O Jesus! If In Days Gone By

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “The World.” in that hymnal:

O Jesus! if in days gone by
My heart hath loved the world too well,
It needs more love for love of Thee
To bid this cherished world farewell.

O yes! I can rejoice there are
So many things on earth to love,
So many idols for the fire,
My love and loyal change to prove.

He that loves most hath most to lose,
And willing loss is love’s best prize:
The more that Yesterday hath loved
The more To-day can sacrifice.

O Earth! thou art too beautiful!
And thou, dear Home! thou art too sweet!
The winning ways of flesh and blood
Too smooth for sinners’ pilgrim feet!

O bless thee, bless thee, lovely World!
That thou dost play so false a part,
And drive, like sheep into a fold,
Our loves into our Saviour’s Heart.

The woods and flowers, the running streams,
The sunshine of the common skies,
The round of household peace—what heart
But owns the might of these dear ties?

The sweetness of known faces is
A couch where weary souls repose;
Known voices are as David’s harp
Bewitching Saul’s oppressive woes.

And yet, bright World! thou art not wise;
O no! enchantress though thou art,
Thou art not skilful in thy way
Of dealing with a wearied heart.

If thou hadst kept thy faith with me,
I might have been thy servant still;
But, ah! lost love and broken faith,
Poor world! these are beyond thy skill.

This have I leaned upon, dear Lord!
This world hath had Thy rightful place;
O come, then, jealous King of love!
Come, and begin Thy reign of grace.

O banish me from all I love,
The smiles of friends, the old fireside,
And drive me to that home of homes,
The Heart of Jesus Crucified.

O take the light away from earth,
Take all that men can love from me;
Let all I lean upon give way,
That I may lean on nought but Thee!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: TBD…
Meter: 8.8.8.8

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Posted in Conversion, Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, The Christian Life And Mission, Tune to Be Determined | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Room For The Proud! Ye Sons Of Clay

This is the original text of this hymn as it appeared in the 1827 Hymns adapted to the Weekly Service of the Church Year. It was originally written for use on the First Sunday after Trinity Sunday.

Room for the Proud! Ye sons of clay
From far his sweeping pomp survey,
Nor, rashly curious, clog the way
His chariot wheels before!

Lo! with what scorn his lofty eye
Glances o’er Age and Poverty,
And bids intruding Conscience fly
Far from his palace door!

Room for the Proud! but slow the feet
That bear his coffin down the street:
And dismal seems his winding-sheet
Who purple lately wore!

Ah! where must now his spirit fly
In naked, trembling agony?
Or how shall he for mercy cry,
Who shew’d it not before!

Room for the Proud! in ghastly state
The lords of Hell his coming wait,
And flinging wide the dreadful gate,
That shuts to ope no more,

“Lo here with us the seat,” they cry,
“For him who mock’d at poverty,
And bade intruding Conscience fly
Far from his palace door!”

Words: Reginald Heber, publ. 1827.
Music: TBD…
Meter: 8.8.8.6

Posted in Hymns By The Greats, Ordinary Time, Reginald Heber, The Church Year, The Last Things, Tune to Be Determined, Weeks after Pentecost (EF) | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

I Worship Thee, Sweet Will Of God!

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “The Will of God.” in that hymnal:

I worship thee, sweet Will of God!
And all thy ways adore,
And every day I live I seem
To love thee more and more.

Thou wert the end, the blessed rule
Of Jesu’s toils and tears;
Thou wert the passion of His Heart
Those Three-and-thirty years.

And He hath breathed into my soul
A special love of thee,
A love to lose my will in His,
And by that loss be free.

I love to see thee bring to nought
The plans of wily men:
When simple hearts outwit the wise,
O thou art loveliest then!

The headstrong world, it presses hard
Upon the Church full oft,
And then how easily thou turn’st
The hard ways into soft.

I love to kiss each print where thou
Hast set thine unseen feet:
I cannot fear thee, blessed Will!
Thine empire is so sweet.

When obstacles and trials seem
Like prison-walls to be,
I do the little I can do,
And leave the rest to thee.

I know not what it is to doubt,
My heart is ever gay;
I run no risk, for come what will
Thou always hast thy way.

I have no cares, O blessed Will!
For all my cares are thine;
I live in triumph, Lord! for Thou
Hast made Thy triumphs mine.

And when it seems no chance or change
From grief can set me free,
Hope finds its strength in helplessness,
And gaily waits on thee.

