Here are those I judge the best of the bishop's _Festival Hymns_, printed as part of his _Golden Grove_, or _Gide to Devotion_. In the first there is a little confusion of imagery; and in others of them will be found a little obscurity. They bear marks of the careless impatience of rhythm and rhyme of one who though ever bursting into a natural trill of song, sometimes with more rhymes apparently than he intended, would yet rather let his thoughts pour themselves out in that unmeasured chant, that "poetry in solution," which is the natural speech of the prophet-orator. He is like a full river that must flow, which rejoices in a flood, and rebels against the constraint of mole or conduit. He exults in utterance itself, caring little for the mode, which, however, the law of his indwelling melody guides though never compels. Charmingly diffuse in his prose, his verse ever sounds as if it would overflow the banks of its self-imposed restraints. THE SECOND HYMN FOR ADVENT; OR, CHRIST'S COMING TO JERUSALEM IN TRIUMPH. Lord, come away; Why dost thou stay? Thy road is ready; and thy paths made straight With longing expectation wait The consecration of thy beauteous feet. Ride on triumphantly: behold we lay Our lusts and proud wills in thy way. Hosanna! welcome to our hearts! Lord, here Thou hast a temple too, and full as dear As that of Sion, and as full of sin: Nothing but thieves and robbers dwell therein. Enter, and chase them forth, and cleanse the floor; Crucify them, that they may never more Profane that holy place Where thou hast chose to set thy face. And then if our stiff tongues shall be Mute in the praises of thy deity, The stones out of the temple-wall Shall cry aloud and call Hosanna! and thy glorious footsteps greet. HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS-DAY; BEING A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THREE SHEPHERDS. 1. Where is this blessed babe That hath made All the world so full of joy And expectation; That glorious boy That crowns each nation With a triumphant wreath of blessedness? 2. Where should he be but in the throng, And among His angel ministers that sing And take wing Just as may echo to his voice, And rejoice, When wing and tongue and all May so procure their happiness? 3. But he hath other waiters now: A poor cow An ox and mule stand and behold, And wonder That a stable should enfold Him that can thunder. _Chorus_. O what a gracious God have we! How good? How great? Even as our misery. A HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS-DAY.