For what Thy foul fuftained, Do not from me depart ; Of life my fainting heart; * *The above is rather a tranflation of a tranflation, taken from one of Paul Gerhard's most beautiful German hymns, and which indeed is almoft too original to be properly termed a tranflation. Paul Gerhard is suppofed to be a lineal defcendant of Gerhard, the brother of the great St. Bernard, whofe love and affection are fo glowingly defcribed in that wonderful fermon preached by the Abbot of Clairvaux on his brother's decease. O happy retribution, Short toil, eternal rest! For mortals and for finners A manfion with the bleft;— That we should look, poor wanderers, And now we fight the battle, Of full and everlasting And paffionless renown. Then glory, yet unheard of, Refolving all enigmas,- Then, then, from his oppreffors, And celebrate in triumph The year of Jubilee. And the fun-lit land that recks not Of tempeft or of fight, Shall fold within its bofom Each happy Ifraelite. Midft power that knows no limit, And wifdom free from bound, The beatific vifion Shall glad the faints around. And peace, for war is needlefs, There God my King and portion, There Jacob unto Ifrael, From earthlier self estranged, And Leah unto Rachel For ever fhall be changed. There all the halls of Sion For aye fhall be complete; And in the land of Beauty To thee, O much loved country! For very love beholding Thy happy name, they weep. The mention of Thy glory Is unction to the breast, And medicine in fickness, And love, and life, and rest. O one, Ọ only manfion! O Paradife of joy, Where tears are ever banished, And smiles have no alloy. Befide thy living waters All plants are great and small; The cedar of the foreft The hyffop of the wall. With jafpers glow thy bulwarks, Thy streets with emeralds blaze; The fardius and the topaz Unite in thee their rays. Thy ageless walls are bonded And the Corner-ftone is CHRIST. Thou haft no fhore, fair Ocean! Dear fountain of refreshment Upon the Rock of Ages They raise thy holy tower; Thine is the victor's laurel, And thine the golden dower. Thou feel'ft in myftic rapture, The Prince's sweetest kiffes, The Prince's lovelieft smile. Unfading lilies, bracelets Of living pearl, thine own; The Lamb is ever near Thee, The Bridegroom thine alone. And all thine endless leisure Jerufalem the golden! With milk and honey bleft, Beneath thy contemplation Sink heart and voice oppreft. I know not, oh, I know not What light beyond compare. And when I fain would fing them, The affembly of the Saints. They stand, thofe halls of Sion, The Prince is ever in them, Are decked in glorious fheen. There is the throne of David, And there, from toil released, The fhout of them that triumph, The fong of them that feast. |