A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations Consisting of Choice Passages from the Sacred Poetry of All Ages and Countries, Classified and Arranged, for Facility of Reference, Under Subject Headings; Illustrated by Striking Passages from Scripture, and Forming Altogether a Complete Book of Devotional Poetry. (part 2 of 4)

Preface

The favour with which our former compilation--the “Cyclopædia of Poetical Quotations”--was received, and the numerous calls which we had for an extension of the plan of that work, induced us to determine on the issue of this companion volume, which, although exactly similar in size and price, and method of arrangement, yet possesses a decidedly distinctive feature in the sacred character of all the pieces included. We have endeavoured to make it one of the most complete collections of RELIGIOUS POETRY ever offered to the public; and cannot doubt that, as such, it will be acceptable to a very large class of readers. As the matter in this volume had to be arranged under a far less number of distinct headings than that of the work above named, there was space for the introduction of longer pieces, and thus many of the most beautiful specimens of devotional poetry, which are to be found in the literature of this and other nations, are given with little or no curtailment. Although there is much poetry of a religious character scattered through the former volume, yet--inasmuch as it is presumed that most persons who possess the one will also desire to have the other--none of the pieces which may there be found are admitted into this compilation, except in some cases where it was felt that by re-uniting the portions there arranged under several headings, so complete and beautiful a whole could be presented, that its insertion here was almost rendered necessary.

As we wished to make our volume entirely unsectarian in its character, we have endeavoured to avoid the insertion of poems which involve merely doctrinal points. Those grand truths and principles of Christianity on which all denominations of the Saviour’s professed followers are agreed, offered ample scope for poetic illustration; and happily we could, alike from the pages of a Milton, a Watts, a Doddridge, a Wesley, a Montgomery, and a Keble, find plenty of matter for our purpose, without entering at all upon the thorny paths of controversy. The introduction of Scripture quotations at the head of each subject will, we apprehend, be considered a useful feature of our compilation. As might be expected, the noblest poetry that ever was written is to be found in the inspired volume, and those passages which we have selected therefrom, as specimens of poetic composition alone, will, we apprehend, be considered the true gems of the collection.

While we are upon the subject of Scripture quotations, we may perhaps be allowed to place before our readers a fine passage from Gilfillan’s “Bards of the Bible,” in reference thereto:--

“The charm which Scripture quotation adds to writing, let those tell who have read Milton, Bunyan, Burke, Foster, Southey, Croly, Carlyle, Macaulay, yea, and even Byron, all of whom have sown their pages with this ‘orient pearl’ and brought thus an impulse from divine inspiration, to add to the effect of their own. Extracts from the Bible always attest and vindicate their origin. They nerve what else in the sentence in which they occur is pointless; they clear a space for themselves, and cast a wide glory around the page where they are found. Taken from the classics of the heart, all hearts vibrate more or less strongly to their voice. It is even as David felt of old toward the sword of Goliath, when he visited the high-priest, and said, ‘There is none like that, give it me;’ so writers of true taste and sympathies feel on great occasions, when they have certain thoughts and feelings to express, a longing for that sharp two-edged sword, and an irresistible inclination to cry ‘None like that, give it us; this right Damascus blade alone can cut the way of our thought into full utterance and victory.’”

From the Psalms of David, as giving expression in the most poetical and devotional form, to almost every variety of passion and emotion of which the human mind is cognizant, we have, of course, taken a large proportion of our Scripture passages, and therefore do we think it well to quote the above author’s apostrophe to these sublime compositions.

“Wild, holy, tameless strains, how have you run down through ages in which large poems, systems, and religions have perished, firing the souls of poets, kissing the lips of children, smoothing the pillows of the dying, stirring the warrior to heroic rage, perfuming the chambers of solitary saints, and clasping into one the hearts and voices of thousands of assembled worshippers; tinging many a literature, and finding a home in many a land; and still ye seem as fresh, and young, and powerful as ever; yea, preparing for even mightier triumphs than when first chanted! Britain, Germany, and America now sing you; but you must yet awaken the dumb millions of China and Japan.”

It has been beautifully and truly observed by the eloquent and learned Bishop Lowth, that “We shall think of Poetry much more humbly than it deserves, unless we direct our attention to that quarter where its importance is most eminently conspicuous, or unless we contemplate it as employed on sacred subjects, and in subservience to religion. This indeed appears to have been the original office and destination of Poetry, and this it still so happily performs, that in all other cases it seems out of character, as if intended for this purpose alone. In other instances Poetry appears to want the assistance of art, and in this to shine forth with all its natural splendour, or rather to be animated by that inspiration, which on other occasions is spoken of without being felt.”

These observations apply more especially to Hebrew Poetry, that loftiest and noblest manifestation of true poetic inspiration; and are quoted by Dr. Caunter in his able and judicious treatise on “The Poetry of the Pentateuch,” in reference to which the learned writer observes that “Sacred themes have inspired the greatest poets of almost every age, and of every civilized country where the true God has been adored, the doctrine of redemption promulgated, and the divine attributes avowed. Those sublime themes have called forth the highest intellectual endowments of man.” Herder, another profound critic, and lover of Poetry in its most sublime forms, says of it, that “without God it is a showy Papyrus without moisture; every system of morals without Him is a mere parasitical plant. It makes a flowery display in fine words, and sends forth its branches hither and thither; nay, it insinuates itself into every weak spot and crevice of the human soul; but the sun rises and it vanishes.”

All true Poets have felt and known this, although they have not always acknowledged it; sometimes it was but a dim confused perception of the truth which they obtained; being dazzled by the blaze of their own genius, they have mistaken that for a divine effluence, and worshipped it in the place of that greater glory, of which it was but a faint reflex and emanation. Sometimes it was pride of intellect which forbade them to bow down to any other God than that which bore the impress of self: sometimes it was a kind of pantheistic worship of nature, as an abstract divinity; so enamoured were they of the fair face of creation, that they forgot the Creator; the works, how beautiful! how perfect! But the workman, what of Him? We have spoken in the past tense, and it might be thought that our remarks were meant to apply to poets of pagan lands, and of benighted ages of the world’s history; but alas! they are equally applicable to all ages, and to all lands; and especially to our own country and age of Christian enlightenment. Many of the most gifted singers of the present day, of the most fervent and devoted spirits, might have served as high-priests in the temple of Apollo, and offered adoration at the shrine of Flora, Ceres, and the Bona Dea, and other pagan impersonifications of the sun, and the earth, with its beauties and riches. To such as these the flowers, those stars of earth, are not the living, glowing, breathing “charactery” in which the Almighty writes instructive lessons of His wisdom and goodness, telling the sick, the weary, and the sad at heart, that

“Whoso careth for the flowers Will care much more for them.”

To such the stars, those flowers of heaven, are not bright revelations of the Deity who sustains and directs them in their courses.

“For ever singing as they shine, The hand that made us is divine.”

To such the whispering gales, the rustling boughs, the humming insects, the singing rills, and the warbling birds, speak not of an ever watchful, ever wakeful Power, to which in every emergency the prayerful soul may turn. Calm and soothing as is doubtless the influence of nature, upon the troubled souls of all who submit themselves to her gentle teachings, yet with how much greater satisfaction and delight must those contemplate her beauties and share her calm enjoyments, who see in her various changes and aspects but so many revelations of Almighty love, and read in her fair lineaments the wondrous story of redeeming grace.

“Alas! that mankind sees Him not,--the Great And Everlasting Framer of all worlds; Who paints himself upon the leaves of flowers, And flings his portrait on the breasted clouds, And sheds his syllogisms in the shape Of suns, and moons, and planetary systems,”

as J. Stanyan Bigg, the latest, but not the least, of the true poets of the present cycle, has finely said. We must give another extract from his “Night and the Soul,” published too late for quotation in the body of our volume:--

“Nature is still, as ever, the thin veil Which half conceals, and half reveals the face And lineaments supernal of our King,-- The modifying medium through which His glories are exhibited to man,-- The grand repository where he hides His mighty thoughts to be dug out like diamonds;-- Still is the day irradiate with His glory, Flowing in steady, sun-streaked, ocean gush From His transcendant nature,--still at night O’er our horizon trail the sable robes Of the Eternal One, with all their rich Embroidery and emblazonment of stars.”

This is high and holy teaching. Well were it if every mere nature-worshipper could be brought to the same conviction as the poet of “Night and the Soul,” and confess that--

“Religion is the true Philosophy! Faith is the last great link ’twixt God and man. There is more wisdom in a whispered prayer Than in the ancient lore of all the schools: The soul upon its knees holds God by the hand. Worship is wisdom as it is in heaven! ‘I do believe! Help Thou mine unbelief!’ Is the last greatest utterance of the soul.”

“I do believe!” how few are there among the gifted children of song, who can stoop from the lofty heights of intellectual glory, to utter this confession of the insufficiency of human reason, the littleness of human power.--

“Stoop, stoop, proud man! the gate of heaven is low, And all who enter in thereat must bend! Reason has fields to play in, wide as air, But they have bounds; and if she soar beyond, Lo! there are lightnings and the curse of God. And the old thundered ‘Never!’ from the jaws Of the black darkness and the mocking waste. Come not to God with questions on thy lips, He will have love--love and a holy trust. And the self-abnegation of a child. ’Tis a far higher wisdom to believe, Than to cry ‘Question’ at the porch of truth. Think not the Infinite will calmly brook The plummet of the finite in its depths.”

God and His attributes are undoubtedly the poet’s noblest themes, and to celebrate the greatness and glory of His works, the wonders of His power, and the riches of His grace, have the highest efforts of human genius in all ages been directed. From the time when Moses sung his song of triumph as the waters closed over Pharaoh and his host, when the Prophets uttered their rapt predictions, and the inspired Psalmist sent forth those strains of supplication and thanksgiving which are still sounding daily in our ears, and stirring our hearts to devotion, down to the period when Milton wrote his great epic,

“Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world,”

has the lyre been consecrated to the service of religion--has religious poetry been the most beautiful and touching, as well as the most lofty and sublime of all poetry. As Dr. Caunter well observes, “The noblest epics which have elicited the poetic genius of different countries, have been based upon subjects either immediately connected with, or remotely allied to, religion. The authors of the Mahabarat and the Ramayana, two Hindoo epics of high celebrity and extraordinary magnitude, extending each to several hundred thousand lines, of the Iliad and the Odyssey, of the Inferno, of the Jerusalem Delivered, of the Paradise Lost and Regained, have, either directly or consequentially, all made the Deity and His illimitable perfections the subjects of their immortal song.”

And so it is; every true poet is essentially a religious poet; his religion may not be Christianity, his views of the divine nature and attributes may be distorted, and he may be altogether ignorant of the great truths of scripture revelation, yet there will ever be in minds of the greatest reach and capacity, a striving after that which is good and holy, and a knowledge, approximating to the truth, of the relationship between the Creator and the created; for

“Spontaneously to God will tend the soul, Like the magnetic needle to the pole.”

Would that all whose “tranced hands have woke the lyre,” and chanted such strains as the world would not willingly let die, had had such clear views of the nature of the obligation which lay on them to dedicate their powers to the service of true religion, as our own Milton, who commenced his immortal epic thus:--

“And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all temples, the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for Thou know’st: Thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like sat’st brooding on the vast abyss, And mad’st it pregnant. What in me is dark Illumine; what is low, raise and support; That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men.”

Would that all could bear some such testimony to the truth as it is in Jesus, and exclaim with him--

“O, unexampled Love! Love no where to be found less than Divine! Hail, Son of God, Saviour of men, Thy Name Shall be the copious matter of my song Henceforth, and never shall my harp Thy praise Forget, nor from Thy Father’s praise disjoin.”

A similar spirit of fervent piety animated the breast of the Italian poet Lorenzo de Medici, who made this solemn request at the footstool of the Almighty, previous to entering on the composition of a poem:--

“In ardent adoration joined, Obedient to Thy holy will, Let all my faculties combined Thy just desires, O God, fulfil! From thee derived, eternal King, To thee our noblest powers we bring: O, may thy hand direct our wandering way! O, bid thy light arise, and chase the clouds away!”

Listen also to the author of the “Night Thoughts,” and hear his acknowledgment of the true sources of poetic inspiration:--

“O Thou bless’d Spirit: whether the Supreme, Great ante-mundane Father; in whose breast, Embryo creation, unborn being, dwelt, And all its various revolutions rolled, Present, though future; prior to themselves; Whose breath can blow it into nought again; Or, from His throne some delegated power; Who, studious of our peace, dost turn the thought From vain and vile, to solid and sublime! Unseen Thou lead’st me to delicious draughts Of Inspiration, from a purer stream, And fuller of the God, than that which burst From famed Castalia.”

Alas! how often has been, and is, this noble gift of poesy abused and prostituted to base purposes; of how few could it be said that he had written no line which dying he might wish to blot. Dryden, we may remember, exclaims

“O gracious God! How far have we Profaned Thy heavenly gift of poesy! Made prostitute and profligate the muse, Debased to each obscene and impious use, Whose harmony was first ordained above For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love!”

Yet even he cannot altogether escape the reproach conveyed in these lines to such as have, at times, shown themselves unworthy of the sacred gift, and of this he appears to be conscious when he says “how far have we,” etc. Cowper might with great propriety act the censor on such a dereliction of duty, and say--

“Debased to servile purposes of pride, How are the powers of genius misapplied! The gift, whose office is the Giver’s praise, To trace Him in His word, His work, His ways, Then spread the rich discovery, and invite Mankind to share in the divine delight; Distorted from its use and just design, To make the pitiful possessor shine, To purchase at the fool-frequented fair Of vanity, a wreath for self to wear, Is profanation of the basest kind-- Proof of a trifling and a worthless mind.”

So also might one of the sacred poets of our own day, many of whose strains of simple, earnest, and pure devotion, will be found in our volume. He has just passed from hence to sing in a heavenly choir; and fain would we embody in this preface a slight tribute of our admiration for his genius, and our gratitude for the service he has rendered to the Christian Religion.

TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES MONTGOMERY.

SWEET minstrel, who through life hast turned thy face Unto the city of the heavenly king; Of infinite mercy, and of boundless grace, And God’s high attributes hast loved to sing; E’en like a pilgrim onward journeying, To whom this world was no abiding place; But through whose mists of sin and sorrowing Thou hadst a light the devious way to trace. The river thou hast crossed, the shining gate Hath oped to bid thee welcome to thy rest; Thy voice, which sounded in our ears but late, Now swells the chorus of the truly blest: Thou hast departed, but hast left thy lays, A rich bequest of holy prayer and praise.

CYCLOPÆDIA

OF

SACRED POETICAL QUOTATIONS.

AARON.

I will sanctify the tabernacle of the congregation and the altar: I will sanctify also both Aaron and his sons, to minister to me in the priest’s office.--Exodus, xxix. 44.

And Moses stripped Aaron of his garments, and put them upon Eleazar his son; and Aaron died there in the top of the mount; and Moses and Eleazar came down from the mount.--Numbers, xx. 28.

Aaron the saint of the Lord.--Psalm cvi. 16.

Called of God, as was Aaron.--Hebrews, v. 4.

So, with trembling hand, He hasted to unclasp the priestly robe, And cast it o’er his son, and on his head The mitre place; while, with a feeble voice, He blessed, and bade him keep his garments pure From blood of souls. But then, as Moses raised The mystic breastplate, and that dying eye Caught the last radiance of those precious stones, By whose oracular and fearful light Jehovah had so oft His will revealed Unto the chosen tribes, whom Aaron loved In all their wanderings--but whose promised land He might not look upon--he sadly laid His head upon the mountain’s turfy breast, And with one prayer, half-wrapped in stifled groans, Gave up the ghost. Mrs. Sigourney.

ABEL.

And Abel brought of the firstlings of his flock, and of the fat thereof. And the Lord had respect unto Abel and his offering.--Genesis, iv. 4.

They were wont to speak in old time, saying, They shall surely ask counsel at Abel.--II. Samuel, xx. 18.

By faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than Cain, by which he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts: and by it he being dead yet speaketh.--Hebrews, xi. 4.

Blood has a voice to pierce the skies; Revenge! the blood of Abel cries; But the dear stream when Christ was slain, Speaks peace aloud from every vein. Watts.

Adjacent rose a myrtle-planted mound, Whose spiry top a granite fragment crowned. Tinctured with many-coloured moss the stone, Rich as a cloud of summer-evening shone, Amid encircling verdure that arrayed The beauteous hillock with a cope of shade. “Javan,” said Enoch, “on this spot began The fatal curse;--man perished here by man. The earliest death a son of Adam died Was murder, and that murder fratricide! Here Abel fell a corse along the shore; Here Cain’s recoiling footsteps reeked with gore. Horror upraised his locks, unloosed his knees; He heard a voice, he hid among the trees: --‘Where is thy brother?’--from the whirlwind came The voice of God amidst enfolding flame: --‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’--hoarse and low, Cain muttered from the copse--‘that I should know?’

* * * * *

That mound of myrtles o’er her favourite child Eve planted, and the hand of Adam piled Yon mossy stone, above his ashes raised, His altar once, with Abel’s offering blazed, When God well pleased beheld the flames arise, And smiled acceptance on the sacrifice.” J. Montgomery.

ABHORRENCE.

And now am I their song, yea, I am their by-word. They abhor me, they flee far from me.--Job, xxx. 9, 10.

I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear: but now mine eye seeth thee. Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.--Job, xlii. 5, 6.

Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good.--Romans, xii. 9.

Father of lights! from whom proceeds Whate’er thy every creature needs; Whose goodness providently nigh, Feeds the young ravens when they cry; To thee I look, my heart prepare; Suggest, and hearken to my prayer.

Fain would I know, as known by thee, And feel the indigence I see: Fain would I all my vileness own, And deep beneath the burden groan; Abhor the pride that lurks within, Detest and loathe myself and sin. Wesley.

’Tis a point I long to know, Oft it causes anxious thought, Do I love the Lord, or no? Am I his, or am I not? Could I joy his saints to meet, Choose the ways I once abhorred, Find at times the promise sweet, If I did not love the Lord? Newton.

Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals nor forts. The warrior’s name would be a name abhorred; And every nation that should lift again Its hand against a brother, on its forehead Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain. Longfellow.

ABIDE--ABODE.

For we are strangers before thee, and sojourners, as were all our fathers: our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding.--I. Chronicles, xxix. 15.

The fear of the Lord tendeth to life, and he that hath it shall abide satisfied.--Proverbs, xix. 23.

They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which cannot be removed, but abideth for ever.--Psalm cxxv. 1.

If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.--John, xv. 7.

Eternal power! whose high abode Becomes the grandeur of a God-- Infinite lengths beyond the bounds, Where stars revolve their little rounds.

The lowest step beneath thy seat Rises too high for Gabriel’s feet: In vain the tall archangel tries To reach thine height with wondering eyes. Watts.

“We’ve no abiding city here:”-- This may distress the worldly mind; But should not cost the saint a tear, Who hopes a better rest to find.

“We’ve no abiding city here;” We seek a city out of sight; Zion its name,--the Lord is there, It shines with everlasting light.

O! sweet abode of peace and love, Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest; Had I the pinions of a dove, I’d fly to thee and be at rest. Kelly.

Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour dear, It is not night if Thou be near: Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise To hide Thee from Thy servant’s eyes.

Abide with me from morn till eve, For without Thee I cannot live. Abide with me when night is nigh, For without Thee I dare not die. Keble.

ABOUND--ABUNDANCE.

The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth.--Exodus, xxxiv. 6.

A faithful man shall abound with blessings; but he that maketh haste to be rich, shall not be innocent.--Proverbs, xxviii. 20.

Therefore as ye abound in every thing, in faith and utterance, and knowledge, and in all diligence, and in your love to us, see that ye abound in this grace also.--II. Corinthians, viii. 7.

We beseech you brethren and exhort you by the Lord Jesus, that as ye have received of us how ye ought to walk and to please God, so ye would abound more and more.--I. Thessalonians, iv. 1.

Unto Him that is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that worketh in us.--Ephesians, iii. 20.

Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.--Matthew, xii. 34.

God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also poured, Inward and outward both. Milton.

Good the more Communicated, more abundant grows; The author not impaired but honoured more. Milton.

The God of Nature and of Grace In all his works appears; His goodness through the earth we trace, His grandeur in the spheres.

Behold this fair and fertile globe, By Him in wisdom planned; ’Twas He who girded, like a robe, The ocean round the land.

His blessings fall in plenteous showers Upon the lap of earth, That teems with foliage, fruit, and flowers, And rings with infant mirth.

If God hath made this world so fair, Where sin and death abound; How beautiful beyond compare Will Paradise be found! J. Montgomery.

ABOVE.

The Lord shall make thee the head, and not the tail; and thou shalt be above only, and thou shalt not be beneath; if that thou hearken unto the commandments of the Lord thy God, which I command thee this day, to observe and to do them.--Deuteronomy, xxviii. 13.

The Lord is high above all nations, and his glory above the heavens.--Psalm cxiii. 4.

He that cometh from above is above all: he that is of the earth is earthly, and speaketh of the earth: he that cometh from heaven is above all.--John, iii. 31.

Be this my one great business here, With serious industry and fear, Eternal bliss to ensure: Thine utmost counsel to fulfil, And suffer all thy righteous will, And to the end endure.

Then Saviour, then, my soul receive, Transported from this vale to live And reign with thee above; Where faith is sweetly lost in sight, And hope in full supreme delight, And everlasting love. Wesley.

Descend from heaven immortal Dove, Stoop down and take us on thy wings, And mount and bear us far above The reach of these inferior things.

Beyond, beyond this lower sky, Up where eternal ages roll; Where solid pleasures never die, And fruits immortal feast the soul. Watts.

Rise my soul and stretch thy wings, Thy better portion trace; Rise from transitory things, Towards heaven, thy native place.

Sun, and moon, and stars decay; Time shall soon this earth remove; Rise, my soul, and haste away To seats prepared above. Cennick.

ABRAHAM.

By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went.

By faith he sojourned in the land of promise, as in a strange country, dwelling in tabernacles with Isaac and Jacob, the heirs with him of the same promise:

For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.--Hebrews, xi. 8, 9, 10.

Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness.--Romans, iv. 3.

Him God the Most High, vouchsafed To call by vision, from his father’s house, His kindred, and false gods, into a land Which he did show him, and from him did raise A mighty nation; and upon him shower His benedictions so, that in his seed All nations shall be blest; he straight obeyed, Not knowing to what land, yet firm believed: He left his gods, his friends, and native soil, Ur of Chaldea, passing now the ford To Haran; after him a cumbrous train Of herds and flocks, and numerous servitude, Not wandering poor, but trusting all his wealth To God, who called him, in a land unknown. Milton.

Like Abraham ascending up the hill To sacrifice, his servants left below, That he might act the great Commander’s will Without impeach to his obedient blow: Even so the soul, remote from earthly things, Should mount salvation’s shelter,--mercy’s wings. Robert Southwell.

Though round him numerous tribes, Sworn foes to Heaven’s dread Ruler, pitch their tents, No wayward doubts or coward fears appal The Patriarch’s soul. By the bright hope sustained, That in his seed all nations should be blest, Calm and unmoved the delegated seer Submissive bends to the Eternal Will. Samuel Hayes.

ABSENCE.

I Paul myself beseech you by the meekness and gentleness of Christ, who in presence am base among you, but being absent am bold toward you.--II. Corinthians, x. 1.

