As on a window late I cast mine eye,

I saw a vine drop grapes, with J. and C.

Anneal’d on every bunch. One standing by

Ask’d what it meant. I (who am never loath

To spend my judgement) said, it seem’d to me

To be the body and the letters both

Of Joy and Charity. Sir, you have not miss’d,

The man replied; it figures Jesus Christ !

— George Herbert
title
Figure 1. William Blake, Venus and Anchises, The Walker Art Gallery.

I: All the earth doth worship Thee

  • Whene’er the faithful praise thee, Lord,

    • And lift their hearts above,

  • Two streams of song together flow

    • Towards the great sea of Thy dear Love.

  • The Angels’, — fair, and swift, and strong,

    • Flowing for evermore, — 

  • And ours, all faltering and impure,

    • With laving the Dark Country’s shore.

  • Yet, as commingling on they flow,

    • Together shall they fall

  • Into that great abyss of love.

    • Whose light Thou art — its all in all !

II: Morning hymn

  • Lord, now the morning’s light hath dawned,

    • We lift our feeble cry to thee :

  • Throughout this day our help and shield,

    • Our guide and our protector be.

  • All that is harmful banish far,

    • And fill us with thy gifts of grace,

  • And make each cleansed heart to be

    • In truth thy Spirit’s dwelling-place.

  • And when to-day the Christ shall come,

    • And knocking wait our hearts before,

  • O may we rise and let Him in

    • And pray Him tarry evermore.

  • Lead, lead us on thou God of Hosts,

    • We fain would reach Heaven’s golden strand,

  • And mark the bulwarks which bestud

    • The plains of that celestial land.

  • All laud, at morning prime we give,

    • To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost :

  • Oh, that untired, from morn ’till eve,

    • We praise with the angelic host ! Amen.

III: Mid-day hymn

  • Saviour ! ’midst the busy hum. — 

    • ’midst the din and toil of life,

  • For a moment we would rest, — 

    • For a moment, — quit the strife.

  • Thou didst toil, Thou Son of God,

    • In the distant eastern land ;

  • Consecrating every work,

    • Pure and honest, of the hand.

  • Work is worship ! when to Thee

    • All our common things are done :

  • Work is glory, then thy smile

    • Rests upon each victory won !

  • Oh, when all our work is o’er, — 

    • Finished all our strife and pain,

  • In the newer, better, life

    • Rest for ever may we gain !

  • This, we poor ones humbly crave,

    • For thy tender mercies' sake, — 

  • Thou, whose grace, and power, and love,

    • Pale e’en noon-day splendours make. Amen.