DEUS-HOMO, REX COELORUM

By C. Coffin. ([67]See p. 3.)
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Now let us tune our hearts to sing
The glory of the Almighty King;
His hand unrolled the spacious skies,
Whose beauty lures our wondering eyes.
There are the clouds with treasure rare,
Slow floating in the higher air,
Whence come the soft refreshing showers,
To bless the springing of the flowers.
Rich is the treasure of Thy grace,
Prepared for us who seek Thy face;
It falls from clouds that earthward roll,
And penetrates the inmost soul.
And faithful hearts that thirsting pine,
Drink deeply of the draught divine,
And with an heavenly impulse rise,
To greet the sunlight in the skies.
O happy souls that evermore
Drink of the bliss Thou hast in store;
May grateful love responsive flow
To all the love Thou dost bestow.
Now, glory to the Three in One,
To God the Father, God the Son,
And to the Spirit, one in Three,
From age to age eternally.

By Bishop Marbodus. Born in Anjou, 1035; successively Archdeacon of Angers and Bishop of Rennes; died in 1125. Was author of a poem De Gemmis, which gives a mystical explanation of precious stones much in favour in the Middle Ages.

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King of heaven, our nature wearing,
Pity lend the sad despairing;
'Neath the sway of sin repining,
Formed from dust, to dust declining--
Tottering in our ruined state,
Strengthen by Thy goodness great.
What is man from sin descending?
Child of death, all woes attending.
What is man? a worm that clingeth
To the earth from which he springeth.
Wilt Thou forth Thine anger bring,
On a weak, defenceless thing?
Shall not man, who earthward tendeth,
Look to God, who mercy sendeth?
'Twere a task most unbefitting,
God o'er man in judgment sitting--
Yet should God in judgment speak,
Where shall man an answer seek?
As the shadow quickly flying,
Faint our life and sure our dying;
As the cloud by tempest driven,
As the grass cut down at even;--
King of heaven, in mercy great,
Pity the disconsolate.