37 lines
3.0 KiB
HTML
37 lines
3.0 KiB
HTML
<html><head>
|
|
<script src="../../js/basepath.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
|
|
<script src="./js/nav.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
|
|
<script src="./js/MainHeader.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
|
|
<title>BLB Hymns</title>
|
|
<h2>THE WORLD IS VERY EVIL</h2>
|
|
<p align="center"><h3>“The dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books.” Revelation 20:12</h3></p>
|
|
<center><b>Hymns Supplied Through the Gracious Generosity<br>of the </b><a href="http://www.hymntime.com/tch/" target = "_blank"><b>Cyber Hymnal Website</b></a><br><br><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/cyberhymnal_info.html" target = "_blank">Information about Cyber Hymnal Website</a></center>
|
|
<hr>
|
|
<p><img src="./hymns/hymns_img/img_n_e_neale_jm.jpg" alt="John Mason Neale (1818-1866)" align="right" hspace="15" vspace="5" width="141.333333333333" height="201.333333333333"><em>Words:</em> <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_b_e_bernard_m.html" target="_blank">Bernard of Morlaix</a>, 12th Century (<em>Hora novissima, tempora pessima sunt, vigilemus</em>); translated from Latin to English by <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_n_e_neale_jm.html" target="_blank">John Mason Neale</a> in <em>The Rhythm of Bernard de Morlaix, Monk of Cluny</em>, 1858.</p>
|
|
<p><em>Music:</em> “Pearsall,” R. L. Pearsall </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_p_pearsall.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
|
|
<hr>
|
|
<div class="lyrics">
|
|
<p>The world is very evil, the times are waxing late,<br>
|
|
Be sober and keep vigil, the Judge is at the gate.<br>
|
|
The Judge Who comes in mercy, the Judge Who comes in might,<br>
|
|
Who comes to end the evil, Who comes to crown the right.</p>
|
|
<p>Arise, arise, good Christian, let right to wrong succeed;<br>
|
|
Let penitential sorrow to heavenly gladness lead,<br>
|
|
To light that has no evening, that knows nor moon nor sun,<br>
|
|
The light so new and golden, the light that is but one.</p>
|
|
<p>O home of fadeless splendor, of flowers that bear no thorn,<br>
|
|
Where they shall dwell as children who here as exiles mourn;<br>
|
|
’Midst power that knows no limits, where wisdom has no bound,<br>
|
|
The beatific vision shall glad the saints around.</p>
|
|
<p>O happy, holy portion, reflection for the blest,<br>
|
|
True vision of true beauty, true cure of the distressed!<br>
|
|
Strive, man, to win that glory; toil, man, to gain that light;<br>
|
|
Send hope before to grasp it, till hope be lost in sight.</p>
|
|
<p>O sweet and blessèd country, the home of God’s elect!<br>
|
|
O sweet and blessèd country, that eager hearts expect!<br>
|
|
Jesu, in mercy bring us to that dear land of rest;<br>
|
|
Who art with God the Father and Spirit, ever blest.</p>
|
|
</div>
|
|
<hr>
|
|
<script src="./js/MainFooter.js" type="text/javascript"></script>
|