II.

JESU! the very thought of thee
With sweetness fills my breast;
But sweeter far thy face to see,
And in thy presence rest.

Nor voice can sing, nor heart can frame,
Nor can the memory find,

A sweeter sound than thy blest name,
O Saviour of mankind!

O hope of every contrite heart,
O joy of all the meek,

To those who fall how kind thou art!
How good to those who seek!

But what to those who find? ah! this
Nor tongue nor pen can shew:

The love of Jesus, what it is,
None but his lov'd ones know.

Jesu! our only joy be thou,

As thou our prize wilt be: Jesu! be thou our glory now, And through eternity.

Amen,

III.

Now with the fast-departing light,
Maker of all! we ask of thee,
Of thy great mercy, through the night
Our guardian and defence to be.
Far off let idle visions fly;

No phantom of the night molest ;
Curb thou our raging enemy,

That we in chaste repose may rest.
Father of mercies! hear our cry:
Hear us, O sole-begotten Son!

Who, with the Holy Ghost most high,
Reignest while endless ages run.

Amen.

IV.

AGAIN the Sunday morn
Calls us to prayer and praise:
Waking our hearts to gratitude
With its enlivening rays.

But Christ yet brighter shone,
Quenching the morning beam;
When triumphing from death he rose,
And rais'd us up with him.

When first the world sprang forth,
In majesty array'd,

And bath'd in streams of purest light ;-
What power was there displayed!

But oh what love-when Christ,
For our transgressions slain,
Was by th' eternal Father rais'd
For us to life again.

His new-created world

The mighty Maker view'd,

With thousand lovely tints adorn'd;
And straight pronounc'd it good.

But oh, much more he joy'd
That self-same world to see,
Wash'd in the Lamb's all-saving Blood,

From its impurity.

Nature each day renews

Her beauty evermore;

Whence to God's hidden Majesty

The soul is taught to soar.

But Christ, the Light of all,

The Father's image blest,
Gives us to see our God himself
In flesh made manifest.

Blest Trinity! vouchsafe

That to thy guidance true,

What thou forbiddest, we may shun;

What thou commandest, do.

V.

COME, O Creator Spirit blest!
And in our souls take up thy rest;
Come, with thy grace and heavenly aid,
To fill the hearts which thou hast made.

Great Paraclete! to thee we cry,
O highest gift of God most high!
O fount of life! O fire of love!
And sweet anointing from above!

Thou in thy sevenfold gifts art known;
The finger of God's hand we own;
The promise of the Father thou!
Who dost the tongue with pow'r endow.

Kindle our senses from above,

And make our hearts o'erflow with love;
With patience firm, and virtue high,
The weakness of our flesh supply.

Far from us drive the foe we dread,
And grant us thy true peace instead ;
So shall we not, with thee for guide,
Turn from the path of life aside.

Oh, may thy grace on us bestow,
The Father and the Son to know,

And thee through endless times confess'd,

Of both th' eternal Spirit blest.

All glory while the ages run

Be to the Father, and the Son

Who rose from death; the same to thee,

O Holy Ghost, eternally.

Amen.

G

O'ERWHELM'D in depths of woe,
Upon the tree of scorn
Hangs the Redeemer of mankind,
With racking anguish torn.

See how the nails those hands

And feet so tender rend;

See! down his face, and neck, and breast, His sacred Blood descend.

Come! fall before his Cross

Who shed for us his blood; Who died the victim of pure love, To make us sons of God.

Jesu! all praise to thee,

Our joy and endless rest!

Be thou our guide while pilgrims here,

Our crown amid the blest.

Hymns at Benediction.

O salutaris.