Hymns from the Morningland Collected hymns. 1911 Unknown. Paisley: Alexander Gardner, 1911 ccel brownlie hymnsmorning hymnsmorning hymns_from_the_morningland_(brownlie) 0.9
  • Polytonic Greek proofed and corrected by Charles Coulston
v0.9Initial edition

This is releasable.

 Hymns from the Morningland John Brownlie Brownlie, John, 1857-1925 brownlie Brownlie, John All; Hymns 4 Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library mailto:ccel@www.ccel.org CCEL Stephen Hutcheson Stephen Hutcheson Paisley: Alexander Gardner, 1911 2009-02 Text.Hymns text/xml Theological Markup Language /ccel/brownlie/hymnsmorning.html JBHFE http://www.ccel.org/ccel/brownlie/hymnsmorning.html eng Public domain.

HYMNS FROM THE MORNINGLAND

HYMNS
FROM THE MORNINGLAND

BEING
TRANSLATIONS, CENTOS
AND SUGGESTIONS
FROM THE SERVICE BOOKS OF
THE HOLY EASTERN CHURCH

WITH INTRODUCTION

BY
JOHN BROWNLIE, D.D.

Author of
“Hymns and Hymn Writers of the Church Hymnary”
“Hymns of the Greek Church,” “Hymns from the Greek Office Books”
“Hymns of the Holy Eastern Church”
&c., &c.

(SIXTH SERIES)

PAISLEY: ALEXANDER GARDNER
Publisher by Appointment to the late Queen Victoria
1911

LONDON:
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO., LMD.

PRINTED BY ALEXANDER GARDNER, PAISLEY.

PREFACE

This sixth series of hymns from the Greek Offices is sent forth in the hope that some of the flowers that bloom in the gardens of the East, in which our Lord prayed and His Apostles tilled, may serve to beautify the homes of the faithful in Western lands. Cut flowers lose their beauty and freshness soon, but not infrequently their perfume remains; and roots transplanted do not always continue to put forth leaves and blossoms in that richness which adorns them in their native soil; but if in the case of the culled flowers, which are here presented, some of their perfume may chance to linger, it will probably serve to suggest their original attractiveness. That they may, in some capacity, be used to adorn the worship of Christ in our sterner clime, is the earnest prayer of the translator.

J. B.

Trinity Manse,
Portpatrick, July, 1911.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

PAGE
Introduction xi
HYMNS
My God, shall sin its power maintain 3
Christmas—
Hark! upon the morning breezes 9
Hail to the morn that dawns on eastern hills 11
Hail to the King, who comes in weakness now 13
Ye saints, exult with cheerful song 15
He came because the Father willed 17
Now the King Immortal 19
When o’er the world Augustus reigned 21
O Light resplendent of the morn 23
Passiontide—
O wounded hands and feet 27
When Jesus to the judgment hall 29
They brought Him to the hill of death 31
“Watch with Me,” the Master said 33
They cried, “Let Him be crucified!” 35
O darkest night that ever fell 37
Nailed to the cross the Saviour dies 39
O Son of God, afflicted 41
This be our prayer, O Saviour of our souls, 43
Easter—
Lo, in its brightness the morning arising 49
In the dark of early morn 51
Glory to God! The morn appointed breaks 53
Glory to God! The Christ hath left the tomb 55
Rise, O glorious orb of day 58
Ascension—
Borne on the clouds, the Christ arose 63
Lift up the gates 65
Borne on the wings of light 67
Pentecost—
Like the beams that from the sun 71
Come, Holy Ghost, in might 73
Spirit of God, in love descend 75
Lord, may Thy Holy Spirit calm 77
O God, the Holy Ghost 78
Various—
When Jesus to the Jordan came 83
When on the mount the Lord appeared 85
Behold, the King of Zion rides 87
Waving in the autumn breeze 89
When in the clouds of heaven 91
Rest in the Lord, O servant by His grace 93
Thou dost not pass a lonesome way 95
The man who erring counsel shuns 97
Lord, a band of foes increasing 99
Light of my life, O Lord, Thou art 101
From the hills the light is streaming 103
The day declines to night 105
Lord, let us feel that Thou art near 107
Come, praise with gladness, the Lord of all creation 109
Penitence and Love—
Now, with my weeping would I cleanse my soul 115
O God of love, on bended knee 117
O God, in mercy hear 119
Come to the Christ in tears 122
Forgive my heart its vain regrets 124
Far let me flee from worldly sin 126
Lord of mercy, at Thy gate 128
Burdened with a heavy load 130
Lord of a countless throng 132
Let all the world abroad 134
Thou Saviour of our sinful race 136
Where the Lord reveals His presence 138
O love of God, surpassing far 140
O God of our salvation 142
O Jesus, when my guilty fears 144
Lord, I am Thine, for Thou hast died for me 146
Aspirations—
Lord, let our eyes the things unseen behold 151
Wake to the songs that lips unsullied sing 153
Bring to the Christ your fears 155
Lord, soothe my anxious, troubled soul 158
Surpassing great the gift of God 160
My hope is firmly set 162
The time is drawing near 164
I will not yield my sword 166
If in the cause of right I must 168
The Christ on Olive’s mount in prayer 170
Like music at the stilly hour 172
O Lord, Thou in the hour of need 174
My harp upon the willows, grave 176
To Thee my soul enraptured sings 178
Modern Greek Hymns—
Christ The Word! Thine Incarnation 183
Come, keep this Feast, who holy things revere 186

INTRODUCTION

Critics are of three classes:—the laudatory, who, if they see anything to complain of, make no complaint; the severe, who, if they see anything deserving commendation, say nothing about it; and the discriminating, who see both and say it, and at the same time throw out hints which as a rule are both acceptable and helpful. Particularly is this the case when the advice tendered confirms a growing conviction on the part of a writer.

One cannot work continuously at a subject, and all the while get the thoughtful criticism of his observers, without improving his methods. From a review of a recent volume by the writer, the following is taken:—“It seems to us that it is in the adaptation, rather than strict translation, that the wealth of thought and emotion buried in the service books of the Eastern Church will be minted into coin of golden praise meet for sanctuary use, and comparable in worth and beauty to the splendid currency of these latter days.” This is strictly true, and it is the conviction which has for some time possessed the author, with the result that he has been giving less attention to translation, or transliteration, and more attention to suggestion, adaptation, and reminiscence. One cannot spend a day with the Greek service books (say with the Triodion, which contains the incomparable Lenten and Easter offices) without having his mind filled with thoughts the most beautiful, thoughts which can sometimes be expressed in almost identical phrase with the original, but which oftener, in order to do them justice by revealing them in all their richness, require to be dwelt upon, expanded, and clothed in appropriate western phrase. This is without doubt the best way in which to deal with the praise material of the Greek service books, and the present writer has set himself in this volume to act according to that conviction. Here, there are fewer translations than in any former volume, and the greater number of the hymns are reminiscences of the Greek.

The contents of this book may be ranged under three categories:—A few translations or renderings, as literal as it is possible or desirable to make them; centos, or patchwork, i.e., pieces which are not versions of any particular hymn in the original, but which are made up of portions of various hymns; and suggestions, or reminiscences of the Greek. In the case of the last, the best that can be said of them is that they owe their existence in the present instance, to the Greek. While to the ordinary reader there may be nothing in these suggestions to indicate their source, no one who is acquainted with the praise of the Eastern Church will fail to detect here and there certain marks which inevitably announce their origin. In most cases initial Greek headlines have been dispensed with, for the reason that they can serve no useful purpose, nor indicate with any certainty the source of any particular hymn.

When one rises from a contemplation of Christian worship as it is presented to him in the ancient forms of the Apostolic Church, it is with pain that his ears are assailed with charges which he knows to be as lacking in truth as they would be if they were levelled against ourselves. God knows how far we have all drifted from our ideal, and those who have the best excuse, not the farthest. But this offensive and ungrateful spirit is surely unbecoming on the part of those who owe so much to the Church which they censure. If Christian love would abound on all sides, how soon would the wounds of Christ’s Body heal! If those deep wounds are to be bound up, it will only be by pouring in oil and wine. Controversy and argument have been tried for centuries. They have failed. We must all begin where the beloved St. John so feelingly bids us,—“Little children, love one another.” Love implies humility, and if we are humble, and stoop to love, we will find hearts all over the world only longing and praying for the balm of that Divine oil. Then dogmatic differences will be solved in a new manner, and much more.

It is not a pleasant task to revert to the censures which are hurled against the Eastern Church, by critics who are obviously ignorant of her past history, and who seem to have taken no trouble to acquaint themselves with her present position; but when one is continually met with the same offensive statements, offensive because untrue, there is only one thing to be done, and that is to meet them with the truth, and refute them on every possible occasion, in the hope that in the end the truth will be vindicated.

The charges have certainly not the charm of variety; they are painfully monotonous:—The Greek Church is “dead,” and “non-missionary.” Certainly non-missionary, if dead! To say of any organization, church or other, that it is dead and non-progressive, is to say the worst that could be said.

Dead! And what are the signs of death in the Eastern Church? Truly they are marvellously unusual. Is it because she preserves the beauty, dignity, and quiet solemnity, which must ever be associated with true worship, and refuses to admit methods which are alien to it? Many of our Churches have become societies, or guilds (a familiar term in these days), in which are included every attraction which can appeal to the eyes of the world. A Pleasant Sunday Afternoon, is the guise in which the worship of God is presented to men who are not attracted by the calm and rest of God’s house; and the methods employed are bringing with them their inevitable results. We fear the Church is in danger of forgetting that its prime function is to preserve the Holy Worship of God, and by its means to establish the saints in The Faith; and that its mission is to go down to the world, inspiring those who are there with the spirit of Christ; returning at the appointed time to observe the worship of God in His house, and bringing with it those who are weary with the toil of life, that they may be refreshed; and is allowing the world to invade its sanctuary, and scare away the spirit of true worship. It is not enough to say that present-day methods must be observed, that people will not come to church unless it conforms to the spirit of the times. The human soul will still desire to dwell in the house of the Lord, to behold His beauty and to enquire, when it feels impelled by the Blessed Spirit of God,—when it longs for peace and spiritual refreshment which can only be found in communion with the Divine. Doubtless, to the pushful spirit of the age, the Church which preserves in calm dignity the form of worship which has been handed down to it through the ages, and tenaciously adhered to in the midst of persecution and martyrdom, and refuses to admit the methods of the concert hall, the debating society, and the lecture room, must appear to be a dead Church indeed. So be it!

