For what Thy foul fuftained,

When Thou for me didft bleed:
Grant me to lean, unshaken,
Upon Thy faithfulness ;

Until from hence I'm taken

To fee Thee face to face.

Lord, at my

diffolution

Do not from me depart;
Support, at the conclufion

Of life my fainting heart;
And when I pine and languish,
Seized with death's agony,
Oh, by thy pain and anguish,
Set me at liberty!

*

ST. BERNARD, 12th Cent.

XVI.

LIFE.

RIEF life is here our portion,
Brief forrow, fhort-lived care :
The life that knows no ending,
The tearless life is there.

*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 mansion with the bleft;—

That we should look, poor wanderers,
To have our home on high!
That worms fhould feek for dwellings
Beyond the starry sky!

And now we fight the battle,
And then we wear the crown

Of full and everlasting

And paffionless renown.

Then glory, yet unheard of,
Shall fhed abroad its ray,

Refolving all enigmas,-
An endless Sabbath day.

Then, then, from his oppreffors,
The Hebrew fhall go free,

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 wisdom free from bound,

The beatific vifion

Shall glad the faints around.

And peace, for war is needless,
And reft, for ftorm is past,
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 Ifrael,

From earthlier felf 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
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 fickness,

And love, and life, and rest.

O one, O only mansion!

O Paradife of joy,

Where tears are ever banished,

And fmiles have no alloy.

Befide thy living waters

All plants are great and small; The cedar of the forest

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
With amethyst unpriced;
Thy Saints build up its fabric,

And the Corner-ftone is CHRIST.

Thou haft no fhore, 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 feel'ft in mystic rapture,
O Bride that know'st no guile;

The Prince's fweetest kiffes,

The Prince's lovelieft fmile.

Unfading lilies, bracelets

Of living pearl, thine own; The Lamb is ever near Thee,

The Bridegroom thine alone.

And all thine endless leifure
In sweetest accents fings
The ills that were thy merit,
The joys that are thy King's.

Jerufalem the golden!

With milk and honey bleft,
Beneath thy contemplation
Sink heart and voice oppreft.

I know not, oh, I know not
What focial 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 affembly of the Saints.

They ftand, thofe halls of Sion,
Conjubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel,
And many a martyr throng;

The Prince is ever in them,
The light is aye ferene;

The pastures of the blessed

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.