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INDEX OF FIRST LINES
PAGE [INTRODUCTION,] 9 MORNING— [Now, God of Light, the morn appears,] 25 [Up, up my soul! with gladness rise,] 27 [The saffron tints appear,] 29 [Now glows the morn in beauty rare,] 31 EVENING— [When night her sable curtain spreads,] 35 [A crown of gold surpassing rare,] 37 CHRISTMAS— [The Lord of Life to earth came down,] 41 [Jerusalem rejoice!] 44 [The best that heaven could bring,] 46 [Out from the rising of the sun,] 47 EASTER— [O woeful hour, when from the night,] 51 [Crown the Lord of glory,] 53 [O Christ, when on the shameful tree,] 55 [O God of Love, Whose mercy came,] 57 [When hades held the Lord of Life,] 59 [When Thou, O Christ, upon the tree,] 61 [To Thy Cross and Resurrection,] 63 [Light is dawning ’mong the hills,] 65 [Hail! rising morn, for He hath risen,] 67 [We worship, Lord, before Thee now,] 69 [Heavy laden with thy grief,] 70 [To Thee, O Christ, our God,] 72 [Glory shone within the gloom,] 74 [When Adam heard the voice of sin,] 76 [Within the garden’s sombre shade,] 78 PENTECOST— [Even as Thou saidst, the Spirit came,] 83 [O may the Spirit of all grace,] 85 COMMUNION— [Let Thy blood in mercy poured,] 89 [O Lord of bounty, let this bread,] 91 JUDGMENT— [When in the clouds the Lord appears,] 95 [The Bridegroom comes, my soul awake!] 98 [O Judge of all, when sinful men,] 100 [I brought my merits to the throne,] 102 [The time is drawing nigh,] 104 ASPIRATIONS— [I sought the Lord at early morn,] 109 [O touch my heart and bring to mind,] 111 [The wealth of high estate,] 113 [I lift my hands, and with my heart,] 115 [Arise, my soul, and gaily sing,] 117 [The King shall come when morning dawns,] 119 [Think on me, Lord, for Thou art kind,] 121 [Because Thy mercy is so great,] 123 [I cannot lift mine eyes,] 125 [When at Thy feet oppressed,] 127 [Because I was brought low,] 129 [O God of Life, in Whom we live,] 131 [By Thine own hand the gift was given,] 133 [Lord, Thou art good and kind,] 134 [O Lord of Life, when mortals call,] 136 [I wandered sore distressed,] 138 [God sent me to the desert wild,] 140
INTRODUCTION
This fourth series of Hymns from the Office Books of The Holy Eastern Church, differs from the preceding three in this, that the hymns are less translations or renderings, and more centos and suggestions.
One cannot continue long to interest himself in any work, and receive from time to time the observations and criticisms of his fellows, without, if he have his eyes and mind open to receive impressions, feeling himself impelled to alter his methods in some particular or other.
In previous volumes the author has been careful to give, for the most part, carefully executed—that is to say, truthfully rendered translations from the originals. Work of that kind is useful, and absolutely necessary for certain purposes; but, unless for the hymnologist, or for the liturgiologist, it is far from being attractive. To be true, renderings can hardly be graceful, and they must lack much of the literary charm which attaches itself to productions which are more untrammelled. Hence, unless, as has been said, to the few who are specialists, translations are not much in favour. They have earned a reputation, and that reputation adheres to them: they are cold and uninspiring. Such is their reputation, not always just, but who can say that it has not, on the whole, been earned?
Perhaps it would be wrong to say that there is any prejudice against translations from the Greek or any other language whatever, as such. The reluctance to welcome translations is really reluctance to welcome poems which do not find their way to the heart. For this reason there is perhaps not more than a score of translations which have won their way from permanent hymnals to a permanent place in the affections of our devout fellow-countrymen. In this connection it is to be noted that we speak of translations, and not of suggestions such as, “Art thou weary,” or “O, happy band of pilgrims,” and many others, which have advanced into great favour, and are termed translations, but are not.
True hymns are sacred lyrics, and a lyric to be lyrical and heart appealing, must be inevitable. It must be the spontaneous expression of the heart of the author—an expression which had to come. It is the latent secret of the power of true hymns, for what must be uttered will assuredly, sooner or later, find its way to some heart. Such jets of living poetry must be awaited: they cannot be forced. But a translator must deliberately sit down at his desk and work—manufacture, if you will—and endeavour to turn on the lathe of graceful culture, elegancies which readers may admire, but will never feel.