But, it is asked, what evidences are there that the Greek Church is a living Church? What is she doing in the field of literature, theological in particular? And in aggressive Christian work at home and abroad?

From this enquiry we cannot exclude the Greek Church in Russia, for, while in the ancient sphere of that Church’s operation (in Greece, and Turkey, and Asia Minor) much is being done in the domain of education in her schools and theological colleges, and in theological literature, it is in Russia, where none of the grievous hindrances to activity exists which for 600 years have frustrated many of her efforts at home, but where free scope and encouragement for its exercise are guaranteed, that most evidence of progress is seen.

Here is the testimony of one who cannot, prima facie, be deemed unprejudiced.Vide an article in the Re-union Magazine, by F. W. Groves Campbell, LL.D., March, 1910 (London: Cope & Fenwick). A few years ago, Father Aurelio Palmieri was sent to Russia by the Vatican to procure books and manuscripts for the Russian section of the Papal library at Rome. He writes in the Tserkoviya Viedomosto (December 6, 1904):—“It is time to render justice to the truth, and to put an end to those many calumnies, which are propagated against Russia by envious and interested persons—persons who desire to deprive her of her influence, and to rob her of her prestige. In the Russian universities, the instruction given is far more serious than that given in our own Italy; and the magnificent Ecclesiastical Academies, all under religious influence, at St. Petersburg, Moscow, Kieff, and Kazan, make us feel a sense of sadness at the miserable and insufficient instruction that is given to our own Italian clergy. Let us say frankly, that in our Italy, and even at Rome, we possess no such establishments which for beauty of organization, capable professors, and wealth of libraries, can rival these Russian Ecclesiastical Academies. To convince people of the truth of my assertion, I need only refer them to the superb official organs of these Academies ... and set out what a vast quantity of scientific works [this Father Palmieri does] is brought together in these collections of Russian theological writers, and how far we in Italy are from giving to the study of theology the development which it receives in Russia.... I invite the scholars, not only of Italy, but of every nation, to make acquaintance with the innumerable collection of books now in the Vatican. They will there find convincing testimony to the intensity of the intellectual work in Russia, and to the scientific vitality of her Church....”

Again, in his book, La Chiesa Russa (Florence, 1908), he deplores, not the ignorance of the East, but the ignorance of the West. “It is deplorable,” he says, “that the intense scientific production of Russia is almost totally ignored by the West.... A great nation like Russia is not a negligible quantity affected by an intellectual quagmire (p. 671). The Russian Ecclesiastical literature is rich in monographs on particular subjects, and above all in Patristic theology. In this sphere of research, Russian Orthodoxy can even outrival the German science.” Such is the testimony of one of the most cultured men in Italy.

The question is sometimes asked, What is the Greek Church doing at the present time in the department of hymnody, in which her ancient offices are so rich? Much; but as present day compositions are not used in the canonical services, the supply of such material is not encouraged as it would be in other circumstances, and as it is in the West, where the demand for material for congregational hymnaries is so persistent. But the Greek Church can boast of many hymn writers in her communion, whose compositions would do no discredit to our Western hymnaries. Any bookseller in Athens would supply a catalogue of Greek hymnological work to any interested enquirer.

The writer has before him at this moment a volume of hymns, ΤΡΙΑΔΙΚΟΝ (Athens, 1909), the work of Bishop Nektarios, who for many years was head of the great Rhizareion Theological College in Athens. The volume contains about two hundred pieces suitable for use during the Church seasons, and for general use. They were, however, composed, so the author writes, to be read reverently, or sung privately, in the household. The language of the hymns composed by present day hymn-writers has the modern flavour, and so presents difficulties which, however, the student who has a knowledge of the language of the service books can readily overcome, with the help of a grammar and dictionary of modern Greek; for, while modern Greek is nine-tenths similar to ancient Greek (i.e., modern Greek of the first class, for there are several classes, according to the grade of society) it has yet one-tenth which differs, and it is that tenth which causes trouble. Such hymns are used at services extra ecclesiam,—at meetings, church schools, colleges, and monasteries, or at any other non-canonical service. They are, as a rule, set to attractive music, often by eminent musicians. The translation of two hymns from the fore-mentioned collection by Bishop Nektarios, are included in this volume at pp. 183-6.

So, even in the department of hymnody, the Greek Church is showing no signs of falling away, and, although she refuses to admit modern productions into her Church services, and adheres to the hymns of her early hymn-writers (an attitude, by the way, very similar to what we in Scotland maintained until very recent times, when psalms alone were permitted in our canonical services, to the exclusion of all hymns), she has yet a band of hymn-writers who uphold a noble succession, and keep adding to her treasury of praise, encouraged in their gracious work by the countenance which the Church gives to its use on all possible occasions.

But the commonest charge levelled against the Greek Church is that of being non-missionary; and the charge which is so utterly untrue, is deemed sufficient to relegate her to the limbo of the effete and worthless. The truth is, that the missionary zeal, and activity of that Church, are among the most outstanding features of her history; and when we consider the terrible odds against which she has had to contend, both in Europe and Asia, we wonder at the success that has been achieved.

Let us bear in mind that the population of Russia alone is about 170,000,000, that the natural increase goes on at the rate of four millions annually, and that in twenty years the population will amount to about 250,000,000. Think of the mighty task laid upon the Church to keep abreast of such a growth, and at the same time to keep the Faith alive in the mass,—for the great majority of this vast population are attached to the Orthodox Church. And this is the task to which the Greek Church addresses herself, to carry the blessings of Christianity to the farthest Russian outpost, and to keep the flame alive where it has already been kindled. Yet this is the Church which English-speaking Christians call non-missionary. “If we take the English Church, for example, which prides itself on its missions, and if we exclude all its missions from the category of mission work which lie within the vast Empire of England’s dominions beyond the seas (that is to say, from India, Africa, Canada, Australia, to English sailors, etc.), we would find how very few and weak English missions really are. What a poor role, then, do English missions play outside English lands! Why, then, do English folk gird at the great Russian Church for a lack of missionary zeal when she is labouring hard in her immense county in Europe and Asia for Christ? In Siberia and Asia generally she is ever spreading the Faith, and that among many tribes and tongues and peoples; and she has missions in Japan, China, Persia, Palestine, Alaska, the Aleoutine Islands, and elsewhere.”Vide footnote, p. xviii.

What the Greek Church is doing in Russian dominions, she is doing also in her ancient lands, although under quite different auspices. In Turkey and Asia Minor she keeps the flame aglow amid adverse conditions, and provides spiritual food for her vast household. Besides, she is the most active missionary agency in the Levant.

But enough has been said. If we could only overtop the mountains of prejudice, and we fear we must add, for it is the parent of prejudice, ignorance, which divide the West from the East, we should be able to look down not upon a barren wilderness, but a fruitful vineyard, in which the servants of Christ are working under the eye of their Master, even as we are working in our separate sphere. Let us think about these things.

HYMNS

“I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live!”

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I My God, shall sin its power maintain, And in my soul defiant live! ’Tis not enough that Thou forgive, The cross must rise, and self be slain. II Then in my life Thy love reveal,— As by The Christ Who bore the cross, So by my sacrifice and loss, And by the bitter pangs I feel. III O God of love, Thy love declare,— ’Tis not enough that Christ should die, I too, with Him, in death must lie, And in my death His anguish share. IV Lord, is it nothing now, to Thee?— Yea, it is much, that well I know, For Thou hast memory of the woe That filled Thy soul at Calvary. V And Thou wilt come with gracious aid, When, burdened on the awful road, I fall beneath the grievous load Upon my fainting spirit laid. VI Nor let me feel Thou hast no care, Though arrows fly, and darkness fall; Sin must be slain, but when I call Thou art attentive to my prayer. VII O God of love, Thy power disclose,— ’Tis not enough that Christ should rise, I, too, must seek the brightening skies, And rise from death, as Christ arose. VIII And from the cross, and to the grave Descend; and when the morning breaks, To life anew the soul awakes That sin nor death shall e’er enslave. IX The cross is love: the Christ’s, and mine;— ’Tis life to die, and death to live, And not enough that God forgive, If I would live the life divine.

CHRISTMAS

Δόξα ἐν ὑψίστοις Θεῷ.

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8,8,8 Trochaic I Hark! upon the morning breezes, In the darkness, ere the waking, Music sweet the senses pleases, Soft upon the stillness breaking;— “Glory, Glory!” this the singing, Welcome to Immanuel bringing. II Shepherds at their watch beholding Angels clad in glistening whiteness, Heard the wondrous news unfolding ’Mid that dazzling scene of brightness;— “Glory, Glory!” peace, and kindness, Light is breaking on our blindness. III Glorious morn! The sun uprising, Shone upon a world rejoicing; God is with us, truth surprising; List to song the message voicing,— “Glory, Glory!” ages told it, Heavenly voices now unfold it. IV God adored, our nature wearing! Ah, such condescending meekness! Stooping to a world despairing, Full of pity for our weakness;— “Glory, Glory!” praises swelling, God hath made with man His dwelling.

τεχθέντος τοῦ Χριστοῦ.

tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,4 I Hail to the morn that dawns on eastern hills, More radiant far than any earthly morn; ’Tis heavenly light that all creation fills;— The Christ is born. II Mystery profound, through all the ages sealed, Now, to a world all hopeless, and forlorn, In Bethlehem’s manger is at length revealed;— The Christ is born. III Lo, from their watch, the herdsmen raise their eyes, For, dazzling light the robe of night had torn, And angels poured their raptures from the skies,— The Christ is born. IV Bring ye your gifts of gold and incense rare Wise men who come, all travel-stained and worn, Find ye the Child, and pay your homage there;— The Christ is born. V Hail to the morn, the world exulting sings; Only to Him, in fealty we are sworn, Lord of our lives, Immortal King of kings!— The Christ is born.

