worlds are charging—Heaven beholding;
Thou hast but an hour to fight;
Now, the blazon’d cross unfolding,
On—right onward, for the right!

6.

What! still hug thy dreamy slumbers?
’Tis no time for idling play:
Wreaths, and dance, and poet-numbers,
Flout them! we must work to-day!

7.

Fear not! spurn the worlding’s laughter;
Thine ambition—trample thou!
Thou shalt find a long Hereafter,
To be more than tempts thee now.

8.

Oh! let all the soul within you,
For the truth’s sake, go abroad!
Strike! let every nerve and sinew
Tell on ages—tell for God.

9.

Magog leadeth many a vassal;
Christ his few—his little ones;
But about our leaguer’d castle,
Rear and Vanguard are his sons!

10.

Seal’d to blush, to waver never;
Cross’d, baptized, and born agen,
Sworn to be Christ’s soldiers ever,
Oh, for Christ, at least, be men!

* * * * *

HOLY ORDERS.

I will wash my hands in innocency.

1.

I’ll wash my hands in waters
That are innocent as snow,
And thus unto thine altars,
My Redeemer, will I go:
I’ll stand within thy temples,
In garments pure and white,
And take thy yoke upon me,
For ’tis easy and ’tis light.

2.

But give me in the beauty
Of holiness to shine,
And to sound upon the mountains
That cheery trump of thine;
And to ope the gushing fountains
In the desert’s dreary ways,
And herald joyful tidings,
And the holy cross to raise.

3.

And with a soul that tramples
On the laurel and the gem,
May I strive, in godlike meekness,
For a brighter diadem;
And run my race with glory,
And fight a noble fight,
Till I join the victor-pæan
Of the conquerors in light.

4.

Now clothe me in mine armor,
Ye fathers of the host,
And give my hand the banner
Of the dove-like Holy Ghost;
While swells around the war-song
Of my Redeemer King,
And all the warrior-anthems
That the noble armies sing.

5.

Then bless me for the onset
That I may battle well,
For the Captain of salvation,
’Gainst the leaguered hosts of hell;
Nor shun the hottest conflict,
Where the spoiler is abroad,
But breast his fiercest phalanx,
In the panoply of God.

6.

Oh, glorious is the warfare
And the triumph-cry shall sound,
Not sweeter to the victors,
Than the vanquished heathen round:
Messiah’s armies ever,
To their foemen faint in strife,
Bend down the laden branches
Of the healing tree of life.

7.

Yet, Saviour, not with boasting
Would I gird me for the fight,
And take thy yoke upon me,
Though so easy and so light!
Who putteth on his harness,
And striveth for a crown,
Oh, let him never glory
Till he lays his armor down.

NOTES.

The first poem in this collection was inserted as appropriate to follow the dedication, although it was written at a much later date than most of the others. The Hymn of the Wreath, was also written after most of the Lays, but I have given it its place, because I knew of no better use for it. And although the two are of a graver burden, than those that immediately follow, they are supposed the more suitable, as commencing the book with a _vanitas vanitatum_. After these, lays of emulation, love, disappointment, and reflection succeed each other, until the whole are of a devotional and religious cast. Even in these last, there will be noticed a progressive order, varying from “Spiritual Songs” to Catholic Hymns and Anthems.

* * * * *

_I’d die mid soft music._

The etherial harmony of Von Weber’s Last Waltz, though too melancholy for mirth, is not dignified enough for religion. I have furnished it with words, therefore, which seem to me expressive of the sentiment of the music. But that sentiment must by no means be attributed to me. I had heard that the Last Waltz was composed by Von Weber on his death-bed; and therefore imagined the burthen of its strain, such as I have suggested. But a truly Christian composer would not employ his last hours on any thing less than a sacred Anthem, or a Miserere: and the story of Mozart’s Requiem is much more interesting and becoming.

* * * * *

_Hark through the skies, &c._

This poem and others that succeed it, were written in such early years that I have distinguished them with apologetic dates. They made no part of the book when it was put to press, but as more matter was found necessary, I was obliged hastily to incorporate them with the Lays, as being the only early poems of the kind in my possession.

* * * * *

_When the wounded bucanier._

This poem was addressed to a lady, a relative, on reading the anecdote to which it alludes, in the work of Audubon, on American birds. That author tells us that the plaintive note of the Zenaida dove, has actually been known to have such an effect upon a pirate, that he deserted his comrades, and in true penitence, abandoned forever his evil ways.

* * * * *

_Still as our day our strength shall be._

I have spoken in this little Hymn, of our blessed Saviour, as suffering the pains of his cross, during the whole of his life. My meaning must be explained of course by the fact of his Divinity, to which the future was ever present. And in this I believe I am borne out by sound theologians. Dr. Dens, who, though a Romish divine, is generally Catholic on such points, and usually follows S. Thomas Aquinas, has this passage, which is exactly to the purpose. “Scriptores quidam spirituales, pia meditatione, observant, Christum Dominum toto vitæ suæ tempore sensisse, in anima dolores mortis, quos passus est in cruce; quia præcognoscens illos futuros, sibi eos vivacissime et perfecte omni tempore representabat et acceptabat tanquam præsentes.”

_De Incarnatione, Quæst._ xl.

* * * * *

_Oh, of song and dance the pride._

It has been discovered by modern theologians, that Jephtha’s daughter was not sacrificed by her father, but only devoted to a recluse and virgin life. The Fathers, however, thought otherwise; and St. Augustine sees in the transaction, a deep spiritual import. Of course I prefer his comment, to Kimchi’s; but when I wrote this poem, the modern notion struck me as a pretty fable, to which I was not unwilling to listen.

