HARK! THE HERALD ANGELS SING!*
Hark! the herald angels sing,
"Glory to the new-born king!
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!"
Joyful, all ye nations, rise,
Join the triumphs of the skies,
With the angelic host proclaim,
"Christ is born in Bethlehem !"
Christ, by highest heaven adored!
Christ, the everlasting Lord!
Late in time behold Him come,
Offspring of a virgin's womb!
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see!
Hail the incarnate Deity!
Pleased as Man with man to dwell,
Jesus our Immanuel!
Hail, the heaven-born Prince of Peace!
Hail, the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings,
Risen with healing on His wings:
Mild, He lays His glory by;
Born, that man no more may die;
Born, to raise the sons of earth;
Born, to give them second birth.
WHAT ARE THESE IN BRIGHT ARRAY?
What are these in bright array,
This innumerable throng,
Round the altar, night and day,
Hymning one triumphant song ?
His Royal Highness, the late Prince Consort, set the four following Hymns to music some years ago. Translations of these Hymns in Welsh, Gaelic, Irish and German have been published
EISDIBH LAOIDH NAN AINGLE NAOMH.
Eisdibh laoidh nan aingle naomh—
"Glòir do'n naoidhean an t-àrd-Righ!
Air thalamh Gràs, us Tròcair chaomh
Dia do pheacaich 'tairgseadh sith!"
Gach uil' fhine, treubh, 'us sluagh
Togaibh suas le h-aoibhneas cridh'
Ceòl nan nèamh, an t-'òran nuadh-
"Ann am Betle'm rugadh Criosd."
Criosd 'tha 'g àiteach' cliù nan nèamh,
Criosd gu siorruidh Righ na Glòir,
Feuch cia h-iosal nis a ghné
"Teachd mar leanabh bochd na h-Oigh!
Sgàile thalmhaidh air a ghlòir;
Gràsmhor, solasach an sgeul,
"Dia 'n a chòmhnuidh anns an fheòil,
Iosa fior Emanuel."
Fàilt' air Prionnsa caomh na sìth'!
Fàilt' air Iosa Grian an àigh!
Slàint' us sonas tha fo 'sgéith,
Beath' us solus do gach àl.
'Mhòrachd chuir ré seal fo sgàil;
Cheannaich gràs do chloinn nan daoin'
Saors' o pheacadh 'us o bhàs.
Beatha àghmhor, shuthainn, naomh.
CO IAD SO LEʼN TRUSGAIN SHOILLS'?
Co iad so le trusgain shoills',
Sluagh do-àireamh, àrd 'an glòir,
Ait a' seinn a là 's a dh'oidhch'
Taobh na h-altrach le binn-cheòl?
last year by the Rev. Peter Maurice, D. D., Yarnton, near Oxford. Through the kindness of the Rev. A. Clerk, Killmallie, who translated them to Gaelic, we are enabled to give them here.
"Worthy is the Lamb, once slain,
Blessing, honour, glory, power,
Wisdom, riches, to obtain,
New dominion every hour!"
These through fiery trials trod-
These from great affliction came,
Now before the throne of God,
Sealed with His Almighty Name.
Clad in raiment pure and white,
Victor-palms in every hand,
Through their dear Redeemer's might,
More than conquerors they stand.
Hunger, thirst, disease unknown,
On immortal fruits they feed;
Them the Lamb amidst the throne
Shall to living fountains lead:
Joy and gladness banish sighs,
Perfect love dispels all fear,
And for ever from their eyes
God shall wipe away the tear.
THERE IS A REST FROM SIN AND SORROW
There is a rest from sin and sorrow,
There is a land of perfect peace;
In patience wait-a brighter morrow
Shall bid thy toils and conflicts cease.
O! not in vain the rain-clouds pouring
Their fulness o'er the thirsty earth!
They come, its faded green restoring,
They come to give new verdure birth.
O! not in vain the ploughshare driven
Down in the soft and yielding sod,
In furrows deep, designed of heaven,
Is cast the precious seed of God!
"'S airidh 'n t-Uan a fhuair am bàs
Moladh dha 'us cliù a luaidh,
Umhlachd, urram, agus gràdh
Iocadh dha gach àm 's gach uair!"
Slighe dhocair, annrach, sgìth,
Shiubhail iad tré bhròn 'us péin;
'Nis tha iad mu 'n Chathair-Righ,
Sgeadaicht' ann an ìomhaigh Dhé.
Dealrach ann an éideadh nuadh,
Geugan pailme anns gach làimh,
'S e'm Fear-Saoraidh 'thug dhoibh buaidh
Thar gach buaireadh 'us gach nàmh.
Saor o dhith o, thart, 's o thruaigh',
Craobh na beatha dhoibh mar lòn,
'Righ nan righ'-'se Criosd an t-Uan-
Ni'n treòrach' chum nan uisge bed.
Sòlas àrd tha 'n àite 'bhròin,
'An àit' eagail, sìth, 'us gràdh; Siabaidh Dia e féin na deòir
O gach sùil gu sìor, 's gu bràth.
THA SUAIMHNEAS ANN.
Tha suaimhneas ann o pheacadh 's àmhghar, Tha tir 's am mealar àgh, 'us sìth;
Feith le foighid, 's bheir an là màireach
Do shao'ir, 's do chath gu bràth gu crìch.
Cha'n ann 'an dìomhain tha neòil fhrasach
A' taomadh 'nuas air fearann cruaidh;
Is iad 'tha 'g ùrachadh a mhaise,
A' toirt dha beatha, brìgh, 'us snuaigh.
Cha'n ann 'an dìomhain tha 'n crann-arain
A' deargadh talaimh leis an sgrìob;
Tha 'n sgrìob a's doimhne air a tarruing
Gu leaba-ghineil 'thoirt do'n t-siol,
And not in vain the rod that chastens,
And not in vain the tears that flow-
With winged speed the moment hastens
When thou the need of all shalt know.
COME, WEARY SOUL.
Come, weary soul, and view the fountain
Where streams do flow to cleanse from sin;
The blood, once shed on Calvary's mountain,
Has power to make the foulest clean.
Here mercy, grace, and love unceasing,
A feast provide for all who come ;
While peace and joy and light increasing
Attend them till they reach their home.
Beyond the veil, all labours ended,
A glorious band is now at rest,
With Christ, their Lord to heaven ascended,
In his bright presence ever blest.
Here is the spring where waters flow
To quench our heat of sin;
Here is the tree where truth doth grow
To lead our lives therein.
Here is the judge that stints the strife
When men's devices fail;
Here is the bread that feeds the life
That death cannot assail.
These Lines, on the incomparable value of the Holy Scriptures, with a Prayer for the true use of the same, were
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