Man’s weakness waiting upon God
Its end can never miss,
For men on earth no work can do
More angel-like than this.

Ride on, ride on triumphantly,
Thou glorious Will! ride on;
Faith’s pilgrim sons behind thee take
The road that thou hast gone.

He always wins who sides with God,
To him no chance is lost;
God’s will is sweetest to him when
It triumphs at his cost.

Ill that He blesses is our good,
And unblest good is ill;
And all is right that seems most wrong,
If it be His sweet Will!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: “Graefenberg” J. Cruger, 1653.
Meter: 8.6.8.6

Posted in Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, Praise to God, Trust in God | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

O Faith! Thou Workest Miracles

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “Conversion.” in that hymnal:

O Faith! thou workest miracles
Upon the hearts of men,
Choosing thy home in those same hearts
We know not how or when.

To one thy grave unearthly truths
A heavenly vision seem;
While to another’s eye they are
A superstitious dream.

To one the deepest doctrines look
So naturally true,
That when he learns the lesson first
He hardly thinks it new.

To other hearts the selfsame truths
No light or heat can bring;
They are but puzzling phrases strung
Like beads upon a string.

O Gift of Gifts! O Grace of Faith!
My God! how can it be
That Thou, who hast discerning love,
Shouldst give that gift to me?

There was a place, there was a time,
Whether by night or day,
Thy Spirit came and left that gift,
And went upon His way.

How many hearts Thou mightst have had
More innocent than mine!
How many souls more worthy far
Of that sweet touch of Thine!

Ah Grace! into unlikeliest hearts
It is thy boast to come,
The glory of thy light to find
In darkest spots a home.

How will they die, how will they die,
How bear the cross of grief,
Who have not got the light of faith,
The courage of belief?

The crowd of cares, the weightiest cross
Seem trifies less than light;
Earth looks so little and so low,
When faith shines full and bright.

O happy, happy that I am!
If thou canst be, O Faith!
The treasure that thou art in life,
What wilt thou be in death?

Thy choice, O God of Goodness! then
I lovingly adore;
O give me grace to keep Thy grace,
And grace to merit more!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: “Byzantium” T. Jackson, 1715-1781.
Meter: 8.6.8.6

Posted in Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, The Christian Life And Mission | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

They Told Us There Were Mighty Men Abroad

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “The New Infidelity. To the Brothers of the Little Oratory.” in that hymnal:

They told us there were mighty men abroad,
Gone forth to flush the earth with truth once more,
Who spoke in grand heroic ways of God,
True men above all sect and sham to soar.

Bards had they of their own, and masculine seers,
At war with falsehood and unmanly grief,
In strains of beauty preaching to their peers
A new and most magnificent unbelief.

Sorrow, self-sacrifice, all loyal things
In this celestial wisdom found their place;
And new-fledged souls might take them for their wings,
Earth without change be Heaven, and Nature Grace.

They told us, if we read their books, that we
Nought more unselfish upon earth should find,
No spell more trancing, no philosophy
More eloquently winning to the mind.

Virtue, man-loving God, and Brother Man,
Worshipful progress, falsehood’s solemn knells-——
These were the thrilling names that leaped and ran
Along their lines like watchwords and like spells.

No fetish rites, no fast or festal day,
No fear of misadventure after death;
These, and such like, were all to pass away,
The scarescrows of a pusillanimous faith.

We heard and wondered, tardy to believe;
Jesus was sweet and Mary very dear;
Could we in one short moment all unweave
The careful web of many a thoughtful year.

Swift our conversion could not be, but slow;
Reason must sit and judge of reason’s lore;
The trustful seers themselves would have it so;
A depth like theirs may well need brooding o’er.

We got their books, and read, and read again,
Wincing at blasphemy, old weakness that!
And then we thought and thought, and racked our brain
With anxious guess divining what meant what.

Now may we tell what we discovered there;
Of words a copious mine, of sense much dearth;
O such a craven-hearted wisdom ne’er
Sought to make room for its poor self on earth!

Then such Pindaric odes of grand despair
Broke forth from these Protectionists of truth!
Such humble pride in what they had to bear,
While winning back for earth her second youth!

Why is not the dense world dissolved in tears
The martyrdom of these poor men to see?
Heroes with none to fight them, household seers,
The saints of some admiring coterie!

Up, up, compassionate Rome! and beat them down!
They sue for rack and torture at thy hand!
What! silent still, old Church? contemptuous grown,
Sitt’st thou and smilest on old Tyber’s strand?

