The music sweet of little feet
That patter on the floor.

God help the little children,

Who cheer our saddest hours,

And shame our fears for future years,
And give us winter flowers.

God keep the little children

Whom we no more can see;

Fled from their nest and gone to rest,
Where we desire to be.

It should be added that Mr. Hopps has edited "Hymns Chants, and Anthems," a selection in excellent taste, but erring, as his own hymns do not, somewhat in the direction of being in parts a collection of poems rather than as it should have been, exclusively of hymns suitable to be sung.

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CHAPTER XVII.

LIVING HYMNISTS.-MINOR CONTRIBUTORS. Among minor contributors to hymnody may be mentioned, in alphabetical rather than chronological order, the following:

Alfred Ainger, Reader at the Temple, and Canon of Bristol, whose Life and Edition of the works of Charles Lamb are so well known, to whom we owe a little hymn, terse in expression, and true in sentiment :

:

O Lord! with toil our days are filled,

They rarely leave us free;

O give us space to seek for grace
In happy thoughts of Thee.

Yet hear us, little though we ask :
Oh! leave us not alone;

In every thought, and word, and task,
Be near us, though unknown.

Still lead us, wandering in the dark;

Still send us heavenly food,

And mark, as none on earth can mark,

Our struggle to be good.

Alfred Barry, formerly Principal of King's College, London, and until recently Bishop of Sydney, whose hymn for Sunday morning, though not equal to some for that season, is yet far above the average :

As Thou didst rest, O Father, o'er nature's finished birth,

As Thou didst in Thy work rejoice, and bless the new-born earth,

So give us now that Sabbath rest, which makes Thy children free, Free for the work of love to man, of thankfulness to Thee.

But in Thy worship, Father, O lift our souls above,

By holy word, by prayer and hymn, by eucharistic love;

'Till e'en the dull cold work of earth, the earth which Christ hath trod.

Shall be itself a silent prayer, to raise us up to God.

So lead us on to heaven, where in Thy presence blest
"The wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest,"
Where faith is lost in vision, where love hath no alloy,

And through eternity there flows the deepening stream of joy.
To Thee, who giv'st us freedom, our Father and our King;
To Thee, the Risen Lord of life, our ransomed spirits sing;
Thou fill'st the Church in earth and heaven, O Holy Ghost-to Thee
In warfare's toil, in victory's rest, eternal glory be.

John Stuart Blackie (born 1809), widely known as, for many years, the accomplished, but slightly eccentric Professor of Greek in the University of Edinburgh, who is said to have made his students speak this melodious and nervous language in his classes, has not only written much in prose, but also a good deal in verse, chiefly of a secular kind (if such a distinction may be permitted), but in his "Lays and Legends of Ancient Greece" occurs the following hymn which is permeated by the boldness and breeziness which characterise his unique personality, and is as different from the dull commonplace of many of the didactic hymn writers, as his well-loved Scotch mountains are from the monotonous levels of Essex. When sung to Henry Smart's noble tune "Seraphim," it freshens a congregation like a breeze from the heatherclad hills the author loves so well :

Praise Him ever,

Bounteous Giver;

Praise Him, Father, Friend, and Lord,
Each glad soul its free course winging,
Each glad voice its free song singing:
Praise the great and mighty Lord!

Abel Gerald Wilson Blunt (born 1827), the Vicar of Chelsea, has written a few hymns of merit, the best of which, it may also be added, the best yet written for the purpose, is one for Flower Services. It would be difficult to excel it :

Here, Lord, we offer Thee all that is fairest,

Bloom from the garden, and flowers from the field;
Gifts from the stricken ones, knowing Thou carest
More for the love than the wealth that we yield.
Send, Lord, by these to the sick and the dying,
Speak to their hearts with a message of peace:
Comfort the sad, who in weakness are lying,
Grant the departing a gentle release.

Raise, Lord, to health again those who have sickened,
Fair be their lives as the roses in bloom;

Give of Thy grace to the souls thou hast quickened,
Gladness for sorrow, and brightness for gloom.

We, Lord, like flowers, must bloom and must wither,
We, like these blossoms, must fade and must die;
Gather us, Lord, to Thy bosom for ever,

Grant us a place in Thy home in the sky.

Robert Brown Borthwick, Vicar of All Saints', Scarborough, is more conspicuous for his labours as an Editor of both hymns and tunes, than for his original contributions to hymnody, but one of his hymns, for the Lord's Supper, beginning "O Holy Jesu, Prince of Peace," though lacking the compactness of thought and expression necessary to a really popular hymn, is yet of very considerable merit.

William Bright, M.A. (born 1824), Canon of Christ Church, Oxford, is the author of a small volume of "Hymns and Poems," from which the following hymn for Sunday evening of great excellence has passed into many collections:

And now the wants are told, that brought

Thy children to Thy knee;

Here lingering still, we ask for naught,

But simply worship Thee.

The hope of heaven's eternal days

Absorbs not all the heart,

That gives Thee glory, love, and praise,
For being what Thou art.