Whether we live or die, Both we submit to Thee: In death we live as well as life, If Thine in death we be. William Austin (d. 1633) had not the devotional fervour of his younger namesake (he does not seem to have been a relative, though both were of Lincoln’s Inn), but he is among the noteworthy hymn-writers of a time when hymns were few. As his poems are little known, I give a charming little hymn and two verses of a bright Christmas carol— What a gracious God have we, In His gifts of grace how free! How intent our prayers to hear, And to them that pray how near. How to balmy mercy prone, And to kind compassion. How regardfully He wakes, For His chosen servants’ sakes. How He gives them grace to pray, And then to their suits gives way. How He prompts each good desire, And blows up that spark to fire. He hath set no greater task, To obtain of Him but ‘Ask!’ No exacter search to find, But to seek with humble mind. No more pains heaven to unlock, But with spotless hands to knock. Yet He joys to see man press Him, And to wrestle till He bless him![81] . . . . . All this night bright angels sing; Never was such carolling. Hark! a voice which loudly cries, ‘Mortals, mortals, wake and rise; Lo! to gladness, Turns your sadness; From the earth is risen a Sun, Shines all night, though day be done.’ Hail, O Sun! O blessèd Light, Sent into this world by night; Let Thy rays and heavenly powers Shine in these dark souls of ours; For, most duly, Thou art truly God and Man, we do confess; Hail, O Sun of Righteousness![82] George Wither (1588-1667), lawyer, soldier, poet, Cavalier, Roundhead, Puritan, Anglican, was a writer of many hymns. He finds a secluded corner in a few modern hymnals; but had there been what we call hymn-books in his day, he would have been a considerable contributor. His hymns are more of the Evangelical than the Puritan type. His songs of the Church form a ‘Christian Year,’ and some of the hymns for Saints’ days are much more original and poetic than those commonly in use. Here are three verses for— ST. MATTHEW’S DAY For God doth not a whit respect Profession, person, or degree; But maketh choice of His elect From every sort of men that be, That none might of His love despair, But all men unto Him repair. For those, oh let us therefore pray, Who seem uncallèd to remain; Not shunning them, as cast away, God’s favour never to obtain: For some awhile neglected are, To stir in us more loving care. And for ourselves, let us desire, That we our avarice may shun; When God our service shall require, As this Evangelist hath done, And spend the remnant of our days In setting forth our Maker’s praise.