Archive for the ‘The Hymnal (1911)’ Category

O Bread to Pilgrims Given   3 comments

Confirmation 6_00011

Above:  Diocesan Confirmation, Cathedral of St. Philip, Atlanta, Georgia, April 6, 2014

Image Source = Bill Monk, Episcopal Diocese of Atlanta

Hymn Source = The Hymnal (1911), Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A.

Original Latin text (circa 1600s) by Anonymous

English Translation (1858) by Ray Palmer (1808-1887), U.S. Congregationalist minister

The John Athelstan Laurie Riley translation is here.


1.  O bread to pilgrims given,

O Food that angels eat,

O Manna sent from heaven,

For heaven-born natures meet,

Give us, for Thee long pining,

To eat till richly filled;

Till earth’s delights resigning,

Our every wish is stilled.

2.  O Fount of love redeeming,

Forth from the Saviour’s heart

In mercy purely streaming,

A Fount of life Thou art:

O let us, freely tasting,

Our burning thirst assuage;

Thy sweetness, never wasting,

Avails from age to age.

3.  Jesus, this feast receiving,

We Thee unseen adore;

Thy faithful word believing,

We take, and doubt no more:

Give us, Thou True and Loving,

On earth to live in Thee;

Then, death the veil removing,

Thy glorious face to see.

Posted September 20, 2014 by neatnik2009 in Eucharist 1600s-1700s, Eucharist 1800s, The Hymnal (1911)

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Angel Voices, Ever Singing   2 comments

Frieze of the Angels

Above:  The Frieze of the Angels (John Singer Sargent, 1902)

Image Source = Library of Congress

Reproduction Number = LC-USZ62-133694

Hymn Source = The Hymnal (1911), the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A.

Words (1861) by Francis Pott (1832-1909), a priest of the Church of England


1.  Angel voices, ever singing

Round Thy throne of light,

Angel harps, forever ringing,

Rest not day nor night;

Thousands only live to bless Thee,

And confess Thee Lord of might.

2.  Thou who art beyond the farthest

Mortal eye can scan,

Can it be that Thou regardest

Songs of sinful man?

Can we feel that Thou art near us,

And wilt hear us?

Yea, we can.

3.  Yea, we know Thy love rejoices

O’er each work of Thine;

Thou didst ears and hands and voices

For Thy praise combine;

Craftsman’s art and music measure

For Thy pleasure

Didst design.

4.  Here, great God, to-day we offer

Of Thine own to Thee;

And for Thine acceptance proffer,

All unworthily,

Hearts and minds, and hands and voices,

In our choicest


5.  Honor, glory, might, and merit,

Thine shall ever be,

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

Blessed Trinity:

Of the best that Thou hast given

Earth and heaven

Render Thee.

In the Morning I Will Raise   1 comment

In the Morning I Will Rise

Above:  The Hymn

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

Hymn Source = The Hymnal (1911), Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A.

Words (1840) by the Reverend William Henry Furness (1802-1896), a Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Unitarian minister involved in then-radical causes, such as the abolition of slavery


1.  In the morning I will raise

To my God the voice of praise;

With His kind protection blest,

Sweet and deep has been my rest.

2.  In the morning I will pray

For His blessing on the day;

What this day shall be my lot,

Light or darkness, know I not.

3.  Should it be with clouds o’ercast ,

Clouds of sorrow gathering fast,

Thou, who givest light Divine,

Shine within me, Lord, O shine.

4.  Show me, if I tempted be,

How to find all strength in Thee,

And a perfect triumph win

Over every bosom sin.

5.  Keep my feet from secret snares,

Keep my eyes, O God, from tears,

Every step Thy grace attend,

And my soul from death defend.

6.  Then, when fall the shades of night,

All within shall still be light;

Thou wilt peace around diffuse,

Gently as the evening dews.

Thou Say’st, “Take Up Thy Cross, O Man, and Follow Me”   1 comment

Thou Say'st, Take Up Thy Cross

Above:  Part of the Hymn

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

Hymnal Source = The Hymnal (1911), Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A.

Words (1865) by Francis Turner Palgrave (1824-1897)


1.  Thou say’st, “Take up thy cross,

O Man, and follow Me”;

The night is black, the feet are slack,

Yet we would follow Thee.

2.  But, O dear Lord, we cry,

That we Thy face could see!

Thy blessed face one moment’s space–

Then might we follow Thee!

3.  Dim tracts of time divide

Those golden days from me;

Thy voice comes strange o’er years of change;

How can I follow Thee?

4.  Comes faint and far Thy voice

From vales of Galilee;

Thy vision fades in ancient shades;

How should we follow Thee?

5.  O heavy cross–of faith

In what we cannot see!

As once of yore Thyself restore,

And help to follow Thee.

6.  If not as once Thou cam’st

In true humanity,

Come yet as Guest within the breast

That burns to follow Thee?

7.  Within our heart of hearts

In nearest nearness be:

Set up Thy throne within Thine own:

Go, Lord:  we follow Thee.

Thou Maker of Our Mortal Frame   1 comment

Thou Maker of Our Mortal Flame

Above:  Part of the Hymn

Image Source = Kenneth Randolph Taylor

Hymn Source = The Hymnal (1911), Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A.

Words (1858) by Aaron Wolfe (1821-1902)


1.  Thou Maker of our mortal frame,

Of all Thy works the noblest far,

We bow before Thy righteous claim

To all we have and all we are.

2.  Our tongues were fashioned for Thy word,

Our hands, to do Thy will Divine;

Our bodies are Thy temple, Lord,

The mind’s immortal powers are Thine.

3.  In highest thought, to trace Thy skill,

Its purest love, on Thee to rest,

Its noblest action of the will,

To choose Thy service and be blest.

4.  Our ransomed spirits rise to Thee,

Unfailing Source of light and joy:

Thy love has made Thy children free,

Thy praise shall life and strength employ.

5.  Give grace and mercy to the end,

For we are Thine and not our own:

So shall we to Thy courts ascend,

And cast our crowns before Thy throne.

I Heard a Sound of Voices   1 comment

Above:  The Vision of John of Patmos

Image in the Public Domain

Hymn Source = The Hymnal (1911), the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. (1869-1958)

Words (1886) by Godfrey Thring (1823-1903), a priest of The Church of England


1.  I heard a sound of voice

Around the great white throne,

With harpers harping on their harps

To Him who sat thereon;

“Salvation, glory, honor,”

I heard the song arise,

As through the courts of heaven it rolled

In wondrous harmonies.

2.  From every clime and kindred,

And nations from afar,

As serried ranks returning home

In triumph from a war,

I heard the saints upraising

The myriad hosts among,

In praise of Him who died, and lives,

Their one triumph song.

3.  I saw the holy city,

The New Jerusalem,

Come down from heaven a Bride adorned

With jeweled diadem:

And there His servants serve Him,

And, life’s long battle o’er,

Enthroned with Him, their Saviour, King,

They reign for evermore.

4.  O Lamb of God who reignest,

Thou Bright and Morning Star,

Whose glory lightens that new earth

Which now we see from afar;

O worthy Judge Eternal,

When Thou dost bid us come,

Then open wide the gates of pearl,

And call Thy servants home.

I Bow My Forehead to the Dust   1 comment

John Greenleaf Whittier

Image in the Public Domain

Hymn Source = The Hymnal (1911), the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A.

Words by John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) in 1867


1.  I bow my forehead to the dust,

I veil mine eyes for shame,

And urge, in trembling distrust,

A prayer without a claim.

No offering of mine own I have,

No works my faith to prove;

I can but give the gifts He gave,

And plead His love for love.

2.  I know not what the future hath

Of marvel or surprise,

Assured alone that life and death

His mercy underlies.

And so beside the silent sea

I wait the muffled oar;

No harm from Him can come to me

On Ocean or on shore.

3.  I know not where His islands lift

Their fronded palms in air;

I only know I cannot drift

Beyond His love and care.

And Thou, O Lord, by whom are seen

Thy creatures as they be,

Forgive me if too close I lean

My human heart on Thee.