Greek monk, (734-794,) nephew of St. John of Damascus, spent
his life, from the age of ten, in the monastery of St. Sabas. His sweet
hymn, known in Neale's translation,--

Art thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distrest?
Come to Me, saith One, and coming
Be at rest,

--is still in the hymnals, with the tunes of Dykes, and Sir Henry W.
Baker (1821-1877), Vicar of Monkland, Herefordshire.

KING ROBERT II.

_Veni, Sancte Spiritus._

Robert the Second, surnamed "Robert the Sage" and "Robert the Devout,"
succeeded Hugh Capet, his father, upon the throne of France, about the
year 997. He has been called the gentlest monarch that ever sat upon a
throne, and his amiability of character poorly prepared him to cope with
his dangerous and wily adversaries. His last years were embittered by
the opposition of his own sons, and the political agitations of the
times. He died at Melun in 1031, and was buried at St. Denis.

Robert possessed a reflective mind, and was fond of learning and musical
art. He was both a poet and a musician. He was deeply religious, and,
from unselfish motives, was much devoted to the church.

Robert's hymn, "Veni, Sancte Spiritus," is given below. He himself was a
chorister; and there was no kingly service that he seemed to love so
well. We are told that it was his custom to go to the church of St.
Denis, and in his royal robes, with his crown upon his head, to direct
the choir at matins and vespers, and join in the singing. Few kings have
left a better legacy to the Christian church than his own hymn, which,
after nearly a thousand years, is still an influence in the world:

Come, Thou Holy Spirit, come,
And from Thine eternal home
Shed the ray of light divine;
Come, Thou Father of the poor,
Come, Thou Source of all our store,
Come, within our bosoms shine.

Thou of Comforters the best,
Thou the soul's most welcome Guest,
Sweet Refreshment here below!
In our labor Rest most sweet,
Grateful Shadow from the heat,
Solace in the midst of woe!

Oh, most blessed Light Divine,
Shine within these hearts of Thine,
And our inmost being fill;
If Thou take Thy grace away,
Nothing pure in man will stay,
All our good is turned to ill.

Heal our wounds; our strength renew
On our dryness pour Thy dew;
Wash the stains of guilt away!
Bend the stubborn heart and will