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PASSION CHORALE. 7.6.

Hans Leo Hassler. 1601.

778.
O Sacred Head I

779. No Continuing City. O SACRED head, now wounded,

BRIEF life is here our portion, With grief and shame weighed down, Brief sorrow, short-lived care : So scornfully surrounded,

The life that knows no ending, With thorns thine only crown,

The tearless life, is there. How art thou pale with anguish,

O happy retribution ! With sore abuse and scorn!

Short toil, eternal rest : How do those features languish

For mortals and for sinners Which once were fair as morn!

A mansion with the blest. What language shall I borrow

And now we fight the battle, To thank thee, dearest friend,

But then shall wear the crown For this thy dying sorrow,

Of full and everlasting This love that knew no end !

And passionless renown. Oh, make me thine for ever!

And he whom now we trust in And should I fainting be,

Shall then be seen and known; Lord, let me never, never,

And they that know and see him Outlive my love to thee !

Shall have him for their own. In this thy bitter passion,

The morning shall awaken, Good Shepherd, think of me

The shadow shall decay, With thy most sweet compassion,

And each true-hearted servant Unworthy though I be:

Shall shine as doth the day. Beneath thy cross abiding,

There God, our king and portion, For ever would I rest;

In fulness of his grace In thy dear love confiding,

Shall we behold for ever,
And with thy presence blest.

And worship face to face.
Bernard of Clairvaux. 1145.

Bernard of Clairvaux. 1145.
Tr. John Mason Neale. 1851.

Tr. John Mason Neale. 1891.

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782. God our Protector.

Saw the dawning light appear.
Who, when darkness gathered o'er us, Clouds dissolving in the sunbeams
Foes and death on every side,

Showed the land of freedom near.
Clothed in glory walked before us,
Leading on like Israel's guide ?

Hark! we hear to heaven ascending, 'Twas Jehovah! He, appearing,

From the voices of the free, Showed his banner far and wide.

Hallelujahs, sweetly blending

With the song of Liberty. When the trump of war was sounding,

Power Almighty, we the victory 'Twas the Lord who took the field:

Ever will ascribe to thee. He, his people then surrounding,

Made the strong in battle yield. To our fathers, few in number,

Lo! the dove, the olive bearing, He was armor, strength, and shield. Plants it on our country's shore,

Every breast its branch is wearing In the God of armies trusting,

Where the buckler shone before. 'Mid their weakness, void of fear; Praise the Eternal! he is reigning ! Soon they felt their bonds were bursting, Praise him, praise him, evermore!

334

Hannah F. Gould.

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BROWNE. S. M.

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783.
The Pilgrim Fathers.

Amidst the storm they sang ;
The breaking waves dashed high

And the stars heard, and the sea ! On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the sounding aisles of the dim woods And the woods against a stormy sky To the anthem of the free. [rang Their giant branches tossed ;

The ocean eagle soared And the heavy night hung dark,

From his nest by the white wave's foam, The hills and waters o'er,

And the rocking pines of the forest roared, When a band of exiles moored their bark This was their welcome home! On the wild New England shore.

What sought they thus afar? Not as the conqueror comes,

Bright jewels of the mine? They, the true-hearted, came;

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? Not with the roll of stirring drums,

They sought a faith's pure shrine ! And the trump that sings of fame : Ay, call it holy ground, Not as the flying come,

The soil where first they trod ! In silence and in fear; [gloom They have left unstained, what here they They shook the depths of the desert's found: With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Freedom to worship God.

Felicia D. Hemans 335

AMERICA. 6.4.

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784. National Hymn.

My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty, -

Of thee I sing :
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrim's pride,
From every mountain side

Let freedom ring!
My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,

Thy name I love:
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills

Like that above.
Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees

Sweet freedom's song!
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,

The sound prolong!
Our fathers' God, to thee,
Author of liberty, —

To thee we sing :

Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by thy might,
Great God, our King.

Samuel F. Smith. 785. Our Country.

God bless our native land!
Firm may she ever stand

Through storm and night!
When the wild tempests rave,
Ruler of wind and wave,
Do thou our country save,

By thy great might !
For her our prayers shall be,
Our fathers' God, to thee,

On thee we wait!
Be her walls Holiness;
Her rulers, Righteousness;
Her officers be Peace;

God save the State.
Lord of all truth and right,
In whom alone is might,

On thee we call !
Give us prosperity;
Give us true liberty;
May all the oppressed go free;
God save us all !

Hymns of the Spirit

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