Think well some region where they dwell may wrack, O no! to blast our pride the Heavens do threat: Amidst this mass of cruelty and slights, Or did the mountains haunt, and forests wild, [mild; Nor sword, nor famine, nor plague poisoning air, VOL. V. Wip'd from our eyes now shall be every tear, What Persian prince, Assyrian most renown'd, Near to that sweet and odoriferous clime, Where the all-cheering emperor of time Makes spring the cassia, nard, and fragrant balms, And every hill and collin crowns with palms; Where incense sweats, where weeps the precious And cedars overtop the pine and fir: [myrrh, Near where the aged phenix, tir'd of breath, Doth build her nest, and takes new life in death; A valley into wide and open fields Far it extendeth ****** The rest is wanting. HYMNS. I. SAVIOUR of mankind! Man Emanuel! Z z So that the latter death may not devour 11. HIM, whom the earth, the sea, and sky Whom Sun and Moon, and creatures all, Mother most blest by such a dower, Blest by a message from Heaven brought, Lord, may thy glory still endure, JII. JESU, our prayers with mildness hear, Thou feeding there where lilies spring, And them with high rewards advance. The virgins follow in thy ways Whithersoever thou dost go, They trace thy steps with songs of praise, Cause thy protecting grace, we pray, Praise, honour, strength, and glory great, While time lasts, and when time is done. IV. BENIGN Creator of the stars, Eternal Light of faithful eyes, Christ, whose redemption none debars, Do not our humble prayers despise. Who for the state of mankind griev'd, That it by death destroy'd should be, Hast the diseased world reliev'd, And given the guilty remedy. When th' evening of the world drew near, To the strong force of whose high reign O holy Lord! we thee desire, Praise, honour, strength, and glory great, Whilst time lasts, and when time is done. HYMN FOR SUNDAY. BLEST Creator of the light, Who bringing forth the light of days, With the first work of splendour bright The world didst to beginning raise ; Who morn with evening join'd in one Commandedst should be call'd the day: The foul confusion now is gone; O hear us when with tears we pray : Lest that the mind, with fears full fraught, O may it beat the inmost sky, Reigning whilst times and ages last. HYMN FOR MONDAY. GREAT Maker of the Heavens wide, And didst appoint the Heav'ns their bound; Ordering where heav'nly things shall stay, Where streams shall run on earthly soil, That waters may the flames allay, Lest they the globe of Earth should spoil. Sweet Lord, into our minds infuse The gift of everlasting grace, May our true faith obtain the light, And such clear beams our hearts possess, That it vain things may banish quite, And that no falsehood it oppress. Dear Father, grant what we entreat, &c. That sin no soul opprest may thrall, That none be lifted high with pride, That minds cast downwards do not fall, Nor raised up may backward slide. Dear Father, &c. 707 HYMN FOR TUESDAY. GREAT Maker of man's earthly realm, Who didst the ground from waters take Which did the troubled land o'erwhelm, And it immovable didst make; That there young plants might fitly spring, While it with golden flow'rs attir'd Might forth ripe fruit in plenty bring, And yield sweet fruit by all desir'd: . With fragrant greenness of thy grace, Our blasted souls of wounds release, That tears foul sins away may chase, And in the mind bad motions cease. May it obey thy heav'nly voice, And never drawing near to ill, T' abound in goodness may rejoice, And may no mortal sin fulfil. Dear Father, &c. HYMN FOR FRIDAY. GOD, from whose work mankind did spring, Who all in rule dost only keep Bidding the dry land forth to bring All kind of beasts which on it creep; Who hast made subject to man's hand Great bodies of each mighty thing, That, taking life from thy command, They might in order serve their King; From us thy servants, Lord, expel Those errours which uncleanness breeds, Which either in our manners dwell, Or mix themselves among our deeds. The plenteous gifts of grace increase; HYMN FOR WEDNESDAY. HOLY God of heav'nly frame, Who mak'st the pole's wide centre bright, And paint'st the same with shining flame, Adorning it with beauteous light; Who framing, on the fourth of days, That thou might'st by a certain bound To show when months beginning take; Men's hearts with lightsome splendour bless, Wipe from their minds polluting spots, Dissolve the bond of guiltiness, Throw down the heaps of sinful blots. Dear Father, &c. HYMN FOR THURSDAY. GOD, whose forces far extend, Who creatures which from waters spring Back to the flood dost partly send, And up to th' air dost partly bring; Some in the waters deeply div'd, Some playing in the Heav'ns above, That natures from one stock deriv'd May thus to several dwellings move: Upon thy servants grace bestow, Whose souls thy bloody waters clear, That they no sinful falls may know, Nor heavy grief of death may bear; HYMN FOR SATURDAY. O TRINITY! O blessed light! Let us with songs of praise divine At morn and evening thee implore; To God the Father glory great, Both now, and still while ages run. HYMN UPON THE NATIVITY. CHRIST, whose redemption all doth free, Before the world began to be, Didst spring from him by means unknown; Thou his clear brightness, thou his light, O dearest Saviour, bear in mind, This much the present day makes known, The highest Heaven, the earth, and seas, And all that is within them found, Because he sent thee us to ease, With mirthful songs his praise resound. We also, who redeemed are With thy pure blood from sinful state, For this thy birth-day will prepare New hymns this feast to celebrate. Glory, O Lord, be given to thee, Whom the unspotted Virgin bore; And glory to thee, Father, be, And th' Holy Ghost, for evermore. HYMN UPON THE INNOCENTS. HAIL you, sweet babes! that are