I write these things, being absent, lest being present I should use sharpness, according to the power which the Lord hath given me.--II. Corinthians, xiii. 10.

To Jesus, the crown of my hope, My soul is in haste to be gone; Oh, bear me, ye cherubim, up, And waft me away to His throne!

My Saviour, whom absent, I love, Whom not having seen, I adore; Whose name is exalted above All glory, dominion, and pow’r. Cowper.

Thus far my God hath led me on, And made His truth and mercy known; My hopes and fears alternate rise, And comforts mingle with my sighs.

Through this wild wilderness I roam, Far distant from my blissful home; Lord, let Thy presence be my stay, And guard me in this dangerous way.

Temptations everywhere annoy, And sins and snares my peace destroy; My earthly joys are from me torn, And oft an absent God I mourn. Fawcett.

Had I the tongues of Greeks and Jews, And nobler speech than angels use, If love be absent, I am found, Like tinkling brass, an empty sound.

If love to God and love to men Be absent, all my hopes are vain; Nor tongues, nor gifts, nor fiery zeal, The work of love can e’er fulfil. Watts.

ACCEPTANCE.

Thus saith the Lord unto this people, thus have they loved to wander, they have not refrained their feet; therefore the Lord doth not accept them; he will now remember their iniquity, and visit their sins.--Jeremiah, xiv. 10.

Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my Redeemer.--Psalm xix. 14.

Proving what is acceptable unto the Lord.--Ephesians, v. 10.

God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation, he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him.--Acts, x. 34, 35.

This woman, whom thou mad’st to be my help, And gav’st me as thy perfect gift, so good, So fit, so acceptable, so divine. Milton.

Thus I imboldened spake, and freedom and Permission, and acceptance found. Milton.

God is a spirit just and wise; He sees our inmost mind; In vain to heaven we raise our cries, And leave our souls behind.

Nothing but truth before his throne With honour can appear; The painted hypocrites are known Through the disguise they wear.

Lord search my thoughts, and try my ways, And make my soul sincere; Then shall I stand before thy face, And find acceptance there. Watts.

Accept my prayer O Lord, A contrite spirit cries, And asks, depending on Thy word, A pardon from the skies.

Let me acceptance find, Unworthy though I be; Be there a place in heaven assigned To me, Lord, even me! Anon.

ACQUAINTANCE.

Acquaint now thyself with him, and be at peace: thereby good shall come unto thee.--Job, xxii. 21.

Acquaint thee, O mortal! acquaint thee with God; And joy, like the sunshine, shall beam on thy road; And peace, like the dewdrop, shall fall on thy head; And sleep, like an angel, shall visit thy bed.

Acquaint thee, O mortal! acquaint thee with God; And he shall be with thee when fears are abroad, Thy safeguard in danger that threatens thy path,-- Thy joy in the valley and shadow of death. Knox.

Acquaint thyself with God, if thou would’st taste His works. Admitted once to his embrace, Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before: Thine eye shall be instructed; and thine heart Made pure, shall relish with divine delight Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought. Brutes graze the mountain-top, with faces prone, And eyes intent upon the scanty herb It yields them: or recumbent on its brow Ruminate, heedless of the scene outspread Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away From inland regions to the distant main. Man views it and admires; but rests content With what he views. The landscape has his praise, But not its Author. Unconcerned who framed The Paradise he sees, he finds it such, And such well pleased to find it, asks no more. Not so the mind that has been touched from heaven, And in the schools of sacred wisdom taught To read his wonders, in whose thought the world, Fair as it is, existed ere it was. Not for its own sake merely, but for his Much more who fashioned it, he gives it praise; Praise that from earth resulting as it ought, To earth’s acknowledged Sovereign, finds at once Its only just proprietor in Him. Cowper.

ADAM AND EVE.

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.--Genesis, i. 27.

By one man sin entered into the world, and death by sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned.--Romans, v. 12.

For since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead.

For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.--I. Corinthians, xv. 21, 22.

The first man Adam was made a living soul; the last Adam was made a quickening spirit.--I. Corinthians, xv. 45.

Thou man thy image mad’st, in dignity, In knowledge and in beauty like to thee; Placed in a heaven on earth: without his toil, The ever flourishing and fruitful soil Unpurchased food produced: all creatures were His subjects, serving more for love than fear. Sandys.

For contemplation he, and valour formed; For softness she, and sweet attractive grace; He for God only, she for God in him: His fair large front and eye sublime, declared Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad: She as a veil down to the slender waist, Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dishevelled, but in wanton ringlets waved As the vine curls her tendrils: which implied Subjection, but required with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best received. Milton.

So spake our mother Eve; and Adam heard Well pleased, but answered not; for now, too nigh The archangel stood; and from the other hill To their fixed station, all in bright array, The cherubim descended; on the ground Gliding mysterious, as evening mist Risen from a river, o’er the marish glides, And gathers round, fast at the labourer’s heel Homeward returning. High in front advanced, The brandished sword of God before them blazed, Fierce as a comet; which with torrid heat And vap’rous as the Libyan air adust, Began to parch that temperate clime; whereat On either hand the hast’ning angels caught Our lingering parents; and to th’ eastern gate Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast To the subjected plain; then disappeared. They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate With dreadful faces thronged, and fiery arms. Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide; They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way. Milton.

Oft hast thou heard our elder patriarchs tell How Adam once by disobedience fell; Would that my tongue were gifted to display The terror and the glory of that day, When seized and stricken by the hand of death, The first transgressor yielded up his breath!

* * * * *

With him his noblest sons might not compare In God-like features and majestic air; Not out of weakness rose his gradual frame, Perfect from his Creator’s hand he came; And as in form excelling, so in mind The sire of men transcended all mankind; A soul was in his eye, and in his speech A dialect of heaven no art could reach; For oft of old to him the evening breeze Had borne the voice of God among the trees; Angels were wont their songs with his to blend, And talk with him as their familiar friend. But deep remorse for that mysterious crime, Whose dire contagion through elapsing time Diffused the curse of death beyond control, Had wrought such self-abasement in his soul, That he whose honour was approached by none, Was yet the meekest man beneath the sun. J. Montgomery.

ADMONITION.

The Lord hath said concerning you, O ye remnant of Judah; Go ye not into Egypt: know certainly that I have admonished you this day.--Jeremiah, xlii. 19.

And I myself also am persuaded of you, my brethren, that ye also are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, able also to admonish one another.--Romans, xv. 14.

Now all these things happened unto them for ensamples: and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come.--I. Corinthians, x. 11.

Thou Power Supreme! who aiming to rebuke Offenders, dost put off the gracious look, And clothe thyself in terrors, like the flood Of ocean roused into his fiercest mood, Whatever discipline Thy will ordain For the brief course that must for me remain; Teach me with quick-eared spirit to rejoice In admonitions of thy softest voice! Whate’er the path these mortal feet may trace, Breathe through my soul the blessing of Thy grace; Glad, through a perfect love, a faith sincere, Drawn from the wisdom that begins with fear; Glad to expand, and, for a season, free From finite cares, to rest absorbed in Thee. Wordsworth.

In every copse and sheltered dell, Unveiled to the observant eye, Are faithful monitors, who tell How pass the hours and seasons by.

The green-robed children of the spring, Will mark the periods as they pass; Mingle with leaves time’s feathered wing, And bind with flowers his silent glass.

Thus in each flower and simple bell, That in our path betrodden lie; Are sweet remembrancers, who tell How fast the winged moments fly. Charlotte Smith.

ADORATION.

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come.--Revelations, iv. 8.

Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever.--Revelations, v. 13.

In ardent adoration joined, Obedient to Thy holy will, Let all my faculties combined Thy just desires, O God, fulfil! From thee derived, Eternal King, To thee our noblest powers we bring: O, may thy hand direct our wandering way! O, bid thy light arise, and chase the clouds away! Lorenzo de Medici.

Ye who spurn His righteous sway, Yet, oh yet, He spares your breath; Yet His hand, averse to slay, Balances the bolt of death. Ere that dreadful bolt descends, Haste before His feet to fall; Kiss the sceptre He extends, And adore Him “Lord of all.” Sir R. Grant.

Eternal Power, whose high abode Becomes the grandeur of a God, Infinite lengths beyond the bounds Where stars revolve their little rounds.

Thee, while the first archangel sings, He hides his face behind his wings, And ranks of shining thrones around, Fall worshipping and spread the ground.

Lord, what shall earth and ashes do? We would adore our Maker too; From sin and dust to Thee we cry, The Great, the Holy, and the High. Wesley.

ADVENT.

Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain.

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.--Isaiah, xl. 3, 4, 5.

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.--Isaiah, lxi. 1, 2.

Let the floods clap their hands, let the hills be joyful together before the Lord; for He cometh to judge the earth: with righteousness shall He judge the world, and the people with equity.--Psalm xcviii. 8, 9.

Well then, my soul, joy in the midst of pain; Thy Christ, that conquered hell, shall from above With greater triumph yet return again, And conquer His own justice with His love-- Commanding earth and seas to render those Unto His bliss, for whom he paid His woes. Henry Wotton.

When Thou, attended gloriously from Heaven, Shall in the sky appear, and from Thee send The summoning archangels to proclaim The dread tribunal, forthwith from all winds The living, and forthwith the cited dead Of all past ages, to the general doom Shall hasten. Milton.

Come then, and added to thy many crowns, Deceive yet one, the crown of all the Earth, Thou who alone art worthy! It was thine By ancient covenant, ere Nature’s birth; And thou hast made it thine by purchase since, And overpaid its value with thy blood. Thy saints proclaim thee king; and in their hearts Thy title is engraven with a pen Dipped in the fountain of eternal love. Thy saints proclaim thee king; and thy delay Gives courage to their foes, who could they see The dawn of thy last advent long desired, Would creep into the bowels of the hills And flee for safety to the falling rocks. Cowper.

Messiah comes!--Let furious discord cease; Be peace on earth before the Prince of Peace! Disease and anguish feel His blest control, And howling fiends release the tortured soul! The beams of gladness Hell’s dark caves illume, And mercy broods above the distant gloom. Bishop Heber.

The Lord shall come! the earth shall quake; The mountains to their centre shake; And withering from the vault of night, The stars shall pale their feeble light.

The Lord shall come! but not the same As once in lowliness he came; A silent Lamb before His foes, A weary man and full of woes.

The Lord shall come! a dreadful form, With rainbow wreath, and robes of storm; On cherub wings and wings of wind, Appointed Judge of all mankind! Bishop Heber.

The chariot! the chariot! its wheels roll on fire, As the Lord cometh down in the pomp of his ire; Self-moving it drives on its pathway of cloud, And the heavens with the burthen of Godhead are bowed!

The glory! the glory! by myriads are pour’d The host of the angels to wait on their Lord, And the glorified saints and the martyrs are there, And all who the palm-wreath of victory wear. H. H. Milman.

Messiah comes! ye rugged paths be plain! The Shiloh comes! ye towering cedars bend; Swell forth, ye valleys; and, ye rocks, descend; The withered branch let balmy fruits adorn, And clustering roses twine the leafless thorn; Burst forth, ye vocal groves, your joy to tell-- The God of Peace redeems His Israel. C. H. Johnson.

ADVERSITY.

He hath said in his heart, I shall not be moved, for I shall never be in adversity.--Psalm x. 6.

In the day of prosperity be joyful, but in the day of adversity consider: God also hath set the one over against the other, to the end that man should find nothing after him.--Ecclesiastes, vii. 14.

Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body.--Hebrews, xiii. 3.

Stern teacher! should’st thou come, and sit by me, And fix upon me thy dread, stony eyes, Calmly may I behold and welcome thee, As one that hath a message from the skies, Fraught with intelligence to make me wise: God grant me strength to view thee steadfastly, And listen to thy voice, though agonies Should rack my soul or frame. Adversity! Full oft hast thou a friend to mortals been, A blessing in disguise, though stern thy look; Hard is thy hand, but still thy palms between Thou hold’st outspread the pages of God’s Book; Wherein who reads with humble, prayerful mind, Will hope, and ease, and consolation find. Anon.

When first thy sire to send on earth Virtue, his darling child, designed, To thee he gave the heavenly birth, And bade thee form her infant mind. Stern rugged nurse, thy rigid lore With patience many a year she bore; What sorrow was thou bad’st her know, And, from her own, she learned to melt at other’s woe. Gray.

Adversity misunderstood, Becomes a double curse: Her chastening hand improves the good, But makes the wicked worse. Thus clay more obdurate becomes, To the fierce flame consign’d; While gold in the red ordeal melts, But melts to be refin’d. C. C. Colton.

AFFECTION.

Set your affection upon my words; desire them, and ye shall be instructed.--Wisdom, vi. 2.

Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.--Colossians, iii. 2.

Be kindly affectioned one to another.--Romans, xii. 10.

Heavenly Father! God of love, Look with mercy from above; Let thy streams of comfort roll, Let them fill and cheer my soul.

Love celestial, ardent fire; O extreme of sweet desire! Spread thy bright, thy gentle flame, Swift o’er all my mental frame.

Sweet affections flow from hence, Sweet above the joys of sense; Let me thus for ever be, Full of gladness, full of thee. Parnel.

Precious are the kind affections Which around this life entwine, Making earth, with all its troubles, Something more than half divine. But, alas! they fade and perish, Like the bright and fragrant flowers, Sorrow blights, and death destroys them, And their beauty time devours.

’Tis not so with those affections, That are set on heavenly things; They will bloom and flourish ever, Watered by eternal springs; Warmed by everlasting sunshine, Sheltered from the storms of earth, Ever growing and increasing, Knowing nought of drought or dearth. Anon.

AFFLICTION.

Before I was afflicted I went astray; but now have I kept thy word.--Psalm cxix. 67.

It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes.--Psalm cxix. 71.

I know that the Lord will maintain the cause of the afflicted, and the right of the poor.--Psalm cxl. 12.

He was oppressed, and He was afflicted, yet He opened not His mouth: He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He openeth not His mouth.--Isaiah, liii. 7.

In all their affliction He was afflicted, and the angel of His presence saved them: in His love and in His pity He redeemed them; and He bare them and carried them all the days of old.--Isaiah, lxiii. 9.

Come, and let us return unto the Lord: for He hath torn, and He will heal us; He hath smitten, and He will bind us up.--Hosea, vi. 1.

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.--II. Corinthians, iv. 17.

Affliction has a taste as sweet As any cordial comfort. Shakspere.

Perfumes, the more they’re chafed, the more they render Their pleasant scents, and so affliction Expresseth virtue fully. John Webster.

Afflictions clarify the soul, And, like hard masters, give more hard directions, Tutoring the non-age of uncurbed affections. Francis Quarles.

To bear affliction with a bended brow, Or stubborn heart, is but to disallow The speedy means to health. Francis Quarles.

A life all ease is all abused;-- O, precious grace that made the wise To know--affliction, rightly used, Is mercy in disguise. G. B. Cheever.

Heaven but tries our virtues by affliction, And oft the cloud which wraps the present hour Serves but to brighten all our future days. Dr. Brown.

I cannot call affliction sweet, And yet ’twas good to bear; Affliction brought me to Thy feet, And I found comfort there.

My wearied soul was all resigned To Thy most gracious will; Oh! had I kept that better mind, Or been afflicted still!

Where are the vows which then I vowed, The joys which then I knew? Those vanished like the morning cloud, These like the early dew.

Lord, grant me grace for every day, Whate’er my state may be; Through life, in death, with truth to say, “My God is all to me!” J. Montgomery.

Come then, Affliction, if my Father bids, And be my frowning friend: a friend that frowns, Is better than a smiling enemy. We welcome clouds that bring the former rain, Though they the present prospect blacken round, And shade the beauties of the opening year, That, by their stores enriched, the earth may yield A fruitful summer and a plenteous crop. Swaine.

Mid pleasure, plenty, and success, Freely we take from Him who lends; We boast the blessings we possess, Yet scarcely thank the one who sends.

But let affliction pour its smart, How soon we quail beneath the rod! With shattered pride, and prostrate heart, We seek the long-forgotten God. Eliza Cook.

AGE.

Great men are not always wise, neither do the aged understand judgment.--Job, xxxii. 9.

And even to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you.--Isaiah, xlvi. 4.

Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth.--Psalm lxxi. 9.

Now also, when I am old and grey-headed, O God, forsake me not; until I have showed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to come.--Psalm lxxi. 18.

They shall still bring forth fruit in old age; they shall be fat and flourishing.--Psalm xcii. 14.

That the aged men be sober, grave, temperate, sound in faith, in charity, in patience. The aged women likewise, that they be in behaviour as becometh holiness.--Titus, ii. 2, 3.

Ye gods! how easily the good man bears His cumbrous honours of increasing years. Age, oh my father, is not, as they say, A load of evils heaped on mortal clay, Unless impatient folly aids the curse, And weak lamenting makes our sorrows worse. He, whose soft soul, whose temper ever even, Whose habits placid as a cloudless heaven, Approve the partial blessings of the sky, Smooths the rough road, and walks untroubled by; Untimely wrinkles furrow not his brow, And graceful wave his locks of reverend snow. M., from Anaxandrides.

And next in order sad, Old age we found, His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind; With drooping cheer still pouring on the ground, As on the place where nature him assign’d To rest, when that the sisters had untwined His vital thread, and ended with their knife The fleeting course of fast-declining life: There heard we him with broke and hollow plaint, Rue with himself his end approaching fast, And all for nought his wretched mind torment With sweet remembrance of his pleasures past, And fresh delights of lusty youth forewaste; Recounting which, how would he sob and shriek, And to be young again of Jove beseek! Crook-backed he was, tooth-shaken, and blear-eyed, Went on three feet and sometime crept on four, With old lame bones that rattled by his side: His scalp all piled, and he with eld forelore, His wither’d fist still knocking at death’s door; Fumbling and drivelling as he draws his breath; For brief, the shape and messenger of death. Sackville.

So mayest thou live till, like ripe fruit, thou drop Into thy mother’s lap, or be with ease Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature. This is old age, but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To withered, weak, and grey. Milton.

O my coevals! remnants of yourselves! Poor human ruins, tottering o’er the grave! Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees, Strike deeper their vile root, and closer cling, Still more enamoured of this wretched soil? Shall our pale, withered hands be still stretched out, Trembling at once with eagerness and age? With avarice and convulsions griping hard? Grasping at air! For what has earth beside? Man wants but little, nor that little long: How soon must he resign his very dust, Which frugal nature lent him for an hour! Young.

Age should fly concourse, cover in retreat Defects of judgment, and the will subdue; Walk thoughtful on the silent solemn shore Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon; And put good works on board; and wait the wind That shortly blows us into worlds unknown. Young.

But were death frightful, what has age to fear? If prudent, age should meet the friendly foe, And shelter in his hospitable gloom. Young.

The seas are quiet when the winds are o’er, So calm are we, when passions are no more! For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our youthful eyes Conceal the emptiness which age descries: The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new lights through chinks that time has made. Stronger by weakness, wiser men become As they draw near to their eternal home; Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, That stand upon the threshold of the new. Waller.

The fruits of age, less fair, are yet more sound Than those a brighter season pours around; And, like the stores autumnal suns mature, Through wintry regions unimpaired endure. Cowper.

Age, by long experience well informed, Well read, well tempered, with religion warmed, That fire abated which impels rash youth, Proud of his speed, to overshoot the truth, As time improves the grape’s authentic juice, Mellows and makes the speech more fit for use, And claims a reverence, in his shortening day, That ’tis an honour and a joy to pay. Cowper.

How pure The grace, the gentleness of virtuous age! Though solemn, not austere; though wisely dead To passion, and the wildering dreams of hope, Not unalive to tenderness and truth,-- The good old man is honoured and revered, And breathes upon the young-limbed race around A grey and venerable charm of years. Robert Montgomery.

Youth, with swift feet, walks onward in the way, The land of joy lies all before his eyes; Age, stumbling, lingers slower day by day, Still looking back, for it behind him lies. Frances Ann Kemble.

Oh! Youth is firmly bound to earth, When hope beams on each comrade’s glance: His bosom-chords are tuned to mirth, Like harp-strings in the cheerful dance; But Age has felt those ties unbound, Which fixed him to that spot of ground Where all his household comforts lay; He feels his freezing heart grow cold, He thinks of kindred in the mould, And cries, amid his grief untold, “I would not live alway.” William Knox.

He passeth calmly from that sunny morn, Where all the buds of youth are newly born, Through varying intervals of onward years, Until the eve of his decline appears; And while the shadows round his path descend, And down the vale of age his footsteps tend, Peace o’er his bosom sheds her soft control, And throngs of gentlest memories charm the soul; Then, weaned from earth, he turns his steadfast eye Beyond the grave, whose verge he falters nigh, Surveys the brightening regions of the blest, And, like a wearied pilgrim, sinks to rest. Willis G. Clark.

The aged Christian stands upon the shore Of Time, a storehouse of experience, Filled with the treasures of rich heavenly lore; I love to sit and hear him draw from thence Sweet recollections of his journey past, A journey crowned with blessings to the last. Mrs. St. Leon Loud.

Why should old age escape unnoticed here, That sacred era to reflection dear; That peaceful shore where passion dies away, Like the last wave that ripples o’er the bay; O, if old age were cancelled from our lot, Full soon would man deplore the unhallowed blot; Life’s busy day would want its tranquil even, And earth would lose her stepping-stone to Heaven. Caroline Gilman.

ALMIGHTY.

I am the Almighty God.--Genesis, xvii. 1.

If thou return to the Almighty, thou shalt be built up, thou shalt put away iniquity far from thy tabernacles.

Yea, the Almighty shall be thy defence, and thou shalt have plenty of silver.

For then shalt thou have thy delight in the Almighty, and shalt lift up thy face unto God.--Job, xxii. 23, 25, 26.

And when they went, I heard the noise of their wings, like the noise of great waters, as the voice of the Almighty.--Ezekiel, i. 24.

These are thy glorious works, Parent of good; Almighty! this thy universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then; Unspeakable! who sitt’st above the heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought and power divine. Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels! for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing: ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Milton.

What though th’ Almighty’s regal throne High o’er yon azure heaven’s exalted dome, By mortal eye unkenned; where east, nor west, Nor south, nor blustering north has breath to blow: Albeit he then with angels and with saints Holds conference, and to his radiant host E’en face to face, stands visibly confest; Yet know that not in presence nor in power, Shines he less perfect here: ’tis man’s dim eye That makes the obscurity. Christopher Stuart.

Tell me, hast ever thought upon the Being Whom we Almighty call? Hast ever sent Thy prayerful thoughts unto His holy throne? And felt His power, and trembled at the thought? If not, I cannot call thee man! thou art A stone, a clod, a dull insensate thing. Old Play.

Almighty Father, gracious Lord, Kind guardian of my days, Thy mercies let my heart record In songs of grateful praise.

In life’s first dawn, my tender frame, Was thy indulgent care, Long ere I could pronounce thy name, Or breathe the infant prayer.

Each rolling year new favours brought From thy exhaustless store; But ah! in vain my lab’ring thought, Would count thy mercies o’er.

While sweet reflection, through my days, Thy bounteous hand would trace; Still dearer blessings claim my praise, The blessings of thy grace. Steele.

Almighty Father of mankind, On thee my hopes remain; And, when the day of trouble comes, I shall not trust in vain.

Thou art our kind preserver, from The cradle to the tomb, And I was cast upon thy care, E’en from my mother’s womb.

Thou wilt not cast me off, when age And evil days descend; Thou wilt not leave me in despair To mourn my latter end.

Therefore in life I’ll trust in thee, In death I will adore; And after death will sing thy praise, When time shall be no more. Logan.

AMBITION.

A high look, and a proud heart, and the ploughing of the wicked is sin.--Proverbs, xxi. 4.

Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and though thou set thy nest among the stars, thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord.--Obadiah, 4.

Woe unto you Pharisees, for ye love the uppermost seats in the synagogues, and greetings in the markets.--Luke, xi. 43.

Twice told the period spent on stubborn Troy, Court favour, yet untaken, I besiege; Ambition’s ill-judged efforts to be rich. Alas! Ambition makes my little, less; Embittering the possessed: why wish for more? Wishing, of all employments, is the worst. Young.

Woe to thee, wild Ambition! I employ Despair’s low notes thy dread effects to tell; Born in high heaven, her peace thou could’st destroy; And but for thee, there had not been a hell.

Through the celestial domes thy clarion pealed; Angels, entranced, beneath thy banners ranged, And straight were fiends; hurled from the shrinking field, They waked in agony to wail the change.

Darting through all her veins the subtle fire, The world’s fair mistress first inhaled thy breath; To lot of higher beings learned to aspire; Dared to attempt, and doomed the world to death. Maria A. Brooks.

The sons of earth Who, vexed with vain disquietude, pursue Ambition’s fatuous light through miry pools, That yawn for their destruction, stray, foredoomed, Amid delusive shadows to their end. William Herbert.

Ambition, when the pinnacle is gained With many a toilsome step, the power it sought Wants to support itself, and sighs to find The envied height but aggravates the fall. George Bally.

ANGELS.

And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to Heaven: and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it.--Genesis, xxviii. 12.

The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and delivereth them.--Psalm xxxiv. 7.

For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.

They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.--Psalm xci. 11, 12.

Then the devil leaveth Him, and behold, angels came and ministered unto Him.--Matthew, iv. 11.

Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and He shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels.--Matthew, xxvi. 53.

There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.--Luke, xv. 10.

Verily, verily, I say unto you, hereafter ye shall see Heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.--John, i. 51.

And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels round about the throne, and the beasts and the elders: and the number of them was ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands; Saying with a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.--Revelations, v. 11, 12.

And I saw another angel fly in the midst of Heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth.--Revelations, xiv. 6.

And is there care in heaven? and is there love In heavenly spirits to the creatures base, That may compassion of their evils move? There is; else much more wretched were the case Of men than beasts. But O! th’ exceeding grace Of highest God that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked men, to serve his wicked foe. Spenser.

The multitude of angels, with a shout Loud as from numbers without number, sweet As from blest voices uttering joy, Heaven rung With jubilee, and loud Hosannas filled The eternal regions: lowly reverent Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground, With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold. Milton.

Angels are men of a superior kind; Angels are men in lighter habit clad, High o’er celestial mountains winged in flight; And men are angels loaded for an hour, Who wade the miry vale, and climb with pain, And slippery step, the bottom of the steep. Angels their failings, mortals have their praise; While here, of corps ethereal, such enrolled, And summoned to the glorious standard soon, Which flames eternal crimson through the skies. Nor are our brothers thoughtless of their kin, Yet absent but not absent from their love. Michael has fought our battles; Raphael sung Our triumphs; Gabriel on our errands flown, Sent by the Sovereign; and are these, O man! Thy friends and warm allies, and thou (shame burn Thy cheek to cinder!) rival to the brutes! Young.

These are the haunts of meditation, these The scenes where ancient bards the inspiring breath, Ecstatic felt: and, from this world retired, Conversed with angels, and immortal forms, On gracious errands bent: to save the fall Of virtue, struggling on the brink of vice; In waking whispers, and repeated dreams; To hint pure thought, and warn the favoured soul, For future trials fated, to prepare. Thomson.

They are God’s minist’ring spirits, and are sent, His messengers of mercy, to fulfil Good for salvation’s heirs. For us they still Grieve when we sin, rejoice when we repent: And on the last dread day they shall present The severed righteous at His holy hill, With them God’s face to see, to do His will, And bear with them His likeness. Was it meant, That we this knowledge should in secret seal, Unthought of, unimproving? Rather say, God deigned to man His angel hosts reveal, That man might learn, like angels, to obey; And those who long their bliss in Heaven to feel, Might strive on earth to serve him ev’n as they. Bp. Mant.

When by a good man’s grave I muse alone, Methinks an angel sits upon the stone; Like those of old on that thrice-hallowed night, Who sate and watched in heavenly raiment bright; And with a voice inspiring joy, not fear, Said, pointing upward, that he is not here, That he is risen! Samuel Rogers.

Elysian race! while o’er their slumbering flocks The Galilean shepherds watched, ye came To sing hosannas to the heaven-born Babe, And shed the brightness of your beauty round: Nor have ye left the world, but still, unseen, Surround the earth, as guardians of the good, Inspiring souls, and leading them to heaven; And oh! when shadows of the state unknown Advance, and life endures the grasp of death, ’Tis yours to hallow and illume the mind, The starry wreath to bring, by angels worn, And crown the spirit for her native sphere. Robert Montgomery.

Hark! what mean those holy voices, Sweetly sounding through the skies? Lo! the angelic host rejoices, Heavenly hallelujahs rise.

Listen to the wond’rous story, Which they chant in hymns of joy: “Glory in the highest, glory! Glory be to God most high!

Peace on earth, good will from heaven, Reaching far as man is found; Souls redeemed, and sins forgiven:-- Loud our golden harps shall sound!” Cawood.

“Many in this world of cares,” Truly hath the poet said, “Sit with angels unawares;” Round our path, and round our bed, Angels ever watch and wait, Striving still to turn our steps unto heaven’s gate. Anon.

ANGER.

O Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.--Psalm vi. 1.

A wrathful man stirreth up strife; but he that is slow to anger appeaseth strife.--Proverbs, xv. 18.

Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry; for anger resteth in the bosom of fools.--Ecclesiastes, vii. 9.

Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath.--Ephesians, iv. 26.

The anger of the Lord? Oh, dreadful thought! How can a creature frail as man endure The tempest of His wrath? Ah, whither flee To ’scape the punishment he well deserves? Flee to the cross! the great atonement there Will shield the sinner, if he supplicate For pardon with repentance true and deep, And faith that questions not. Then will the frown Of anger pass from off the face of God, Like a black tempest-cloud that hides the sun. Anon.

The golden sun is going down, Or melting in the west away: Where are the clouds that seem’d to frown So darkly on the rising day? Molten is every gloomy fold, In yonder sea of liquid gold.

The winds, at morn so rude and hoarse, Make music for an angel’s ear; The sun, beclouded in his course, Beholds the heavens, at evening, clear, And now doth with the tempest’s wreck His glorious pavilion deck.

Lord, sure thy countenance is here; Thy spirit all the vale informs: Whatever, in this inward sphere, Remains to tell of angry storms, Oh! let it melt away, and leave No cloud to darken life’s calm eve! Joseph Gostick.

Angry words are likely spoken In a rash and thoughtless hour; Brightest links of life are broken, By their deep insidious power. Hearts inspired by warmest feeling, Ne’er before by anger stirred, Oft are rent past human healing, By a single angry word.

Poison drops of care and sorrow, Bitter poison drops are they, Weaving for the coming morrow, Saddest memories of to-day. Angry words! oh, let them never From thy tongue unbridled slip; May the heart’s best impulse ever, Check them ere they soil the lip.

Love is much too pure and holy, Friendship is too sacred far, For a moment’s reckless folly Thus to desolate and mar. Angry words are lightly spoken; Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred; Brightest links of life are broken, By a single angry word. J. Middleton.

Angry looks can do no good, And blows are dealt in blindness, Words are better understood, If spoken but in kindness.

Simple love far more hath wrought, Although by childhood muttered, Then all the battles ever fought, Or oaths that men have uttered.

Foolish things are frowns and sneers, Angry thoughts revealing; Better far to drown in tears, Harsh and angry feeling. J. Burbridge.

APOSTLES.

He called unto Him His disciples, and of them He chose Twelve, whom also He named Apostles.--Luke, vi. 13.

And He said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned.--Mark, xvi. 15, 16.

Ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.--Acts, i. 8.

By the hands of the Apostles were many signs and wonders wrought among the people.--Acts, v. 12.

And He gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers.--Ephesians, iv. 11.

And the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and in them the names of the twelve Apostles of the Lamb.--Revelations, xxi. 14.

But all his mind is bent to holiness, His champions are the prophets and apostles. Shakspere.

When because faith is in too low degree, I thought it some apostleship in me, To speak things which by faith alone I see. Donne.

For them the fullness of His might is shown, O’erleaping the strong bounds of Nature’s law; Grim death for them contracts his hasty stride, And checks his dart, e’en in the act to strike; His horrid messengers, disease and pain, Loose their remorseless grasp unwillingly, And leave their prey to ease and thankfulness; For them bright wisdom opens all her stores, Her golden treasures spreading to their view, Whilst Inspiration’s all enlivening light Hangs hovering o’er their heads in glittering blaze; Warmed by the ray, they pour the sacred strain In eloquence seraphic. Charles Jenner.

Oh! who shall dare in this frail scene, On holiest, happiest thoughts to lean, On friendship, kindred, or on love? Since not Apostles’ hands can clasp Each other in so firm a grasp, But they shall change, and variance prove.

Yet deem not on such parting sad, Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad; Divided in this earthly race, Together at the glorious goal, Each leading many a rescued soul, The faithful champions shall embrace. Keble.

Sit down, and take thy fill of joy At God’s right hand a bidden guest, Drink of the cup that cannot cloy, Eat of the bread that cannot waste.

O great Apostle rightly now Thou readest all thy Saviour meant, What time his grave, yet gentle brow, In sweet reproof on thee was bent. Keble.

Rash was the tongue, and unadvisedly bold, Which sought, Salome, for thy favoured twain Above their fellows, in Messiah’s reign On right, on left, the foremost place to hold. More rash, perhaps, and bolder, that which told Of power the Saviour’s bitter cup to drain, And, passing stretch of human strength, sustain His bath baptismal. Lord, by Thee enrolled Thy servant, grant me Thy Almighty grace, My destined portion of Thy griefs to bear, Ev’n what Thou wilt! But chiefly grant, Thy face Within Thy glory’s realm to see, whene’er Most meet Thy wisdom deems; whate’er the place, It must be blest, for Thou, my God, art there. Bp. Mant.

Thy eloquence, O Paul, thy matchless tongue, With strong persuasion, as with magic’s voice, From heathen darkness to the paths of light Led the benighted wanderers, who, like thee, Through superstition’s gloomy mazes strayed, Till, Heaven’s effulgence bursting on the view. To thy astonished and enraptured sight Revealed the glories of unfading day. William Bolland.

Whose is that sword--that voice and eye of flame, That heart of unextinguishable ire? Who bears the dungeon-keys; and bonds, and fire? Along his dark and withering path he came-- Death in his looks, and terror in his name, Tempting the might of heaven’s Eternal Sire. Lo, the Light shone! the sun’s veiled beams expire-- A Saviour’s self a Saviour’s lips proclaim! Whose is yon form stretched on the earth’s cold bed, With smitten soul, and tears of agony, Mourning the past? Bowed is the lofty head-- Rayless the orbs that flushed with victory. Over the raging waves of human will The Saviour’s spirit walked--and all was still! Roscoe.

’Tis pitiful To court a grin when you should woo a soul; To break a jest, when pity would inspire Pathetic exhortation; and to address The skittish fancy with facetious tales, When sent with God’s commission to the heart! So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip Or merry turn in all he ever wrote, And I consent you take it for your text, Your only one, till sides and benches fail. No, he was serious in a serious cause, And understood too well the mighty terms That he had taken in charge. He would not stoop To conquer those by jocular exploits, Whom truth and soberness assailed in vain. Cowper.

I think that look of Christ might seem to say;-- ‘Thou Peter, art thou then a common stone, Which I at last must break my head upon, For all God’s charge to His high angels, may Guard my foot better? Did I yesterday Wash thy feet, my beloved, that they should run Quick to deny me ’neath the morning sun,-- And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray?’ The cock crows coldly.--‘Go, and manifest A late contrition, but no bootless fear! For when the deathly need is bitterest, Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here-- My voice, to God and angels, shall attest,-- Because I knew this man, let him be clear.’ Miss Barrett.

With sudden burst, A rushing noise, through all the sacred band Silence profound, and fixed attention claimed. A chilling terror crept through every heart, Mute was each tongue, and pale was every face. The rough roar ceased; when, borne on fiery wings, The dazzling emanation from above In brightest vision round each sacred head Diffused its vivid beams: mysterious light! That rushed impetuous through th’ awaking mind, Whilst new ideas filled th’ impassive soul, Fast crowding in, with sweetest violence. ’Twas then amazed, they caught the glorious flame; Spontaneous flowed their all-persuasive words, Warm from the heart, and to the heart addressed. Charles Jenner.

A Cæsar’s title less my envy moves, Than to be styled the man whom Jesus loves; What charms, what beauties in his face did shine, Reflected ever from the face divine! Wesley.

Ye hallowed martyrs, who with fervent zeal, And more than mortal courage, greatly dared To preach the name of Jesus; ye, who stood The undaunted champions of eternal truth, Though maddened priests conspired, though princes frowned, And persecution, with ingenious rage, Prepared ten thousand torments. William Bolland.

These, O Lord, Were all Thy scanty followers; by Thee First called, first rescued from a world of woe, To spread salvation into distant climes! And tell the meanest habitant of earth “Glad tidings of great joy.” Madan.

ASCENSION.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates, even lift them up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of glory shall come in.

Who is this King of glory? The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of glory.--Psalm xxiv. 9, 10.

Thou hast ascended on high, thou hast led captivity captive; thou hast received gifts for men; yea, for the rebellious also, that the Lord God might dwell among them.--Psalm lxviii. 18.

While they beheld, He was taken up, and a cloud received Him out of their sight.

And while they looked steadfastly toward Heaven, as He went up, behold two men stood by them in white apparel;

Which also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into Heaven? This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into Heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen Him go into Heaven.--Acts, i. 9, 10, 11.

Now that he ascended, what is it but that he also descended first into the lower parts of the earth?

He that descended is the same also that ascended up far above all heavens, that he might fill all things.--Ephesians, iv. 9, 10.

Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, And give the King of glory to come in; Who is the King of glory? He who left His throne of glory for the pang of death; Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates, And give the King of glory to come in; Who is the King of glory? He who slew The ravenous foe that gorged all human race! The King of glory, He whose glory filled Heaven with amazement at His love to man, And with divine complacency beheld Powers most illumined wildered in the theme. Young.

Lift up your heads, ye gates, and O prepare, Ye living orbs, your everlasting doors, The King of glory comes! What King of glory? He, whose puissant might Subdued Abaddon, and the infernal powers Of darkness bound in adamantine chains: Who, wrapt in glory, with the Father reigns, Omnipotent, immortal, infinite! James Scott.

Majestical He rose Upborne, and steered a flight of gentlest wing His native Heaven to gain; whilst from their eye, That to its centre fixed, in mute survey Pursued the ascending glory, a bright cloud, Of bidden access, his latest presence caught: By angel forms supported, who in song, Not unperceived, and choral symphony, Through Heaven’s wide empyrean loud rejoiced. Thomas Hughes.

Now, O my soul, On the blest summit light a holy flame! From the last foot-print of the Prince of Peace, The conqueror of death, let incense rise, And enter Heaven with thine ascending Lord! Shake off the chains, and all the dust of earth! Go up and breathe in the sweet atmosphere His presence purified, as He arose! Hannah F. Gould.

Oh! what a night was that which wrapt The heathen world in gloom: Oh! what a sun that broke this day Triumphant from the tomb!

Jesus, the friend of human kind, With strong compassion moved, Descended, like a pitying God, To save the souls He loved.

The powers of darkness leagued in vain To bind His soul in death; He shook their kingdom, when He fell, With His expiring breath.

And now His conquering chariot wheels Ascend the lofty skies; While broke beneath His powerful cross, Death’s iron sceptre lies. Mrs. Barbauld.

ATHEISM.

The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God: God is not in all his thoughts.--Psalm x. 4.

The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God.--Psalm xiv. 1.

And they say, How doth God know; and is there knowledge in the Most High?--Psalm lxxiii. 11.

Is not God in the height of Heaven? and behold the height of the stars, how high they are!

And thou sayest, How doth God know? can he judge through the dark cloud?--Job, xxii. 12, 13.

For this they willingly are ignorant of, that by the word of God the heavens were of old, and the earth standing out of the water, and in the water.--II. Peter, iii. 5.

Having no hope, and without God in the world.--Ephesians, ii. 12.

“There is no God,” the fool in secret said: “There is no God that rules or earth or sky.” Tear off the band that binds the wretch’s head, That God may burst upon his faithless eye! Is there no God?--The stars in myriads spread, If he look up, the blasphemy deny; While his own features, in the mirror read, Reflect the image of Divinity. Is there no God?--The stream that silver flows, The air he breathes, the ground he treads, the trees, The flowers, the grass, the sands, each wind that blows, All speak of God; throughout, one voice agrees, And, eloquent, His dread existence shows: Blind to thyself, ah, see him, fool, in these! Giovanni Cotta.

Hardening by degrees, till double steel’d, Take leave of Nature’s God, and God reveal’d-- Then laugh at all you trembled at before; And joining the freethinker’s brutal war. Swallow the two grand nostrums they dispense-- That Scripture lies, and blasphemy is sense; If clemency, revolted by abuse Be damnable, then damn’d without excuse. Cowper.

These are they That strove to pull Jehovah from His throne, And in the place of Heaven’s Eternal King, Set up the phantom Chance. Glynn.

The owlet Atheism, Sailing on obscene wings across the noon, Drops his blue-fringed lids, and shuts them close, And, hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven, Cries out, “Where is it?” Coleridge.

They eat Their daily bread, and draw the breath of Heaven Without or thought or thanks; Heaven’s roof, to them, Is but a painted ceiling hung with lamps, No more, that lights them to their purposes. They wander loose about; they nothing see, Themselves except, and creatures like themselves, Short-lived, short-sighted, impotent to save. So on their dissolute spirits, soon or late, Destruction cometh, like an armed man, Or like a dream of murder in the night, Withering their mortal faculties, and breaking The bones of all their pride. Charles Lamb.

No God! Who warms the heart to heave With thousand feelings, soft and sweet, And prompts the aspiring soul to leave The earth we tread beneath our feet, And soar away on pinions fleet, Beyond the scene of mortal strife, With fair ethereal forms to meet, That tell us of an after life? William Knox.

“There is no God,” the foolish saith-- But none, “there is no sorrow:” And Nature oft the cry of Faith In bitter need will borrow. Eyes which the preacher could not school, By way-side graves are raised; And lips say “God be pitiful,” That ne’er said, “God be praised.” Miss Barrett.

An Atheist’s laugh’s a poor exchange, For Deity offended. Burns.

ATONEMENT.

As he hath done this day, so the Lord hath commanded to do, to make an atonement for you.--Leviticus, viii. 34.

Wherewith shall I make the atonement, that ye may bless the inheritance of the Lord?--II. Samuel, xxi. 3.

We also joy in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now received the atonement.--Romans, v. 11.

Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past.--Romans, iii. 25.

He is the propitiation for our sins; and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world.--I. John, ii. 2.

Who His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree, that we being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed.--I. Peter, ii. 24.

So Man, as is most just, Shall satisfy for man, be judged and die, And dying, rise, and rising, with Him raise His brethren, ransomed with His own dear life.

* * * * *

Nor can this be, But by fulfilling that which Thou didst want, Obedience to the law of God, imposed On penalty of death, and suffering death, The penalty to Thy transgression due: So only can high justice rest appaid. Milton.

’Tis nothing thou hast given; then add thy tears For a long race of unrepenting years; ’Tis nothing yet, yet all thou hast to give; Then add those may-be years thou hast to live; Yet nothing still; then poor and naked come; Thy Father will receive his unthrift home, And thy blest Saviour’s blood discharge the mighty sum. Dryden.

Look humbly upward, see His will disclose The forfeit first, and then the fine impose; A mulct thy poverty could never pay, Had not eternal wisdom found the way, And with celestial wealth supplied thy store; His justice makes the fine, His mercy quits the score. See God descending in the human frame; The offended suffering in the offender’s name: All thy misdeeds to Him imputed see, And all his righteousness devolved on thee. Dryden.

Thou, rather than thy justice should be stained, Did stain the cross.

* * * * *

O, what a groan was there! a groan not His. He seized our dreadful right; the load sustained, And heaved the mountain from a guilty world. Young.

What needs my blood, since thine will do, To pay the debt to justice due? O, tender mercy’s art divine! Thy sorrow proves the cure of mine! Thy dropping wounds, thy woeful smart, Allay the bleedings of my heart: Thy death, in death’s extreme of pain, Restores my soul to life again! Parnell.

The Son of God Only begotten, and well-beloved, between Men and His Father’s justice interposed; Put human nature on, His wrath sustained, And in their name suffered, obeyed, and died; Making His soul an offering for sin, Just for unjust, and innocence for guilt.

* * * * *

Thus Truth with Mercy met, and Righteousness, Stooping from highest heaven, embraced fair Peace, That walked the earth in fellowship and love. Pollok.

God’s own son, unblemished victim, gave Himself a sacrifice, and by His blood, Upon the cross poured forth, washed out the stain Of primal sin. Samuel Hayes.

And shall the sinful heart, alone, Behold, unmoved, the atoning hour, When Nature trembles on her throne, And death resigns his iron power? O, shall the heart,--whose sinfulness Gave keenness to His sore distress, And added to His tears of blood-- Refuse its trembling gratitude? Whittier.

Jesus, thy name beyond all nature loud, Peals like the trumpet of eternity, Through all the chambers of responsive faith, Making them echo with the name of Christ! Nature was forfeit when the first man fell To sin, and whatsoe’er in nature lives, In reason, morals, or in mind enacts Dominion, from His vast atonement flows. R. Montgomery.

Advance, O hopeless mortal, steeled in guilt, Behold, and if thou canst, forbear to melt! Shall Jesus die, thy freedom to regain, And wilt thou drag the voluntary chain? Wilt thou refuse thy kind assent to give, When, dying, He looks down to bid thee live? Perverse, wilt thou reject the proffered good, Bought with His life, and streaming in His blood? Whose virtue can thy deepest crimes efface, Re-heal thy nature, and confirm thy peace! Can all the errors of thy life atone, And raise thee from a rebel to a son. Boyse.

Lamb of God! Our Priest and Pastor, Who canst bid all evil cease, Ever dear and holy Master, Make our feeble love increase! So that when we seek Thee, owning That Thy wrath is our deserts, Thou, blest Lord, at whose atonement All iniquity departs, Mayest speak forth from Thine enthronement, To our rent and wearied hearts, “Sinner, go in peace!” C. D. Mc’ Leod.

Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs, Join to sing the pleasing theme; All on earth and all in heaven Join to praise Immanuel’s name! Hallelujah! Glory to the bleeding Lamb! J. Evans.

AVARICE.

Some remove the landmarks; they violently take away flocks, and feed thereof.

They drive away the ass of the fatherless, they take the widow’s ox for a pledge.

They turn the needy out of the way; the poor of the earth hide themselves together.--Job, xxiv. 2, 3, 4.

