Christ the Lord is risen to-day,
Sons of men and angels say:
Raise your joys and triumphs high,
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply.

Love's redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight, the battle won;
Lo! our Sun's eclipse is o'er;
Lo! He sets in blood no more.

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal;
Christ hath burst the gates of hell!
Death in vain forbids His rise;
Christ hath opened Paradise!

Lives again our glorious King:
Where, O Death, is now thy sting?
Once He died, our souls to save:
Where thy victory, O Grave?

Christ, my Life, my Only Treasure,
Thou alone
Mould thine own,
After thy Good pleasure.

Thou, who paidst my Price, direct me!
Thine I am,
Holy Lamb,
Save, and always save me.

Order Thou my whole Condition,
Chuse my State,
Fix my Fate
By thy wise Decision.

From all Earthly Expectation
Set me free,
Seize for Thee
All my Strength of Passion.

Into absolute Subjection
Be it brought,
Every Thought,
Every fond Affection.

That which most my Soul requires
For thy sake
Hold it back

Christ, my Beloved which still doth feed
Among the flowers, having delight
Among his faithful lilies,
Doth take great care for me indeed,
And I again with all my might
Will do what so his will is.

My Love in me and I in him,
Conjoined by love, will till abide
Among the faithful lilies
Till day do break, and truth do dim
All shadows dark and cause them slide,
According as his will is.

Christ maketh to man a fair present--
His blody body with love brent.
That blisful body his lif hath lent
For love of man that sinne hath blent.
O! love, love, what hast thou ment?
Me thinketh that love to wrathe is went.

Thy loveliche hondes love hath to-rent,
And thy lithe armes well streit itent.
Thy brest is baar, thy body is bent,
For wrong hath wonne and right is shent.

Thy milde boones love hath to-drawe:
The nailes, thy feet han all to-gnawe;
The Lord of love love hath now slawe--
Whane love is strong it hath no lawe.

Christ hath a garden walled around,
A Paradise of fruitful ground,
Chosen by love and fenced by grace
From out the world's wide wilderness.

Like trees of spice His servants stand,
There planted by His mighty hand;
By Eden's gracious streams, that flow
To feed their beauty where they grow.

Awake, O wind of heaven, and bear
Their sweetest perfume through the air;
Stir up, O south, the boughs that bloom,
Till the beloved Master come;

That He may come and linger yet
Among the trees that He hath set;

Christ claims our help in many a strange disguise;
Now, fever-ridden, on a bed he lies;
Homeless he wanders now beneath the stars;
Now counts the number of his prison bars;
Now bends beside us, crowned with hoary hairs.
No need have we to climb the heavenly stairs,
And press our kisses on his feet and hands;
In every man that suffers, he, the Man of Sorrows, stands!

Christ claims our help in many a strange disguise;
Now, fever-ridden, on a bed he lies;
Homeless he wanders now beneath the stars;
Now counts the number of his prison bars;

" The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap, "
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary was the world,
But here is all aright.)

The Christ-Child lay on Mary's breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire.)

The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee.
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down.

The more I've viewed this world, the more I've found,
That filled as 't is with scenes and creatures rare,
Fancy commands within her own bright round
A world of scenes and creatures far more fair.
Nor is it thaTher power can call up there
A single charm, that's not from Nature won, —
No more than rainbows in their pride can wear
A single tint unborrowed from the sun;
But 't is the mental medium it shines thro',
That lends to Beauty all its charm and hue;
As the same light that o'er the level lake
One dull monotony of lustre flings,

No — leave my heart to rest, if rest it may,
When youth, and love, and hope, have past away.
Couldst thou, when summer hours are fled,
To some poor leaf that's fallen and dead,
Bring back the hue it wore, the scent it shed?
No — leave this heart to rest, if rest it may,
When youth, and love, and hope, have past away.

Oh, had I met thee then, when life was bright,
Thy smile might still have fed its tranquil light;
But now thou comest like sunny skies,
Too late to cheer the seaman's eyes,
When wrecked and lost his bark before him lies!

1. The chosen three, on mountain height, While
2. And lo! with the transfigured Lord, Lead-
Jesus bowed in prayer, Beheld his vesture
er and seer they saw; With Carmel's hoary
glow with light, His face shine wondrous fair.
prophet stood The giver of the law.

3. From the low-bending cloud above,
Whence radiant brightness shone,
Spake out the Father's voice of love,
" Hear my beloved Son! "

4. Lord, lead us to the mountain height,
To prayer's transfiguring glow;
And clothe us with the Spirit's might
For grander work below.