Ah me! how they bespatter one another
With copious quillfuls of grandiloquent praise;
Each one retained to canonize his brother,—
Alas! the sole employment of his days.

Will no one notice them? O piteous lot!
Their wares are stale, but then they think them new;
And stupid reproductions of old thought
May sound from very repetition true.

Alas! O littleness! O littleness!
Thou never wert so little as to-day;
For never was thy cowardly distress
Spoken or sung in such a querulous way!

For us what disappointment! we had thought,
If not converted, we might frightened be,
And with a valorous panic might have sought
To break a lance with infidelity!

Thou hast played false with us, New Unbelief!
Great Sham of Anti-shams! portentous name!
Wisdom of one idea! what a grief
To find thy folly so below thy fame!

What art thou but a worship of sheer Power,
Rough Hero hands and sinewy craft? O shame!
Hottentot creed! as though in earth’s sweet bower
Goodness to men were but a hopeless aim!

How shall we meet? what weapon weak enough
To make our fight not laughably unfair!
A Crucifix? No! the strong Rood is stuff
For great apostles with false gods at war!

Look at our medal-jingling beads! They shine
With frequent fingering, Aves glibly said:
Weakest of our strong things, they outdo thine,
As David’s pebble matched Goliath’s head.

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: TBD
Meter: 10.10.10.10

Posted in Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, The Heresies, Tune to Be Determined | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

I Was Wandering And Weary

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “The True Shepherd. For the Ragged School.” in that hymnal:

I was wandering and weary,
When my Saviour came unto me;
For the ways of sin grew dreary,
And the world had ceased to woo me:
And I thought I heard Him say,
As He came along His way,
O silly Souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true!

At first I would not hearken,
And put off till the morrow;
But life began to darken,
And I was sick with sorrow;
And I thought I heard Him say,
As He came along His way,
O silly Souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true!

At last I stopped to listen,
His voice could not deceive me;
I saw His kind eyes glisten,
So anxious to relieve me:
And I thought I heard Him say,
As He came along His way,
O silly Souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true!

He took me on His Shoulder,
And tenderly He kissed me;
He bade my love be bolder,
And said how He had missed me;
And I’m sure I heard Him say,
As He went along his way,
O silly Souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true!

Strange gladness seemed to move Him,
Whenever I did better;
And He coaxed me so to love Him,
As if He was my debtor;
And I always heard Him say,
As He went along His way,
O silly Souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true!

I thought His love would weaken,
As more and more He knew me;
But it burneth like a beacon,
And its light and heat go through me;
And I ever hear Him say,
As He goes along His way,
O silly Souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true!

Let us do then, dearest Brothers!
What will best and longest please us;
Follow not the ways of others,
But trust ourselves to Jesus;
We shall ever hear Him say,
As He goes along his way,
O silly Souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: No tunes seem to exist in this meter.
Meter: 7.7.7.7.7.7.7.7.6

Posted in Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, Hymns for Children, Jesus Christ Our Lord, No Tunes Exist For Hymn, The Divine Mercy | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

O Jesus! God And Man!

This is the full, original text from an 1852 edition of Fr. Faber’s hymnal Jesus and Mary. It is listed under the title “Ragged School Hymn” in that hymnal:

O Jesus! God and Man!
For love of children once a child!
O Jesus! God and Man!
We hail Thee Saviour sweet and mild!

O Jesus! God and Man!
Make us poor children dear to Thee,
And lead us to Thyself,
To love Thee for eternity.

O Mary! Mother Maid!
God made thee Mother of the poor!
Mary! to thee we look
To make our souls’ salvation sure.

O Mary! Mother dear!
Thank God, for us, for all His love;
And pray that in our faith
We all may true and stedfast prove.

O Jesus! Mary’s Son!
On Thee for grace we children call;
Make us all men to love,
But to love Thee beyond them all.

O Jesus! bless our work,
Our sorrows soothe, our sins forgive;
O happy, happy they
Who in the Church of Jesus live!

O God, most great and good,
At work or play, by night or day,
Make us remember Thee,
Who dost remember us alway!

Words: Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., 1849.
Tune: No tunes seem to exist in this meter.
Meter: 6.8.6.8

Posted in Frederick W. Faber, Hymns By The Greats, Hymns for Children, No Tunes Exist For Hymn, Praise to God | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment