Restore, O Lord, our Innocence

A hymn I wrote based on the Collects of Lent.

Restore, O Lord, our innocence,
Protect with thy right hand
The Church on earth which, through her sins,
Despises thy command.
Renew her by thy Sacraments
And through these forty days
May we, by this Lent purified,
Sing always of thy praise.

O God, who know our sorry state,
Devoid of strength for good,
Keep us from every wicked thought,
Make us live as we should.
By fasting teach us to abstain
From vice and fault and sin,
That we, denied of wordly joys,
May greater pleasures win.

Infuse our minds with heav'nly light,
That we may see thy ways,
Instruct us by thy discipline
To please Thee all our days.
Convert our hearts to love thy will,
Our minds to know the right;
May we find in this yearly fast
The source of our delight.

And so, O Lord, who love thy Church
And seek her growth on earth,
Give grace to those who through these days
Desire to find new birth.
Increase thy people through this Lent
In number, merit, love,
That we may, spurning earthly things,
Seek that which lies above.

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Lo, On That Day

An Advent hymn I wrote based on antiphons from the Roman Breviary. The tune may be familiar to you.

Lo, on that day the mounts shall drip Their sweetness all around.
Alleluia! Honey and milk Shall from the hills abound.

O daughter of Sion, be glad, Rejoice exceedingly!
The Lord shall come with all His saints To shed His light on thee.

All ye that thirst, to waters come And seek your coming Lord.
Lo, drawing nigh Jerusalem Renews He by His word.

The clouds shall part, the Lord shall come With power great and true.
Emmanuel: Lift high the gates That He may enter through.

Think not our Lord delaying be, Think not ye are deceived.
If He should tarry, wait for Him Whose advent soon shall be.
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Ye Different Sects

A hymn I modified from a longer one penned by Charles Wesley:

Ye different sects who all declare,
"Lo, here is Christ!" or, "Christ is there."
Your stronger proofs divinely give,
And show me where true Christians live.

Your claims are but vulgarity
Unless you act with charity.
Thou only, Lord, Thine own canst show,
For sure Thou still hast saints below.

In them let all mankind behold,
How Christians lived in days of old;
Replete with virtues from above,
A proverb of reproach—and love.

O might my lot be cast with them,
The least of these most holy men!
O that my Lord would count me meet
To wash His dear disciples' feet!

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