Woe unto them that join house to house, that lay field to field, till there be no place, that they may be placed alone in the midst of the earth!--Isaiah, v. 8.

Your gold and silver is cankered, and the rust of them shall be a witness against you, and shall eat your flesh as it were fire. Ye have heaped treasure together for the last days.

Behold, the hire of the labourers who have reaped down your fields, which is of you kept back by fraud, crieth: and the cries of them which have reaped, are entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth.--James, v. 3, 4.

For of his wicked pelf his god he made, And unto hell himself for money sold: Accursed usury was all his trade, And right and wrong alike in equal balance weighed. Spenser.

If thou art rich, thou art poor; For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, Thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee. Shakspere.

Woe to the worldly man, whose covetous Ambition labours to join house to house; Lay field to field, till the enclosures edge The plain, girdling a country with one hedge: They leave no place unbought; no piece of earth Which they will not engross; making a dearth Of all inhabitants; until they stand Unneighboured as unblest within the land. Bishop King.

Gold glitters most where virtue shines no more, As stars from absent suns, have leave to shine. Young.

O cursed lust of gold! when for thy sake The fool throws up his interest in both worlds; First starved in this, then damned in that to come. Blair.

Starve beside the chests, whose every corn At the last day, shall in the court of Heaven Witness against thee. Sir E. B. Lytton.

Avarice o’ershoots Its destined mark; and with abundance cursed, In wealth, the ills of poverty endures. George Bally.

The thirst for gold Hath made men demons, till the heart that feels The impulse of impartial love, nor kneels In worship foul to Mammon, is contemned. W. H. Burleigh.

But should my destiny be quest of wealth, Kind Heaven, oh! keep my tempted soul in health! And should’st thou bless my toil with ample store, Keep back the madness that would seek for more! Thomas Ward.

Oh! life misspent--Oh! foulest waste of time! No time has he his grovelling mind to store With history’s truths, or philosophic lore. No charms for him has God’s all-blooming earth-- His only question this--“What are they worth?” Art, nature, wisdom, are no match for gain; And even religion bids him pause in vain. Thomas Ward.

The miser comes, his heart to mammon sold-- His life, his hope, his god, his all is gold. “To-morrow, and to-morrow,” he will say, “Soul, take thine ease, for thou hast many a day Whose smiling dawns will make thee to rejoice.” Hush! Hark the echoes of that awful voice! “Thou fool! This night yield up thy earthly trust!” Gaze once again, his treasures are but dust. B. D. Winslow.

Gold! gold! in all ages the curse of mankind, Thy fetters are forged for the soul and the mind: The limbs may be free as the wings of a bird, And the mind be the slave of a look or a word. To gain thee, men barter eternity’s crown, Yield honour, affection, and lasting renown. Park Benjamin.

AWAKE--ARISE.

Awake up, my glory; awake psaltery and harp; I myself will awake early.--Psalm lvii. 8.

Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.

And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.--Isaiah, lx. 1, 3.

Arise ye, and depart, for this is not your rest; because it is polluted.--Micah, ii. 10.

Awake, my soul, and with the sun, Thy daily stage of duty run; Shake off dull sloth, and early rise, To pay thy morning sacrifice.

Wake, and lift up thyself, my heart, And with the angels bear a part, Who all night long unwearied sing High praises to the eternal King.

Glory to God, who safe hath kept, And hath refreshed me while I slept, Grant Lord, when I from death shall wake, I may of endless life partake. Kenn.

Awake our souls, and bless his name, Whose mercies never fail; Who opens wide a door of hope, In Achor’s gloomy vale.

Behold the portal wide displayed, The buildings strong and fair; Within are pastures fresh and green, And living streams are there.

Enter my soul with cheerful haste, For Jesus is the door; Nor fear the serpent’s wily arts, Nor fear the lion’s roar.

O may thy grace the nations lead, And Jews and Gentiles come, All travelling in one narrow path, To one eternal home. Doddridge.

Arise, thou bright and morning star, And send thy silvery beams afar; Dispel the shades of dreary night, And let me hail the dawning light.

Blinded by sin I went astray, And, wand’ring, left the heavenly way; Dart forth thy soul-reviving rays, And guide me all my future days.

With growing strength may I pursue The course which heavenly wisdom drew, Till I shall reach the blissful shore, Where pilgrims rest, and stray no more. Beddome.

Deathless principle arise! Soar thou native of the skies! Pearl of price by Jesus bought, To his glorious likeness wrought; Go, to shine before his throne, Deck his mediatorial crown, Go, his triumphs to adorn, Made for God, to God return.

See the haven full in view, Love divine shall bear thee through; Trust to that propitious gale, Weigh thy anchor, spread the sail, Saints in glory perfect made, Wait thy passage through the shade, Ardent for thy coming o’er, See they throng the distant shore!

Mount, their transports to improve, Join the longing choirs above, Swiftly to their wish be given, Kindle higher joys in heaven! --Such the prospects that arise To the dying christian’s eyes! Such the glorious vista, faith Opens through the shades of death. Toplady.

AWE.

Stand in awe and sin not; commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still.--Psalm iv. 4.

Princes have persecuted me without a cause: but my heart standeth in awe of thy word.--Psalm cxix. 161.

’T is dreadful! How reverend is the place of this tall pile, Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, To bear aloft the arched and pond’rous roof, By its own weight made steadfast and immoveable! Looking tranquillity; it strikes an awe And terror to my aching sight. The tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. Congreve.

So in the faces of all these there grew, As by one impulse, a dark, freezing awe, Which, with a fearful fascination, drew All eyes towards the altar; damp and raw The air grew suddenly, and no man knew Whether perchance his silent neighbour saw The dreadful thing, which all were sure would rise To scare the strained lids wider from their eyes.

The incense trembled as it upward sent Its slow, uncertain thread of wandering blue, As ’twere the only living element In all the church, so deeply the stillness grew; It seemed one might have heard it, as it went, Give out an audible rustle, curling through The midnight silence of the awe-struck air, More hushed than death, though no such life was there. Jas. R. Lowell.

When on Sinai’s top I see God descend in majesty, To proclaim His holy law, All my spirit sinks with awe. J. Montgomery.

With sacred awe pronounce His name, Whom words nor thoughts can reach. Needham.

BAPTISM.

Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.--Matthew, xxviii. 19.

One Lord, one Faith, one Baptism.--Ephesians, iv. 5.

Buried with Him in Baptism, wherein also ye are risen with Him through the faith of the operation of God, who hath raised Him from the dead.--Colossians, ii. 12.

The like figure whereunto, even Baptism doth also now save us, not the putting away the filth of the flesh, but the answer of a good conscience toward God.--I. Peter, iii. 21.

Then who shall believe Baptizing in the profluent stream, the sign Of washing them from guilt of sin, to life Pure, and in mind prepared, if so befal, For death like that which the Redeemer died. Milton.

Since Lord to Thee A narrow way and little gate Is all the passage; on my infancy Thou didst lay hold, and antedate My faith in me.

O let me still Write Thee, great God, and me, a child: Let me be soft and supple to Thy will, Small to myself, to others mild, Be-hither ill. George Herbert.

Baptized as for the dead, He rose With prayer from Jordan’s hallowed flood: Ere long by persecuting foes, To be baptized in His own blood: The Father’s voice proclaimed the Son, The Spirit witnessed;--these are one. James Montgomery.

Thus, made partakers of Thy love, The Baptism of the Spirit ours, Our grateful hearts shall rise above, Renewed in purposes and powers; And songs of joy again shall ring Triumphant through the arch of heaven;-- The glorious song which angels sing, Exulting over souls forgiven! W. H. Burleigh.

The heir of Heaven, henceforth I dread not Death! In Christ I live, in Christ I draw the breath Of the true life. Let Sea, and Earth, and Sky, Wage war against me: on my front I show The mighty Master’s seal! In vain they try To end my life, who can but end its woe. Coleridge.

Ere Christ ascended to his throne, He issued forth his great command-- Go preach the gospel to the world, And spread my name to every land.

To men declare their sinful state, The methods of my grace explain; He that believes, and is baptized, Shall everlasting life obtain.

Dear Saviour, we thy will obey, Not of constraint, but with delight; Hither thy servants come to-day, To honour thine appointed rite.

Descend again, celestial Dove, On these dear followers of the Lord; Exalted head of all the Church, Thy promised aid to them afford.

Let faith, assisted now by signs, The mysteries of thy love explore; And washed, in thy redeeming blood, Let them depart, and sin no more. Beddome.

The cross of Christ! The cross of Christ! While yet my days were few, ’Twas traced upon my infant brow, Fresh with life’s morning dew; In token that in after years, Strong in its power and might, I should beside Christ’s followers stand, Under His banners fight. Matilda F. Dana.

BAPTIST, JOHN THE.

In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judea.--Matthew, iii. 1.

And it came to pass in those days, that Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee, and was baptized of John in Jordan.

And straightway coming up out of the water, he saw the Heavens opened, and the Spirit like a dove descending upon Him:

And there came a voice from Heaven, saying, Thou art My Beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.--Mark, i. 9, 10, 11.

I say unto you, among those that are born of women, there is not a greater prophet than John the Baptist; but he that is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he.--Luke, vii. 28.

Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried Repentance, and Heaven’s kingdom nigh at hand To all baptized: to his great baptism flocked With awe, the regions round, and with them came From Nazareth, the Son of Joseph deemed, To the flood Jordan, came as then obscure, Unmarked, unknown: but him the Baptist soon Descried, divinely warned; and witness bore As to his worthier, and would have resigned To Him this heavenly office, nor was long His witness unconfirmed; on Him baptized Heaven opened, and in likeness of a dove The Spirit descended, while the Father’s voice From heaven pronounced Him His Beloved Son. Milton.

Well mayest thou tremble, Baptist; well thy cheek, Now flushed, now pale, thy labouring soul bespeak! ’Tis He, the Christ, by every bard foretold! Hear Him, ye nations, and ye Heavens behold! The Virgin-born, to bruise the Serpent’s head, The Paschal Lamb, to patient slaughter led, The King of kings, to crush the gates of Hell, Messiah, Shiloh, Jah, Emmanuel! See, o’er His head, soft sinking from above, With hovering radiance hangs the mystic Dove: Dread from the cloud Jehovah’s voice is known, “This is my Son, my own, my well-loved Son!” C. H. Johnson.

Why crowd ye cities forth? some reed to find, Some vain reed trembling to the careless wind? Or throng ye here to view with doting eye, Some chieftain stand in purple pageantry? Some dwell in kingly domes--no silken form Woos the stern wind and braves the mountain storm. What rush ye there to seek? some Prophet-seer? One mightier than the Prophets find ye here-- The loftiest bard that waked the sacred lyre, To him in rapture poured his lips of fire; Attuned to him the voice of Sion fell-- Thy name, Elias, closed the mystic shell. C. H. Johnson.

In Judah’s rugged wilderness, Where Jordan rolls his flood, In manners strict, and rude of dress, The holy Baptist stood.

And while upon the river’s side, The people thronged to hear, “Repent,” the sacred preacher cried, “The heavenly kingdom’s near.”

Now Jesus to the stream descends; His feet the waters lave; And o’er his head, that humbly bends, The Baptist pours the wave.

When, lo! a heavenly form appears, Descending as a dove; And wondrous sounds the assembly hears, Proclaiming from above.--

“This is my well-beloved Son, On him my spirit rests; Now is his reign of grace begun, Attend his high behests.”

The sacred voice has reached our ear, And still through distant lands Shall sound, till all His name revere, And honour His commands. T. Fletcher.

BEAUTIFUL.

One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple.--Psalm xxvii. 4.

When thou with rebukes dost correct man for iniquity, thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth.--Psalm xxxix. 11.

Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.--Proverbs, xxxi. 30.

I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.

He hath made every thing beautiful in his time.--Ecclesiastes, iii. 10, 11.

Oh, what is Beauty’s power? It flourishes and dies; Will the cold earth its silence break. To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek Beneath its surface lies? Mute, mute is all, O’er Beauty’s fall; Her praise resounds no more, when mantled in her pall.

The most beloved on earth Not long survives to-day; So music past is obsolete, And yet ’twas sweet, ’twas passing sweet, But now ’tis gone away. Thus does the shade In evening fade, When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid. H. K. White.

At Thy rebuke, the bloom Of man’s vain beauty flies; And grief shall, like a moth, consume All that delights our eyes. J. Montgomery.

A sinful soul possessed of many gifts, A spacious garden full of flowering weeds, A glorious devil, large in heart and brain. That did love beauty only, (beauty seen In all varieties of mould and mind,) And knowledge for its beauty; or if good, Good only for its beauty. Tennyson.

The beautiful, the beautiful! Where do we find it not? It is an all-pervading grace, And lighteth every spot.

It sparkles on the ocean-wave-- It glitters in the dew; We see it in the glorious sky, And in the flow’ret’s hue.

On mountain-top, in valley deep, We find its presence there; The beautiful, the beautiful! It liveth every where.

The glories of the noontide-day, The still and solemn night, The changing seasons, all can bring Their tribute of delight.

There’s beauty in the dancing beam That brightens childhood’s eye, And in the Christian’s parting glance, Whose hope is fix’d on high.

And in the being whom our love Hath chosen for its own, How beautiful! how beautiful! Is every look and tone.

’Twas in that glance that God threw o’er The young created earth, When he pronounced it “very good,” The beautiful had birth.

Then who shall say this world is dull, And all to sadness given, While yet there lives on every side The smile that came from heaven?

If so much loveliness is sent To grace our earthly home, How beautiful--how beautiful Will be the world to come! Anon.

BELIEF--UNBELIEF.

If ye will not believe, surely ye shall not be established.--Isaiah, vii. 9.

Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.--Mark, ix. 24.

Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.--John, xiv. 1.

For what, if some did not believe? shall their unbelief make the faith of God without effect? God forbid.--Romans, iii. 3, 4.

God hath from the beginning chosen you to salvation, through sanctification of the Spirit and belief of the truth.--II. Thessalonians, ii. 13.

Such my belief. Oh, that thou would’st thy bold, Infatuated, withering doubt discard! The flower would be more sweet, the moon more fresh, The sun more bright, the sky more blue, the night (The natural season for deep thought) less dark: Life’s cares, and wan disease, would blessings be, And death (annihilation’s herald now) The harbinger of everlasting bliss. Dare then be wise. Dash down the subtle web, Thy pride of intellect had round thee wove, Despised into the dust; believe in God; Obey His will;--and then thy rescued soul Shall, on angelic pinions, wing its way To heaven’s bright realms of pure beatitude. T. L. Merritt.

Believe and fear not! In the blackest cloud A sunbeam hides; and from the deepest pang Some hidden mercy may a God declare! R. Montgomery.

Since fools alone all things believe In cloister hatch’d, or college, Some, by believing nothing, think They’re at the height of knowledge. And yet to have no faith demands More faith than is supposed, For sceptics have their creed,--of things Incredibly composed. Some truths above our reason, we Reject not, but receive: Against all reason, infidels Unnumber’d lies believe. C. C. Colton.

BELLS.

And beneath upon the hem of it, thou shalt make pomegranates of blue, and of purple, and of scarlet, round about the hem thereof; and bells of gold between them round about.

And it shall be upon Aaron to minister: and his sound shall be heard when he goeth in unto the holy place before the Lord, and when he cometh out, that he die not.--Exodus, xxviii. 33, 35.

In that day shall there be upon the bells of the horses, Holiness unto the Lord.--Zechariah, xiv. 20.

What a deep murmur on the night-air swells, What a clear tone draws irresistibly The goblet from my mouth. Ye hollow bells, Proclaim ye Easter’s dawn is drawing nigh? The word of hope in that sweet music ringing, That once, when o’er his sepulchre did close The shades of night, from angel lips arose, Assurance of a covenant renew’d to mortals bringing.

* * * * *

What in your mighty sweetness, do you seek, Ye tones of Heaven, with me that dwell in dust? Seek elsewhere mortals flexible and weak. I hear the message, but I cannot trust; Faith’s chosen child is the miraculous. I dare not strive those distant spheres to gain, From whence these holy tidings came to us; And yet it seems that long-remembered strain, In youth, recalls me back to life again. The kiss of heavenly love upon me fell, In the deep stillness of the sabbath calm, The heartfelt fullness of the sabbath bell, A prayer to my glad soul sufficient balm, Beyond conception sweet; a holy longing Drove me to wander forth through wood and mead; And in the thousand tear-drops warmly thronging, I felt a world grow up, mine own indeed. The joyous sports of youth those tones revealing, Of the spring feast once more the joy unfolds, And recollection, fraught with childish feeling, Me from the last dread step of all withholds. Oh sound, sound on, thou sweet celestial strain, The tears well forth, the earth hath me again. Goethe’s “Faust.”

List not those cries! How strangely do they blend With the sweet bells from yonder gothic tower, Pealing athwart the water. Such the contrast Of wild religious awe to earthly clamour, For on the morrow, and the morrow’s morrow, At this still hour those bells will still peal on; But these harsh sinful cries, the moment’s offspring, Will with the moment pass to nought away, They, and the passions, even as briefly raging; And, as the echo of those cries, borne far Up the deep silvery Thames, there dies in air In the dim distance, seeming well to blend With the calm beauty of the hour, and heighten The melody of silence; so the thought On this vain uproar shall in future years Prove but a gentle memory! since we shared The cares it wooed to life, together. Archer Gurney.

Stop, O stop the passing bell! Painfully, too painfully, It strikes against the heart, that knell, I cannot bear its tones--they tell Of misery, of misery! All that soothed and sweetened life, In the mother and the wife-- All that would a charm have cast O’er the future, as the past-- All is torturing in that knell! Stop, O stop the passing bell!

Stop it! no--but change the tone, And joyfully, ah, joyfully, Let the altered chimes ring on, For the spirit that hath flown, Exultingly, exultingly! She hath left her couch of pain, She shall never feel again, But as angels feel!--afar, Chimed beyond the morning star, Agony and death unknown! Let the joyful chimes ring on! Robert Story.

BENEFICENCE--BENEVOLENCE.

Thou openest thine hand, they are filled with good.--Psalm civ. 28.

Give, and it shall be given unto you.--Luke, vi. 38.

Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence: and likewise also the wife unto the husband.--I. Corinthians, vii. 3.

Be rich in good works, ready to distribute.--I. Timothy, vi. 18.

Nature all Is blooming and beneficent, like Thee. Thomson.

Some high or humble enterprise of good Contemplate, till it shall possess thy mind, Become thy study, pastime, rest, and food, And kindle in thy heart a flame refined. Pray Heaven for firmness thy whole soul to bind To this thy purpose--to begin, pursue, With thoughts all fixed, and feelings purely kind; Strength to complete, and with delight review, And grace to give the praise where all is ever due.

Rouse to some work of high and holy love, And thou an angel’s happiness shalt know,-- Shall bless the earth, while in the world above The good begun by thee shall onward flow In many a branching stream, and wider grow; The seed that in these few and fleeting hours Thy hands unsparing and unwearied sow, Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers, And yield thee fruits divine in heaven’s immortal bowers. Charles Wilcox.

The heart has tendrils like the vine, Which round another’s bosom twine, Outspringing from the parent tree Of deeply-planted sympathy, Whose flowers are hope, its fruits are bliss; Beneficence its harvest is. J. Bowring.

Trees, and flowers, and streams, Are social and benevolent; and he Who oft communeth in their language pure, Roaming among them at the cool of day, Shall find, like him who Eden’s garden dressed, His Maker there to teach his listening heart. Mrs. Sigourney.

BENEFIT.

Blessed be the Lord, who daily loadeth us with benefits, even the God of our salvation.--Psalm lxviii. 19.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.--Psalm ciii. 2.

Without thy mind would I do nothing; that thy benefit should not be as it were of necessity, but willingly.--Philemon, 14.

Offered life Neglect not, and the benefit embrace By faith, not void of works. Milton.

I gaze upon the thousand stars That fill the midnight sky; And wish, so passionately wish, A light like theirs on high. I have such eagerness of hope To benefit my kind; I feel as if immortal power Were given to my mind. Miss Landon.

Why are springs enthroned on high, Where the mountains kiss the sky? ’Tis that thence their streams may flow, Fertilizing all below.

Why have clouds such lofty flight, Basking in the golden light? ’T is to send down genial showers On this lower world of ours.

Why does God exalt the great? ’T is that they may prop the state; So that toil its sweets may yield, And the sower reap the field.

Riches why doth He confer? That the rich may minister To the children of distress, To the poor and fatherless.

Does He light a Newton’s mind? ’T is to shine on all mankind. Does He give to Virtue birth? ’T is the salt of this poor earth. Josiah Conder.

BENIGNITY.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.--Psalm xxiii. 6.

Thou Lord art good, and ready to forgive, and plenteous in mercy unto all them that call upon thee.--Psalm lxxxvi. 5.

The Lord is good to all: and his tender mercies are over all his works.--Psalm cxlv. 9.

This turn hath, made amends! Thou hast fulfilled Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign, Giver of all things fair! Milton.

He comes not in the pride of martial pomp, High in triumphal chariot, while around The poor remains of vanquished kingdoms grace The trophied car; not such as Judah’s sons, By empire’s flattering dreams misled, conceived, Vindictive monarch over prostrate Rome. Beyond the confines of this nether world. At the right hand of the Almighty Sire, Enthroned he sits; no partial King, to all Who unfeigned homage offer, He, benign, The treasure of his boundless love vouchsafes. Samuel Hayes.

Divinest creed! and worthy to be taught By Him, the Saviour, who thy tidings brought; Thou wert the first, descending from above, To teach the nations that their God was love; That ire eternal dwelt not on His face, But love and pity, and redeeming grace. And all the joy this world since then has known, Springs from this creed, and springs from this alone; Whatever triumphs have been gained by mind O’er Error, Hate, and Ignorance combined; Whatever progress man may yet have made, Owes all its worth to Thy benignant aid. C. Mackay.

O, Saviour, gracious and benign, Warm and illume this heart of mine, Disperse the fogs and mists of sin, And let no evil lurk therein: Let me Thy love and goodness see-- Thy merciful benignity. Anon.

THE BIBLE.

And beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning Himself.--Luke, xxiv. 27.

Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me.--John, v. 39.

The holy scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus.

All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness.--II. Timothy, iii. 15, 16.

For whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for our learning, that we, through patience and comfort of the scriptures, might have hope.--Romans, xv. 4.

The sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.--Ephesians, vi. 17.

Whence, but from Heaven, could men unskilled in arts, In several ages born, in several parts, Weave such agreeing truths? or how, or why, Should all conspire to cheat us with a lie! Unasked their pains, ungrateful their advice, Starving their gain, and martyrdom their price. Dryden.

So has this book entitled us to Heaven. And rules to guide us to that mansion given; Tells the conditions how our peace was made, And is our pledge for the great Author’s aid. His power in nature’s ample book we find, But the less volume doth express his mind. Waller.

A critic on the sacred book should be Candid and learned, dispassionate and free: Free from the wayward bias bigots feel, From fancy’s influence, and intemperate zeal. Cowper.

Within this ample volume lies The mystery of mysteries; Happiest they of human race To whom their God has given grace, To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, To lift the latch, to force the way: And better had they ne’er been born, That read to doubt, or read to scorn. Sir Walter Scott.

Most wondrous book! bright candle of the Lord! Star of eternity! the only star By which the bark of man could navigate The sea of life, and gain the coast of bliss Securely; only star which rose in time And on its dark and troubled billows, still As generation driving swiftly by, Succeeding generation, threw a ray Of heaven’s own light, and to the hills of God-- The everlasting hills--pointed the sinner’s eye. By prophets, seers, and priests, and sacred bards, Evangelists, apostles, men inspired, And by the Holy Ghost anointed, set Apart and consecrated to declare On earth the counsels of the Eternal one, This book--this holiest, this sublimest book Was sent. Heaven’s will, Heaven’s code of laws entire To man, this book contained; defined the bounds Of vice and virtue, and of life and death; And what was shadow, what was substance taught. This book--this holy book, in every line Marked with the seal of high divinity, On every leaf bedewed with drops of love Divine, and with the eternal heraldry And signature of God Almighty stamped, From first to last; this ray of sacred light, This lamp from off the everlasting throne, Mercy brought down, and in the night of time Stands casting on the dark her gracious bow, And evermore beseeching men with tears And earnest sighs, to read, believe, and live.

Hast thou ever heard Of such a book? The author God Himself; The subject, God and man, salvation, life, And death--eternal life--eternal death. Pollok.

The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek’s ungracious progeny; Or how the Royal Bard did groaning lie, Beneath the stroke of Heaven’s avenging ire; Or Job’s pathetic plaint and wailing cry; Or wrapt Isaiah’s wild seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.

Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He who bore in Heaven the second name, Had not, on earth, whereon to lay His head; How His first followers and servants sped; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land: How he who, lone in Patmos banished, Saw, in the sun, a mighty angel stand; And heard great Bab’lon’s doom pronounced by Heaven’s command. Burns.

Look, Christian! in thy Bible, and that glass Which sheds its sands through minutes, hours, and days, And years; it speaks not: yet methinks it says To every human heart--“so mortals pass On to their dark and silent grave!” Alas! For man:--an exile upon earth he stays, Weary, and wandering through benighted ways; To-day in strength, to-morrow like the grass That withers at his feet. Lift up thy head, Poor pilgrim, toiling in this vale of tears; That book declares whose blood for thee was shed, Who died to give thee life; and though thy years Pass like a shade, pointing to thy death-bed, Out of the deep thy cry an angel hears, And by his guiding hand to heaven thy steps are led. W. Lisle Bowles.

A book there is, of ancient date, Where all the truly wise and great Have found the pearls of wisdom spread, Like gems upon the ocean-bed. Brighter than Californian gold, Are deeds inspired apostles told, Greater than all that Milton thought, Are truths that saints and prophets taught. Oh! be it ours from tender age, To gather wisdom from its page. J. Burbidge.

The sacred page With calm attention scan! If on thy soul, As thou dost read, a ray of purer light Break in, O, check it not, give it full scope! Admitted, it will break the clouds which long Have dimmed thy sight, and lead thee, till at last, Convictions like the sun’s meridian beams, Illuminate thy mind. Samuel Hayes.

Father! that book With whose worn leaves the careless infant plays, Must be the Bible. Therein thy dim eyes Will meet a cheering light; and silent words Of mercy breathed from Heaven, will be exhaled From the blest page unto thy withered heart. John Wilson.

What is this world? a wildering maze Where sin hath tracked ten thousand ways, Her victims to ensnare. All broad, all winding, and aslope, All tempting with perfidious hope, All ending in despair.

Millions of pilgrims throng those roads, Bearing their baubles or their loads, Down to eternal night; Our humble path that never bends, Narrow, and rough, and steep, ascends From darkness into light.

Is there a guide to show that path? The Bible! He alone who hath The Bible, need not stray; Yet he who hath, and will not give That heavenly guide to all that live, Himself shall lose the way. J. Montgomery.

The Bible? That’s the Book, The Book indeed, The Book of Books; On which who looks, As he should do, aright, shall never need Wish for a better light To guide him in the night.

Or, when he hungry is, for better food To feed upon, Than this alone, If he bring stomach and digestion good: And if he be amiss, This the best physic is.

It is the looking-glass of souls, wherein All men may see, Whether they be Still, as by nature they are, deform’d with sin; Or in a better case, As new adorn’d with grace.

’Tis the great Magazine of spiritual arms, Wherein doth lie The Artillery Of heaven, ready charged against all harms, That might come by the blows Of our infernal foes.

God’s cabinet of reveal’d counsel ’tis: Where weal and woe Are order’d so, That every man may know which shall be his; Unless his own mistake False application make.

It is the index of Eternity. He cannot miss Of endless bliss, That takes this chart to steer his voyage by, Nor can he be mistook, That speaketh by this Book.

A Book to which no other Book can be compared For excellence; Pre-eminence Is proper to it, and cannot be shared. Divinity alone Belongs to it, or none.

It is the Book of God. What if I should Say, God of Books? Let him that looks Angry at this expression, as too bold His thoughts in silence smother, Till he find such another. George Herbert.

But to outweigh all harm, the sacred book, In dusty sequestration wrapped too long, Assumes the accent of our native tongue; And he who guides the plough, or wields the crook, With understanding spirit now may look Upon her records, listen to her song, And sift her laws--much wondering that the wrong Which faith hath suffered, Heaven could calmy brook. Transcendent Boon! nobler than earthly King Ever bestowed to equalize and bless, Under the weight of mortal wretchedness! But passions spread like plagues, and thousands wild With bigotry shall tread the offering Beneath their feet, detested and defiled. Wordsworth.

What household thoughts around thee, as their shrine, Cling reverently! Of anxious looks beguiled. My mother’s eyes upon thy page divine Were daily bent; her accents, gravely mild, Breathed out thy love;--whilst I a dreaming child, On breeze-like fancies wandered oft away To some lone tuft of gleaming spring flowers wild, Some fresh-discovered nook for woodland play, Some secret nest: yet would the solemn word At times with kindlings of young wonder heard, Fall on my wakened spirit, there to be A seed not lost; for which in darker years, O Book of Heaven! I pour, with grateful tears, Heart-blessings on the holy dead and thee. Mrs. Hemans.

Friend of my early days, Thou old, brown, folio tome, Oft opened with amaze, Within my childhood’s home; Thy many-pictured pages, Beheld with glad surprise, Would lure me from my playmates, To oriental skies.

I found in thee for friends, The wise and valiant men Of Israel, whose heroic deeds Are writ with holy pen; And dark brown Jewish maidens, With festive dance and song, Or fairly dressed for bridal, Thy pictured leaves among.

The old life patriarchal Did beautifully shine, With angels hovering over, The good old men divine; Their long long pilgrimages I traced through all the way; While on the stool before me The pages open lay. From the German of Freiligrath.

Fancy, Hope, and Conscience could not prove A future state, without the Word of God. This is Hope’s charter, this gives Fancy power, And this arms Conscience with authority. This partly lifts the veil which else had hung Before our eyes, concealing from our view The Spirit Land. Joseph H. Wythes.

Thou truest friend man ever knew, Thy constancy I’ve tried; When all were false I found thee true, My counsellor and guide. The mines of earth no treasures give That could this volume buy: In teaching me the way to live, It taught me how to die. Geo. P. Morris.

BIRDS--FOWLS.

And God said, Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life, and fowl that may fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven.

And God blessed them, saying, Be fruitful, and multiply, and fill the waters in the seas, and let fowl multiply in the earth.--Genesis, i. 20, 22.

Where is God my maker, who giveth songs in the night; who teacheth us more than the beasts of the earth, and maketh us wiser than the fowls of heaven?--Job, xxxv. 10, 11.

In the Lord put I my trust: how say ye to my soul. Flee as a bird to your mountain?--Psalm xi. 1.

I know all the fowls of the mountains: and the wild beasts of the field are mine.--Psalm l. 11.

Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers.--Psalm cxxiv. 7.

As a bird hasteth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for his life.--Proverbs, vii. 23.

As the bird by wandering, as the swallow by flying, so the curse causeless shall not come.--Proverbs, xxvi. 2.

Curse not the rich in thy bedchamber: for a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter.--Ecclesiastes, x. 20.

Behold the fowls of the air; for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?--Matthew, vi. 26.

The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.--Matthew, viii. 20.

Consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap: which neither have storehouse nor barn; and God feedeth them: how much more are ye better than the fowls?--Luke, xii. 24.

Sweet bird! thou sing’st away the early hours Of winter past, or coming, void of care, Well pleased with delights, which present are,-- Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet smelling flowers, To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy bowers, Thou thy Creator’s goodness dost declare, And what dear gifts on thee he did not spare, A stain to human sense in sin that lowers; What soul can be so sick, which by thy songs (Alter’d in sweetness,) sweetly is not driven Quite to forget earth’s turmoils, spites, and wrongs, And lift a reverend eye and thought to Heaven? Sweet artless songster, thou my mind dost raise To air of spheres, yes, and to angels’ lays. W. Drummond.

Behold! and look away your low despair, See the light tenants of the barren air: To them no stores nor granaries belong, Nought but the woodland and the pleasing song; Yet your kind Heavenly Father bends his eye On the least wing that flits along the sky; He hears their gay and their distressful call, And with unsparing bounty fills them all. Thomson.

What is this mighty breath, ye sages, say, That in a powerful language, felt, not heard, Instructs the fowls of Heaven? What but God! Inspiring God! whose boundless spirit all And unremitting energy pervades, Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole. Thomson.

Like an unfledged hungry bird, that in its nest Hears its returning mother flap her wings, Circling around when some choice food she brings; The nestling’s love for both is then exprest-- It strives to reach the food and be carest, And rustles to begin its wanderings, And thanks her with unwonted chiruppings, In notes that seem too sweet for its young breast:-- So do I feel whene’er the brilliant light Of the almighty sun to which I gaze, Cheers with unusual warmth my fainting soul; Urged by internal love to bless and praise, I take the pen, with joy beyond controul, And fluttering, praise my God with all my might. Vittoria Colonna.

Beautiful birds of lightsome wing, Bright creatures that come with the voice of spring; We see you arrayed in the hues of the morn, Yet ye dream not of pride, and ye wist not of scorn, Though rainbow splendour around you glows, Ye vaunt not the beauty which nature bestows: Oh! what a lesson for glory are ye, How ye preach the grace of humility.

Swift birds that skim o’er the stormy deep, Who steadily onward your journey keep, Who neither for rest nor for slumber stay, But press still forward, by night or day-- As on your unwearying course ye fly, Beneath the clear and unclouded sky; Oh! may we, without delay, like you, The path of duty and right pursue.

Sweet birds that breathe the spirit of song, And surround heaven’s gate in melodious throng; Who rise with the earliest beams of day, Your morning tribute of thanks to pay, You remind me that we should likewise raise The voice of devotion, and song of praise; There’s something about you that points on high, Ye beautiful tenants of earth and sky. C. W. Thompson.

Birds, joyous birds, of the wandering wing! Whence is it ye come with the flowers of spring? --“We come from the shores of the green old Nile, From the land where the roses of Sharon smile, From the palms that wave through the Indian sky, From the myrrh trees of glowing Araby.

A change we have found, and many a change! Faces, and footsteps, and all things strange! Gone are the heads of the silvery hair, And the young that were have a brow of care, And the place is hushed where the children played-- Nought looks the same, save the nests we made!”

Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth, Birds that o’ersweep it in power and mirth! Yet through the wastes of the trackless air Ye have a guide, and shall we despair? Ye over desert and deep have passed-- So shall we reach our bright home at last. Mrs. Hemans.

What time thy heavenly voice preludes Unto the fair and silent night, Winged minstrel of my solitudes, Unknown to thee I trace its flight.

Thy voice so touching and sublime, Seems far too pure for this gross earth; Surely we well may deem the chime An instinct which with God has birth.

Thy warblings and thy murmurs sweet, Into melodious union bring All fair sounds that in nature meet, Or float from heaven on wand’ring wing.

And that mysterious voice, that sound Which angels listen to with me,-- That sigh of pious night is found In thee, melodious bird, in thee. Lamartine.

Ye gentle birds, that perch aloof, And smooth your pinions on my roof, Preparing for departure hence, Ere winter’s angry threats commence: Like you my soul would smooth her plume, For longer flights beyond the tomb.

May God, by whom is seen and heard Departing man and wandering bird, In mercy mark me for His own, And guide me to the land unknown! Hayley.

The bird, let loose in eastern skies, When hastening fondly home, Ne’er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies Where idler warblers roam.

So grant me, Lord! from every stain Of sinful passion free, Aloft through virtue’s purer air, To steer my course to Thee.

No sin to cloud, no lure to stay My soul, as home she springs; The sunshine on her joyful way; Thy freedom on her wings. Moore.

The wild bird’s song is a song of praise, Which, thankful, he uplifts; Ever, like him, thy voice upraise, To the giver of all good gifts. Egone.

BIRTH--BORN.

Judah prevailed above his brethren, and of him came the chief ruler; but the birthright was Joseph’s.--I. Chronicles, v. 2.

Shall I bring to the birth, and not cause to bring forth? saith the Lord.--Isaiah, lxvi. 9.

And thou shalt have joy and gladness; and many shall rejoice at his birth.--Luke, i. 14.

Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again.

The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the spirit.--John, iii. 7, 8.

My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you.--Galatians, iv. 19.

Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin; for his seed remaineth in him: and he cannot sin, because he is born of God.--I. John, iii. 9.

Orient light, Exhaling first from darkness, they beheld, Birthday of heaven and earth. Milton.

Thou hast been found By merit, more than birthright, Son of God. Milton.

While no baseness in my breast I find, I have not lost the birthright of my mind. Dryden.

They tell me ’tis my birthday, and I’ll keep it With double pomp of sadness; ’Tis what the day deserves which brought me forth. Dryden.

Mysterious love! that thou must recommence Life and existence, and be born anew, Born both of water and of spirit, whence Spirit comes only, as flesh must flesh ensue: And where it lists the wind shall blow, whose sound Thou hearest, but know’st not--none-- Whence cometh it, nor whither it is bound; And no man hath ascended into heaven But he who thence came down, and bore the wound, And perished that the world might be forgiven. J. A. Heraud.

Let us learn the wondrous story, Of our great Redeemer’s birth; Spread the brightness of His glory, Till it cover all the earth. Hasten mortals to adore Him, Till in heaven ye sing before Him. Cawood.

Are all the memories of life Buried when life has fled? Are we forbid to keep again The birthdays of the dead?

Time was when each successive year Brought one bright day of mirth, The looked-for anniversary Of some belov’d one’s birth.

The birthday feasts of childhood’s age, The feasts of riper years, Remind us of like youthful joys Remembered now with tears.

For they with whom those days were spent, Have done with all on earth, The fond home circle’s broken up That hailed each day of birth.

Yet as the days come round again Marked with affection’s seal, Once more we think of those we’ve lost, Once more their presence feel.

The blessed spirits now in Heaven, May not such cycles keep, Time metes not out their happiness, They know not night or sleep.

Yet may they still retain the thoughts Commemorating birth, And haply still they keep in Heaven The calender of Earth.

Far off are they, but still towards them Our loving arms we spread, And ever in our hearts we’ll keep The birthdays of the dead. George E. Shirley.

BLESSING--BLESSEDNESS--BLESS.

I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth.--Psalm xxxiv. 1.

Blessed are they that dwell in thy house: they will be still praising thee.

Blessed is the man whose strength is in thee.--Psalm lxxxiv. 4, 5.

Blessings are upon the head of the just, but violence covereth the mouth of the wicked.--Proverbs, x. 6.

The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it.--Proverbs, x. 22.

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.--Matthew, v. 8.

I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.--Matthew, v. 44.

Blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing.--I. Peter, iii. 9.

O All-Sufficient, All-Beneficent! Thou God of Goodness and of glory, hear! Thou who to lowest minds dost condescend, Assuming passions to enforce thy laws, Adopting jealousy to prove thy love! Thou who resigned humility upholdest, E’en as the florist props the drooping rose; But quellest tyrannic pride with peerless power, E’en as the tempest drives the stubborn oak! O All-Sufficient, All-Beneficent! Thou God of goodness and of glory, hear! Bless all mankind, and bring them in the end To heaven, to immortality, and Thee! Smart.

O my soul, with all thy powers, Bless the Lord’s most holy name; O my soul, till life’s last hours, Bless the Lord, his praise proclaim; Thine infirmities He healed; He thy peace and pardon sealed.

As in Heaven, His throne and dwelling. King on earth He holds his sway; Angels, ye in strength excelling, Bless the Lord, his voice obey; All his works beneath the pole, Bless the Lord, with thee, my soul. J. Montgomery.

Author of being! life-sustaining king! Lo! want’s dependant eye from Thee implores The seasons, which provide nutritious stores; Give to her prayers the renovating spring, And summer’s heats all perfecting, that bring The fruits which autumn, from a thousand shores Selecteth provident! when earth adores Her God, and all her vales exultory sing. Without thy blessing the submissive steer Bends to the ploughman’s galling yoke in vain; Without thy blessing on the varied year, Can the swarth reaper grasp the golden grain? Without thy blessing all is blank and drear; With it the joys of Eden bloom again. Wordsworth.

Blessed be thy name for ever, Thou of life the guard and giver; Thou canst guard the creatures sleeping, Heal the heart long broke with weeping. God of stillness and of motion, Of the desert and the ocean, Of the mountain, rock, and river, Blessed be thy name for ever.

Thou who slumberest not, nor sleepest, Blest are they thou kindly keepest; God of evening’s parting ray, Of midnight’s gloom, and dawning day, That rises from the azure sea, Like breathings of eternity; God of life! that fade shall never, Blessed be thy name for ever. James Hogg.

Oh! ’tis a sight the soul to cheer, The promise of the fruitful year, When God abroad his bounty flings, And answering nature laughs and sings! He, “for the evil and the good,” For them, who with heart’s gratitude, For them, who thanklessly receive The blessings He vouchsafes to give, Bids from his storehouse in the skies, “His rain descend, his sun arise.” Mant.

Thrice blessed they who dwell Within thine house, my God, Where daily praises swell, And still the floor is trod By those who in thy presence bow, By those whose King and God art thou. J. Montgomery.

Blessed are the pure in heart, For they shall see our God; The secret of the Lord is theirs, Their soul is Christ’s abode.

Spotless their robes and pure, Dipped in the sea of light, That hides the unapproached shrine From men’s and angels’ sight. Keble.

From darkness here, and dreariness, We ask not full repose, Only be thou at hand to bless Our trial hour of woes. Is not the pilgrim’s toil o’erpaid By the clear rill and palmy shade? And see we not, up earth’s dark glade, The gate of Heaven unclose? Keble.

Thou that created’st all! Thou fountain Of our sun’s light--who dwellest far From man, beyond the farthest star, Yet, ever present; who dost heed Our spirits in their human need; We bless thee, Father, that we are!

We bless thee for our inward life; For its immortal date decreeing; For that which comprehendeth thee, A spark of thy divinity, Which is the being of our being!

We bless thee for this bounteous earth; For its increase--for corn and wine; For forest-oaks, for mountain-rills; For cattle “on a thousand hills;” We bless thee--for all good is thine! Mary Howitt.

We have the promise of th’ eternal truth, Those who live well, and pious paths pursue, To man and to their Maker true; Let them expire in age or youth, Can never miss Their way to everlasting bliss; But from a world of misery and care, To mansions of eternal ease repair; Where joy in full perfection flows, And in an endless circle moves Through the vast round of beatific love, Which no cessation knows. John Pomfret.

No, ’tis in vain to seek for bliss, For bliss can ne’er be found Till we arrive where Jesus is, And tread on heav’nly ground. Watts.

When we have slept that dreamless sleep, Which dearest hearts must sever; O may we wake no more to weep, But live in bliss for ever. John Linden.

True bliss, the flower of Paradise, Lives not in this ungenial clime; It blossoms in celestial skies, Beyond the ravages of time; The joy to christian pilgrims given, Is but the rich perfume of heaven. W. J. Brock.

True bliss, the flower of Paradise, Why seek it here below? It groweth only ’neath those skies With love divine that glow. Warmed by the sun of righteousness, And watered by the dews Of mercy, and redeeming grace, How lively are its hues! In heaven, an amaranthine flower, On earth, it blossoms but an hour. Egone.

BLINDNESS.

The Lord openeth the eyes of the blind.--Psalm cxlvi. 8.

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened.--Isaiah, xxxv. 5.

He hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind.--Luke, iv. 18.

Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart.--Ephesians, iv. 18.

When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide; “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” I fondly ask: but patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need Either man’s works, or his own gifts; who best Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state Is kingly, thousands at his bidding speed, And post o’er land and ocean without rest; They also serve, who only stand and wait.” Milton.

There is a poor Blind Man, who every day, In summer sunshine, or in winter’s rain, Duly as tolls the bell to the high fane, Explores, with faltering footsteps, his dark way, To kneel before his Maker, and to hear The chanted service pealing full and clear.

Ask why, alone, in the same spot he kneels Through the long year? Oh! the wide world is cold, As dark to him; here, he no longer feels His sad bereavement--Faith and Hope uphold His heart--he feels not he is poor and blind, Amid the unpitying tumult of mankind: As thro’ the aisles the choral anthems roll, His soul is in the choirs above the skies, And songs, far off, of angel companies.

Oh! happy, if the Rich--the Vain--the Proud-- The plumed Actors in life’s motley crowd,-- Since pride is dust, and life itself a span,-- Would learn one Lesson from a poor Blind Man. Lisle Bowles.

I see, and yet I see not; outward things Are visible unto me: I behold The fresh, cool verdure of succeeding springs; The glories of the summer manifold; The forests rich with their autumnal gold; The creatures beautiful, that spread their wings In the warm sunshine; blossoms that unfold Bright as man’s hopes and vain imaginings. The glories of the universe are spread Before me, and I see them with delight: Yet am I blind of heart, and cold, and dead To spiritual things. God grant me light To understand, and warmth to feel, and grace Thy message to receive--Thy wondrous power to trace. Egone.

But in God’s temple the great lamp is out, And he must worship glory in the dark! Till death, in midnight mystery, hath brought The veiled soul’s re-illuminating spark-- The pillar of the cloud enfolds the Ark! And, like a man that prayeth underground In Bethlehem’s rocky shrine, he can but mark The lingering hours by circumstance and sound, And break, with gentle hymns, the solemn silence round.

Yet still life’s better light shines out above! And in that village church, where first he learned To bear his cheerless doom, for heaven’s dear love, He sits, with wistful face, for ever turned To hear of those who heavenly pity earned; Blind Bartimæus, and him desolate, Who for Bethesda’s waters vainly yearned: And only sighs, condemned so long to wait, Baffled and helpless still, beyond the Temple gate! Mrs. Norton.

BLOOD.

And Moses took the blood, and sprinkled it on the people, and said, Behold the blood of the covenant, which the Lord hath made with you.--Exodus, xxiv. 8.

Deliver me from blood-guiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation: and my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness.--Psalm li. 14.

By the blood of thy covenant I have sent forth thy prisoners out of the pit.--Zechariah, ix. 11.

God hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth.--Acts, xvii. 26.

Neither by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood, he entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us.--Hebrews, ix. 12.

Almost all things are by the law purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is no remission.--Hebrews, ix. 22.

The blood of Jesus Christ, his son, cleanseth us from all sin.--I. John, i. 7.

Strange is it that our bloods, Of colour, weight, and heat, poured all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off In difference so mighty. Shakspere.

Ye Sacred Writings! on whose antique leaves The wondrous deeds of heaven recorded lie, Say, what might be the cause, that mercy heaves The dust of sin above the starry sky, And lets it not in dust and ashes fly? Could Justice be of sin so over-wooed, Or so great ill because of so great good, That, bloody man to save, man’s Saviour shed his blood. Giles Fletcher.

O, thou great Power! in whom we move, By whom we live, to whom we die, Behold me through thy beams of love, Whilst on this couch of tears I lie, And cleanse my sordid soul within By thy Christ’s blood, the bath of sin.

No hallowed oils, no gums I need, No new-born drams of purging fire: One rosy drop from David’s seed Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire: O, precious ransom! which once paid, The Consummatum est was said.

And said by him, that said no more, But sealed it with his sacred breath: Thou, then, thus hast dispurged our score, And dying wert the death of death; Be now whilst on thy name we call, Our life, our strength, our joy, our all. Sir Henry Wotton.

Stretched on the cross, the Saviour dies, Hark! his expiring groans arise! See, how the sacred crimson tide Flows from his hands, his feet, his side.

But life attends the deathful sound, And flows from every bleeding wound; The vital stream, how free it flows, To save and cleanse his rebel foes!

Lord! didst thou bleed? for sinners bleed? And could the sun behold the deed? No! he withdrew his sickening ray, And darkness veiled the mourning day. Steele.

There is a fountain filled with blood, Drawn from Immanuel’s veins; And sinners plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see That fountain in his day; O may I there, though vile as he, Wash all my sins away!

Dear dying Lamb! thy precious blood Shall never lose its power, Till all the ransomed church of God Be saved, to sin no more. Cowper.

Not all the blood of beasts On Jewish altars slain, Could give the guilty conscience peace, Or wash away the stain.

But Christ the heavenly Lamb, Takes all our sins away; A sacrifice of nobler name, And richer blood than they. Watts.

BLOSSOM.

Therefore as the fire devoureth the stubble, and the flame consumeth the chaff, so their root shall be as rottenness, and their blossom shall go up as dust: because they have cast away the law of the Lord of hosts, and despised the word of the Holy One of Israel.--Isaiah, v. 24.

The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly.--Isaiah, xxxv. 1, 2.

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do you fall so fast? Your date is not so past But you may stay yet here awhile, To blush and gently smile, And go at last.

What! were ye born to be An hour and half’s delight And so to bid good-night? ’Twas pity nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth, And lose you quite.

But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne’er so brave, And after they have shown their pride Like you awhile, they glide Into the grave. Herrick.

Our life hath many a wintry scene, Deciduous are our sweetest joys; And blossoms that have loveliest been, Some withering demon oft destroys.

But there are germs that inly lie, Waiting the touch of some kind hand, Germs that destruction’s power defy, And soon in bloom of hope expand. W. J. Brock.

Lo, the arid desert Shall blossom as the rose, Wheresoe’er the messenger Of the Saviour goes. Egone.

BOLDNESS.

I speak as concerning reproach, as though we had been weak. Howbeit whereinsoever any is bold, (I speak foolishly,) I am bold also.--II. Corinthians, xi. 21.

Great is my boldness of speech towards you.--II. Corinthians, vii. 4.

Christ Jesus our Lord: In whom we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith of him.--Ephesians, iii. 11, 12.

Herein is our love made perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment: because as he is, so are we in this world.--I. John, iv. 17.

We were bold in our God to speak unto you the gospel of God with much contention.--I. Thessalonians, ii. 2.

The wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are bold as a lion.--Proverbs, xxviii. 1.

Where high the heavenly temple stands, The house of God not made with hands, A great High Priest our nature wears, The guardian of mankind appears.

He who for men their surety stood, And poured on earth His precious blood, Pursues in heaven His mighty plan, The Saviour and the friend of man.

With boldness, therefore, at the throne Let us make all our sorrows known, And ask the aid of heavenly power To help us in the evil hour. Logan.

Jesus! Thy blood and righteousness My beauty are my glorious dress; ’Midst flaming worlds, in these array’d, With joy shall I lift up my head.

Bold shall I stand in Thy great day; For who aught to my charge shall lay? Fully absolv’d through these I am From sin and fear, from guilt and shame. Wesley.

The man is bold who fronts the cannon’s mouth, And trembles not when danger leads the way; But bolder far is he who speaks the truth Regardless who may stand around and hear, And with a kindly spirit dares reprove The fool that cavils at a world to come. J. Burbidge.

BONDAGE.

The bondage was heavy upon this people.--Nehemiah, v. 18.

They answered him, We be Abraham’s seed, and were never in bondage to any man: how sayest thou, Ye shall be made free.--John, viii. 33.

And God spake on this wise, That his seed should sojourn in a strange land: and that they should bring them into bondage, and entreat them evil four hundred years.--Acts, vii. 6.

The creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God.--Romans, viii. 21.

Put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness.--Colossians, iii. 14.

Deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage.--Hebrews, ii. 15.

Get up, my soul; redeem thy sluggish eyes From drowsy bondage: O beware; be wise: Thy foe’s before thee; thou must fight or fly: Life lies most open in a closed eye. Quarles.

Lamb of God, for sinners slain, To thee I feebly pray; Heal me of my grief and pain, O take my sins away;

From this bondage Lord release; No longer let me be opprest; Jesus, Master, seal my peace, And take me to thy breast. Wesley.

My God, what silken cords are thine! How soft, and yet how strong! While power, and truth, and love combine, To draw our souls along.

Thou sawest us crushed beneath the yoke Of Satan and of sin: Thy hand the iron bondage broke, Our worthless hearts to win.

Drawn by such cords, we onward move, Till round thy throne we meet; And, captive in the chains of love, Embrace our conqueror’s feet. Doddridge.

BOOK.

And he took the book of the covenant, and read in the audience of the people.--Exodus, xxiv. 7.

Ezra opened the book in the sight of all the people; (for he was above all the people;) and when he opened it, all the people stood up.--Nehemiah, viii. 5.

Oh that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a book!--Job, xix. 23.

Of making many books there is no end; and much study is a weariness of the flesh.--Ecclesiastes, xii. 12.

There shall in no wise enter into it (the holy city) any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie: but they which are written in the Lamb’s book of life.--Revelation, xxi. 27.

Thy glass will shew thee how thy beauties wear, Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste, Thy vacant leaves thy mind’s imprint will bear, And of this book this learning may’st thou taste: The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show, Of mouthed graves will give thee memory; Thou by the dial’s shady stealth may’st know Time’s thievish progress to eternity; Look, what thy memory cannot contain, Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shall find Those children nursed delivered from thy brain To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. These offices so oft as thou wilt look, Will profit thee, and much enrich thy book. Shakspere.

But what strange art, what magic can dispose The troubled mind to change its native woes, Or lead us willing from ourselves, to see Others more wretched, more undone than we? This books can do;--nor this alone, they give New views of life, and teach us how to live. They soothe the grieved, the stubborn they chastise, Fools they admonish, and confound the wise; Their aid they lead to all; they never shun The man of sorrow, nor the wretch undone. Unlike the hard, the selfish, and the proud, They fly not sullen from the suppliant crowd; Nor tell to various people various things, But show to subjects what they show to kings. Blessed be the gracious Power! who taught mankind To stamp a lasting image of the mind. Beasts may convey and tuneful birds may sing their mutual feelings in the opening spring, But man alone has skill and power to send The heart’s warm dictates to a distant friend; ’Tis his alone to please, instruct, advise Ages remote, and nations yet to rise. Crabbe.

I love the sacred book of God, No other can its place supply; It points me to the saints’ abode, It gives me wings, and bids me fly.

Blest book! in thee my eyes discern The image of my absent Lord; From thine instructive page I learn The joys his presence will afford.

Then shall I need thy light no more, For nothing shall be there concealed; When I have reached the heavenly shore The Lord himself will stand revealed.

When, ’midst the throng celestial placed, The bright original I see, From which thy sacred page was traced, Blest book! I’ve no more need of thee.

But while I’m here thou shalt supply His place, and tell me of His love; I’ll read with faith’s discerning eye, And thus partake of joys above. Kelly.

There is a book, who runs may read, Which heavenly truth imparts, And all the lore its scholars need Pure eyes and Christian hearts.

The works of God above, below, Within us, and around, Are pages in that book, to show How God Himself is found. Keble.

BOUNTY.

I will sing unto the Lord, because he hath dealt bountifully with me.--Psalm xiii. 6.

Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.--Psalm cxvi. 7.

Being enriched in every thing to all bountifulness, which causeth through us thanksgiving to God.--II. Corinthians, ix. 11.

This goodly frame of temperance, Formerly grounded, and fast settled On firm foundation of true bountihood. Spenser.

Those godlike men, to wanting virtue kind, Bounty well placed preferred, and well designed, To all their titles. Dryden.

How full of cheer, Joyous, devout, and grateful is the soul To see again its unexhausted God Thus pile the table of a world with bread! For what’s the globe on which we all subsist? The table of immortal bounty ’tis, A feast perpetual, where unnumbered sons Sit down to banquet as their sires withdraw, And in succession generations feed, Contented rise, give thanks, and pass away. Hurdis.

The hand that built the palace of the sky, Formed the light wings that decorate a fly; The power that wheels the circling planets round, Rears every infant floweret on the ground; That bounty which the mightiest beings share, Feeds the least gnat that gilds the evening air. J. Montgomery.

I love the Lord;--he lent an ear When I for help implored; He rescued me from all my fear, Therefore I love the Lord.

* * * * *

Return, my soul, unto my rest, From God no longer roam; His hand hath bountifully blest, His goodness called thee home. J. Montgomery.

BREAD.

Then said the Lord unto Moses, Behold, I will rain bread from heaven for you; and the people shall go out and gather a certain rate every day, that I may prove them, whether they will walk in my law, or no.--Exodus, xvi. 4.

Man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live.--Deuteronomy, viii. 3.

Bread which strengtheneth man’s heart.--Psalm civ. 15.

Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.--Ecclesiastes, xi. 1.

He that walketh righteously, and speaketh uprightly; he that despiseth the gain of oppressions, that shaketh his hands from holding of bribes, that stoppeth his ears from hearing of blood, and shutteth his eyes from seeing evil; he shall dwell on high: his place of defence shall be the munitions of rocks: bread shall be given him; his waters shall be sure.--Isaiah, xxxiii. 15, 16.

Give us this day our daily bread.--Matthew, vi. 11.

The bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world.--John, vi. 33.

O King of earth, and air, and sea! The hungry ravens cry to thee; To thee the scaly tribes that sweep The bosom of the boundless deep.

Thy bounteous hand with food can bless The bleak and lonely wilderness; And thou has taught us, Lord, to pray For daily bread from day to day.

And O, when through the wilds we roam, That part us from our heavenly home; When lost in danger, want, and woe, Our faithless tears begin to flow;

Do thou thy gracious comfort give, By which alone the soul may live; And grant thy servants, Lord, we pray, The bread of life, from day to day. Heber.

Bread of Heaven! on thee I feed, For thy flesh is meat indeed. Ever may my soul be fed With this true and living bread; Day by day with strength supplied, Through the life of Him who died. Conder.

“Give us our daily bread,”--and was that prayer Unanswered from high Heav’n’s eternal dome? No, poor man, no!--its music entered there, And blessings dropp’d upon our earthly home: Let thy sad eye look round thee everywhere, When the rich showers or golden sunbeams come, And plenty greets thee from the teeming sod-- The fruit that blossoms from the hand of God?

“Give us our daily bread;” Heaven whispers, “Yes.” “Give us our daily bread;” Earth mutters, “No,” And mocks the weepings of her sons’ distress: Bright hours of change are coming, sure though slow, When pride, and want, and error shall be less, And more of Heaven be registered below; Even now the half of Slavery’s flag is furled, And Thought’s free sunshine circles the wide world. Burrington.

Kill not the flower that feeds the useful bee, For more than beauteous is that sweet flower’s blush; ’Tis toil’s reward that sweetens industry, As love inspires with strength th’ enraptured thrush.

To fall’n humanity our Father said, That food and bliss should not be found unsought: That man should labour for his daily bread; But not that man should toil and sweat for nought.

Not that the best should live a living death, To give the worst a beastly sense of life; And waste in servitude their fleeting breath, Weeping with care and want a hopeless strife. E. Elliott.

Father in heaven! thy sacred name In hallowed strains be sung! Thy kingdom spread o’er all the earth; Thy praise fill every tongue.

By happy spirits round thy throne, As thy commands are done; So be thy perfect will obeyed By all beneath the sun.

Our numerous wants are known to thee, Who canst alone supply; O grant each day our daily bread, Nor other good deny. Hancox.

BREAK--BREAKING.

Our heart is not turned back, neither have our steps declined from thy way; though thou hast sore broken us in the place of dragons, and covered us with the shadow of death.--Psalm xliv. 18, 19.

The Lord doth build up Jerusalem; he gathereth together the outcasts of Israel.

He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.--Psalm cxlvii. 2, 3.

The Lord hath annointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound.--Isaiah, lxi. 1.

A bruised reed shall he not break.--Isaiah, xlii. 3.

For circumcision verily profiteth, if thou keep the law; but if thou be a breaker of the law, thy circumcision is made uncircumcision.--Romans, ii. 25.

O many Have broke their backs with laying manors on ’em For this great journey. Shakspere.

Virtues like these Make human nature shine, reform the soul, And break our fierce barbarians into men. Addison.

Unhappy man, to break the pious laws Of nature, pleading in his children’s cause. Dryden.

Almighty Power, by whose most wise command, Helpless, forlorn, uncertain, here I stand; Take this faint glimmering of thyself away, And break into my soul with perfect day! Arbuthnot.

See Heaven its sparkling portals wide display, And break upon thee in a flood of day. Pope.

Not streaming blood, nor purging fire, Thy righteous anger can appease; Burnt-offerings thou dost not require, Or gladly I would render these.

The broken heart in sacrifice, Alone may thine acceptance meet; My heart, O God, do not despise, Broken and contrite, at thy feet. J. Montgomery.

BREATH--BREATHING.

By the blast of God they perish, and by the breath of his nostrils are they consumed.--Job, iv. 9.

Thou hidest thy face, they are troubled: thou takest away their breath, they die, and return to their dust.--Psalm civ. 29.

Behold, the name of the Lord cometh from far, burning with his anger, and the burden thereof is heavy: his lips are full of indignation, and his tongue as a devouring fire.

And his breath, as an overflowing stream, shall reach to the midst of the neck.--Isaiah, xxx. 27, 28.

Thou hast heard my voice: hide not thine ear at my breathing, at my cry.--Lamentations, iii. 56.

Since I in storms most used to be, And seldom yielded flowers, How shall I get a wreath for thee From those rude barren hours? The softer dressings of the spring, Or summer’s later store, I will not for thy temples bring, Which thorns, not roses, wore: But a twined wreath of grief and praise, Praise soiled with tears, and tears again Shining with joy, like dewy days, This day I bring for all thy pain, Thy causeless pain; and as sad death, Which sadness breeds in the most vain, O not in vain; now beg thy breath, Thy quick’ning breath, which gladly bears Through saddest clouds to that glad place Where cloudless quires sing without tears, Sing thy just praise, and see thy face. Henry Vaughan.

As those we love decay, we die in part, String after string is severed from the heart; Till loosened life, at last, but breathing clay, Without one pang is glad to fall away. Unhappy he who latest feels the blow, Whose eyes have wept o’er every friend, laid low, Dragged lingering on, from partial death to death, Till, dying, all he can resign is breath. Thomson.

BRIGHTNESS.

Through the brightness before him were coals of fire kindled.--II. Samuel, xxii. 13.

God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paran. His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of his praise. And his brightness was as the light.--Habakkuk, iii. 3, 4.

Then shall that wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming.--II. Thessalonians, ii. 8.

Impotent words, weak lines, that strive in vain, In vain, alas! to tell so heavenly sight! So heavenly sight as none can greater feign, Feign what he can, that seems of greatest might: Could any yet compare with Infinite? Infinite sure these joys; my words but light: Light is the palace where she dwells--O then how bright! Giles Fletcher.

Through a cloud, Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine, Dark with excessive bright thy skirts appear. Milton.

Hope elevates, and joy Brightens his crest. Milton.

High in yonder realms of light, Far above these lower skies, Fair and exquisitely bright, Heaven’s unfading mansions rise.

Built of pure and massy gold, Strong and durable are they; Deck’d with gems of worth untold, Subjected to no decay. Raffles.

My Father’s house on high, Home of my soul, how near At times, to faith’s foreseeing eye, Thy golden gates appear!

Ah! then my spirit faints To reach the land I love, The bright inheritance of saints, Jerusalem above. J. Montgomery.

BROTHERHOOD.

Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine heart.--Leviticus, xix. 17.

If thy brother be waxen poor, and hath sold away some of his possession, and if any of his kin come to redeem it, then shall he redeem that which his brother sold.--Leviticus, xxv. 25.

If there be among you a poor man of one of thy brethren within any of thy gates, in thy land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not harden thine heart, nor shut thy hand from thy poor brother: but thou shalt open thine hand wide unto him, and shalt surely lend him sufficient for his need, in that which he wanteth.--Deuteronomy, xv. 7, 8.

If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee; leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.--Matthew, v. 23, 24.

Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?

Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.--Matthew, xviii. 21, 22.

Whosoever doeth not righteousness is not of God, neither he that loveth nor his brother.--I. John, iii. 10.

Come, Christian brethren, ere we part, Join every voice and every heart, Our solemn hymn to God we raise Our final song of grateful praise.

Christians we here may meet no more, But there is yet a happier shore; And there, released from toil and pain, Brethren, we all shall meet again. H. Kirke White.

Even now a radiant angel goeth forth, A spirit that hath healing in its wings-- And flyeth east and west, and south and north, To do the bidding of the King of Kings; Stirring men’s hearts to compass better things, And teaching Brotherhood as that sweet source, Which holdeth in itself all blessed springs; And showeth how to guide its silver course, When it shall flood the world with deep exulting force. Mrs. Norton.

A brother’s grave oft leads the soul Up to a brother’s joys; Joys which ne’er yield to time’s controul, Beyond the jewelled skies. W. J. Brock.

Oh, if the thought be beautiful, if it be wise and kind, To weave the bond of brotherhood, the whole wide world to bind; And if to sheathe the murderous sword be called a holy deed, Let all the praise be given to Thee, from whom all such proceed! Hail, manifested Saviour King! Brother of every man! Of the poor negro in his chains, the roving mountain clan; Redeemer of the forest child, and of the fettered slave; Lover of every human soul, in city, waste, or wave. Emma Tatham.

Give me thy hand, brother--give me thy hand, But not as our fathers did, dropping with gore; Dash down the gauntlet, and shiver the brand, But not in the fashion they did so of yore; Throw away war’s array,--come let us prove Which has the heart that is strongest in love.

Dost thou come from Columbia, afar o’er the deep, Where the forest its requiem sings in the storm; Where the bison and elk o’er the broad prairie sweep, And the hero of labour has conquered a farm? Ah, then come away, as a brother should come, For our fathers had birth in the same island home. J. B. Syme.

Oh! never let us lightly fling The barb of woe to wound another; Oh! let us never haste to bring The cup of sorrow to a brother.

Each has the power to wound, but he Who wounds that he may witness pain, Has learnt no law of charity, Which ne’er inflicts a pang in vain.

’Tis godlike to awaken joy, Or sorrow’s influence to subdue: But not to wound, nor to annoy, Is part of virtue’s lesson too;--

Peace, winged in fairer worlds above, Shall lend her dawn and brighten this, When all man’s labour shall be love, And all his thoughts a brother’s bliss. J. Bowring.

In all around we see Links of the chain that binds the soul of man Unto his brother man. No human eye Can gaze undazzled where those links begin, Nor trace them to their end. Alone to Faith, With her far eagle-gaze, ’tis given to see That the all-loving heart of Nature’s God, And man’s Redeemer, is the burning clasp That joins in one that all-embracing zone, Round as the circle of eternity.

* * * * *

This truth, more beautiful than all beside, That He, whose name is Love, and from whose heart, As from a living and immortal root, The whole fair universe hath budded forth, Hath granted him the high and holy right To call him “Father”--So all things speak God’s Fatherhood, and Brotherhood of man. H. M. P.

Not with the flashing steel, Not with the cannon’s peal, Nor stir of drum; But in the bonds of love, Our white flag floats above; Its emblem is the dove,-- Thus we come.

Oh, then! in God’s great name, Let each pure spirit’s flame Burn bright and clear; Stand firmly in your lot, Cry ye aloud, doubt not, Be every fear forgot, Christ leads us here.

So shall earth’s distant lands, In happy, holy bands, One brotherhood, Together rise and sing, Gifts to one altar bring, And heaven’s eternal King Pronounce it good. Elnathan Davis.

In these romantic regions man grows wild: Here dwells the Negro, nature’s outcast child; Scorned by his brethren; but his mother’s eye, That gazes on him from her warmest sky, Sees in his flexile limbs untutored grace, Power on his forehead, beauty in his face; Sees in his breast, where lawless passions rove, The heart of friendship, and the home of love; Sees in his mind, where desolation reigns, Fierce as his clime, uncultured as his plains, A soil where virtue’s fairest flowers might shoot, And trees of science bend with glorious fruit; Sees in his soul, involved in thickest night, An emanation of eternal light, Ordained,’midst sinking worlds, his dust to fire, And shine for ever when the stars expire. Is he not man, though Knowledge never shed Her quickening beams on his neglected head? Is he not man, though sweet Religion’s voice Ne’er made the mourner in his God rejoice? Is he not man, by sin and suffering tried? Is he not man, for whom the Saviour died? Belie the Negro’s powers:--in headlong will, Christian! thy brother thou shalt prove him still: Belie his virtues; since his wrongs began, His follies and his crimes have stamped him man. J. Montgomery.

For God, who made this teeming earth so full, And made the proud dependent on the dull-- The strong upon the weak, thereby would show One common bond should link us all below. Mrs. Norton.

If I were a voice, a convincing voice, I’d travel with the wind, And wherever I saw the nations torn By warfare, jealousy, or scorn, Or hatred of their kind, I’d fly, I’d fly, on the thunder crash, And into their blinded bosoms flash; And all their evil thoughts subdued, I’d teach them Christian Brotherhood. C. Mackay.

CALAMITY.

They prevented me in the day of my calamity: but the Lord was my stay.--II. Samuel, xxii. 19.

Oh that my grief were thoroughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the balances together!--Job, vi. 2.

Be merciful unto me, O God, be merciful unto me: for my soul trusteth in thee: yea, in the shadow of thy wings will I make my refuge, until these calamities be overpast.--Psalm lvii. 1.

He that is glad at calamities shall not be unpunished.--Proverbs, xvii. 5.

Strict necessity Subdues me, and calamitous constraint! Lest in my hand both sin and punishment, However insupportable, be all Devolved. Milton.

Much rather I shall choose To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest To be in that calamitous prison left. Milton.

From adverse shores in safety let her hear Foreign calamity, and distant war; Of which, great heav’n, let her no portion bear. Prior.

Friends counsel quick dismission of our grief; Mistaken kindness! Our hearts heal too soon, Are they more kind than He who struck the blow? Who bids it do His errand in our hearts, And banish peace till nobler guests arrive, And bring it back, a true and endless peace? Calamities are friends. Young.

