O happy, happy bride,

The widowed hours are past!
The bridegroom at thy side
Thou all his own at last;
The sorrows of thy former cup
In full fruition swallowed up.

HYMN OF SIVAITE PURITANS

10th CENTURY A.D.

When once I knew the Lord,
What to me were the host

Of pagan deities,

Some fixed in temple shrine
Or carried in the crowd;
Some made of unbaked clay,
And some burnt hard with fire?

With all the lying tales

That fill the sacred books,

They've vanished from my mind.

How many flowers I gave
At famous temple-shrines!
How often told my Cede
And washed the idol's head!
And still with weary feet
Encircled Siva's shrines!
But now at last I know
Where dwells the King of Gods,
And never will adore

A temple made by hands.

But yet I have a shrine-
The mind within my breast.
An image too is there-
The soul that came from God.
I offer ash and flowers-
The praises of my heart;

And all the God-made world
Is frankincense and myrrh.
And thus where'er I go
I ever worship God.

STRENGTH, LOVE, LIGHT

KING ROBERT OF FRANCE, C. 1000 A.D.

O Thou almighty Will
Faint are thy children, till
Thou come with power:
Strength of our good intents,
In our frail hour, Defence,
Calm of Faith's confidence,
Come, in this hour!

O Thou most tender Love!
Deep in our spirits move:
Tarry, dear Guest!

Quench thou our passion's fire,
Raise thou each low desire,
Deeds of brave love inspire,
Quickener and Rest!

O Light serene and still!
Come and our spirits fill,

Bring in the day:

Guide of our feeble sight,
Star of our darkest night,

Shine on the path of right,

Show us the way!

Jerusalem, the Golden, Bernard of Cluny, 1145 A.D. (sez Section XII).

JESUS, THOU JOY OF LOVING HEARTS

ST. BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX (From the Latin) 1150 A.D.

Jesus, thou joy of loving hearts,

Thou Fount of life, thou Light of men,
From the best bliss that earth imparts,
We turn unfilled to thee again.

Thy truth unchanged hath ever stood;
Thou savest those who on thee call;
To them that seek thee, thou art good,
To them that find thee, all in all.
We taste thee, O thou living Bread,
And long to feast upon thee still;
We drink of thee the Fountain-head,
And thirst, our souls from thee to fill.

Our restless spirits yearn for thee,
Where'er our changeful lot is cast;
Glad, when thy gracious smile we see,
Blest, when our faith can hold thee fast.

O Jesus, ever with us stay;

Make all our moments calm and bright;
Chase the dark night of sin away;
Shed o'er the world thy holy light.

CANTICLE OF THE SUN

SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI, 1225 A.D.

Translated by Maurice Francis Egan

Oh, Most High, Almighty, Good Lord God, to Thee belong praise, glory, honor and all blessing.

Praised be my Lord God, with all His creatures, and especially

our brother the Sun, who brings us the day and who brings

us the light fair is he, and he shines with a very great splendor.

O Lord, he signifies us to thee!

Praised be my Lord for our sister the Moon, and for the stars, the which He has set clear and lovely in the heaven.

Praised be my Lord for our brother the wind, and for air and clouds, calms and all weather, by which Thou upholdest life and all creatures.

Praised be my Lord for our sister water, who is very serviceable to us, and humble and precious and clean.

Praised be my Lord for our brother fire, through whom thou givest us light in the darkness; and he is bright and pleasant and very mighty and strong.

Praised be my Lord for our mother the earth, the which doth sustain us and keep us, and bringeth forth divers fruits and flowers of many colors, and grass.

Praised be my Lord for all those who pardon one another for

love's sake, and who endure weakness and tribulation: blessed are they who peacefully shall endure, for thou, O Most High, wilt give them a crown.

Praised be my Lord for our sister, the death of the body, from which no man escapeth. Woe to him who dieth in mortal sin. Blessed are those who die in thy most holy will, for the second death shall have no power to do them harm. Praise ye and bless the Lord, and give thanks to Him and serve Him with great humility.

HYMN

ST. THOMAS AQUINAS, C. 1250 A.D.

Sing, my tongue, the Saviour's glory,
Of His flesh the mystery sing;
Of the blood, all price exceeding,
Shed by our Immortal King.
Destined for the world's redemption,
From a noble womb to spring.

Of a pure and spotless Virgin
Born for us on earth below,
He, as Man with man conversing,

Stayed the seeds of truth to sow;
Then He closed in solemn order
Wondrously His life of woe.

On the night of that Last Supper,
Seated with His chosen band,
He the paschal victim eating,
First fulfils the Law's command;
Then, as food to all His brethren,
Gives Himself with His own Hand.

Word made flesh, the bread of nature
By His Word to Flesh He turns;
Wine into His Blood He changes:-
What though sense no change discerns,
Only be the heart in earnest,
Faith her lesson quickly learns.

Down in adoration falling,
Lo! the Sacred Host we hail:
Lo! o'er ancient forms departing,
Newer rites of grace prevail :
Faith for all defects supplying,
Where the feeble senses fail.

To the Everlasting Father,

And the Son who reigns on high,
With the Holy Ghost proceeding
Forth from each eternally,

Be salvation, honour, blessing,

Might and endless majesty. Amen.

Songs of Kabir, 1440 A.D., Translated by Rabindranath

Tagore (See Sections V and VI).