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For what Thy foul sustained,
When Thou for me didst bleed :
Upon Thy faithfulness;
To see Thee face to face.
Lord, at my
Of life my fainting heart ;
Seized with death's agony,
ST. BERNARD, 12th Cent.
Brief sorrow, short-lived care :
The tearless life is there.
* The above is rather a translation of a translation, taken from one of Paul Gerhard's most beautiful German hymns, and which indeed is almost too original to be properly termed a translation. Paul Gerhard is supposed to be a lineal descendant of Gerhard, the brother of the great St. Bernard, whose love and affection are so glowingly described in that wonderful sermon preached by the Abbot of Clairvaux on his brother's decease.
Short toil, eternal rest! For mortals and for sinners
A mansion with the bleft;—
That we should look, poor wanderers,
To have our home on high ! That worms should seek for dwellings
Beyond the starry sky ! And now we fight the battle,
And then we wear the crown Of full and everlasting
And passionless renown. Then glory, yet unheard of,
Shall shed abroad its ray,
An endless Sabbath day.
The Hebrew shall go free,
The year of Jubilee.
And the sun-lit land that recks not
Of tempeft or of fight, Shall fold within its bosom
Each happy Ifraelite.
that knows no limit, And wisdom free from bound, The beatific vision
Shall glad the saints around.
And peace, for war is needless,
And rest, for storm is paft, And goal from finished labour,
And anchorage at last. There God my King and portion,
In fulness of His grace, Shall we behold for ever,
And worship face to face. There Jacob unto Israel,
From earthlier self estranged, And Leah unto Rachel
For ever shall be changed.
There all the halls of Sion
For aye shall be complete; And in the land of Beauty
All things of beauty meet.
To thee, O much loved country !
Mine eyes their vigils keep; For very love beholding
Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of Thy glory
Is unction to the breast, And medicine in sickness,
And love, and life, and rest.
O Paradise of joy,
And smiles have no alloy.
Beside thy living waters
All plants are great and small;
The hyffop of the wall.
Thy streets with emeralds blaze ; The fardius and the topaz
Unite in thee their rays.
Thy ageless walls are bonded
With amethyst unpriced; Thy Saints build up its fabric,
And the Corner-stone is CHRIST.
Thou hast no shore, fair Ocean!
Thou haft no time, bright day ! Dear fountain of refreshment
To pilgrims far away!
Upon the Rock of Ages
They raise thy holy tower ; Thine is the victor's laurel,
And thine the golden dower.
Thou feelft in mystic rapture,
O Bride that know'st no guile ; The Prince's sweetest kisses,
The Prince's loveliest smile.
Unfading lilies, bracelets
Of living pearl, thine own; The Lamb is ever near Thee,
The Bridegroom thine alone.
And all thine endless leisure
In sweetest accents sings The ills that were thy merit,
The joys that are thy King's.
Jerusalem the golden !
With milk and honey bleft, Beneath thy contemplation
Sink heart and voice oppreft.
I know not, oh, I know not
What social joys are there, What radiancy of glory
What light beyond compare.
And when I fain would fing them,
My spirit fails and faints; And vainly would it image
The assembly of the Saints.
Conjubilant with song,
And many a martyr throng;
The light is aye serene ; The pastures of the blessed
Are decked in glorious sheen.
There is the throne of David,
And there, from toil released, The shout of them that triumph,
The song of them that feast.