* * * * *

_Oh the blessings of him._

Such is the more literal rendering of the original Hebrew text, in the first verse of the first Psalm. For the criticism I am indebted to my preceptor, the late Prof. Nordheimer, of the University of New York, whose sudden and early death is so universally regretted by the learned, and lamented by his grateful pupils.

* * * * *

_When Israel from the land of Nile._

I cannot forbear to refer the reader, for a much better rendering of the 114th Psalm, to the critical and elegant translation of my friend and brother, the Rev. George Burgess, M. A., of Hartford, whose metrical version of the Psalms is such an honor to American literature and taste. The peculiar beauty of the second verse, which I have sacrificed by introducing the name of God, (which is only elegantly implied in the original,) is in Mr. Burgess’ translation very happily preserved.

* * * * *

_That awful day of ire._

This is a free translation of some select portions of the _Dies_ _Iræ_; so well known to English readers, by the fine imitation of Scott; and to scholars, by the impressive use made of it by Goethe in his Faust. I have partially imitated, as well as translated, several passages; that famous one, in particular, which is known as the _Rex Tremendæ_. In so doing, I have been forced, however, to sacrifice, in some degree, a desirable gracefulness of expression, for the sake of approximating, in some degree, to the sonorous melody of the Latin.

* * * * *

_Not unto us, oh Lord, our God._

I have put together, this hymn, and the translation of the _Te_ _Deum_, which follows, because the _Non Nobis_ was once always associated with that sublime doxology, in Thanksgiving services; though now seldom heard of, except as performed at public dinners, on the removal of the cloth. The exclamation of Henry V., on the field of Agincourt, is familiar to all:

Do we all holy rites,
Let there be sung _Non Nobis_ and _Te Deum_.

It is interesting, also, to remember, that _Te Deum_ was the first Christian thanksgiving ever offered to God, in this hemisphere. The piety of Columbus, at once suggested the propriety of its use, when he found himself the discoverer of a New World; and the hymn that was introduced to public worship, in the Cathedral at Milan, at the baptism of Augustine, was made the offering of a free heart, when the first European foot was planted in America. We doubt whether any thing as good was chaunted on Plymouth Rock; though had the Pilgrim Fathers been Churchmen, they would have found in the Psalms for the day, a very appropriate as well as inspired thanksgiving: “Then are they glad because they are at rest; and so He bringeth them unto the haven where they would be. Oh that men would therefore praise the Lord for his goodness; and declare the wonders that he doeth for the children of men.”

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_Holy Orders._

In the last verse the allusion is to the text, “Let not him that girdeth on his harness boast himself, as he that putteth it off.” I. _Kings_, xx. 11th.

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I trust the reader has noticed that the arrangement of these Lays has not been merely fortuitous. They are meant to succeed each other, as did the experiences which suggested them, from the pursuit of trifles, to the choice of God’s holy service; and to exhibit as a moral what St. Augustine so appositely says in his confessions: Tu, Domine, excitas, _ut laudare Te delectat_; quia fecisti nos ad Te, et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in Te.

CONTENTS.

Page.

Preface, 3

HALLOWEEN, 5

Notes to Halloween, 64

LAYS, MEDITATIVE AND DEVOTIONAL, 67

Dedication, 69

Preface, 71

Give me the Hour, 73

Hymn of the Wreath, 75

Star that Hast, 78

Stanzas, 81

Canzonet, 82

Thou art gone to the Land, 83

Song, 84

Canzonet, 85

Caution, 87

Oh Where’s the Hope, 87

Canzonet, 89

I’ve Left the Giddy Throng, 91

March, 93

Lake Byrom, 95

Stanzas, 96

Lament, 98

The Zenaida Dove, 101

Remember, 103

Christmas, 104

Oh Would I were happy, 106

The Mirage, 108

Meditation, 109

Lines, 110

Hymn, 111

Hymn, 113

Home Music, 114

To all that’s Glorious and Bright, 116

There is a Land, 118

The Heart’s Song, 120

Lament, 121

In Radiance He came, 122

Lament of the Virgins, 125

The Last Plague of Egypt, 128

Hymn to the Redeemer, 131

Stanzas, 134

Stanzas, 135

But Thou, oh Lord, 136

Verses, 137

Still as our Day, 137

There’s not a Cloud, 139

Oh Walk with God, 140

The Land of Beulah, 142

Hymn in Holy Week, 143

Hymn, 145

Mariner’s Hymn, 147

Little Hymn, 148

Thy Glory, Lord, 150

Hymn for the Dead, 151

The First Psalm, 152

Our God in Glory, 153

When Israel from the Land of Nile, 155

Right Glad was I, 156

Orisons, 157

Advent Hymn, 160

Not Unto us, 163

Thee, God, we Praise, 164

A Lent Hymn, 167

Stanzas for Eastertide, 168

Hymn for Holy Thursday, 170

Hymn for Trinity Sunday, 171

Let out thy Soul, 173

Watchwords, 176

Holy Orders, 178

Notes, 183

H. S. PARSONS

Has for sale, by the author of _Halloween_,

ATHANASION,

Second Edition, with Notes.

Also will publish shortly, in uniform with Halloween,

CHRISTIAN BALLADS,

Second Edition, with Additions.

⁂ Several poems published with the former edition of the Ballads, have been retained in their proper places, among the Lays published with Halloween, as they will not again be printed with the Ballads.

Also, H. S. P. has in press,

ANCIENT HYMNS OF HOLY CHURCH,

BY
J. WILLIAMS, M. A.,

Rector of St. George’s, Schenectady.

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Transcriber’s Notes:

Hyphenation and archaic spellings have been retained as in the original text. Punctuation and obvious typesetting errors have been corrected without note.

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[End of _Halloween, A Romaunt with Lays, Meditative and Devotional_, by Arthur Cleveland Coxe]