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Hymns from the East
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Jerusalem rejoice;
And sing with glee, right merrily,
Let every heart and voice.
I
The best that heaven could bring —
First fruits, an offering free —
Was brought from far, when, by the star,
The wise men came to Thee.
II
No sceptre, and no throne!
The magi were amazed,
As, with surprise, on humble guise
And poverty, they gazed.
III
But there Thy God-head shone,
Despite the manger bed;
O Christ, the Lord, Incarnate Word!
’Twas there Thou laid’st Thy head.
I
Out from the rising of the sun,
O’er tracts of desert wild,
The Magi came on journey lone,
To seek the heaven-born child;
The star o’erhead their footsteps led,
And hope their way beguiled.
II
They bore Him costly gifts of gold,
And myrrh and spices sweet:
“For He is King,” they had been told,
Whom they would meekly greet;
And they would go, in reverence low,
And worship at His feet.
III
O humble Child, in manger laid!
The wise beheld Thee there,
And reverently their homage paid,
And gave their offerings rare.
Their quest was found, and to the ground
They bowed the head in prayer.
IV
O Jesu, who in manger lay,
The Son of God most high,
Let me my humble homage pay,
And bring my offerings nigh,
And humbly greet Thee at Thy feet,
And low in worship lie.
EASTER
I
O woeful hour! when from the night
Emerged in wrath Satanic might,
To crush the Christ, whom God in heaven,
To raise our fallen race, had given.
II
O woeful hour! when, with the scorn
Of sinful men, His soul was torn;
When sin exulting bowed the knee,
And stung the Christ with mockery.
III
O woeful hour! when to the tree
The Christ was nailed in agony;
When anguish for our sin He bore,
And thorns His throbbing temples tore.
IV
O woeful hour! O darkest day!
The God-Man, still, entombed lay,
For death his cruel shaft had driven
To quell the hope our God had given.
V
O saddened soul! the night is past,
The morn, bright morn, has come at last;
The rage of sin its worst hath done,
Yet lives in power th’ eternal Son.
VI
And sing with glee, right merrily,
Let every heart and voice.
I
The best that heaven could bring —
First fruits, an offering free —
Was brought from far, when, by the star,
The wise men came to Thee.
II
No sceptre, and no throne!
The magi were amazed,
As, with surprise, on humble guise
And poverty, they gazed.
III
But there Thy God-head shone,
Despite the manger bed;
O Christ, the Lord, Incarnate Word!
’Twas there Thou laid’st Thy head.
I
Out from the rising of the sun,
O’er tracts of desert wild,
The Magi came on journey lone,
To seek the heaven-born child;
The star o’erhead their footsteps led,
And hope their way beguiled.
II
They bore Him costly gifts of gold,
And myrrh and spices sweet:
“For He is King,” they had been told,
Whom they would meekly greet;
And they would go, in reverence low,
And worship at His feet.
III
O humble Child, in manger laid!
The wise beheld Thee there,
And reverently their homage paid,
And gave their offerings rare.
Their quest was found, and to the ground
They bowed the head in prayer.
IV
O Jesu, who in manger lay,
The Son of God most high,
Let me my humble homage pay,
And bring my offerings nigh,
And humbly greet Thee at Thy feet,
And low in worship lie.
EASTER
I
O woeful hour! when from the night
Emerged in wrath Satanic might,
To crush the Christ, whom God in heaven,
To raise our fallen race, had given.
II
O woeful hour! when, with the scorn
Of sinful men, His soul was torn;
When sin exulting bowed the knee,
And stung the Christ with mockery.
III
O woeful hour! when to the tree
The Christ was nailed in agony;
When anguish for our sin He bore,
And thorns His throbbing temples tore.
IV
O woeful hour! O darkest day!
The God-Man, still, entombed lay,
For death his cruel shaft had driven
To quell the hope our God had given.
V
O saddened soul! the night is past,
The morn, bright morn, has come at last;
The rage of sin its worst hath done,
Yet lives in power th’ eternal Son.
VI
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