51

Easter Hymn.

HAIL, thou day, through all the ages!
Festal day! when, strong to save,

Jesus, over Hell victorious,

Rose to glory from the grave.

Thanks break forth from all creation,
With the all-reviving Spring;
Earth her choicest gifts returning,
All to hail her rising King.

At the feet of Him who conquered
Death, and made Hell's squadrons fly,
Leaf and blade, of plain and woodland,
Buds and blossoms, lowly lie.

Cloud and sunbeam, field and ocean,
Sing to Him who burst those bars,

As above the sky He riseth

To His throne beyond the stars.

When the Crucified, triumphant
Over all His sceptre sways,
Tribute to Him, as Creator,
All created being pays.

FORTUNATUS, Sixth Century.

52

He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.

THE Lord will come! the earth shall quake;

The hills their fixèd seat forsake ;

And, withering from the vault of night,
The stars withdraw their feeble light.

The Lord will come! but not the same
As once in lowly form He came,
A silent Lamb to slaughter led,

The bruised, the suffering, and the dead.

The Lord will come! a dreadful form,
With wreath of flame, and robe of storm,
On cherub wings, and wings of wind,
Anointed Judge of human-kind.

Can this be He who wont to stray,
A pilgrim on the world's highway;
By power oppressed, and mocked by pride-
O God! is this the Crucified?

Go tyrants, to the rocks complain;
Go seek the mountain's cleft, in vain ;
But faith victorious o'er the tomb,
Shall sing for joy-'the Lord is come.'

HEBER, A.D. 1811.

53

DAY

The day of judgment.

AY of anger! sinners dooming, Heaven and earth to dust consuming, Seer and Psalmist see thee looming!

Hearts and rocks will then be rending,
As the Judge is seen descending;
And the doom of all is pending.

Blares aloud, that trump of thunder,
Crashing, waking Death in wonder,
Citing all the white throne under.

53 Death, his horror not dissembling,
Sees creation rising, trembling ;
And before the Judge assembling.

Comes that Judge His book unsealing
Secret writ of doom revealing,
All attent, but none appealing.

Wrongs for ages never righted,
Buried, rise to be recited;
Nothing there goes unrequited.

Ah what plea shall I then tender?
Whom invoke as my Defender,
When the holiest must surrender.

King of awful glory! ever

Of free grace the Sovereign Giver;
Fount of goodness! me deliver.

Think, good Lord, let it appease Thee,
That Thou camest to release me;

Lest the second death should seize me.

Weary, wayworn, Thou hast sought me,
By Thy cross salvation brought me ;
Why in vain shouldst Thou have bought me ?

Just Judge! piercing all disguises,
Save me ere that morning rises.

Bringing in the dread assizes.

See my soul its guilt unveiling,
ame confessing, sin bewailing,
ercy grant me all-availing.