οἱ μάγοι τὰ δῶρα προσφέρουσιν·

οἱ ποιμένες τὸ θαῦμα κηρύττουσιν.

tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,4 I Hail to the King, Who comes in weakness now, No wreath of gold encircleth His brow, Lowly His state,—in lowly worship bow; Hail to the King! II Born of His Maiden Mother, pure as snow, Son of our God, begotten long ago, Ere yet the stream of time began to flow; Hail to the King! III Nowhere was found a shelter for His head, Humble He lay, e’en where the oxen fed, No couch nor crib, a manger was His bed; Hail to the King! IV Herdsmen were there who heard the angels sing; Wise men from far who myrrh and incense bring, No other hand bestowed an offering; Hail to the King! V Hail to the King! O Christ upon Thy throne, Look on the souls which Thou didst make Thine own, When by Thy Birth and Death Thou did’st atone; Hail to the King!

Εὐφραίνεσθε Δίκαιοι· οὐρανοὶ ἀγαλλιᾶσθε·

σκιρτήσατε τὰ ὄρη, Χριστοῦ γεννηθέντος.

Christmas.

tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6 I Ye saints exult with cheerful song, Ye heavens be glad this morn, And let the mountains leap for joy, For Christ on earth is born. II Behold the Virgin Mother holds The Child in warm embrace,— The One-begotten Son of God, Incarnate Word of grace. III And shepherds from their lonely watch, By angel guidance given, At Bethlehem found the Promised Child, And praised the God of heaven. IV And heavenly choirs their music poured, Upon the stillness, then, Ascribing glory unto God, And peace on earth to men. V Lo, wise men from the Morningland, Their costly treasures bear, And at the manger worshipped low, And laid their offerings there. VI Now, with the angel host who sang, We join our thankful praise, To God the Father, God the Son, And Holy Ghost, always.

Ὁ Πατὴρ εὐδόκησεν,

Stichera Idiomela. Christmas.

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I He came because the Father willed, And from the midst of heaven’s renown, The promise to our world fulfilled, And won a kingdom for His crown. II He came because He willed to bear The burden that His love imposed; And all our lot of sorrow share, Until the day in darkness closed. III Ah! angels hailed that morning bright, And in the heavens their carols sung; But God Himself was hid in night, When sin and death their arrows flung. IV But not to sink beneath their power, The God-man girt Him for the fray; And from the darkness of that hour, There sprang the light of endless day. V And wounded souls the triumph knew; Fresh courage to the faint was given; And e’en the dead to life anew, Rose in the glorious might of heaven. VI For sin was crushed, and death was slain;— All hail, the great victorious Son, Who mounts the throne of heaven again, To rule the kingdom He has won.

Χριστὸς ὁ Βασιλεύς.

tr., John Brownlie 7,5,7,7,5 I Now the King Immortal Comes to claim His own,— Shepherds at their watch by night, Hail the glory of the light— They, and they alone. II Heralds from the heaven-land, Tell His Advent clear;— Where the sound of hurrying feet? Where the crowds come forth to greet? Where the loyal cheer? III Angels, on the night winds Have their carols thrown,— Theirs, the music rapturous, sweet, Theirs, the songs the Monarch greet, Theirs, and theirs, alone. IV Ah, the silent night hours, Ah, the slumberers, prone,— Mortals wake, arise, adore, Angels, shepherds, honours pour, They, and they, alone. V Jesu, King Immortal, Mount thy rightful throne; Loyal hearts their plaudits pour, Heavenly choirs in songs adore, They, not they alone.

Αὐγούστου μοναρχήσαντος ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς,

ἡ πολυαρχία τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἐπαύσατο.

By Cassia the Recluse.

Menaeon Dec. 25.

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I When o’er the world Augustus reigned, The rule of kingships felt decay; And when our Lord appeared as Man, The idol shrines were swept away. II One earthly power the people knew, One world-embracing rule obeyed; Then Gentiles to the Godhead knelt, And undivided homage paid. III And when the monarch’s will was known, A census of the tribes was told; Then, in the name of Christ their God, His faithful subjects were enrolled. IV For great Thy mercy is to us, O God, our King, Whose rule we own, And we will render while we live, One glory to Thy name alone.

νῦν πάντα πεπλήρωται φωτὸς.

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,6,8,8,6 I O Light, resplendent of the morn On golden pinions upwards borne, That usherest in the day; We rise responsive to the call, As night removes her dusky pall, And speeds her flight away. II O Light, that, from the Father’s face, Shone on our world with winning grace, When darker night prevailed; We rise to greet Thine Advent bright, All hail! majestic in Thy might, When darkness is assailed. III O let my soul Thy rising see; From every cloud my vision free, And on my pathway shine; Then shall my course, in safety trod, Lead ever nearer to my God, The source of light divine. IV O Jesus, Morn of better day, Thou Light of lights, Whose gladsome ray Gives light, and life, and cheer; Light to my soul, and life impart, And fill with joy my inmost heart, And scatter night and fear.

PASSIONTIDE

 tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6,6,6 I O wounded hands and feet! O heart, with spear thrust torn! O brow, with blood drops falling down, Beneath the stinging thorn! O Jesus, Lord divine, Why was such anguish Thine? II The angels were amazed, The sun refused his light, And they who knew that Christ was God, Turned from the woeful sight;— O Jesus, Lord divine, Why was such anguish Thine? III My soul, can’st thou not tell? Why such a sacrifice? Hast thou no needs, for which alone The cross can find supplies? O Jesus, Lord divine, Why was such anguish Thine? IV For thee the cross was reared; For thee the Christ was slain; For thee He sojourned with the dead, And rose to life again;— O Jesus, Lord divine, Thus was the anguish Thine. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6,8,8 I When Jesus to the judgment hall By cruel men was led, He wore a purple robe of scorn, And thorns upon His head;— They called Him King, and bowed the knee, And paid Him homage, mockingly. II “Away! let Him be crucified!” The impious shouts proclaim; And forth they led the Son of God To die a death of shame; And passing thence amid’ the crowd, Beneath a ponderous cross He bowed. III Behold Him nailed upon the cross And left alone to die, While from the awful scene of death His timid followers fly;— In agony He groaned and sighed, And faint, He bowed the head, and died. IV Ah, cruel death for Him to die, Ah, vilest death of shame,— Who, to redeem our guilty souls, From God, in pity came;— The glory of the Father’s throne He left, to make our souls His own. V O Jesus, to Thy cross I cling, For Thou, my Lord, art there, Who, in Thy love, True Man became, My load of sin to bear; And lo, I lift my eyes to heaven, For God in mercy hath forgiven. tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6,8,8 I They brought Him to the hill of death Where ruthless felons died, And there, upon a cross of shame, The Christ was crucified; By wicked men the nails were driven, And God, in silence, looked from heaven. II They bade Him find His help in God, If He were Christ indeed, And save Himself, as He had saved So many in their need; Such taunting words like venom stung, And God beheld the arrows flung. III They wagged their heads in mocking scorn, And bade the Christ come down,— While from His wounds the blood-drops fell, And from the thorny crown; The spear uplifted pierced His side, And God beheld the crimson tide. IV All dark at noon, the sun refused His wonted light to shed, For sin and death had God defied, And Christ His Son was dead; And God had turned His face away, Nor heard the Christ in anguish pray. V All hail the Resurrection morn! The light returns again, And Christ is throned at God’s right hand Who once for man was slain; And God extends His pardoning grace, Nor hides the brightness of His face. tr., John Brownlie 7,7,7,7 I “Watch with Me,” The Master said, And the night around Him fell, While the snares of sin and hell, On His awful path were spread. II But they slumbered while He prayed;— They who were His constant care, Heard no echo of His prayer, When His soul was sore dismayed. III Then He held the cup of woe, And the prayer to God was made,— Thrice in agony He prayed, That He might the draught forego. IV But the will of God was done, In the garden, on that night, And He rose in all the might Of the well-beloved Son. V Ah, my soul, thy Lord behold,— Wake from slumber, hear Him pray, All thy griefs are borne away, By His agony, untold. VI And the strength of God is thine When the will of God is done In obedience, as a son, Conscious of a love divine. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I They cried, “Let Him be crucified!” And surging crowds around Him pressed; With breaking heart, and soul distressed, He bore the cross on which He died. II They cried, “Let Him be crucified!” And He the well-beloved Son, The Son of God Who should have won The love He never once denied. III They cried, “Let Him be crucified!” And to the wood His hands were nailed, And mocking words His ears assailed, That God, Who looked from heaven, defied. IV They cried, “Let Him be crucified!” And when the deed of night was done, The light was blotted from the sun, And hell’s abode exulting, cried. V They cried, “Let Him be crucified!” Ah, Lord, my soul with anguish burns, As to that cruel cross it turns, For ’twas for me the Saviour died. tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6 I O darkest night that ever fell! Before the sun had set, The light was blotted from the heavens, And death, and darkness met. II For God had turned His face away From all the sin He bore, Whom in His love to earth He sent, To bear our suffering sore. III Ah! darkest night that ever falls On soul of human race, When God in anger turns away The brightness of His face; IV Then, sun and moon, and stars are lost, Amid’ our hopeless night; And all the radiant bliss of life Is curtained from our sight. V O Christ, Thou art our Light, and Sun, Our Hope ’mid guilty fears; No night surrounds Thy presence now, Nor threatening cloud appears; VI And sin and death no longer reign, Nor day to dark declines, For, from the Father’s face, a light Of reconcilement shines. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I Nailed to the cross the Saviour dies, While earth is moved with sore dismay, And e’en the sun, though high at noon, In anguish veils the light of day. II Then hell and darkness riot held, And sin and death combined their power To crush the Christ Whom sinful men Had hastened to that awful hour. III But O, ’twas darkness deeper still Than o’er the earth in blackness lay, When God beheld the suffering Son, And turned from Him His face away. IV Ah! whence that suffering? Whence that woe? The horror felt by earth and sky? The victory of the powers of night, That doomed the God-man there to die? V My soul distressed, look up! behold! With light from heaven the earth is filled;— The Christ that awful conflict met, Because a God of wisdom willed. VI Now sin its latest shaft has hurled, And death put forth its utmost might, But, lo, the Christ the conflict stood, And sin and death are vanquished, quite. VII Glory to Thee our souls proclaim, Great Son of God, Thou Victor strong; Thy love inspires our hearts to sing, The victory fills our endless song. tr., John Brownlie 7,6,7,6 D I O Son of God, afflicted, And slain for sinful men, My soul hath oft’ depicted What Thou didst suffer then,— The pain, the grief, the sighing, The burden of Thy woe, The cross, the shame, the dying That filled Thy life below. II Ah, why from heavenly blessing Didst Thou to earth descend, And share the woes distressing, To be the sinner’s Friend? The angels looked amazéd, While men untouched beheld The Christ to souls debaséd, By love divine impelled. III ’Twas love, ’twas love unbounded, As high as heaven ascends, As deep as depths unsounded, And broad as earth extends; Yea, ’twas a love undying, That suffered for my sake;— Lord, may a love replying, Within my soul awake. tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,4 I This be our prayer, O Saviour of our souls, When night is dark, and muttering thunder rolls, For none but Thee the power of hell controls,— Have mercy, Lord. II There is no help, if Thou no help wilt bring; No heavenly messenger on speedy wing; Hope gilds the morn, if to Thy cross we cling,— Have mercy, Lord. III Woeful the threats that flash from Sinai’s hill; Dark are the fears, our guilty souls that fill; Help we have none,—O then, of Thy sweet will, Have mercy, Lord. IV Strong is the arm that in our cause was raised,— Christ, be Thy name to endless ages praised, Who, at the hands of sinners was abased;— Have mercy, Lord. V Doomed to our death, the God-man bowed the head; Pierced for our sins, upon the cross He bled; Life is His gift, Who liveth, and was dead;— Have mercy, Lord; VI Life, and to live, amid the bliss beyond, Where souls beloved, to loving souls respond, Free from all bondage in Thy gentle bond,— Have mercy, Lord.

