John Brownlie (trans.) · 1 of 81
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LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT & CO., LMD.
PRINTED BY ALEXANDER GARDNER, PAISLEY.
‹ Hymns from the Morningland
Contents
Publisher's MarkPrefaceIntroductionMy God, shall sin its power maintainHark! upon the morning breezesHail to the morn that dawns on eastern hillsHail to the King, Who comes in weakness nowYe saints exult with cheerful songHe came because the Father willedNow the King ImmortalWhen o’er the world Augustus reignedO Light, resplendent of the mornO wounded hands and feet!When Jesus to the judgment hallThey brought Him to the hill of death“Watch with Me,” The Master saidThey cried, “Let Him be crucified!”O darkest night that ever fell!Nailed to the cross the Saviour diesO Son of God, afflictedThis be our prayer, O Saviour of our soulsLo, in its brightness the morning arisingIn the dark of early mornGlory to God! The morn appointed breaksGlory to God! the Christ hath left the tombRise, O glorious orb of day,—Borne on the clouds the Christ aroseLift up the gatesBorne on the wings of lightLike the beams that from the sunCome, Holy Ghost, in mightSpirit of God, in love descendLord, may Thy Holy Spirit calmO God, the Holy GhostWhen Jesus to the Jordan cameWhen on the mount the Lord appearedBehold, the King of Zion ridesWaving in the autumn breezeWhen in the clouds of heavenRest in the Lord, O servant by His graceThou dost not pass a lonesome wayThe man who erring counsel shunsLord, a band of foes increasingLight of my life, O Lord, Thou artFrom the hills the light is streamingThe day declines to nightLord, let us feel that Thou art nearCome, praise with gladness the Lord of all creationNow with my weeping would I cleanse my soulO God of love, on bended kneeO God, in mercy hearCome to the Christ in tearsForgive my heart its vain regretsFar let me flee from worldly sinLord of mercy, at Thy gateBurdened with a heavy loadLord of a countless throngLet all the world abroadThou Saviour of our sinful raceWhere the Lord reveals His presenceO Love of God, surpassing farO God of our salvationO Jesus, when my guilty fearsLord, I am Thine, for Thou hast died for meLord, let our eyes the things unseen beholdWake to the songs that lips unsullied singBring to the Christ your fearsLord, soothe my anxious, troubled soulSurpassing great the gift of GodMy hope is firmly setThe time is drawing nearI will not yield my swordIf in the cause of right I mustThe Christ on Olive’s mount in prayerLike music at the stilly hourO Lord, Thou in the hour of needMy harp upon the willows, graveTo Thee my soul enraptured singsChrist The Word! Thine IncarnationCome, keep this Feast, who holy things revereBy the Same Author