the flow'rs, As whirlwinds down the roses cast: First sacrifice to Christ you went, Of offer'd lambs a tender sort; With palms and crowns, you innocent Before the sacred altar sport. UPON THE SUNDAYS IN LENT. HYMN. O MERCIFUL Creator, hear Our pray'rs to thee devoutly bent, Which we pour forth with many a tear In this most holy fast of Lent. Thou mildest searcher of each heart, Who know'st the weakness of our strength, To us forgiving grace impart, Since we return to thee at length. Much have we sinned, to our shame; Grant that the flesh may be so pin'd May fast from spots of all offence. Let thine own goodness to thee bend, O satisfy us with thy sight! May'st thou our joyful pleasures be, HYMN FOR WHITSUNDAY. CREATOR, Holy Ghost, descend; Visit our minds with thy bright flame; And thy celestial grace extend To fill the hearts which thou didst frame: Who Paraclete art said to be, Gift which the highest God bestows; Fountain of life, fire, charity, Ointment whence ghostly blessing flows. Thy sevenfold grace thou down dost send, .Of God's right hand thou finger art; Thou, by the Father promised, Unto our mouths dost speech impart. In our dull senses kindle light; Infuse thy love into our hearts; Reforming with perpetual light Th' infirmities of fleshly parts. Far from our dwelling drive our foe, Be thou our guide, before to go, Be pleased to instruct our mind, To know the Father and the Son; The Spirit, who them both doth bind, Let us believe while ages run. To God the Father glory great, ON THE ASCENSION DAY. O Jesu, who our souls dost save, On whom our love and hopes depend; What clemency thee vanquish'd so, That thou from death us free might make? ON THE TRANSFIGURATION OF OUR LORD, THE SIXTH OF AUGUST. A HYMN. ALL you that seek Christ, let your sight A radiant light we there behold, Endless, unbounded, lofty, high; Than Heaven or that rude heap more old Wherein the world confus'd did lie. The Gentiles this great prince embrace; The Jews obey this king's command, Promis'd to Abraham and his race A blessing while the world shall stand. B By mouths of prophets free from lyes, Who seal the witness which they bear, His Father bidding testifies That we should him believe and hear. Glory, O Lord, be given to thee, Who hast appear'd upon this day; And glory to the Father be, And to the Holy Ghost, for aye. ON THE FEAST OF ST. MICHAEL THE ARCHANGEL. To thee, O Christ! thy Father's light, PETER, AFTER THE DENIAL OF HIS MASTER. LIKE to the solitary pelican, The shady groves, I haunt, and deserts wild, ON THE VIRGIN MARY. THE Woful Mary, 'midst a blubber'd band Of weeping virgins, near unto the tree Where God death suffer'd, man from death to free, Like to a plaintful nightingale did stand, Which sees her younglings reft before her eyes, And hath nought else to guard them, save her cries: Love thither had her brought, and misbelief Of these sad news, which charg'd her mind to fears; But now her eyes, more wretched than her tears, Bear witness (ah, too true!) of feared grief: Her doubts made certain did her hopes destroy, Abandoning her soul to black annoy. Long fixing downcast eyes on earth, at last She longing them did raise (O torturing sight!) To view what they did shun, their sole delight Imbru'd in his own blood, and naked plac'd To sinful eyes; naked, save that black veil Which Heaven him shrouded with, that did bewail. It was not pity, pain, grief, did possess The mother, but an agony more strange: Cheeks' roses in pale lilies straight did change; Her sp'rits, as if she bled his blood, turn'd less; When she him saw, woe did all words deny, And grief her only suffer'd sigh, O my! "O my dear Lord and Son!" then she began; "Immortal birth, though of a mortal born; Eternal bounty, which doth Heav'n adorn; Without a mother, God; a father, man! Ah! what hast thou deserv'd? what hast thou done, Thus to be treat? Woe's me, my son, my son ! "Who bruis'd thy face, the glory of this all? Who eyes engor'd, load-stars to paradise? Who, as thou wert a trimmed sacrifice, Did with that cruel crown thy brows impale? Who rais'd thee, whom so oft the angels serv'd, Between those thieves who that foul death deserv'd? "Was it for this thou bred wast in my womb Mine arms a cradle serv'd thee to repose? My milk thee fed, as morning dew the rose? Did I thee keep till this sad time should come, That wretched men should nail thee to a tree, And I a witness of thy pangs must be? "It is not long, the way's bestrew'd with flow'rs, With shouts to echoing Heav'ns and mountains roll'd, Since, as in triumph, I thee did behold In royal pomp approach proud Sion's tow'rs: Lo, what a change! Who did thee then embrace, Now at thee shake their heads, inconstant race! "Eternal Father! from whose piercing eye Hid nought is found that in this all is form'd, Deign to vouchsafe a look unto this round, This round, the stage of a sad tragedy: Look but if thy dear pledge thou here canst know, On an unhappy tree a shameful show! "Ah! look if this be he, Almighty King, Before Heav'ns spangled were with stars of gold, Ere world a center had it to uphold, Whom from eternity thou forth didst bring; With virtue, form, and light who did adorn Sky's radiant globes-see where he hangs a scorn! "Did all my prayers tend to this? Is this I happy was, and from thee did me bless? "How true and of choice oracles the choice Was that blest Hebrew, whose dear eyes in peace Mild death did close ere they saw this disgrace, When he forespake with more than angel's voice; The Son should (malice sign) be set apart, Then that a sword should pierce the mother's heart! "But whither dost thou go, life of my soul? O stay a little till I die with thee! And do I live thee languishing to see? And cannot grief frail laws of life controul? If grief prove weak, come, cruel squadrons, kill The mother, spare the Son, he knows no ill: |