EASTER

tr., John Brownlie 11,10,11,10 I Lo, in its brightness the morning arising, Gold on the hilltops in richness is spread; Heaven decks the earth with a beauty surprising, Light is the victor, and darkness hath fled. II Lord of the morning, our souls are awaking, Flood them with beauty, and free them from gloom; Morn speaks of joy, for when morning was breaking, Free from death’s bands Thou did’st rise from the tomb. III Souls that in slumber behold not the beauty, See not the Master arise in His might; Hear not the call to the doing of duty, Know not the rapture that thrills in the light. IV Morn speaks of life,—let us rise to new living, Rise with the Lord to the freedom He gives, Give to the world what the morning is giving, Hope that was born in the darkness, and lives. V Lo, in its brightness the morning arising,— Lord of the morning, our darkness dispel; Shine in our souls, till, the sordid despising, Rise we from earth in Thy presence to dwell. tr., John Brownlie 7,7,7,7 I In the dark of early morn, Ere the light dispelled the gloom, Came the hearts with sorrow torn, Weeping to the lonely tomb. II Brought they aromatics rare Culled from every choicest stem, And from gardens blooming fair Round thy slopes, Jerusalem. III Ah, the thoughts that filled the mind, As they journeyed all alone, For the Blessed Lord was kind, And they loved Him as their own. IV Glistening in the morning grey, Whence those garments fairer far Than the light that hails the day In the glorious morning star? V List! their voices, heavenly, sweet, As the light clad angels say, Come, behold in reverence meet, Where the risen Master lay. VI Hail the gladness, hail the day, Bring no spices, bring no tears; Death has lost its power to slay, And the grave is reft of fears. tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,10 I Glory to God! The morn appointed breaks, And earth awakes from all the woeful past, For, with the morn, the Lord of Life awakes, And sin and death into the grave are cast. II Glory to God! The cross with all its shame, Now sheds its glory o’er a ransomed world; For He Who bore the burden of our blame, With pierced hands the foe to hell hath hurled. III Glory to God! Sing ransomed souls again,— And let your songs our glorious Victor laud, Who by His might hath snapped the tyrant’s chain, And set us free to rise with Him to God. IV Darkness and night farewell! the morn is here; Welcome! the light that ushers in the day; Visions of joy before our sight appear, And like the clouds, our sorrows melt away. V Great Son of God, Immortal, and renowned! Brighter than morn the glory on Thy brow; Crowns must be won, and Thou art nobly crowned, For death is dead, and sin is vanquished now. tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,10 I Glory to God! the Christ hath left the tomb, And ere the dawn upon the earth had broke, The Light of lights had burst upon its gloom, When He, our Light, from death’s dark sleep awoke. II Were there no eyes to gaze upon the sight? No hearts to sing, when sundered was the prison? Watchers there were, who lingered through the night, Angels who said, “The Master hath arisen.” III Where now its sting, since death itself is dead? Where now the power that held the captive bound? Weave laurels gay to crown the Victor’s head, Sing carols loud till earth and heaven resound. IV Break, happy morn! and let the world be glad, Night is no more, and all our fears are gone; Joy fills the souls that erstwhile had been sad, Hope fills the tomb, where hope had never shone. V Sleepers, awake! The Christ from death awoke, Break into song, and let the silence sing, Speak to the world what language never spoke, Bring from a tomb what mourners cannot bring. VI Glory to God! The Christ hath left the tomb, Hope in our souls is shining as the sun; Clouds bring no fear, for in the deepest gloom, Rest we in faith,—the Victory is won. tr., John Brownlie 7,7,7,7 I Rise, O glorious orb of day,— Christ no longer fills the grave, He hath risen with power to save,— Rise, and clear our night away. II Day, by seer and psalmist sung, Gladdest day for earth and heaven, For the Christ, Whom God had given, Hath the power from hades wrung. III Clouds of darkness, bow the head, Weep in raindrops in the night! Sorrow now is chased from sight, For the living Christ was dead. IV Heaven above, and earth below,— Men and angels raise the strain, Death could not the Christ retain,— Let your praises endless flow. V Ah, the spear, the thorns, the nails, Ah, the dying and the death, And the slow expiring breath,— But the suffering Christ prevails. VI Where can death bestow his prey? Can he hold the Lord of life? Better he had shirked the strife, Than have lost his power for aye. VII Rise, O glorious orb of day! Christ no longer fills the grave, He hath risen with power to save,— Rise, and clear our night away.

ASCENSION

ἀναβὰς εἰς ὕψος.

Ascension.

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I Borne on the clouds the Christ arose To where the light celestial glows, Till, farther than the eye could view, He passed the heavenly portals through. II Ended the weary life below, The painful toil, the grief, the woe; The conflict of the cross is past, And sin and death are slain at last. III Now, list the heavenly song begun By hosts in garments like the sun; Lift up, lift up your heads, ye gates! The glorious King an entrance waits. IV Ascended Christ! in mercy yet, Think of the hearts on Olivet, And in Thy wondrous grace restore Thy living Presence gone before. V And let the Spirit’s aid revive Our waiting souls that faithful strive, Till from our Olivet we soar, To dwell with Thee for evermore.

ἄρατε πύλας.

tr., John Brownlie 4,6,4,6,8,8 I Lift up the gates, The Lord of heaven appears; Thrust wide the doors, The King of glory nears; The throne is His Whose arm of might O’erthrew the tyrant in the fight. II Lift up the gates,— The gates of hades fell; Thrust wide the doors, He burst the doors of hell, And prisoners in the dark abode, Exulting, hailed the Son of God. III Lift up the gates,— No power His might can meet; Thrust wide the doors, The foe is at His feet; The path is cleared, the prize is won, Enter, Thou all-victorious Son. IV Lift up the gates,— They come who welcome win; Thrust wide the doors, And let His followers in; They come from toil and conflict long, Ten thousand times ten thousand strong. V Lift up the gates,— Still valiant deeds are done; Thrust wide the doors, For laurels yet are won; And when the victor sheathes his sword, Receive the follower of his Lord. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,6,6,8,8 I Borne on the wings of light, Behold the Lord ascend, Up to the portals bright Where heavenly powers attend, And fling the gates of glory wide, While praises rise like flowing tide. II Back to the Father’s bliss From war and strife below, From toil and loneliness ’Mid scenes of sin and woe;— Loud plaudits hail the Victor now, Who comes with triumph on His brow. III Lord, in the peace of heaven, Far from our toil and pain, Think of the promise given, And come to us again;— Remember, Thou, the toilsome road, That brought Thee to Thy blest abode. IV And see the toils we bear, And hear the prayers we send; In answer to our prayers, Our needy souls befriend;— We need not languish in the night, Though heaven receive Thee from our sight. V O Promised Spirit, come, And fill the empty place, Till in our heavenly home We look upon His face, Who fought with us in earthly strife, And won for us immortal life.

