Children of Eve and heirs of ill,

To thee thy banished cry;

To thee in sorrow's vale we bring
Our sighs and misery;

We take the sinners' place and plead:

Lord, save us, or we die.

Look Thou, our Daysman and High Priest

Upon our low estate;

Make us to see God's face in peace

Through thee, our Advocate; With thee, our Savior may our feet Enter at heaven's gate.

Lord Jesus Christ of holy souls,

The Bridegroom sweet and true,
Meet thou the rage of Anti-Christ,
Break thou his nets in two;
Grant us thy Spirit's help, thy will
In every deed to do.

SCOTCH TE DEUM

WILLIAM KETHE, 1560

All people that on earth do dwell,
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;
Him serve with mirth, His praise forth tell,
Come Ye before Him and rejoice.

The Lord ye know is God indeed,

Without our aid He did us make; We are His folk, He doth us feed, And for His sheep he doth us take.

O enter then His gates with praise,
Approach with joy His courts unto;
Praise, laud, and bless His name always,
For it is seemly so to do.

For why? the Lord our God is good,
His mercy is forever sure;
His truth at all times firmly stood
And shall from age to age endure.

O MOTHER DEAR, JERUSALEM

"F. B. P.," 1583

O mother dear, Jerusalem!

When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?

O happy harbour of God's saints!
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow can be found,
Nor grief, nor care, nor toil.

No murky cloud o'ershadows thee,
Nor gloom, nor darksome night;
But every soul shines as the sun;
For God himself gives light.

O my sweet home, Jerusalem,
Thy joys when shall I see?
The King that sitteth on thy throne
In His felicity?

Thy gardens and thy godly walks

Continually are green,

Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers

As nowhere else are seen.

Right through thy streets, with silver sound, The living waters flow,

And on the banks, on either side,

The trees of life do grow.

Those trees for evermore bear fruit,

And evermore do spring:
There evermore the angels are,

And evermore do sing.

Jerusalem, my happy home,

Would God I were in thee!
Would God my woes were at an end,
Thy joys that I might see!

BATTLE HYMN

GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS, 1630

Translated by Catherine Winkworth

Fear not, O little flock! the foe

Who madly seeks your overthrow;

Dread not his rage and power:

What though your courage sometimes faints?
His seeming triumph o'er God's saints
Lasts but an hour.

Be of good cheer; your cause belongs
To him who can avenge your wrongs;
Leave it to him, our Lord.
Though hidden now from all our eyes,
He sees the Gideon who shall rise
To save us, and his word.

As true as God's own word is true,
Not earth or hell with all their crew
Against us shall prevail.

A jest and byword are they grown;
God is with us, we are his own,
Our victory cannot fail.

Amen, Lord Jesus; grant our prayer!

Great captain, now thine arm make bare;

Fight for us once again!

So shall the saints and martyrs raise

A mighty chorus to thy praise

World without end! Amen.

d. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

FAIREST LORD JESUS

ANONYMOUS (From the German)

Fairest Lord Jesus

Ruler of all nature

O thou of God and man the Son!

Thee will I cherish,

Thee will I honor,

Thou my soul's glory, joy and crown.

Fair are the meadows,

Fairer still the woodlands,

Robed in the blooming garb of spring;

Fair is the sunshine,

Fairer still the moonlight,

And all the twinkling, starry host;

Jesus shines fairer,

Jesus shines purer,

Than all the angels heaven can boast.

A MYSTIC SONG

ANONYMOUS (From the French)

Translated by Percy Allen

Out for a walk the other day,
I met sweet Jesus by the way.
My heart flies, flies, flies;

My heart toward heaven flies,

He said to me: "Daughter, what seekest Thou?" "I was seeking thee, Jesus sweet, and now

My heart toward heaven flies;

Humility and Charity,

And also holy Chastity,

My heart flies, flies, flies,

My heart toward heaven flies.

"The gifts of perfect love are they,

Daughter thine shall they be one day."
My heart flies, flies, flies,

My heart toward heaven flies.

THOU ART OF ALL CREATED THINGS

PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA

Thou art the essence of all created things,
O Lord, the essence and the cause,
The source and center of all bliss;
What are those veils of woven light
Where sun and moon and stars unite,
The purple morn, the spangled night,
But curtains which thy mercy draws
Between the heavenly world and this?
The terrors of the sea and land-