But the mild rays of Paradise beamed on thy waking, And the sound which thou heard'st was the Seraphim’s song !

Thou art gone to the grave: but we will not deplore thee;

Whose God was thy ransom, thy Guardian, and

Guide!

He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore thee; And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died! Bishop Reginald Heber. 1827

CCCVI

BRO

ROTHER, thou art gone before us; and thy saintly soul is flown

Where tears are wiped from every eye, and sorrow is

unknown;

From the burden of the flesh, and from care and fear

released,

Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er, and borne the heavy load;

But Christ hath taught thy languid feet to reach His blest abode :

Thou 'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus upon his father's

breast,

Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.

Sin can never taint thee now, nor doubt thy faith assail, Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit

And there thou 'rt sure to meet the good, whom on earth thou lovedst best,

Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary

are at rest.

Earth to earth, and dust to dust, the solemn priest hath said;

So we lay the turf above thee now, and we seal thy narrow bed;

But thy spirit, brother, soars away among the faithful

blest,

Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary

are at rest.

And when the Lord shall summon us, whom thou hast left behind,

May we, untainted by the world, as sure a welcome find! May each, like thee, depart in peace, to be a glorious

guest,

Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest!

Henry Hart Milman. 1822

L

VIII

CHURCH DEDICATION

CCCVII

ORD of hosts! to Thee we raise
Here a house of prayer and praise :

Thou Thy people's hearts prepare,
Here to meet for praise and prayer!

Let the living here be fed

With Thy Word, the heavenly bread ;

Here, in hope of glory blest,
May the dead be laid to rest!

Here to Thee a temple stand
While the sea shall gird the land!
Here reveal Thy mercy sure,

While the sun and moon endure !

Hallelujah! earth and sky
To the joyful sound reply!

Hallelujah! hence ascend

Prayer and praise till time shall end!

James Montgomery. 1825

CCCVIII

Angulare Fundamentum

CH

HRIST is our corner-stone,
On Him alone we build ;

With His true saints alone

The courts of Heaven are filled :

On His great love

Our hopes we place

Of present grace
And joys above.

O then with hymns of praise

These hallowed courts shall ring;

Our voices we will raise

The Three in One to sing;

And thus proclaim

In joyful song

Both loud and long

That glorious Name.

Here, gracious God, do Thou
Forevermore draw nigh;
Accept each faithful vow,
And mark each suppliant sigh;

In copious shower

On all who pray
Each holy day

Thy blessings pour !

Here may we gain from Heaven
The grace which we implore;
And may that grace, once given,
Be with us evermore,

Until that day

When all the blest

To endless rest

Are called away!

John Chandler. 1837

CCCIX

HE lovely form of God's own Church,

TH

It riseth in all lands;

On mountain-sides, in wooded vales,

And by the desert sands.

There is it, with its solemn aisles,

A heavenly, holy thing;

And round its walls lie Christian dead,

Blessedly slumbering.

Though sects and factions rend the world,

Peace is its heritage;

Unchanged, though empires by it pass,

The same from age to age.

The hallowed form our fathers built,
That hallowed form build we;
Let not one stone from its own place
Removed ever be !

Scoff as thou passest, if thou wilt,
Thou man that hast no faith;
Thou, that no sorrows hast in life,
Nor blessedness in death:

But we will build, for all thou scoff,
And cry,
"What waste is this!"
The Lord our God hath given us all,

And all is therefore His.

Clear voices from above sound out
Their blessing on the pile;

The dead beneath support our hands,
And succor us the while.

Yea, when we climb the rising walls,
Is peace and comfort given !
Because the work is not of earth,

But hath its end in Heaven!

Henry Alford. 1845

IX

THE LORD'S DAY

CCCX

WELCOME, sweet day, of days the best,

WEL

The time of holy mirth and rest,

When to God's house the saints repair

To hear His word and see His face,

To learn His will and sing His grace,

And vent their hearts in praise and prayer.