PENTECOST

tr., John Brownlie 7,7,7,3 I Like the beams that from the sun, Pierce the blackness of the night, Come to us, O Promised One, Spirit, Light. II Pure as saints who have attained, Clad in brightness for attire, Cleanse our souls by vileness stained, Spirit, Fire. III Stronger than uplifted arm In the tumult of the fight, Save our timid souls from harm, Spirit, Might. IV Soothing as the calm that falls When the winds and billows cease, Comfort us when fear appals, Spirit, Peace. V Come, O Gracious Spirit, come, We would have Thee for our Guest, Make our souls Thy chosen home, Spirit, Blest. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6 I Come, Holy Ghost, in might, And make our weakness strong; Renew our valour in the fight Against the power of wrong. II Come, Holy Ghost, restore The zeal our lives have lost, And on our fainting spirits pour The grace of Pentecost. III Come, Holy Ghost, in light Our minds and hearts to cheer, And pierce the darkness of our night Of ignorance and fear. IV Come, Holy Ghost, in love, Reveal the love divine, That stooped to earth from heaven above, In sympathy benign. V And while the ages run, Our praise shall rise to Thee; And to the Father and the Son, One God, eternally. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I Spirit of God, in love descend, And make our hearts Thy place of rest, In all our need a steadfast Friend To fill our store with gifts the best; II To cleanse our souls with holy fire From sordid stains that guilt imparts, And with Thy heavenly power inspire Our languid zeal, and fainting hearts; III To lift our minds to nobler things Than earth from all its best can show,— The wealth that flies on speedy wings, The fleeting joys, like sparks that glow. IV Come in the hour of sore distress, When, deep the heart for comfort sighs, And with Thy soothing kindliness The tear-drops wipe from weeping eyes. V “Lo, I am with you to the end,” Thus speaks the promise of our Lord; O Spirit of the Christ, descend, Fulfil to us the gracious word. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I Lord, may Thy Holy Spirit calm Our troubled souls, and give them rest; And with His touch, like healing balm, Allay the pain of the distressed. II We hear the promise Thou did’st make To lone disciples long ago, And peace and hope our souls o’ertake, And joy dispels our brooding woe. III Now let us feel the Spirit’s power, And let us hear His gracious word; Fulfil to us this holy hour The promise of our dying Lord. IV Come, Holy Ghost, with warmth of love, With light of hope, and calm of peace, And raise our sense bound souls above The mocking joys of earth that cease. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6,8,8 I O God, the Holy Ghost, Thou Lord of light appear, And, as of old, at Pentecost, Come to us, waiting here; And let the darkness that enshrouds, Pass from our souls like passing clouds. II O God, the Holy Ghost— The choicest gifts are Thine; Grant us the grace we covet most, And virtues most divine; And with Thy purifying fire, Consume, we pray, our vain desire. III O God, the Holy Ghost, With strength our weakness brace, That e’en the threatenings of a host We may with courage face; And put satanic power to flight, That bears upon our souls with might. IV O God, the Holy Ghost, Our soul’s enduring Friend, For all the gifts of Pentecost Our grateful songs ascend;— Thee, with the Father, and the Son We worship, glorious Three in One.

VARIOUS

ἐν Ἰορδάνῃ, βαπτιζομένου σου Κύριε,

ἡ τῆς Τριάδος ἐφανερώθη προσκύνησις·

Epiphany, January 6

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I When Jesus to the Jordan came To honour there the rite divine, Then, to the world, His awful claim Was witnessed by the Godhead Trine. II From heaven the Father’s voice declared His pleasure and paternal love; And lo! the Holy Ghost appeared, And wore the likeness of a Dove. III Thrice holy, Jesus Christ, art Thou, By Father and by Spirit blessed; We see Thee at the Jordan now, And hear Thy Godhead there expressed. IV Now to the Father glory be, And to the Son beloved by God, And to the Spirit, endlessly, In heaven and all the earth abroad.

μετεμορφώθης ἐν τῷ ὄρει Χριστὲ ὁ Θεὸς,

δείξας τοῖς μαθηταῖς σου τὴν δόξαν σου, καθὼς ἠδύναντο.

Transfiguration, August 6

tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6 I When on the mount the Lord appeared Transfigured to the sight, His countenance was like the sun, His raiment glistened white. II But dull the minds, and dark the eyes, On whom such glory shone; They saw not God upon the mount, They saw but man alone. III And when the dark and cloudy days Of death and sorrow came, What were their thoughts of Him who hung Upon the cross of shame? IV They knew not that the God of Life An offering yielded there, And of His will endured for all The load of sin He bare. V Lord, to the mount where Thou art seen In all Thy glory bright, Thy servants now would wend their way To gaze upon the Light, VI And there behold, in glory clad, The Light to mortals given, That in the night that hid the cross, Shone with the light of heaven.

Ἰδοὺ, ὁ βασιλεύς σου ἔρχεται.

Palm Sunday

tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6 D I Behold, the King of Zion rides, But not in vain array; The people wave their goodly palms, With garments strew the way; And loud hosannas fill the air From crowds that, surging, throng; ’Tis meet to honour Him Who rides With cheer, and shout, and song. II O Zion, of your God beloved, The day of strife is nigh, Yet comes He not with armour clad, And sword upon His thigh; The weapons of your mighty King No other hand could wield, The might of God is in His arm, The will of God His shield. III See, on the cross, without the wall, The King Immortal dies; Not now hosannas fill the air,— The shouts of hell arise; But in that hour of triumph, deemed, Satanic might is slain, For He Who bows the head in death, Shall rise to life again. IV O Zion, hail your mighty King, Your palms around Him wave, And strew your garments in the way Of Him Who rides to save; And when He mounts His regal throne, By bloody conflict won, Give homage to the King of heaven, God’s One Eternal Son.

ἀγαλλέσθω τὰ δρυμοῦ.

Elevation of the Cross

Menaeon, Sept. 14

tr., John Brownlie 7,7,7,7 I Waving in the autumn breeze, Clap your hands, ye forest trees, For the arms that now entwine Needy souls, were stretched on thine. II And the cross that bore the weight Of the Christ, Creator great, By the power that still remains, All the universe sustains. III Emblem, by the Church adored; Might, that wields the kingly sword; Glory, of the ransomed host; Agony, of spirits lost. IV Cross of Christ! we lift our eyes And behold the sacrifice; For the arms that now entwine Needy souls, were stretched on thine.

Judgment

tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6,8,8 I When in the clouds of heaven The Lord, the Judge, appears, When memory brings my sin to light, And conscience fills with fears,— In mercy, Lord, have mercy then, Nor rank my soul with wicked men. II I have no plea to give, The sin is all my own, I cannot bear the searching glance Nor for that sin atone; I can alone that mercy crave,— O Lord, Thine erring servant save. III Didst Thou not come to earth? Didst Thou not die for me? And all my sin in mercy bear Upon the awful tree? I claim that sacrifice, and pray, Turn not my erring soul away. IV The record of my sin, In mercy, Lord, remove, And to a place at Thy right hand Call Thou my soul, in love; That love divine I make my plea, O may that love encircle me.

τὸν πιστὸν οἰκέτην σου, ἀνάπαυσον

ὡς εὔσπλαγχνος.

Burial of a priest

tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,10 I Rest in the Lord, O servant by His grace, Dwell in His courts, and gaze upon His face, Know nought of toil, of weariness, or woe, They rest who serve, not weary, as below. II Rest in the Lord, the strife of war is past, Wear now the wreath of victory at last; E’en death is slain,—the cross of Christ sufficed, Death is not death, to those who live in Christ. III Rest in the Lord, the goal of life is won, To thee ’tis given to hear the glad “Well done”; Great their reward, who, till their Lord appear, Serve in the vineyard of the Master, here. IV Rest in the Lord; none can His honour claim, They honour have, who honour most His name; Thine this reward who counted gain but loss, Nor felt it shame to glory in the cross. V Rest in the Lord; swift comes the happy time, When we who strive shall reach Thy fairer clime; Christ, give us welcome when the toil is past, And bring us to the bliss of heaven, at last.

μακαρία ἡ ὁδός, ᾗ πορεύῃ σήμερον, ὅτι

ἡτοιμάσθη σοι τόπος ἀναπαύσεως.

Burial of a layman

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I Thou dost not pass a lonesome way, O soul released from mortal coil,— Thou leav’st behind the weight and toil, And thou art blessed of God to-day. II The path thou treadest He hath trod Whom heaven received from death’s abode,— He knows each turning of the road That brings the unburdened soul to God. III It is not dark, it is not sad, It is not haunted now with fear,— The saints have found it full of cheer, For with His comfort they were glad. IV Yea, with His presence thou art blest, And light upon the path is shed, For lo, He liveth Who was dead, And thou art journeying to thy rest. V ’Tis we, not thou, who are distressed, For, blessed, blessed, is the way, O soul, thou journeyest to-day, That leads to everlasting rest.

Psalm I

tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6,8,8 I The man who erring counsel shuns, Nor strays where sinners meet, But in the law of God delights In meditation sweet, Shall reap the happiness of those To whom the Lord His favour shews. II As tree beside the water brooks Whose leaf unfading lives, And when the time appointed comes, A bounteous fruitage gives;— So shall he prosper all his days, Whose hope is in God’s law always. III Not so the wicked,—they are chaff Before the wind that flies, Nor could they stand His searching glance, Should God in judgment rise; For known to God are all the right, But wicked men shall perish quite.

Psalm II

Morning

tr., John Brownlie 8,7,8,7 I Lord, a band of foes increasing Terror to my heart would bring; For they tell my soul unceasing, That no help from God can spring. II Yet Thou art my shield about me, Till the time of strife is past; And though cruel foes may flout me, Thou wilt hear my prayer at last. III On my couch when night was falling, Lay I down devoid of fear; And when morning light was calling, I awoke, for thou wert near. IV Tens of thousands round my dwelling Stand arrayed to do me harm; But my trust when foes are swelling, Rests in Thine almighty arm. V Rise, O Lord, for Thou, victorious, Hast the might of sin o’erthrown, And amid Thy triumph glorious, Bless the people Thou dost own.

Psalm XXVII

Verses 1-6

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,6,8,8,6 I Light of my life, O Lord, Thou art, No fear afflicts my trusting heart When, all secure in Thee As in a fortress I repose, And evil men, my direst foes, Are baulked that trouble me, II Hosts may encamp on every side, And pallid fear the trust deride That saves me from affright; But in the Lord my hope shall last, Till noise of war and strife are past, And flee the powers of night. III To God I make this chief request, That I in His abode may rest Through all my earthly days, To mark its comeliness and grace, And see the beauty of His face, Whose love inspires my praise. IV There shall I dwell unseen by all, Secure when days of trouble call, And evil doers mock; And He shall hide me in His tent, Till all the wrath of man is spent As tempests on a rock. V Therefore to Thee my praise I’ll give, And joyful offerings while I live My grateful soul shall bring; For Thou my foes hast beaten down, With victory Thou my head dost crown, And tun’st my heart to sing.

Morning

tr., John Brownlie 8,5,8,5 I From the hills the light is streaming, Hail, the gladsome morn! Earth with busy life is teeming, For the day is born. II Dawn, Thou Light of lights, undying On a fairer day, All creation beautifying With Thy glorious ray. III Weary eyes the hills are scanning For the early gleam; Souls, Thy long delay unmanning, Sleep, and idly dream. IV Ah, my soul, be up and doing, Life will soon be done, Night, the day is close pursuing To the setting sun. V And the day of God shall waken To the soul with fear, If, the call of life forsaken, We are slumbering here. VI From the hills the light is streaming, Hail the gladsome morn! And the light of God is beaming,— This, His day, is born.

Evening

tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6,8,8 I The day declines to night, The shadows lengthening fall, And see, the deepening purple light Throws on the hills its pall;— Lord, be our Light when suns decline, And in our souls unclouded shine. II Still is the eventide,— Calm is the soft repose, When earthly toil is laid aside, And eyelids drooping, close; Lord, let Thy peace my soul possess, In everlasting restfulness. III Night of my life draws near; Lord, when the light departs, Be all to me that Thou hast been To other trusting hearts, And in the calm that night bestows, Let me in peace with Thee repose. IV The night gives place to morn, The gloom shall pass away, And an eternal day be born, Whose sun shall shine for aye; Lord, wake me when the morn is come, And let me find with Thee my home.

The New Year

All-embracing as the Greek Service Books are, curiously enough, strictly speaking, they contain no Thanksgiving services. It has been left for the Russian Church to make them for the Greeks to imitate.

The models of the Ectene and Litanies are found in the Euchologion, at vespers, but adaptations of their petitions to every eventuality in human life, are the work of Russians, whose names, however, have not been preserved. Here is an example from the Thanksgiving service for the New Year.

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,4 I Lord, let us feel that Thou art near, And while we pray, in mercy hear; Crown with Thy love the opening year;— Have mercy, Lord. II Of Thy benignity, we pray, Thy gracious Spirit grant alway, Our strife and discord to allay;— Have mercy, Lord. III May peace our inmost soul possess, And in our lives our converse bless, With unaffected kindliness;— Have mercy, Lord. IV Our sinful past, we here repent, With tears our wayward course lament, Now, let Thy pardoning grace be sent;— Have mercy, Lord. V As seasons come, Good Lord ordain That we the fruits of earth obtain, Send us the sunshine and the rain;— Have mercy, Lord. VI With strength Thy Holy Church endue, The anger of her foes subdue, The offerings of Thy grace renew;— Have mercy, Lord.

Harvest Hymn

tr., John Brownlie 12,10,12,10 I Come, praise with gladness the Lord of all creation, Heaven tells His glory, earth His bounty shews; Lowly He sought us, and won for us salvation, Grace fills our lives with goodness He bestows. Refrain. Bountiful Giver, Thine be the praise, Blessing, and honour, and glory, always. II Spring time and harvest, and cloud and summer gladness, Come to our earth because His promise lives; Morn smiles with beauty, and evening soothes our sadness;— Such are the treasures that His bounty gives. Refrain. III Spring time is now, and summer with its beauty; Brightness and sadness here alternate come; Lord, may the flowers, and fruits of love and duty, Blossom and ripen for Thy harvest home. Refrain. IV Then when the angels, the reapers at the ending, Gather the fruitage which our lives have grown, May we with gladness, angel toil attending, Sing of the harvest at the heavenly home. Refrain. Bountiful Giver, Thine be the praise, Blessing, and honour, and glory, always.

PENITENCE AND LOVE

tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,10 I Now with my weeping would I cleanse my soul, And with my grief would shame my sin away; But tears no virtue have to make me whole, Nor sorrow power to end sin’s hateful sway. II But yet the heart in sore distress that sighs, Looks to the Christ His succour to impart; And God receives the pleasing sacrifice, A broken spirit, and a contrite heart. III Nailed to the cross I see my Saviour bleed,— This is the sacrifice my soul requires; Here is the cleansing, and the power I need, To quell the rising of my vain desires. IV Speak to my heart, O Jesus Christ, Who came Fired by Thy love, an offering for sin; And by a love enkindled at that flame, Win me forever from the self within. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I O God of love, on bended knee, We, guilty sinners, call on Thee; Now, by the cross that Jesus bore, Extend Thy mercy, we implore. II We have no plea to urge but this, Our own exceeding sinfulness, And all the love to sinners shown Who claim His merits as their own. III Ah, weary with the toil of sin, We seek Thy matchless grace to win; Lord, break the fetters that enslave, And let us know Thy power to save. IV Rise on the darkness of the way That leads from night to perfect day, And let the joy that light awakes Possess the soul that sin forsakes. V O Christ, to Thee our praise ascends, Whose love the needy soul befriends; For, by Thy cross our souls are free To love and praise, eternally. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6 D I O God, in mercy hear, I lift my cry to Thee, And let Thy gracious help be sent In my perplexity; But Thou art far away, And I am filled with shame, I cannot see Thy blessed face, And fear to name Thy name. II And now a sense of guilt Inspires me with dismay,— I know that none on earth can take That awful load away; ’Tis mine, the sin, ’tis mine, And mine the guilt to bear, The awful burden of the blame, The cloud of dark despair. III Is there no balm to heal? No pity that can bless?— O God, Who art so far away, Be near in my distress; And heed the tears I shed, And hear my woeful cry; And since there is no hand to help, Come Thou in mercy nigh. IV ’Twas then a voice I heard,— It came in winning tone, Across my night, from far away, To where I prayed alone; It told me of a love, That sought me long ago, And on the cross my burden bore, Of sin, and guilt, and woe. V O blessed cross of Christ! Thou hast my need supplied, For there, upon thy outstretched arms I see the Crucified; And He has sin to bear, That none can call His own,— O Christ, the sin and guilt Thou bor’st, Are mine, are mine, alone. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,6,6,8,8 I Come to the Christ in tears, And in His hearing tell Thy sins, and griefs, and fears, The wants He knoweth well; Fear not to bring a large request, He gives, and giveth of His best. II Come to the Christ in tears: The contrite heart He wills; And every prayer He hears, And every vessel fills;— We never ask, and sigh unblest, He gives, and giveth of His best. III Come to the Christ in tears;— As when the clouds depart A glorious light appears— So joy shall flood the heart; They cannot weep who share His grace, And see the smiling of His face. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I Forgive my heart its vain regrets, And, as I cast my eyes behind, Subdue the spirit, Lord, that frets, Because the light with dark is twined. II I cannot understand the way By which unerring wisdom leads; Nor do I know for what to pray, Unconscious of my deepest needs. III Thou, Whose almighty power upholds The stars that in their courses move,— Whose eye creation’s need beholds To prompt the outflow of Thy love;— IV Teach me in calm content to live ’Mid all the changes life contains, Assured that, love and wisdom give The blessing that for aye remains. V And in the darkness and the light, And in the gladness and the pain, Make me to know that all is right, And every loss my truest gain.

πόῤῥω ἐκφευξώμεθα κόσμου, ἅπαν τὸ ἁμάρτημα.

tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I Far let me flee from worldly sin, Nor look behind, but onward press; Lest the deceit that lurks within, Should link the soul to worldliness. II Ah! whither shall I flee, my God? There is no refuge but in Thee, And Thy command exceeding broad, Condemns my soul’s perversity. III But in Thy grace my troubled soul Would find forgiveness freely given; And in Thy Spirit’s firm control, A power to lift me nearer heaven. IV Thus shall I flee from worldly sin, Nor look behind, but onward press, And daily fight, and daily win The rich reward of righteousness. tr., John Brownlie 7,7,7,7 I Lord of mercy, at Thy gate, Needy souls imploring pray; Have we come, Good Lord, too late? Must we turn in grief away? II Young and old Thy mercy claim,— Some are early at the gate, Some are late to own Thy name, Surely none, though late, too late! III Blessed, who with morning sun, Hopeful at Thy portals wait; Yea, and when the day is done, Blessed they who find the gate. IV Ah, Good Lord, when Thou wert here, Homeless, in our world of sin, Few, to give Thee warmth and cheer, Called their weary Lord within. V Sad, repenting, full of fear, Hoping, doubting, still we wait; As we call, in mercy hear;— Open, Lord, to us the gate. tr., John Brownlie 7,8,7,8 I Burdened with a heavy load, Lord, we come, for Thou art calling; Rough and toilsome is the road, And the night around is falling. II Sin, the burden that we bear, Fills us with a dread to meet Thee; Yet, we yield not to despair, But for mercy would entreat Thee. III From the cross a glorious light Falls upon our path to cheer us; And a hope on pinions bright Hovers, in the darkness, near us. IV For the sake of Him Who bore All the sin, we come lamenting, Let Thy pardon now restore Sinners, at Thy feet, repenting. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6,6,6 I Lord of a countless throng, Fair as the stars of night, Won from the thrall of cruel wrong Back to the good and right; Thine is the praise they sing, Lord of their souls, and King. II Thine was the love that sought Far as their wanderings led; Thine was the wondrous grace that brought Life to the faint and dead; Pardon for all the past, Peace that shall endless last. III Lord of a countless throng Sworn to be faithful aye, When, in the power that makes them strong, They stand in evil day; Make us by grace, we pray, Loyal and brave as they. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,6,6 I Let all the world abroad In cheerful praise unite To bless the name of God, Creator, Lord of might. II He made the sea and land, The pastures rolling wide, The mountains towering, grand, The streams that ceaseless glide; III The cattle on the hills, The flocks afield that rove, The birds, whose music fills The silence of the grove; IV The heavens that, day and night, His matchless power declare, The sun and moon, whose light Illumines everywhere. V Let man, creation’s lord, His rightful homage give To Him Whose mighty word First called his soul to live. VI And with the heavenly host, Our Sovereign Lord adore, And Son, and Holy Ghost, Both now, and evermore. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I Thou Saviour of our sinful race, We sing the fulness of Thy grace; Lord, as our songs in rapture soar, On us Thy loving-kindness pour. II There is no merit of our own, No plea to offer, save alone That Thou hast died upon the tree, To set our sin-bound spirits free. III O, when the world, in awful fear, Beholds the Judge of all appear, Be this our joy on that dread day, That Christ hath borne our sins away. IV When in the land of bliss divine, Our souls in robes of beauty shine, This be our song before the throne, Not ours the beauty, Thine alone. V To Thee, O God, be glory given, And to the Christ, the King of heaven; And to the Holy Spirit, blest, Be praise for evermore exprest. tr., John Brownlie 8,7,8,7 I Where the Lord reveals His presence, Glory lights the sacred place, And the soul in adoration Falls before the throne of grace. II Seraphim, and saints in wonder, Lift their songs where Christ is set, And employ, in sacred homage, Harp, and palm, and coronet. III Light of lights, no light approacheth,— Sun, nor moon, nor stars of night, Flood the noon-tide and the darkness With such radiance of delight. IV Beauty of the King Immortal! Ere we rise to where Thou art, Let the glory of Thy presence Chase the darkness from our heart. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I O Love of God, surpassing far The loves that human hearts unite, Far from our ken as yonder star That sheds its radiance on the night; II High as the heavens, and deep as hell, Broad as the world’s infinite need,— None but the Christ that love can tell, And none its winning power impede. III Glory to God! that love exprest Came in the gift our need required, And in the Christ our lives are blest, And by His love are souls inspired. IV And from the manger to the cross, And at the noon-day and the night, He bore the burden of our loss, Nor shunned the anguish and despite. V And ’twas the love of God He showed, When, crowned with shame, He meekly died;— No gifts by bleeding love bestowed, So great as Jesus crucified. tr., John Brownlie 7,6,7,6 D I O God of our salvation, Who in Thy glorious might, Didst speak, and all creation Arose from brooding night; And chaos, and confusion, To form and order sped, While lo! in rich profusion The earth its beauty spread. II O God of our salvation, Thy word hath still its power, And souls in desolation Are lying at this hour; Speak as of old, and banish The chaos and the night, And bid their sorrows vanish Before Thy glorious light. III O God of our salvation, Thy Word our Flesh became; To free from condemnation He bore our human name, And spoke to us confiding Of all the Father willed; And we, with Him abiding, Are with His fulness filled. IV O God of our salvation, Thou, Christ, in mercy come, And make Thy new creation Thine everlasting home; And in our hearts abiding, And in Thy Church adored, Still speak the word confiding, O Jesus Christ, our Lord. tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6,8,8 I O Jesus, when my guilty fears My wakened soul distress, And Judgment for the past appears In all its awfulness,— Bid gathering clouds asunder roll, And shed Thy sunshine in my soul. II When from their long-forgotten grave My guilty deeds arise, And terror proves me yet the slave My soul would fain despise,— From stings of memory heal my soul, And free me from sin’s dire control. III O Lord, in Whom my hope is set, I look in faith to Thee; From sin, and guilt, and sad regret, My soul in mercy free;— For, in that mercy, Lord, I trust, And lie, repenting, in the dust. tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,10 I Lord, I am Thine, for Thou hast died for me; Thy claim I own, and give myself to Thee; Not with the price of gold, of gold most fine Hast Thou redeemed my soul, and made me Thine. II Thy blood was shed upon the awful tree; I marvel at the love there shown for me All loveless, and to sin and self a slave;— Thy gifts enriched me, yet I nothing gave. III Now in its wonder would my soul arise, Shorn of all pride, but precious in Thine eyes, Who for its life Thy glory laidst aside, And wore its shame, and for its purchase died; IV And fired with love, that wondrous love proclaim In life, in death, in fealty to Thy name; In loving service, for such service given, Here upon earth, and yonder in Thy heaven. V Lord, I am Thine, Thy love hath won my soul; Now shall my life obey such sweet control;— No, not mine own, the purchase is complete, I bring my all to lay it at Thy feet.

ASPIRATIONS

tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,10 I Lord, let our eyes the things unseen behold, And, ’mid the glory that like sunset dies, Fair to the sight the wondrous bliss unfold That lives in beauty under cloudless skies. II And let our ears the things unuttered hear, That silent voices to the soul can tell; That heart can whisper when a heart is near Of love that scorns in uttered tones to dwell. III Teach us to know that things unseen are real, That earth no bloom of fadeless beauty gives, That far beyond the things that sense can feel, The joy of being, and of having, lives. IV Lord Who hast risen, nor left the world behind, Daily incline our sense-bound souls to soar, Till ’mong the things all hidden we may find Possessions that abide for evermore. tr., John Brownlie 10,10,10,10 I Wake to the songs that lips unsullied sing, And let their tones responsive echoes call,— There’s more to cheer us than our senses bring, And sweeter anthems than from mortals fall. II Saints in the land where sin is all unknown, Where care nor sorrow can the light subdue, Dwell in the glory of the heavenly throne, And voice new praise, for wonders ever new. III Wake to their praise, and let us blend with theirs Songs that shall travel to a fairer clime; Glad as the morn, and hallowed by our prayers, Offerings of duty from the realm of time. VI One, we are one with victors gone before; Songs that are ours, were theirs when in the strife; Theirs shall be ours when, all our striving o’er, Christ gives us entrance to immortal life. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,6,6,6,6 I Bring to the Christ your fears, And tell your sorrows there, The faintest cry he hears, And every faltering prayer; He knows your weight of woe, Who dwelt with us below. II With thought of sin opprest, Does conscience smite thee sore? There is a place of rest, Where sin afflicts no more; See, where the blood was spilt, The cross hath borne thy guilt. III Think you of former bliss, Of happier, sunnier hours, When fragrant joys you miss, Bestrewed your path like flowers? With Christ more joys abound, Than can on earth be found. IV Mourn you a heart estranged, Once kind, but now grown cold? A happy friendship changed, Now that the years are old? There is a Friend above, And His, a lasting love. V Is there an empty room Where silence broods alone, All curtained round with gloom, Where once the sunlight shone? Hearts that are linked below, In Christ no parting know. VI Bring then to Christ your fears, And tell your sorrows there, The faintest cry He hears, And every faltering prayer; He knows your weight of woe, Who dwelt with us below. tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6 D I Lord, soothe my anxious, troubled soul, And bid its doubting cease, Speak to the crested waves that roll, To sink in quiet peace; And bring me to a place of rest, A haven calm and still, Where every soul by sin distressed, May dwell secure from ill. II Ah! Thou wert once, my Blessed Lord, By surging waters pressed, But Thou didst speak th’ almighty word And laidst them still at rest; And ’gainst Thy soul the wrath of sin Its tempest fury cast, But Thou didst stand, serene within, Till all the storm had passed. III O Christ, the hiding-place of those Who face the blinding blast, And battle with a myriad woes That sweep in fury past; Be Thou my comfort and defence, While storm fiends wildly cry,— My star of hope when night is dense, And dangers round me lie. tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6 I Surpassing great the gift of God To erring mortals given, A way that, from their dark abode, Leads to the light of heaven. II O Christ Who art the living way, Plant Thou my feet therein, And lead me lest I go astray In luring paths of sin. III Too long I’ve found a sad delight In wandering from Thy care, Nor feared the sudden fall of night, The darkness, and the snare. IV O Jesus Christ, to Thee my soul In conscious weakness clings; Teach me to seek the kind control That peace and safety brings. V And lead me upwards day by day, Till, night and danger past, I reach by Thee the living way, The Father’s house at last. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,8,6 I My hope is firmly set On Him Whose truth abides; The lights of earth may fade and die, The hopes of earth despairing fly,— No fear my heart betides. II My love its ardour finds In Him Whose love is strong, Who bought me with a price untold, More than of silver or of gold, And fills my heart with song. III My peace its calm attains In Him Whose power defends; My foes may sound a loud alarm, I trust securely in the arm He for my succour lends. IV My joy its gladness sings In notes His voice awakes,— A joy no effort can attain, That thrills alike in loss and gain, And when the world forsakes. V Thou Christ art all I need, Of all my bliss the spring; More fulness in Thy grace is found, Than when the corn and wine abound, And all the world can bring. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6 D I The time is drawing near, It cannot tarry long, When they who face the conflict here, Shall join the glorious throng, Where gladness fills each heart, And honour crowns each brow;— For tireless service fit me, Lord, By willing service now. II Let no depressing thought My brooding mind depress; But let me hear, in winning tones, What they who serve possess, Where gladness fills each heart, etc. III Let sunshine flood the soul, When threatening night descends, That I may see the light serene No sunset ever ends. Where gladness fills each heart, etc. IV Let strength my spirit nerve, That, with each labour done, I may, like those who serve above, See some new task begun; Where gladness fills each heart, etc. V The time is drawing near,— Till that bright morning break, May I, with those who see Thy face, Thy will, my pleasure make: Where gladness fills each heart, etc. tr., John Brownlie 6,6,8,6 I I will not yield my sword, I will not bow the knee, But I would hear the blessed word That calls my soul to Thee; And through the din of war, And in the midst of strife, That word shall be the guiding star To lead me on to life. II And in the midst of snares Which subtle fingers lay, I shall not stumble unawares Upon the upward way; But keep before my eyes The goal before me set, Lest I should miss the glorious prize Which loyal victors get. III O Christ, Who art my King, Thy cause I make mine own, Till proud rebellious foes shall bring Their homage to Thy throne; Till then my heart revive With courage brave and strong, And steel my feeble arm to strive Against the power of wrong. IV When from the fateful field I hail my rightful King, To Him my trusty sword I’ll yield, And all my trophies bring; And He shall crown my head With honours richer far Than trophies from the conquered dead, And all the spoils of war. tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6 I If in the cause of right I must, Do battle with the sword, Then, let me follow Him I trust, My chosen King and Lord. II As Captain in the mortal fight, He knows the foe I fear; His presence fires my soul with might, And fills my heart with cheer. III If I should see Him ever near, When blows unceasing fall, I shall no flaunting banner fear, Nor loudest battle call. IV And in the thickest of the strife, No polished shaft I’ll dread, For He preserves my soul in life, In battle shields my head. V No power shall in the fight prevail, No subtle gin ensnare, Though all the hosts of hell assail, And guile the fraud prepare. VI Lord, gird me with Thy armour bright, And lead me forth to win, For I would battle for the right Against the might of sin. tr., John Brownlie 8,6,8,6 I The Christ on Olive’s mount in prayer His heart to God exprest; And as they held sweet converse there, His soul with peace was blest. II Far from the din of troubled life, The tumult, and the swell, A silence, stilling earthly strife, Upon His spirit fell. III And there a voice whose soothing tone The trusting spirit filled, Came with that grace by which alone Our great unrest is stilled. IV O may the blessed thought, divine, That moved the Christ to prayer, Our weary, anxious souls incline Like peace and joy to share; V And on the mount where God is met, May we the solace know, That found His soul on Olivet, Who shared our life below. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I Like music at the stilly hour, When twilight veils the light of day, A gentle voice, with winning power, Allured me from the world away. II It made me sad, because I thought That love undying I could spurn; It made me glad, because it brought A loving message in return. III Ah, then the Christ my sin revealed, And bade me cast the barrier down, And rise to things from eyes concealed, More lasting than the world’s renown. IV I found the pathway to the cross, And lo, my blindness passed away, For radiant sunlight swept across The darkness that had led astray. V ’Twas then that Christ, in all His love, In all His beauty won my soul;— Now, for the treasures stored above, I thrust aside the world’s control. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I O Lord, Thou in the hour of need, Didst succour those who sought Thine aid,— The faint revive, the hungry feed,— And on the sick thine hand was laid. II Our needy souls Thy help would crave, For faint they droop, and hungry pine,— Lord, from their mortal sickness save, And heal them by Thy power divine. III Where memories weave a sombre web, And sighs reveal the heart distressed, Where joys that flowed, in murmurs ebb, And buoyant souls are sore oppressed; IV Come as of yore, all helpful, come, And let Thy loving kindness bless, That, where the voice of praise is dumb, Songs may arise of thankfulness. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,8,8 I My harp upon the willows, grave, In weeping days is sadly hung, For, Lord, the joy Thy presence gave, Is from my soul in anguish wrung. II I think upon the peaceful hours, With Thy companionship to please; But now the world is shorn of flowers, And birds are mute among the trees. III Wilt Thou not come as morning light? As spring that wakes the sleeping earth? As zephyrs on the tuneless night, To stir my soul to holy mirth? IV O matchless Love! for me expressed, O gift of Love surpassing great! Wake love responsive in my breast, And make my drooping soul elate. V My heart is strung; up heart, proclaim In joyful strains the Love divine, That stooped from highest heaven, and came To earth to save this soul of mine; VI To free my heart from carking cares, From trusting aught to fleshly aid; To shew me sin’s seductive snares, That for unwary feet are laid. VII Blest Spirit of my God, return, And o’er my life resume Thy sway, That love within my soul may burn, And quicken joy from day to day. tr., John Brownlie 8,8,6,8,8,6 I To Thee my soul enraptured sings, O Thou, Immortal King of kings Enthroned where glory shines; The garland of the praises sweet, That I would offer at Thy feet, My grateful heart entwines. II More rare Thy beauty than the best By highest heaven or earth possessed; More radiant than the sun, The glory shining from Thy face That fills with light the holy place, O Thou Immortal One! III Greater Thy might than lord of war,— Thy vast dominions stretch afar Beyond a kingly sway; Thy hand upholds the earth and sea, And heaven, and all that therein be, Thy wise decrees obey. IV But not by rule of power alone Are subjects loyal to Thy throne, Thy love their fealty wins,— A love that, by its winning grace Allured our fallen, guilty race From their rebellious sins. V Lord, by Thy cross that won my soul, From bondage to benign control, My every power possess; That, daily, I my cross may bear, And find, to serve Thee everywhere, Is praising Thee the best. VI To Thee my soul enraptured sings, O Thou Immortal King of kings, But I would join the song, Of myriad souls in realms of light, Who praise their King by day and night, Through all the ages long.

