THE DAY IS DYING IN THE WEST

MARY A. LATHBURY, 1877

Day is dying in the west;

Heaven is touching earth with rest;
Wait and worship while the night
Sets the evening lamps alight,
Through all the sky.

Refrain

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of hosts!
Heaven and earth are full of Thee;
Heaven and earth are praising Thee,
O Lord most high!

Lord of life, beneath the dome
Of the universe, Thy home,
Gather us, who seek Thy face
To the fold of Thy embrace,
For Thou art nigh.

While the deepening shadows fall,
Heart of love, enfolding all,
Through the glory and the grace
Of the stars that veil Thy face,
Our hearts ascend.

When forever from our sight

Pass the stars, the day, the night,

Lord of Angels, on our eyes,
Let eternal morning rise,

And shadows end.

O MASTER, LET ME WALK WITH THEE

WASHINGTON GLADDEN, 1879

O Master, let me walk with Thee
In lowly paths of service free;
Tell me Thy secret; help me bear
The strain of toil, the fret of care.

Help me the slow of heart to move
By some clear winning word of love,
Teach me the wayward feet to stay,
And guide them in the homeward way.

Teach me Thy patience; still with Thee
In closer, dearer company,

In work that keeps faith sweet and strong,
In trust that triumphs over wrong.

In hope that sends a shining ray
Far down the future's broadening way;
In peace that only Thou canst give,
With Thee, O Master, let me live.

O LOVE, THAT WILT NOT LET ME GO

GEORGE MATHESON, 1882

O Love, that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul on Thee;
I give Thee back the life I owe,
That in Thine ocean depth its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O Light, that followest all my way,

I yield my flickering torch to Thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in Thy sunshine's blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy, that seekest me through pain,

I cannot close my heart to Thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross, that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from Thee;
I lay in dust life's glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

THE NEW HEART

MODERN CHINESE, 1890

Alas, my heart is black,

By Satan sore deceived, Far from the upward track

God's judgment disbelieved,

From Heaven, O Holy Spirit, come!
With Christ's Gospel my heart illume!

Alas, my heart of woe

With sorrow sick to death! Fearing Sin's doom to know

I sigh with wounded breath,

From heaven, O spirit blest, descend!
With Jesus' peace my grief to end.

Alas, my strengthless heart

Is slow to love God's way, To hate the wrong, love right,

While worldly thought bears sway! From heaven, O spirit, come! complete My heart, with Christ's perfection sweet!

A DANCE CHANT

IROQUOIS INDIANS

Translated by E. S. Parker

Hail! Hail! Hail!

Listen, O Creator, with an open ear to the words of thy people

as they ascend to thy dwelling!

Give to the keepers of Thy faith wisdom rightly to do thy com

mands.

Give to our warriors and to our mothers strength to perform the sacred ceremonies appointed.

We thank Thee that thou hast kept them pure unto this day. Listen to us still!

We thank Thee that Thou hast spared the lives of so many of Thy children to take part in these exercises.

We thank Thee for the increase of the earth

For the rivers and streams,

For the sun and moon,

For the winds that banish disease,

For the herbs and plants that cure the sick,

For all things that minister to good and happiness.

We pray for a prosperous year to come.

Lastly, we give thee thanks, our Creator and Ruler!

In Thee are embodied all things!

We believe that Thou canst do no evil;

We believe that Thou dost all things for our good and for our happiness.

Should Thy people disobey Thy commands, deal not harshly with

them!

Be kind to us, as Thou hast been to our fathers in times long gone by,

Hearken to our words as they ascend

May they be pleasing to Thee, our Creator!
Preserver of all things visible and invisible!

NOT IN DUMB RESIGNATION

JOHN HAY, 1891

Not in dumb resignation,

We lift our hands on high;
Not like the nerveless fatalist,
Content to do and die.

Our faith springs like the eagle's,
Who soars to meet the sun,
And cries exulting unto Thee,
"O Lord, thy will be done!"

When tyrant feet are trampling
Upon the common weal,

Thou dost not bid us bend and writhe
Beneath the iron heel;

In Thy name we assert our right
By sword or tongue or pen,

And even the headsman's axe may flash
Thy message unto men.

Thy will,-it bids the weak be strong;

It bids the strong be just:
No lip to fawn, no hand to beg,
No brow to seek the dust.
Wherever man oppresses man
Beneath the liberal sun,

O Lord, be there, Thine arm made bare,
Thy righteous will be done.

THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL

SAMUEL LONGFELLOW, 1891

One holy church of God appears
Through every age and race,
Unwasted by the lapse of years,

Unchanged by changing place.