That I may spend them in Thy praise,
And use, and service all my days,
Give me Thy grace divine!
Guard me when heresies arise,

And shield from Satan's murderous lies:
For all my crosses strengthen me;
Then shall I bear them patiently.

O Jesus Christ, my Lord and God,
My Lord and God!

Comfort my soul beneath its load.

Ah! Lord, let Thy dear angels fly,
At last, and bear my soul on high,
On Abraham's breast to stay;
My flesh, in its dark sleeping-room,
Rest softly where no ill shall come
Until the Judgment-day.

Then from the dead awaken me,

That these glad eyes may look on Thee, O Jesus, God's eternal Son!

My Saviour! on Thy glorious throne. Lord Jesus Christ, my prayer attend, My prayer attend,

And I will praise Thee without end.

JESUS, THY BOUNDLESS LOVE TO ME.

611

JESUS, THY BOUNDLESS LOVE TO ME.

(O Jesu Christ, mein schönstes Licht.)

Freely condensed from a German hymn of PAUL Gerhardt, 1653, which is based upon a meditation and prayer in JOHN ARNDT's Paradiesgartlein. SAVILE gives it, in his Lyra Sacra, without the name of the translator. See the original in WACKERNAGEL's ed. of P. GERHARDT's Geistliche Lieder, 1855, p. 174 (sixteen stanzas, of eight lines each), and partly in KNAPP's Liederschatz, 3d ed., No. 1813 (twelve of eight lines each), and partly in KNAPP'S Liederschatz, 3d ed., No. 1813 (twelve stanzas). The translation is by John Wesley, 1739.

JESUS, Thy boundless love to me

No thought can reach, no tongue declare.
O knit my thankful heart to Thee

And reign without a rival there!
Thine wholly, Thine alone, I am;
Be Thou alone my constant flame!

O grant that nothing in my soul

May dwell but Thy pure love alone;
O may Thy love possess me whole,

My joy, my treasure, and my crown:
Strange flames far from my heart remove;
May every act, word, thought, be love!

O Love, how cheering is Thy ray!

All pain before Thy presence flies:
Care, anguish, sorrow, melt away,
Where'er Thy healing beams arise.
O Jesus, nothing may I see,
Nothing desire or seek, but Thee!

Still let Thy love point out my way!

What wondrous things Thy love hath wrought! Still lead me, lest I go astray;

Direct my word, inspire my thought;

And if I fall, soon may I hear
Thy voice, and know that love is near.

In suffering, be Thy love my peace;

In weakness, be Thy love my power;
And when the storms of life shall cease,
Jesus, in that dark, final hour

Of death, be Thou my guide and friend,
That I may love Thee without end.

I PLACE AN OFFERING.

"The perfect sacrifice." From the French of Madame JEANNE MARIE BAUVIER de la Mothe GUYON, by WILLIAM COWPER. Madame G. was born 1648, d. 1717; one of the most interesting characters in the history of mysticism and religious enthu siasm; devoted to the system of quietism and the principle of disinterested love to God; much defamed, persecuted, and imprisoned for heresy and eccentricity, but defended by Fénélon. She wrote many works, and a large number of hymns distinguished for graceful composition and exquisite sensibility, though not free from pious extravagance. Some of the latter were admirably translated by Cowper. We select the best.

I

PLACE an offering at Thy shrine

From taint and blemish clear,

Simple and pure in its design,

Of all that I hold dear.

THE LORD OF ALL THINGS.

I yield Thee back Thy gifts again,
Thy gifts which most I prize;
Desirous only to retain

The notice of Thine eyes.

But if, by Thine adored decree,
That blessing be denied,
Resigned and unreluctant, see
My every wish subside.

Thy will in all things I approve,
Exalted or cast down;
Thy will in every state I love,
And even in Thy frown.

613

THE LORD OF ALL THINGS.

From the French of Madame DE LA MOTHE GUYON, by WILLIAM Cowper. Select lines from her poem on the Nativity, arranged in stanzas by the Editor.

HE Lord of all things, in His humble birth,

THE

Makes mean the proud magnificence of earth; The straw, the manger, and the mouldering wall Eclipse its lustre; and I scorn it all.

All, all have lost the charms they once possessed; An infant God reigns sovereign in my breast: From Bethlehem's bosom I no more will rove; There dwells the Saviour, and there rests my love.

But I am poor, oblation I have none,

None for a Saviour but Himself alone:

Whate'er I render Thee, from Thee it came,
And, if I give my body to the flame,

My patience, love, and energy divine
Of heart and soul and spirit, all are Thine.
Ah, vain attempt to expunge the mighty score!
The more I pay, I owe Thee still the more.

The more I love Thee, I the more reprove
A soul so lifeless, and so slow to love;
Till, on a deluge of Thy mercy tossed,
I plunge into that sea, and there am lost.

YES I WILL ALWAYS LOVE.

From the French of Madame GUYON, translated by CowPER. Part of a poem commencing: "Ye linnets, let us try beneath this grove." We must omit the poem from her prison, "O Thou! by long experience tried," where the beautiful passage

occurs:

"My country, Lord, art Thou alone:

No other can I claim my own:
The point where all my wishes meet,
My law, my love, life's only sweet."

ES: I will always love; and, as I ought,

YES

Tune to the praise of love my ceaseless voice; Preferring love too vast for human thought, In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice.