24-THE HYMN OF THE CATACOMBS. THOSE who have wandered through any part of the ten miles of the labyrinth known as the Catacombs of Calixtus, which are said to contain the remains of a million Christian dead, will be familiar with the constant, almost infantile, persistence of the reference to Christ in inscriptions. Whether it is the dove, or the palm, or the fish, or the sacred monogram, it is always Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour. They had fallen in love with Jesus of Nazareth, had these hunted Christians, and they carved his name everywhere, or his symbol, as the lovelorn Orlando chiselled Rosalind's name on the bark of the trees in the forest of Ardennes. From these early days, when for the first time the human heart felt the fresh gush of passionate love for the Divine, made Man in order to become the Heavenly Bridegroom of his Spouse of the Church, there has come down to us little in the shape of authentic song save that hymn which, versified as the hymn "Shepherd of Tender Youth," is still to be heard in our churches today. But how different the circumstances of the modern congregation and those under which the little flock of the persecuted mustered in the black subterranean City of the Dead to enjoy the ecstasy of singing to Him whose love made the horrors of the torture-chamber and the shame of the Colosseum sweeter than all the honours and glories of the world. "Nowhere," says Zola, in his masterly picture of Rome, "had there been more intimate and touching life than in these buried cities of the unknown lowly dead, so gentle, so beautiful, and so chaste. And a mighty breath had formerly come from them, the breath of a new humanity destined to renew the world. With the advent of meekness, contempt of the flesh, relinquishment of terrestrial joys, and a passion for death, which delivers and opens the portals of Paradise, a new world had begun." And this ancient hymn, sole survivor of many such which

helped them to the hidden source of their strength, still, after all these centuries, exhales somewhat of the mystic fragrance which lingered around that mighty love by which they overcame the world. The following is the translation of Dean Plumptre:

URB for the stubborn steed,

Making its will give heed;
Wing that directest right
The wild bird's wandering flight;
Helm for the ships that keep
Their pathway o'er the deep;
Shepherd of sheep that own
Their Master on the Throne,
Stir up Thy children meek
With guileless lips to speak,
In hymn and song Thy praise,
Guide of their infant ways.
O King of saints, O Lord,
Mighty, all-conquering Word;
Son of the highest God
Wielding His wisdom's rod;
Our stay when cares annoy,
Giver of endless joy;
Of all our mortal race
Saviour of boundless grace,

O Jesus, hear!

Shepherd and Sower Thou,
Now helm, and bridle now,
Wing for the heavenward flight
Of flock all pure and bright,
Fisher of men, the blest,
Out of the world's unrest,
Out of Sin's troubled sea
Taking us, Lord, to Thee;
Out of the waves of strife,

With bait of blissful life,
With choicest fish, good store,
Drawing Thy nets to shore.
Lead us, O Shepherd true,
Thy mystic sheep, we sue,
Lead us, O holy Lord,
Who from Thy sons dost ward,
With all-prevailing charm,
Peril, and curse, and harm:
O path where Christ has trod,
O Way that leads to God,
O Word, abiding aye,
O endless light on high,
Mercy's fresh-springing flood.
Worker of all things good,
O glorious life of all

That on their Maker call,

Christ Jesus, hear;
O milk of Heaven, that prest
From full o'erflowing breast
Of her, the mystic Bride,
Thy wisdom hath supplied;
Thine infant children seek,
With baby lips, all weak,
Filled with the Spirit's dew
From that dear bosom true,
Thy praises pure to sing,

Hymns meet for Thee, our King,

For Thee, the Christ;

Our holy tribute this,

For wisdom, life and bliss,
Singing in chorus meet,
Singing in concert sweet,
The Almighty Son.

We, heirs of peace unpriced,

We, who are born in Christ,
A people pure from stain,
Praise we our God again,

Lord of our Peace!

25-"ART THOU WEARY, ART THOU LANGUID?”

THE Monastery of Mar Saba, founded before the Hegira of Mohammed, still stands on its ancient rock looking down upon the valley of the Kedron. Forty monks still inhabit the cells which cluster round the grave of St. Sabas, the founder, who died in 532, and still far below in the depths of the gorge the wolves and the jackals muster at morning light to eat the offal and refuse which the monks fling down below. In this monastic fortress lived in the eighth century a monk named Stephen, who, before he died, was gifted from on high with the supreme talent of embodying in a simple hymn so much of the essence of the Divine life that came to the world through Christ Jesus that in this last decade of the nineteenth century no hymn more profoundly touches the heart and raises the spirits of Christian worshippers. Dr. Neale paraphrased this song of Stephen the Sabaite, so that this strain, originally raised on the stern ramparts of an outpost of Eastern Christendom already threatened with submersion beneath the flood of Moslem conquest, rings with ever increasing volume of melodious sound through the whole wide world to-day.

ART art test?
RT thou weary, art thou languid,

"Come to Me," saith One, "and coming,
Be at rest."

Hath He marks to lead me to Him,
If He be my guide?

"In His feet and hands are wound-prints,
And His side."

Is there diadem, as monarch,
That His brow adorns?
"Yes, a crown, in very surety,
But of thorns!"

If I find Him, if I follow,
What His guerdon here?
"Many a sorrow, many a labour,
Many a tear."

If I still hold closely to Him,
What hath He at last?
"Sorrow vanquished, labour ended,
Jordan past!"

If I ask Him to receive me,

Will He say me nay

?

"Not till earth, and not till heaven,
Pass away!"

Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
Is He sure to bless?

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Angels, prophets, martyrs, virgins,
Answer, Yes!

TUNE-"STEPHANOS."

Mr. Duffield reminds us of a reference to a verse of this hymn which affords a bizarre but suggestive contrast to the life in the austere and secluded monastery where it first was given to the world. Mr. Duffield says:

"Miss Sally Pratt McLean has used this hymn in her story of Cape Cod Folks' (p. 300). It is the duet which George Oliver and Benny Cradlebow sing together as they are mending the boat just before Cradle. bow's heroic death. Captain Arkell tells of it thus:

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As

'By_and_by, him and George Oliver struck up a song. I've heern 'em sing it before, them two. nigh as I calc'late, it's about finding rest in Jesus,