When great calamities afflict the soul, Then, God of Mercy, then, we cry to Thee! Thou the physician art to make us whole; Thou art the help in our calamity. But when the clouds of grief be overpast, And we may bask in sunshine once again, Then praise and prayer become a weary task; Thee we forget, and so neglect to ask The aid we implored amid our grief and pain. Calamities are links of that bright chain Of love divine around us ever cast, Weaning us from the world, and all things light and vain. Egone.

CALMNESS.

Then said they unto him, What shall we do unto thee, that the sea may be calm unto us? for the sea wrought, and was tempestuous.

And he said unto them, Take me up, and cast me forth into the sea; so shall the sea be calm unto you: for I know that for my sake this great tempest is upon you.

So they took up Jonah, and cast him forth into the sea: and the sea ceased from her raging.--Jonah, i. 11, 12, 15.

As they sailed he fell asleep: and there came down a storm of wind on the lake; and they were filled with water, and were in jeopardy.

And they came to him, and awoke him, saying, Master, master, we perish! Then he arose, and rebuked the wind and the raging of the water: and they ceased, and there was a calm.--Luke, viii. 23, 24.

Be calm in arguing--for fierceness makes Error a fault, and truth discourtesy. Why should I feel another man’s mistakes, More than his sicknesses or poverty? In love I should, but anger is not love, Nor wisdom neither: therefore gently move. Calmness is great advantage--he that lets Another chafe, may warm him at his fire, Mark all his wanderings, and enjoy his frets, As cunning fencers suffer heat to tire. Truth dwells not in the clouds: the bow that’s there Doth often aim at, never hit the sphere. Herbert.

There is a calm the poor in spirit know, That softens sorrow, and that sweetens woe; There is a peace that dwells within the breast, When all without is stormy and distrest; There is a light that gilds the darkest hour, When dangers thicken, and when tempests lower; That calm is faith, and hope and love is given; That peace remains when all beside is riven, That light shines down to man direct from heaven. James Edmeston.

The roaring tumult of the billowed sea Awakes him not: high on the crested surge, Now heaved, his locks flowed streaming to the blast: And now descending, ’tween the sheltering waves, The falling tresses veil the face divine: Meek through that veil, a momentary gleam, Benignant shines; he dreams that he beholds The opening eyes,--that hopeless long had rolled In darkness,--look around bedimmed with tears Of joy; but suddenly the voice of fear Dispelled the happy vision. Awful he rose, Rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, “Peace, be thou still!” and straight there was a calm. With terror-mingled gladness in their looks, The mariners exclaim--“What man is this, That even the wind and sea obey his voice?” Grahame.

Earth has not anything to show more fair! Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty! This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky-- All bright and glittering in the smokeless air, Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at its own sweet will; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still. Wordsworth.

Like a frail bark upon an angry sea Is man, o’erburdened with a weight of sin; Tossed to and fro, and like to perish, he Seeks how he best may ’scape, and safety win: What trembling Jonah is it hides within, That from the Lord would vainly strive to flee? Seek till ye find him, straight the quest begin! And cast him forth that ye may lightened be. Then with a prayer approach the throne of grace, The Saviour’s with thee, though he seems to sleep; Have ye but faith, and wait a little space, He will arise, and say unto the deep-- “Be still!” The waves will sink, like your alarm, O’er troubled heart and soul will come a mighty calm. Egone.

CALVARY.

And when they were come to the place which is called Calvary, there they crucified him.--Luke, xxiii. 33.

O Calvary! how blessed are thy borders, More holy than God’s sanctuary mount, Of whose high praise be Angels the recorders; But grateful Man thy praises shall recount, There Jesus is adored, but here he died! O Calvary! that road is as a fount, Whence with a sanguine stream thou art supplied, Yet healing as Bethesda.--Calvary! J. A. Heraud.

From Calvary a cry was heard, A long reiterated cry; My Saviour’s every mournful word Bespeaks thy soul’s deep agony.

* * * * *

Let the dumb world her silence break; Let pealing anthems rend the sky! Awake, my sluggish soul, awake! He died, that we may never die. Cunningham.

When on Sinai’s top I see God descend in Majesty, To proclaim His holy law, All my spirit sinks with awe.

When, in ecstacy sublime, Tabor’s glorious steep I climb, At the too transporting light, Darkness rushes o’er my sight.

When on Calvary I rest, God, in flesh made manifest, Shines in my Redeemer’s face, Full of beauty, truth, and grace.

Here I would for ever stay, Weep and gaze my soul away; Thou art heaven on earth to me, Lovely, mournful Calvary. J. Montgomery.

CANAAN.

And I have also established my covenant with them, to give them the land of Canaan, the land of their pilgrimage, wherein they were strangers.--Exodus, vi. 4.

Behold the land of Canaan, which I give unto the children of Israel for a possession.--Deuteronomy, xxxii. 49.

Unto thee will I give the land of Canaan, the lot of your inheritance.--I. Chronicles, xvi. 18.

O! could we make our doubts remove Those gloomy doubts that rise, And see the Canaan that we love, With unbeclouded eyes.

Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o’er; Nor Jordan’s streams, nor death’s cold flood, Should fright us from the shore. Watts.

On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand, And cast a wishful eye To Canaan’s fair and happy land, Where my possessions lie.

O the transporting, rapt’rous scene, That rises to my sight! Sweet fields, arrayed in living green, And rivers of delight.

All o’er those wide extended plains, Shines one eternal day; There God the Son for ever reigns, And scatters night away.

When shall I reach that happy place, And be for ever blest? When shall I see my Father’s face, And in his bosom rest? Stennet.

Tell me, where is the promised land-- The Canaan of our earthly hopes, Where Peace and Joy go hand in hand, By sparkling streams, and flowery slopes? It may be far, it may be near, Oh, Pilgrim, faith must be thy guide Across the desert wild and drear, And o’er the Jordan’s swelling tide. Egone.

CAPTIVITY.

By the rivers of Babylon there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.

We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.

For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.

How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?--Psalm cxxxvii. 1, 2, 3, 4.

The Lord their God shall visit them, and turn away their captivity.--Zephaniah, ii. 7.

That they may recover themselves out of the snare of the devil who are taken captive by him at his will.--II. Timothy, ii. 26.

He that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity.--Revelations, xiii. 10.

We sat by Babel’s waters; and our tears Mingled in silence with the silent stream; For, oh! our hearts went back to happier years, And brighter scenes, that faded like a dream.

Our harps, neglected, hung upon the trees, That threw their shadows o’er the wave’s dark rest, And sighed, responsive to each passing breeze That stirred a ripple on its slumbering breast.

But they who led us captive touched the string, And waked its music with unhallowed hand, And--mocking all our sadness--bade us sing The song of Zion in a foreign land.

Oh! never, never!--hushed be now its strains, Far, far away her exiled children roam; And never will they sound on other plains, The holy music of their native home. T. K. Hervey.

Thousands of Angels at Thy gate, And great archangels stand, And twenty thousand chariots wait, Great Lord, Thy dread command! Through all Thy great, Thy vast domain, With Godlike honours clad, Captivity in captive chains Triumphing Thou hast led. Mickle.

CARE--CAREFUL.

And the cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things entering in, choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful.--Mark, iv. 19.

That there should be no schism in the body; but that the members should have the same care one for another.--I. Corinthians, xii. 25.

Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.--Philippians, iv. 6.

Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.--I. Peter, v. 7.

Esteem none happy by their outward air; All have their portion of allotted care, Though wisdom wears the semblance of content, When the full heart with agony is rent, Secludes its anguish from the public view, And by secluding, learns to conquer too; Denied the fond indulgence to complain, The aching heart its peace may best regain. By love directed, and in mercy meant, Are trials suffer’d, and afflictions sent; To stem imperious passion’s furious tide, To curb the insolence of prosperous pride, To wean from earth, and bid our wishes soar To that blest clime where pain shall be no more; Where wearied virtue shall for refuge fly, And every tear be wiped from every eye. Hannah More.

The insect that with puny wing, Just shoots along one summer ray; The flow’ret, which the breath of spring Wakes into life for half a day. The smallest mote, the tenderest hair, All feel our heavenly Father’s care.

E’en from the glories of His throne, He bends to view this earthly ball; Sees all as if that all were one, Loves as if that one were all; Rolls the swift planets in their spheres, And counts the sinner’s lonely tears. Cunningham.

Will then the merciful One, who stamped our race With his own image, and who gave them sway O’er earth, and the glad dwellers on her face, Now that our flourishing nations far away Are spread, where’er the moist earth drinks the day, Forget the ancient care that taught and nursed His latest offspring? will he quench the ray Infused by his own forming smile at first, And leave a work so fair all blighted and accursed?

Oh, no! a thousand cheerful omens give Hope of yet happier days whose dawn is nigh. He who has tamed the elements, shall not live The slave of his own passions; he whose eye Unwinds the eternal dances of the sky, And in the abyss of brightness dares to span The sun’s broad circle, rising yet more high, In God’s magnificent works his will shall scan-- And love and peace shall make their paradise with man. W. C. Bryant.

Father of earth and heaven, Whose arm upholds creation, To thee we raise the voice of praise, And bend in adoration. We praise the Power that made us, We praise the love that blesses, While every day that rolls away, Thy gracious care confesses. Henry Ware, Jun.

Faithful servant of the Lord, Sower of the gracious Word, Scattering thy seed abroad,--

Much of it will fall, and sink Where the cattle come to drink, Trodden in the river’s brink;

Much of it on bogs unsound, Much on hard and stony ground, Much where thorns and briers abound.

In the path of daily life Worldly cares, like thorns, are rife, Ever with the word at strife. Egone.

CHANGE.

Because they have no changes, therefore they fear not God.--Psalm lv. 19.

My son, fear thou the Lord and the king: and meddle not with them that are given to change.--Proverbs, xxiv. 21.

For I am the Lord, I change not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.--Malachi, iii. 6.

Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed.--I. Corinthians, xv. 51.

Emblem of life! see changeful April sail In varying vest along the shadowy skies, Now bidding summer’s stormy zephyrs rise, Anon, recalling winter’s softest gale, And pouring from the cloud her sudden hail; Then, smiling through the tear that dims her eyes, While Iris with her braid the welkin dyes, Promise of sunshine, not so prone to fail. So to us sojourners in life’s low vale, The smiles of fortune flatter to deceive, While still the fates the web of misery weave; So hope exultant spreads her airy sail, And from the present gloom the soul conveys To distant summers, and far happier days. H. K. White.

Still on its march, unnoticed and unfelt, Moves on our being. We do live and breathe, And we are gone. The spoiler heeds us not. We have our spring-time and our rottenness; And as we fall, another race succeeds, To perish likewise. Meanwhile nature smiles-- The seasons run their round--the sun fulfils His annual course--and heaven and earth remain Still changing, yet unchang’d--still doomed to feel Endless mutation in perpetual rest. H. K. White.

Not seldom, clad in radiant vest, Deceitfully goes forth the morn; Not seldom, evening in the west, Sinks smilingly forsworn. The smoothest seas will sometimes prove To the confiding bark untrue; And if she trust the stars above, They can be treacherous too. The umbrageous oak, in pomp outspread, Full oft when storms the welkin rend, Draws lightening down upon the head It promised to defend. But Thou art true, incarnate Lord! Who didst vouchsafe for man to die; Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word No change can falsify. I bent before Thy gracious throne, And asked for peace with suppliant knee; And peace was given,--nor peace alone, But faith, and hope, and ecstacy! Wordsworth.

Of chance, or change, O let not man complain, Else shall he never, never cease to wail; For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale, All feel the assault of fortune’s fickle gale; Art, empire, earth itself, to change are doomed; Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale, And gulfs the mountain’s mighty mass entombed, And where the Atlantic rolls, wide continents have bloomed. Beattie.

The day was dark and stormy; but the night Dawns into brightness, and the silvery moon Pours over sea and land her urn of light, Making of midnight a most pleasant noon. The autumn blasts were withering, and their blight Brought desolation: but a richer boon The balmy showers and breathing zephyrs bring; And the cold earth, fanned by the breath of spring, Again shall start into luxuriant life, Deformity and beauty--storm and calm-- The day-dawn and the darkness--quiet and calm-- Throughout all nature, mix and mingle rife. Then why should man expect a fixed state, Where all is change--or shrink beneath his fate? A. Bethune.

CHARITY.

Charity suffereth long and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,

Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;

Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;

Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.--I. Corinthians, xiii. 4, 5, 6, 7, 13.

Above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness.--Colossians, iii. 14.

Now the end of the commandment is charity.--I. Timothy, i. 5.

Above all things have fervent charity among yourselves; for charity shall cover the multitude of sins.--I. Peter, iv. 8.

Attain the sum Of Wisdom; hope no higher, though all the stars Thou knew’st by name, and all the ethereal powers, All secrets of the deep, all Nature’s works, Or works of God in heaven, air, earth, and sea, And all the riches of the world enjoyedst, And all the rule, one empire; only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance; add love, By name to some called charity, the soul Of all the rest. Milton.

Did sweeter sounds adorn my flowing tongue Than ever man pronounced, or angel sung; Had I all knowledge, human and divine, That thought can reach, or Science can define: And had I power to give that knowledge birth In all the speeches of the babbling earth; Did Shadrach’s zeal my glowing breast inspire, To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire: Or had I faith like that which Israel saw, When Moses gave them miracles and law; Yet gracious Charity, indulgent guest, Were not thy power exerted in my breast, Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer, That scorn of life would be but wild despair; A tymbal’s sound were better than my voice; My faith were form; my eloquence were noise.

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Each other gift, which God on man bestows, Its proper bounds and due restriction knows, To one fixt purpose dedicates its power, And finishing its act, exists no more. Thus in obedience to what heaven decrees, Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy decrease, But lasting Charity’s more ample sway, Ne’er bound by time, nor subject to decay, In happy triumph shall for ever live, And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive. Prior.

Here see, acquitted of all vain pretence, The reign of genuine charity commence. Though scorn repay her sympathetic tears, She still is kind and still she perseveres; The truth she loves a sightless world blaspheme, ’Tis childish dotage, a delirious dream; The danger they discern not, they deny; Laugh at their only remedy, and die. But still a soul thus touch’d can never cease, Whoever threatens war, to speak of peace. Pure in her aim, and in her temper mild, Her wisdom seems the weakness of a child: She makes excuses where she might condemn, Reviled by those that hate her, prays for them; Suspicion lurks not in her artless breast, The worst suggested, she believes the best; Not soon provoked, however stung and teazed, And if perhaps made angry, soon appeased, She rather waives than will dispute her right, And, injured, makes forgiveness her delight. Cowper.

Man is dear to man; the poorest poor Long for some moments in a weary life, When they can know and feel what they have been; Themselves the fathers and the dealers out Of some small blessings, have been kind to such As needed kindness, for this single cause That we have all of us one human heart. Such pleasure is to one kind being known, My neighbour, when with punctual care, each week Duly as Friday comes, though press’d herself By all her wants, she from her store of meal Takes one unsparing handful for the scrip Of this old mendicant, and from her door Returning with exhilarated heart, Sits by her fire, and builds her hope in heaven. Wordsworth.

Gentle reader, see in me, An emblem of true charity; That while my bounty I bestow, I’m neither heard nor seen to flow; And I have fresh supplies from heaven For every cup of water given. Bishop Hoadly, on a Spring.

Were we as rich in charity of deed As gold--what rock would bloom not with the seed? We give our alms, and cry “What can we more?” One hour of time were worth a load of ore! Give to the ignorant our wisdom!--give Sorrow our comfort!--lend to those who live In crime, the counsels of our virtue!--share With souls our souls, and Satan shall despair! Alas! what converts one man, who would take The cross, and staff, and house with Guilt, could make!

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Search the material tribes of earth, sea, air, And the fierce SELF, which strives and slays, is there; What but that SELF to man doth Nature teach? Where the charmed link that binds the all to each? Where the sweet law, (doth Nature boast its birth?) “Good will to man, and charity on earth?” Sir E. B. Lytton.

What though to poverty’s imploring voice I give my earthly goods; though to the pile I yield my body, if thy genuine love Inspire not, this alike is void and vain.

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Thou, mild and gentle nature, art estranged From envy, hatred, insolence, or pride; Thou seekest not thy own, but others’ weal; Slow to reprove, but studious to applaud, And from the eyes of malice to conceal The weakness thou lamentest to behold: For thou of each forgiv’st and hop’st the best, Forbearing and forgiving every ill.

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The time shall come when prophecy itself, And all the knowledge which exalts mankind, Shall lose their use; these, while the state of man In imperfection lies, by Heaven are made To compass ends sublime; but when that state Imperfect, for perfection shall be changed, Shall fade away, and boast that use no more. But, subject to no change, through endless time Shall Faith, and Hope, and Charity endure; And thou, O Charity, of these the chief, In high pre-eminence shalt ever reign! C. P. Layard.

The consciousness of wrong, in wills not evil Brings charity. Leigh Hunt.

When prophecies shall fail, When tongues shall cease, when knowledge is no more, And the Great Day is come, thou by the throne Shalt sit triumphant. Glynn.

“Chief grace below, and all in all above!” What shall I call thee? Charity or Love? Thy name is bliss; for let but grace remove The Serpent, Selfishness, and lo! the Dove, Cover’d with silver wings, or plumes of gold,[1] Enters the rescued heart, and keeps her hold: Then love to God on high, good will to men, With all the gentle virtues in their train, Flourish together, and together prove That bliss is but another name for Love! Blest affluence of that bright flame that glows Amid the Seraphim, “in burning rows,” Fill my whole soul! since who has most of Love, Knows most of Heaven, and of the joys above. Mary Milner.

[1] Psalm lxviii. 13.

CHARGE.

The Lord spake unto Moses and unto Aaron, and gave them a charge unto the children of Israel.--Exodus, vi. 13.

He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.--Psalm xci. 11.

Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s elect. It is God that justifieth.--Romans, viii. 33.

A charge to keep I have, A God to glorify; A never-dying soul to save, And fit it for the sky.

To serve the present age, My calling to fulfil;-- O may it all my powers engage To do my Master’s will.

Arm me with jealous care, As in thy sight to live; And Oh! thy servant Lord prepare, A strict account to give.

Help me to watch and pray, And on thyself rely; Assured if I my trust betray, I shall for ever die. Wesley.

Since, with pure and firm affection, Thou on God hast set thy love, With the wings of His protection, He will shield thee from above: Thou shalt call on Him in trouble, He will hearken, He will save, Here for grief reward thee double, Crown with life beyond the grave.

He shall charge His angel legions Watch and ward o’er thee to keep, Though thou walk through hostile regions, Though in desert wilds thou sleep; On the lion vainly roaring, On his young, thy foot shall tread, And, the dragon’s den exploring, Thou shalt bruise the serpent’s head. J. Montgomery.

CHASTENING.

O Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.--Psalm vi. 1.

Blessed is the man whom thou chastenest, O Lord, and teachest him out of thy law.--Psalm xciv. 12.

Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.--Hebrews, xii. 6.

O keep up life and peace within, If I must feel thy chastening rod! Yet kill not me, but kill my sin; And let me know Thou art my God. O give my soul some sweet foretaste Of that which I shall shortly see! Let faith and love cry to the last, “Come, Lord, I trust myself with Thee!” Baxter.

When urged by strong temptation to the brink Of guilt and ruin, stands the virtuous mind With scarce a step between; all-pitying Heaven, Severe in mercy, chastening in its love, Ofttimes in dark and awful visitation, Doth interpose, and call the wanderer back To the straight path, to be for ever after A firm, undaunted, onward-bearing traveller, Strong in humility, who swerves no more. Joanna Baillie.

So, Christian! though gloomy and sad be thy days, And the tempest of sorrow encompass thee black; Though no sunshine of promise or hope sheds its rays To illumine and cheer thy life’s desolate track: Though thy soul writhes in anguish, and bitter tears flow O’er the wreck of fond joys from thy bleeding heart riven, Check thy murmuring sorrows, thou lorn one, and know That the chastened on earth are the purest for Heaven; And remember, though gloomy thy present may be, That “the Master is coming,” and coming to thee. S. D. Patterson.

CHERUB--SERAPH.

Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel, thou that leadest Joseph like a flock; thou that dwellest between the cherubims, shine forth.--Psalm lxxx. 1.

I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up.... Above it stood the seraphims.... And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.--Isaiah, vi. 1, 2, 3.

And the sound of the cherubims’ wings was heard even to the outer court, as the voice of the Almighty God when he speaketh.--Ezekiel, x. 5.

Thou shepherd that doth Israel keep, Give ear in time of need, Who leadeth like a flock of sheep Thy loved of Joseph’s seed; That sitt’st between the cherubs bright-- Between their wings outspread, Shine forth, and from Thy cloud give light, And on Thy foes Thy dread. Milton.

The Lord descended from above, And bowed the heavens most high; And underneath His feet He cast The darkness of the sky.

On cherub and on cherubim Full royally He rode; And on the wings of mighty winds Came flying all abroad. Sternhold.

High on a throne of burnish’d gold, With rays of Godhead crown’d, Jehovah sat; His thunders roll’d, And glory sparkled round.

His flowing train, of glittering white, The spacious temple fill’d; The angels, dazzled at the sight, With wings their faces veil’d.

Around the throne, in burning row, The six-winged seraphs stood; While millions, flying to and fro, Tun’d all their harps to God.

Thrice holy, holy, Lord, they cry, The God of Sabaoth’s Thou; Thy glory fills the worlds on high, And fills the world below. Cowper.

CHILDHOOD--INFANCY.

Verily I say unto you, except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.--Matthew, xviii. 3.

Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in Heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in Heaven.--Matthew, xviii. 10.

Have ye never read, Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise?--Matthew, xxi. 16.

And they brought unto him also infants, that he would touch them: but when his disciples saw it, they rebuked them.

But Jesus called them unto him, and said, Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God.--Luke, xviii. 15, 16.

When little tripping children follow God, And leave old doting sinners to his rod, ’Tis like those days wherein the young ones cried, Hosanna! while the old ones did deride. Bunyan.

At his first aptness the maternal love Those rudiments of wisdom did improve; The tender age was pliant to command; Like wax it yielded to the forming hand: True to the artificer, the laboured mind With ease was pious, generous, just, and kind; Soft for impression, from the first prepared, Till virtue, with long exercise, grew hard; With every act confirmed and made at last, So durable as not to be effaced, It turned to habit; and from vices free, Goodness resolved into necessity. Dryden.

The child between her parents knelt, Who prayed the more to God above, Because so close to them they felt The dearest gift of Heavenly love.

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To her new beauty largely given From deeper fountains, looked and smiled, And, like a morning dream from heaven, The woman gleamed within the child. John Sterling.

O! how I love the prattling of that child, Frisking so blithely in its nurse’s hand! Fair as her face who first in Eden smiled, Ere blissful innocence had left the land! Thy dimpled cheeks remind me of a time, When first I ventured on life’s thorny way! May no false joys consume thy early prime, No friend mislead thee, and no friend betray; Thy bark, like mine, is on a rocky sea; For life’s a voyage far from shore to shore, No resting-place, unless thine anchor be The hope of glory when the course is o’er; Blest hope for thee, just entering into bloom, Thrice blessed hope for me just hast’ning to the tomb. J. Mayne.

“Suffer these little ones to come to me,” Was the command of Him who, on the cross, Bowed His anointed head, and with His blood Purchased redemption for our fallen race-- And blessed they, who to that holy task Devote the energies of their young years, Teaching, with pious care, the dawning light Of infant intellect to know the Lord. C. Huntingdon.

