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A
Song of Praise for the Morning
Julian quotes
the first lines of both the first and
last verses
as though they are separate hymns,
and indeed
the last verse would still be usable
on its
own in modern worship.
My God was
with me all this Night,
And gave me sweet Repose;
My God did
watch, even whilst I slept,
Or I had never rose.
How many groan'd
and wish'd for Sleep,
Until they wish'd for Day;
Meas'ring
slow Hours with their quick Pains,
Whilst I securely lay!
Whilst I did
sleep, all Dangers slept,
No Thieves did me affright; .
Those Ev'ning
Wolves, those Beasts of Prey,
Disturbers of the Night.
No raging
Flames nor Storms did rend
The House that I was in;
I heard no
dreadful Cries without,
No doleful Groans within.
What Terrors
have I 'scap'd this Night,
Which have on others fell!
My Body might
have slept its last,
My Soul have wak'd in Hell. .
Sweet Rest
hath gain'd that Strength to me
Which Labour did devour:
My Body was
in Weakness sown,
But it is rais'd in Power.
Lord, for the
Mercies of the Night
My humble Thanks I pay;
And unto Thee
I dedicate
The First-fruits of the Day,
Let this Day
praise Thee, O my God,
And so let all my Days:
And O let
mine Eternal Day
Be thine Eternal Praise. |
A Song
of Praise for the Birth of Christ
Though it
has not survived into modern times,
this would
make an acceptable Christmas carol,
perhaps
to the tune of 'O little town of Bethlehem'.
Away, dark
Thoughts; awake, my Joy;
Awake, my Glory, sing,
Sing Songs
to Celebrate the Birth
Of Jacob's God and King.
O happy Night
that brought forth Light,
Which makes the Blind to see!
The Day-spring
from on High came down
To Cheer and Visit Thee.
The wakeful
Shepherds, near their Flocks,
Were watchful for the Morn;
But better
News from Heav'n was brought,
Your Saviour Christ is Born.
In Bethlem-Town
the Infant lies,
Within a Place obscure;
O Little Bethlem,
poor in Walls,
But rich in Furniture!
Since Heaven
is now come down to Earth,
Hither the Angels fly!
Hark how the
Heav'nly Choir doth Sing,
Glory
to God on High!
The News is
spread, the Church is glad,
Simeon
o'ercome with Joy,
Sings with
the Infant in his Arms;
Now
let thy Servant die.
Wise Men from
far beheld the Star,
Which was their faithful Guide,
Until it pointed
forth the Babe,
And Him they glorified.
Do Heaven
and Earth rejoice and sing,
Shall we our Christ deny?
He's born
for us, and we for Him;
Glory
to God on High. |