Unto the weak by his grace; and their going and coming he shares. He by himself alone provides for and manages solely, Nor does he doubt to provide nor vary in management still. For what he sees to be done he does, and his ruling is wholly Laborless, fixing the form and the time and the bounds of his will. Yea, through his zeal for our growth he places our limits and changes These by his occult laws, himself remaining the same. Himself remaining the same, while sickness and health he arranges, Swaying the world and showing how hope must be set on his name. If it be right to trust thee, then, all that thou doest or takest He is behind it, O Fortune, and he is the source of thy strength. Nay, I affirm, O Fortune, however thou fixest or shakest Thou canst not grieve me, nor overmuch cheer me at length. He is almighty and tender, the concord and trust of my treasure; I shall be his forever, when all his purpose is through! It may perhaps be well for us to observe the characteristics of Hildebert as we discover them in his hymn. They will be found to be those of an oratorical repetition, and indeed of that “fatal octosyllabic” fluency, demonstrated in later times by Skelton, by Butler, and by Scott. To a certain degree the verse is incapable of anything large or exultant. But it is admirable for the purpose to which he puts it. Indeed, I knew no better way, when Hildebert’s best admirer passed from this to a nobler world, than to express my own sadness in similar Latin; and I venture to close this chapter with the closing lines of that tribute. Mr. E. C. Benedict made it his happiest recreation to turn the strains of these ancient singers into modern verse. And it seemed fitting that he should be commemorated in the very rhythm he loved so well: “Vir honeste, vir praeclare! Tibi quidvis possim dare His versiculis confeci; Hic, coronam superjeci. Autem, illic, lux perennis Proferet floresque pennis Aves pictis puro die;— Nihil deest, O tu pie! Tu qui terra serus abis Christum unice laudabis. Vale! quia non moraris; Ave! quia nunc laetaris!” “Unto thee sincere and worthy Here I bring a tribute earthy. In these verses I have pressed it; Here upon thy tomb I rest it. But thyself, in light eternal Seest flowers; and birds supernal Brightly flit through sunny portals— Thou dost lack no joy of mortals! Thou who late from us dost sever There shall praise the Lord forever! Farewell! for thou wilt not linger; Hail! for thou art there a singer!”