Cease, Weary Mortals, Cease to Sigh
Latin: Jam desinant suspiria, No. 41.
Source: Rev. John Chandler, The Hymns of the Primitive Church (London: John W. Parker, 1837), pp. 44-45.
Cease, weary mortals, cease to sigh,
For God hath heard you from on high,
E'en now he sendeth from above
The Prince of Peace, the Lord of Love.
The silence of the night profound
Is broken by a heavenly sound;
The angel-host to mortal ear
Announcing that the Lord is near.
So while the shepherds' feet are led
Within the Saviour's lowly shed,
We, too, will contemplate the sight,
The wonder that is brought to light.
Thither in fancy we repair :
We enter in : what see we there ?
A stall, a manger rudely piled,
A mother and an infant child.
Can this be He, the Lord of Grace,
The brightness of his Father's face ?
Can this be He, who rules the land,
And holds the ocean in his hand ?
It is: faith penetrates the clouds,
The darkness that his glory shrouds :
It is indeed the mighty Lord
By angels worshipped and adored.
E'en here the teacher we discern :
E'en now the lesson we may learn ;
With Him, from worldly pride be pure :
Meekly, with Him, thy woes endure.
Oh ! holy Babe, thy love inspire,
Repress in us each vain desire:
And thus thy saving grace impart,
To each believer's new-born heart.
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