A Poor Brother's Hymnal

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Brief Life Is Here Our Portion

Bernard of Morlas, c. 1145; tr. by John Neale, 1858

Brief life is here our portion;
Brief sorrow, short-lived care.
The life that knows no ending,
The tearless life, is there.
O happy retribution:
Short toil, eternal rest;
For mortals and for sinners
A mansion with the blest!

2. There grief is turned to pleasure;
Such pleasure as below
No human voice can utter,
No human heart can know;
And after fleshly weakness,
And after this world's night,
And after storm and whirlwind,
Are calm, and joy, and light.

3. And now we fight the battle,
But then shall wear the crown
Of full and everlasting
And passionless renown;
And now we watch and struggle,
And now we live in hope,
And Zion in her anguish
With Babylon must cope.

4. But He whom now we trust in
Shall then be seen and known;
And they that know and see Him
Shall have Him for their own.
And there is David's fountain
And life in fullest glow;
And there the light is golden,
And milk and honey flow.

5. The morning shall awaken,
And shadows shall decay,
And each true-hearted servant
Shall shine as doth the day.
There God, our King and Portion,
In fulness of His grace
Shall we behold forever
And worship face to face.

6. O sweet and blessed country,
The home of God's elect!
O sweet and blessed country
That eager hearts expect!
Jesus, in mercy bring us
To that dear land of rest,
Who art, with God the Father
And Spirit, ever blest.

Labels: 12th c., bernard of morlas, Neale

¶ Thursday, March 02, 2006 0 comments

The World Is Very Evil

Bernard of Morlas, c. 1140, tr. by John M. Neale, 1849

The world is very evil,
The times are waxing late;
Be sober and keep vigil,
The Judge is at the gate;
The Judge that comes in mercy,
The Judge that comes with might,
To terminate the evil,
To diadem the right.
2. Arise, arise, good Christian,
Let right to wrong succeed;
Let penitential sorrow
To heav'nly gladness lead,
To light that hath no evening,
That knows no moon nor sun,
The light so new and golden,
The light that is but one.
3. O home of fadeless splendor,
Of flow'rs that bear no thorn,
Where they shall dwell as children
Who here as exiles mourn.
Midst pow'r that knows no limit,
Where knowledge has no bound,
The beatific vision
Shall glad the saints around.
4. Strive, man, to win that glory;
Toil, man, to gain that light;
Send hope before to grasp it
Till hope be lost in sight.
Exult, O dust and ashes,
The Lord shall be thy part;
His only, His forever,
Thou shalt be and thou art.
5. O sweet and blessed country,
The home of God's elect!
O sweet and blessed country
That eager hearts expect!
Jesus, in mercy bring us
To that dear land of rest,
Who art, with God the Father
And Spirit, ever blest.

Labels: 12th c., bernard of morlas, Neale

¶ Thursday, March 02, 2006 0 comments

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