OH FAIR! OH PUREST!
SAINT AUGUSTINE TO HIS SISTER.1
AIR -Moore.
On fair! oh purest! be thou the dove
That flies alone to some sunny grove,
And lives unseen, and bathes her
wing,
All vestal white in the limpid spring.
There if the hovering hawk be near,
That limpid spring in its mirror clear
Reflects him ere he can reach his
prey,
And warns the timorous bird away.
Oh! be like this dove;
Oh fair! oh purest! be like this dove.
The sacred pages of God's own book
Shall be the spring, the eternal brook,
In whose holy mirror, night and day,
Thou wilt study Heaven's reflected ray:
And should the foes of virtue dare,
With gloomy wing, to seek thee there,
Thou wilt see how dark their shadows
lie
Between heaven and thee, and tremb.
ling fly!
Oh! be like the dove;
Oh fair! oh purest! be like the dove.
LORD, WHO SHALL BEAR THAT DAY?
LORD, who shall bear that day, so dread, so splen lid,
When we shall see Thy angel hovering o'er
This sinful world, with hand to heaven extended,
And hear him swear by Thee that time's no more?
When earth shall feel thy fast consuming ray-
Who, mighty God, oh who shall bear that day?
When through the world Thy awful call hath sounded'Wake, oh ye dead, to judgınent wake, ye dead!" And from the clouds, by seraph eyes surrounded,
The Saviour shall put forth His radiant head ; While earth and heaven before Him pass away-Who, mighty God, oh who shall bear that day?
When, with a glance, the eternal Judge shall sever
Earth's evil spirits from the pure and bright,
And say to those, Depart from me for ever!'
To these, Come, dwell with me in endless light!'
When each and all in silence take their way-
Who, mighty God, oh who shall bear that day?
OH! TEACH ME TO LOVE THEE.
AIR-Haydn.
ОH! teach me to love thee, to feel what thou art,
Till, filled with the One sacred image, my heart
Shall all other passions disown-
Like some pure temple that shines apart,
Reserved for thy worship alone!
In joy and in sorrow, through praise and through blame, Oh still let me, living and dying the same,
In thy service bloom and decay
Like some lone altar, whose votive flame
In holiness wasteth away!
Though born in this desert, and doomed by my birth
To pain and affliction, to darkness and dearth,
On thee let my spirit rely
Like some rude dial, that, fixed on earth,
Still looks for its light from the sky!
Awake, ye dead, and come to judgment.'
WEEP, CHILDREN OF ISRAEL.
AIR-Stevenson.
WEEP, weep for him, the Man of God-
In yonder vale he sunk to rest,
But none of earth can point the sod
That flowers above his sacred breast.
Weep, children of Israel, weep!
His doctrines fell like heaven's rain,
His words refreshed like heaven's
dew-
Oh, ne'er shall Israel see again
A chief, to God and her so true.
Weep, children of Israel, weep!
Remember ye his parting gaze,
His farewell song by Jordan's tide,
When, full of glory and of days,
He saw the promised land-and died!
Weep, children of Israel, weep!
Yet died he not as men who sink,
Before our eyes, to soulless clay;
But, changed to spirit, like a wink
Of summer lightning, passed away!1
Weep, children of Israel, weep!
LIKE MORNING, WHEN HER EARLY BREEZE.
AIR-Beethoven.
LIKE morning, when her early breeze
Breaks up the surface of the seas,
That in their furrows, dark with night,
Her hands may sow the seeds of light-
Thy grace can send its breathings o'er
The spirit, dark and lost before,
And, freshening all its depths, prepare
For truth divine to enter there!
Till David touched his sacred lyre,
In silence lay the unbreathing wire;
But when he swept its chords along,
Even angels stooped to hear that song.
So sleeps the soul, till Thou, O Lord,
Shall deign to touch its lifeless chord-
Till, waked by Thee, its breath shall rise
In music worthy of the skies!
LORD, WHO SHALL BEAR THAT DAY?
LORD, who shall bear that day, so dread, so splen lid,
When we shall see Thy angel hovering o'er
This sinful world, with hand to heaven extended,
And hear him swear by Thee that time's no more?
When earth shall feel thy fast consuming ray-
Who, mighty God, oh who shall bear that day?
When through the world Thy awful call hath sounded'Wake, oh ye dead, to judginent wake, ye dead!" And from the clouds, by seraph eyes surrounded,
The Saviour shall put forth His radiant head; While earth and heaven before Him pass away-Who, mighty God, oh who shall bear that day?
When, with a glance, the eternal Judge shall sever
Earth's evil spirits from the pure and bright,
And say to those, Depart from me for ever!'
To these, Come, dwell with me in endless light!'
When each and all in silence take their way-
Who, mighty God, oh who shall bear that day?
OH! TEACH ME TO LOVE THEE.
AIR-Haydn.
OH! teach me to love thee, to feel what thou art,
Till, filled with the One sacred image, my heart
Shall all other passions disown-
Like some pure temple that shines apart,
Reserved for thy worship alone!
In joy and in sorrow, through praise and through blame, Oh still let me, living and dying the same,
In thy service bloom and decay
Like some lone altar, whose votive flame
In holiness wasteth away!
Though born in this desert, and doomed by my birth
To pain and affliction, to darkness and dearth,
On thee let my spirit rely
Like some rude dial, that, fixed on earth,
Still looks for its light from the sky!
"Awake, ye dead, and come to judgment.'
WEEP, CHILDREN OF ISRAEL.
AIR-Stevenson.
WEEP, weep for him, the Man of God-
In yonder vale he sunk to rest,
But none of earth can point the sod
That flowers above his sacred breast.
Weep, children of Israel, weep!
His doctrines fell like heaven's rain,
His words refreshed like heaven's
dew-
Oh, ne'er shall Israel see again
A chief, to God and her so true.
Weep, children of Israel, weep!
Remember ye his parting gaze,
His farewell song by Jordan's tide,
When, full of glory and of days,
He saw the promised land--and died!
Weep, children of Israel, weep!
Yet died he not as men who sink,
Before our eyes, to soulless clay;
But, changed to spirit, like a wink
Of summer lightning, passed away!1
Weep, children of Israel, weep!
LIKE MORNING, WHEN HER EARLY BREEZE.
AIR-Beethoven.
LIKE morning, when her early breeze
Breaks up the surface of the seas,
That in their furrows, dark with night,
Her hands may sow the seeds of light-
Thy grace can send its breathings o'er
The spirit, dark and lost before,
And, freshening all its depths, prepare
For truth divine to enter there!
Till David touched his sacred lyre,
In silence lay the unbreathing wire;
But when he swept its chords along,
Even angels stooped to hear that song.
So sleeps the soul, till Thou, O Lord,
Shall deign to touch its lifeless chord-
Till, waked by Thee, its breath shall rise
In music worthy of the skies!
COME, ye disconsolate, where'er you | Here speaks the Comforter, in God's
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