MODERN GREEK HYMNS

Χριστὸς ὁ Λόγος με θεοῖ σαρκούμενος.

The following is a close rendering of a hymn to Christ The Word, taken from a collection of hymns to The Three One God, by Bishop Nektarios, Metropolitan of Pentapolis (vide Introduction, page xxi). The hymn, which is in anapaests, is at page 10 of the author’s collection, where it bears the title, Ὠδὴ εἰς τὸν κύριον ἡμῶν Ιησοῦν Χριστὸν. The volume was published at Athens, 1909, and is one of many similar collections written by hymn-writers in the communion of the Greek Church.

Bishop Nektarios, 1909 tr., John Brownlie 8,7,8,7 D I Christ The Word! Thine Incarnation Links my nature to Thine own; By Thy sore Humiliation, I am lifted to Thy throne; By Thy suffering Thou hast fired me With a zeal to sacrifice, And to noble life inspired me,— Hence my grateful songs arise. II Word of God! Thy Crucifixion Hath upraised me from the earth; By Thy death and dereliction, Thou hast given me nobler birth; By Thy Resurrection glorious, Life immortal now I own,— Hence ascend my songs victorious To Thy praise, O Christ the Son. III By Thy hand at the creation, Thou didst form me from the ground, And, to mark my kingly station, With Thine image I was crowned; And that hand, when pierced and bleeding, Raised me from corruption’s mire, And, though all this love unheeding, Decked me with divine attire. IV Thou who gav’st my soul its being, Breathing in me life divine, Didst, by Thine all-wise decreeing, Unto death Thy life resign; And from death my soul defending, Thou didst sojourn with the dead, That Thou mightst, my fetters rending, Raise me up, Thou Glorious Head! V Shame be on your heads abiding, Disobedient people now, Who to death, and vile deriding, Caused the Word of God to bow! Shame! for death, nor powers infernal, Nor the dark of hades’ gloom, Could retain the King Eternal In the bondage of the tomb.

Δεῦτε καὶ μιμησώμεθα ἐν τῇ παρούσῃ ἑορτῇ.

Another rendering from the Greek of Bishop Nektarios. The original is on page 68 of his collection, where it is entitled, Ὕμνος εἰς τὴν βάπτισιν τοῦ κυρίου ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ. The hymn is obviously based on the troparian and contakion for the Feast of the Theophany, or Epiphany (January 6), and the contakion for the Feast of St. John Baptist (January 7). The latter contakion reads thus:—

“At Thy bodily presence Jordan was driven back in fear; John shook with trembling as he fulfilled his prophetic ministry; the host of angels were amazed at seeing the Baptized in the flesh, and all that were in the dark shades [of hades] received light, and praised Thee Who hast appeared, and hast lightened everything.” (Menaeon, Venice edition, page 81.)

Bishop Nektarios, 1909 tr., John Brownlie 10,10 I Come, keep this Feast, who holy things revere, And with pure minds, your Lord adore with fear. II Lo, to the Jordan on this sacred day, The Bridegroom from His chamber took His way. III Jordan affrighted, on its course was stayed; The Baptist heard His voice and was dismayed. IV “How can I hold that sacred Head of Thine, O Word of God, Immortal, and Divine?” V Then, from the Father, in the heaven above, The Holy Ghost descended as a Dove. VI While on the Christ the dove-like form abode, And Jordan’s parted waters o’er Him flowed. VII “This is my Son,” the Father spake from heaven, “Who, for the lost of Adam’s race was given.” VIII Illumine us, we sing, O Christ the Lord, Glory to Thee, O Thou Incarnate Word!

BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Crown 8vo. Price 3/6 each nett.

HYMNS OF THE APOSTOLIC CHURCH, being Centos and Suggestions from the Service Books of the Holy Eastern Church. With Introduction, and Historical and Biographical Notes.

HYMNS FROM THE EAST, being Centos and Suggestions from the Service Books of the Holy Eastern Church. With Introduction.

HYMNS FROM THE GREEK OFFICE BOOKS, together with Centos and Suggestions.

HYMNS OF THE HOLY EASTERN CHURCH, translated from the Service Books. With Introductory Chapters on the History, Doctrine, and Worship of the Church.

Alexander Gardner, Paisley.

HYMNS OF THE GREEK CHURCH, translated, with Introduction and Notes. Cheap edition. Crown 8vo. Cloth. 1s. 6d. nett.

Indexes

Index of Pages of the Print Edition

iv  v  vii  xi  xii  xiii  xiv  xv  xvi  xvii  xviii  xix  xx  xxi  xxii  xxiii  xxiv  xxv  xxvi  xxvii  1  3  4  5  7  9  10  11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  27  28  29  30  31  32  33  34  35  36  37  38  39  40  41  42  43  44  45  47  49  50  51  52  53  54  55  56  57  58  59  61  63  64  65  66  67  68  69  71  72  73  74  75  76  77  78  79  81  83  84  85  86  87  88  89  90  91  92  93  94  95  96  97  98  99  100  101  102  103  104  105  106  107  108  109  110  111  113  115  116  117  118  119  120  121  122  123  124  125  126  127  128  129  130  131  132  133  134  135  136  137  138  139  140  141  142  143  144  145  146  147  149  151  152  153  154  155  156  157  158  159  160  161  162  163  164  165  166  167  168  169  170  171  172  173  174  175  176  177  178  179  180  181  183  184  185  186  187  188