The life that makes the heart to beat, The light that from the heavens doth shine, My daily strength,--the bread I eat,-- All, all, great Lord of Life, are thine. Then let me seek Thee daily, Lord, At morn, at noontide, and at even; And do Thy will, and know Thy word, That I may be Thy child in heaven! W. Martin.

I remember, I remember, The fir-trees dark and high, I used to think their tiny tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now ’tis little joy, To know I’m farther off from heaven Than when I was a boy! T. Hood.

Blessed Jesus ever loved to trace The innocent brightness of an infant’s face; He raised them in His holy arms; He blessed them from the world and all its harms: Heirs though they were of sin and shame, He blessed them in His own, and in His Father’s Name. Keble.

Christian! thy dream is now--it was not then: O, it were strange if childhood were a dream. Strife, and the world, are dreams: to wakeful men Childhood and home as jealous angels seem: Like shapes and hues that play in clouds at even, They have but shifted from Thee into Heaven! F. W. Faber.

Something divine about an Infant seems To them, who watch it in that holy light Of meaning, caught from these celestial words Of Christ--“Forbid them not, but let them come.” Fresh buds of being! beautiful as frail. Types of that kingdom which our souls profess To enter! Symbols of that docile love And meek compliancy of creed and mind, Which Heaven hath canonized, and for its own Acknowledged,--well may thoughtful hearts perceive A mystery, beyond mere nature’s law, Around them girdled like a moral zone. R. Montgomery.

Death found strange beauty on that polished brow, And dashed it out. There was a tint of rose On cheek and lip. He touched the veins with ice, And the rose faded. Forth from those blue eyes There spake a wishful tenderness--a doubt Whether to grieve or sleep--which innocence Alone may wear. With ruthless hand he bound The silken fringes of those curtaining lids For ever. There had been a murmuring sound With which the babe would claim its mother’s ear, Charming her even to tears. The spoiler set The seal of silence. But there beamed a smile So fixed, so holy, from that cherub brow, Death gazed, and left it there. He dared not steal The signet-ring of heaven. L. H. Sigourney.

Child, there is One, the High above all Height, Who doth not scorn thee-- Ever, from Him, may beams of Heavenly light Comfort--but warn thee-- That from youth’s innocence each proud removal Is a departure from His best approval. H. H. Weld.

The Lord of Heaven, who, from his throne above, Governs the universe, yet deigns to hear The praise which from the mouths of sucklings flows, And from the lisping babe ordaineth strength. C. P. Layard.

There are smiles and tears in the mother’s eyes, For her new-born infant beside her lies. O, hour of bliss! when the heart o’erflows With rapture a mother only knows. Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer; Let it swell up to heaven for her precious care. Henry Ware, Jun.

How soft and fresh he breathes! Look, he is dreaming! Visions sure of joy Are gladdening his rest; and ah, who knows But waiting angels do converse in sleep With babes like this! Arthur C. Coxe.

Little children, not alone On the wide earth are ye thrown, ’Mid its labour and its cares; ’Mid its sufferings and its snares, Free from sorrow, free from strife, In the world of love and life, Where no sinful thing has trod In the presence of our God! Spotless, blameless, glorified, Little children, ye abide! Mary Howitt.

How oft, heart-sick and sore, I’ve wished I were, once more, A little child! Mrs. Southey.

CHRIST--CHRISTMAS.

We have heard out of the law that Christ abideth for ever.--John, xii. 34.

We preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumbling-block, and unto the Greeks foolishness;

But unto them which are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God.--I. Corinthians, i. 23, 24.

We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord.--II. Corinthians, iv. 5.

Christ is all, and in all.--Colossians, iii. 11.

For even hereunto were ye called: because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye should follow His steps;

Who did no sin, neither was guile found in His mouth:

Who, when he was reviled, reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him that judgeth righteously--I. Peter, ii. 21, 22, 23.

With force of arms we nothing can, Full soon were we down-ridden; But for us fights the proper man, Whom God himself hath bidden. Ask ye, who is the same? Christ Jesus is His name, The Lord Zebaoth’s Son, He, and no other one, Shall conquer in the battle. Martin Luther.

Christ is a path,--if any be misled; He is a robe,--if any naked be; If any chance to hunger,--He is bread; If any be a bondman,--He is free; If any be but weak,--how strong is he! To dead men life he is; to sick men health; To blind men sight; and to the needy wealth; A pleasure without loss, a pleasure without stealth. Giles Fletcher.

He that alone would wise and mighty be, Commands that others love, as well as He. Love as He loved! how can we soar so high? He can add wings when He commands to fly. Nor should we be with this command dismayed, He that examples gives, will give His aid; For He took flesh, that where His precepts fail, His practice as a pattern might prevail. Waller.

In what torn ship soever I embark, That ship shall be an emblem of Thy ark; What sea soever swallow me, that flood Shall be to me an emblem of Thy blood: Though Thou with clouds of anger do disguise Thy face, yet through that mask I know those eyes, Which, though they turn away sometimes, They never will despise.

I sacrifice this Island unto Thee, And all whom I loved there, and who loved me; When I have put our seas ’twixt them and me, Put Thou Thy seas betwixt my sins and Thee: As the tree’s sap doth seek the root below In winter, in my winter now I go Where none but Thee, th’ eternal root Of true love, I may know. Dr. Donne.

Without Christ all gain is loss, All hope despair, that stands not on his cross; Except the few his God may have impress’d, A tenfold phrenzy seizes all the rest. Cowper.

Father! in Christ we live, and Christ in Thee! Eternal Thou, and everlasting we. The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death: In Christ I live! in Christ I draw the breath Of the true life! Let then earth, sea, and sky Make war against me! on my front I show Their mighty Master’s seal. In vain they try To end my life, that can but end its woe. Is that a death-bed where the Christian lies? Yes! but not his--’tis death itself there dies. S. T. Coleridge.

Heaven is within of magnitude immense; No human thought can its dimensions grasp; Yet heaven has but one door. Christ is the way-- The only way--to God. Whoever seeks By other ways to enter, must, ashamed, Confused, and disappointed, see too late The gates of hell expanded to his view! No other name is published under heaven, Wherein salvation can be found, but His. Anon.

Some say that ever ’gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then they say no spirit walks abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike; No fairy tales; no witch has power to charm; So hallowed and so gracious is the time! Shakspere.

Sweet rest ye, happie Christians, ’Tis earlie Christmas daye, When Christ our Lord and Savioure Became the sinner’s staye. Arise, and for such benefits His precepts all obeye. Joyful tidings let us singe, Christ our refuge, Christ our kinge, To hallowe Christmas daye.

In Judah’s lands, in Bethlehem, The lovelie babe was born, Upon a manger poorlie laid, On Christmas happie morn. God speed ye, merrie gentlemen, And Christian grace adorn. Joyful tidings let us singe, Christ our refuge, Christ our kinge, To hallowe Christmas morn. Stuart Farquharson.

Hark! what mean those holy voices, Sweetly sounding through the skies? Lo! the angelic host rejoices; Heavenly hallelujahs rise. Listen to the wondrous story, Which they chant in hymns of joy:-- “Glory in the highest, glory! Glory be to God most high! Christ is born, the Great Anointed, Heaven and earth His praises sing; O receive whom God appointed, For your Prophet, Priest, and King!” Cawood.

CHRISTIANITY.

And the disciples were called Christians first in Antioch.--Acts, xi. 26.

Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free.--Galatians, v. 1.

Walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called.--Ephesians, iv. 1.

Yet if any man suffer as a christian, let him not be ashamed; but let him glorify God on this behalf.--I. Peter, iv. 16.

But for that contention and brave strife The Christian hath to enjoy, the future life, He were the wretchedest of the race of men; But as he soars at that, he bruiseth then The serpent’s head; gets above death and sin, And, sure of Heaven, rides triumphing in. Ben Jonson.

All faiths beside, or did by arms ascend; Or sense indulged has made mankind their friend: This only doctrine does our lusts oppose; Unfed by nature’s soil in which it grows; Cross to our interests, curbing sense and sin; Oppressed without and undermined within, It thrives through pain, its own tormentors tires; And with a stubborn patience still aspires. To what can reason such effects assign, Transcending nature, but to laws divine, Which in that sacred volume are contained, Sufficient, clear, and for that use ordained? Dryden.

Well hast thou fought The better fight, who, singly, hast maintained Against revolted multitudes the cause Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms; And for the testimony of truth hast borne Universal reproach, far worse to bear Than violence. Milton.

A Christian is the highest style of man; And is there who the blessed cross wipes of As a foul blot from his dishonour’d brow?-- If angels tremble, ’tis at such a sight. Young.

O Antioch, thou teacher of the world!-- From out thy portals passed the feet of those, Who, banished and despised, have made thy name The next in rank to proud Jerusalem. Within thy gates the persecuted few, Who dared to rally round the Holy Cross, And worship Him whose sacred form it bore, Were first called Christians. In thy sad conceit, Thou mad’st a stigma of reproach and shame, This noblest title of the sons of earth: While, save for this, thy name were scarcely known, Except among the mouldering vestiges Of dim antiquity. So doth our God Make all men’s folly ever praise His name. J. L. Chester.

To be an humble follower of Him, Who left the bliss of Heaven, to be for us A man on earth in spotless virtue living As man ne’er lived; such words of comfort speaking, To raise, and elevate, and cheer the heart, As man ne’er spake; and suffering poverty, Contempt, and wrong, and pain, and death itself, As man ne’er suffered. Joanna Baillie.

The Christian’s faith had many mysteries too. The uncreated Holy Three in One; Divine Incarnate, Human in Divine; The inward call; the Sanctifying Dew; Coming unseen, unseen departing thence; Anew creating all, and yet not heard; Compelling, yet not felt:--mysterious these; Not that Jehovah to conceal them wished; Not that Religion wished. The Christian faith, Unlike the timorous creeds of Pagan priest, Was frank, stood forth to view, invited all To prove, examine, search, investigate, And gave herself a light to see her by. Mysterious these--because too large for eye Of man, too long for human arm to mete. Pollok.

CHURCH.

Whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in Heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in Heaven.--Matthew, xvi. 19.

Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.--Matthew, xxviii. 20.

So were the churches established in the faith, and increased in number daily.--Acts, xvi. 5.

And God hath set some in the church, first, apostles, secondarily, prophets, thirdly, teachers.--I. Corinthians, xii. 28.

And hath put all things under his feet, and gave him to be the head over all things to the church,

Which is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all.--Ephesians, i. 22, 23.

Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.--Ephesians, v. 25.

That thou mayest know how thou oughtest to behave thyself in the house of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth.--I. Timothy, iii. 15.

Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is.--Hebrews, x. 25.

The solemn scene The sun, through storied panes, surveys with awe, And bashfully withholds each bolder beam. Smart.

Think, when the bells do chime, ’Tis angels’ music; therefore come not late. God then deals blessings: if a king did so, Who would not haste, nay give, to see the show?

When once thy foot enters the church, be bare. God is more there than thou: for thou art there Only by His permission. Then beware; And make thyself all reverence and fear. Kneeling ne’er spoil’d silk stocking. Quit thy state. All equal are within the church’s gate.

Resort to sermons, but to prayers most: Praying’s the end of preaching. O be drest; Stay not for the other pin: why thou hast lost A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee, Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about thee.

In time of service seal up both thine eyes, And send them to thy heart; that spying sin, They may weep out the stains by them did rise: Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in. Who marks in church-time others’ symmetry, Makes all their beauty his deformity.

Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part; Bring not thy plots, thy plough, thy pleasure thither. Christ purged His temple--so must thou thy heart. All worldly thoughts are but thieves met together To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well, For churches either are our heaven or hell. George Herbert.

Dear is the ancient village church, which rears By the lone yew, or lime, or elm-girt mound, Its modest fabric: clear, and pleasant sound Of bells, the grey embattled tower that wears Of changeful hue the marks of bye-gone years, Buttress, and porch, and arch with mazy round Of curious feet or shapes fantastic crown’d; Tall pinnacles and mingled window tiers, Norman, or misnamed Gothic. Fairer spot Thou givest not, England, to the tasteful eye, Nor to the heart more soothing. Blest their lot! Know they their bliss, who own their dwelling nigh Such resting-place; there by the world forgot, In life to worship, and when dead to lie! Bishop Mant.

Some there are Who hold it meet to linger now at home, And some o’er fields and the wide hills to roam, And worship in the temple of the air! For me, not heedless of the lone address, Nor slack to meet my Maker on the height, By wood, or living stream; yet not the less Seek I His presence in each social rite Of His own temple: that He deigns to bless, There still He dwells, and that is His delight. Bishop Mant.

I love to hear the sound of holy bell, And peaceful men, their praises lift to Heaven. Joanna Baillie.

Clad in a robe of pure and spotless white, The youthful bride, with timid steps, comes forth To greet the hand to which she plights her troth, Her soft eyes radiant with a strange delight. The snowy veil which circles her around, Shades the sweet face from every gazer’s eye, And thus enwrapt, she passes calmly by-- Nor casts a look, but on the unconscious ground. So should the Church, the bride elect of Heaven,-- Remembering whom she goeth forth to meet, And with a truth that cannot brook deceit, Holding the faith which unto her is given-- Pass through this world, which claims her for a while, Nor cast about her longing look nor smile. Mrs. Neal.

Thy best type, Desire Of the sad heart,--the Heaven-ascending spire! Sir E. B. Lytton.

To Thee the churches here rejoice, The solemn organs aid the voice; To sacred roofs the sound we raise, The sacred roofs re-sound Thy praise; And while our notes in one agree, Oh! bless the church that sings to Thee! Parnell.

The Church of Christ, the school of grace, The Spirit teaching by the Word; In these our Saviour’s steps we trace, By this His living voice is heard. J. Montgomery.

So shall her holy bounds increase, With walls of praise and gates of peace; So shall the Vine which martyr tears And blood sustained, in other years, With fresher life be clothed upon; And to the world in beauty show Like the rose-plant of Jericho, And glorious as Lebanon. J. G. Whittier.

O, prayer is good when many pour Their voices in one solemn tone; Conning their sacred lessons o’er, Or yielding thanks for mercies shown. ’Tis good to see the quiet train Forget their worldly joy and care, While loud response, and choral strain, Re-echo in the House of Prayer. Eliza Cook.

There is a Presence spiritually vast Around Thy Church, arisen Saviour! cast; A holy effluence, an unspoken awe, A sanctity which carnal eye ne’er saw,-- A pure, impalpable, almighty sense Of peace, by reconciled Omnipotence,-- That hallows, haunts, and makes a Christian mind Rich in all grace, celestially refined: Mere Nature’s worshippers can never feel The fulness of that high seraphic zeal Which veileth all things with religious light, And works unwearied in Jehovah’s sight; Thought, dream, and action, ev’ry pulse of soul The awe of Christ will solemnly control: Girt by the Spirit, wheresoe’er they rove, True faith is feeding on His breath of love. R. Montgomery.

How sweetly wide this Sabbath morn The chime of village bells is sent O’er the hamlets, o’er the fields, With Sabbath sunshine blent. The noble hears and quits his hall-- The peasant quits his cottage-home; All cheerfully, all pleasantly, To church the people come. They come from far-off heathy moors, From lonely farms, from quiet dells, Led strongly, irresistibly, By the sweet chime of Sabbath bells. Across the fields, across the green, From shades emerge they to the light; And seen in groups, or singly seen, It is a charming sight. Richard Howitt.

CITY.

Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is mount Zion, the city of the great King.--Psalm xlviii. 2.

Except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain.--Psalm cxxvii. 1.

Thou shalt be called The city of righteousness; the faithful city.--Isaiah, i. 26.

How doth the city sit solitary that was full of people! All her gates are desolate.--Lamentations, i. 1, 4.

For he looked for a city which hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God.--Hebrews, xi. 10.

And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.--Revelations, 21, 23.

Where are the cities which of old in mighty grandeur rose! Amid the desert’s burning sands, or girt with frozen snows; Is there no vestige now remains their wondrous tale to tell, Of how they blazed, like meteor-stars, and how, like them, they fell? Hark! hark! the voice of prophecy comes o’er the desert wide, Come down, come down, and in the dust thy virgin beauties hide; Oh “Daughter of Chaldea,” thou no more enthroned shall be, For the desert and the wilderness alone shall tell of thee. Though old Euphrates still rolls in his everlasting stream, Thy brazen gates and golden halls, as though they ne’er had been; Where stood thy massy tower-crowned walls, and palaces of pride, The dragon and the wild beast now therein securely hide. The “besom of destruction” o’er thee hath swept its way In wrath, because thine impious hand on God’s Anointed lay. H. Brownlee.

This is the city John did once discern Descend from heaven apocalyptical, Whereof “his thoughts do breathe, his words do burn.”

Beautiful city! Mother of us all! Vision of Peace! white bride of Deity! Whose Glory clothes thine apostolic walls! Angels thy gates encompass lovingly, Equal in all dimensions as beseems, And like an angel’s thy capacity. Death is not in thee, nor the fierce extremes Of pain or sorrow, nor anxiety. Here evil comes not, neither evil dreams; No temple hast thou, for the Lord Most High Thy temple is. No sun thou hast, nor moon, His Glory is thy light eternally. Lo! every nation brings to thee a boon; Thy gates shall not be shut at all by day, Nor night be thine, land of perpetual noon; The kings of earth to thee their homage pay. But no defiled thing shall enter thee, Loving a lie, or tempting to betray. J. A. Heraud.

Jehovah is great, and great be his praise; In the city of God He is King; Proclaim ye his triumphs in jubilant lays, On the mount of his holiness sing.

The joy of the earth, from her beautiful height, Is Zion’s impregnable hill; The Lord in her temple still taketh delight, God reigns in her palaces still.

Go walk about Zion, and measure the length, Her walls and her bulwarks mark well; Contemplate her palaces, glorious in strength, Her towers and her pinnacles tell.

Then say to your children:--Our stronghold is tried; This God is our God to the end; His people for ever his counsel shall guide; His arm shall for ever defend. J. Montgomery.

CLOTHES.

Then all the princes of the sea shall come down from their thrones, and lay away their robes, and put off their broidered garments: they shall clothe themselves with trembling.--Ezekiel, xxvi. 16.

Take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.--Matthew, vi. 31, 32.

For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened: not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life.--II. Corinthians, v. 4.

If there come unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor man in vile raiment:

And ye have respect to him that weareth the gay clothing, and say unto him, Sit thou here in a good place; and say to the poor, Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool:

Are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts?--James, ii. 2, 3, 4.

If thou beest he; but O how fall’n! how changed From him who in the happy realms of light, Clothed with transcendent brightness, did’st outshine Myriads, though bright! Milton.

The golden palace of my God, Towering above the clouds I see; Beyond the cherub’s bright abode, Higher than angels’ thoughts can be! How can I in those courts appear Without a wedding garment on? Conduct me, Thou life-giver, there, Conduct me to thy glorious throne! And clothe me with thy robes of light, And lead me through sin’s darksome night. Bowring, from the Russian.

All clothed with majesty and power, The Lord of glory and of might, He comes, who can abide the hour? Who can behold the dreadful sight? He, even he, who hath put on The spotless robe of righteousness, Washed in the blood of God’s dear Son: Thus clothed, the ransomed soul may press Into the presence bright with songs of thankfulness. Egone.

CLOUDS.

Behold, God is great, and we know him not, neither can the number of His years be searched out.

For He maketh small the drops of water: they pour down rain according to the vapour thereof;

Which the clouds do drop and distil upon man abundantly.

With clouds He covereth the light; and commandeth it not to shine by the cloud that cometh betwixt.--Job, xxxvi. 26, 27, 28, 32.

Who maketh the clouds His chariot; who walketh upon the wings of the wind.--Psalm civ. 3.

While they beheld, He was taken up; and a cloud received Him out of their sight.--Acts, i. 9.

Behold He cometh with clouds; and every eye shall see Him.--Revelation, i. 7.

A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun, A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow, Long had I watch’d the glory moving on, O’er the still radiance of the lake below: Tranquil its spirit seem’d, and floated slow, Even in its very motion there was rest, While every breath of eve that chanced to blow, Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west. Emblem, methought, of the departed soul, To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given, And by the breath of mercy made to roll Right onward to the golden gates of heaven, Where to the eye of faith it peaceful lies, And tells to man his glorious destinies. J. Wilson.

See’st yon light cloud, the wind is hurrying by? The eagle’s scarce more rapid in his flight, ’Tis thus the years of youth,--hope--rapture fly, Clad in attractive hues and robes of light, Swiftly they fly, but ah! a weary night Their reign succeeds--a more than midnight gloom, That gives no peace to morn’s uprising bright, Nor bids sweet Hope her wonted smile resume. Ah! yes; though dark our night and drear the tomb, Through its long vista, lo! the glorious star, Whose rays from heaven’s bright vestibule illume Death’s deepest vaults with radiance from afar, Sun of immortal day! victorious faith Eyes thy uprising blaze, and triumphs over death. G. M. J.

I asked the clouds, in their pomp of light, As they sat in the crimson west at night, Wherefore they gathered around the sun, And brightened although his race was run; When, perhaps, the breezes of night might strew Their fragile folds into mist and dew? The clouds replied, “Though we should be driven Away from our rest, we shall still be in heaven.” M. A. Browne.

When gathering clouds around I view, And days are dark, and friends are few; On Him I lean, who not in vain Experienced every human pain: He sees my wants, allays my fears, And counts and treasures up my tears.

And, oh! when I have safely past Through every conflict--but the last; Still, still unchanging, watch beside My dying bed,--for thou hast died. Then point to realms of cloudless day, And wipe the latest tear away. Grant.

See where yonder cloudlet lingers On the tranquil verge of day; The golden sunset with its fingers, Gilds it with its burnished ray; Swiftly, calmly, on it glides, Mingling, melting, into air, Fainter, fainter--now it hides In the bosom of its lair.

So I’ve seen the gentle spirit Linger as it pass’d away, Softly, brightly glowing, ere it Faded in eternal day. Glowing with the light of Heaven-- Light of God’s eternal love:-- Like the cloudlet of the even, So it pass’d to realms above. Rev. E. Case.

COMFORT.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me: thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.--Psalm xxiii. 4.

This is my comfort in my affliction: for thy word hath quickened me.--Psalm cxix. 50.

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.--Isaiah, xl. 1.

I, even I, am He that comforteth you: who art thou, that thou shouldest be afraid of a man that shall die, and of the Son of Man which shall be made as grass; and forgettest the Lord thy Maker.--Isaiah, li. 12, 13.

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;

To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn.--Isaiah, lxi. 1, 2.

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort;

Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.--II. Corinthians, i. 3, 4.

There is a haven yet to rest my soul on, In midst of all unhappiness, which I look on With the same comfort as a distressed seaman Afar off views the coast he would enjoy, When yet the seas do toss his reeling barque, ’Twixt hope and danger. Shirley.

In the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drowned in sleep, Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the priest his last hath prayed, And I nod to what is said, ’Cause my speech is now decayed, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the judgment is revealed, And that open which was sealed, When to thee I have appealed, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! Robert Herrick.

The voice which I did more esteem Than music in her sweetest key; Those eyes which unto me did seem More comfortable than the day! Those now by me, as they have been, Shall never more be heard or seen; But what I once enjoyed in them, Shall seem hereafter as a dream.

All earthly comforts vanish thus; So little hold of them have we, That we from them, or they from us, May in a moment ravished be. Yet we are neither just nor wise, If present mercies we despise; Or mind not how there may be made A thankful use of what we had. Wither.

Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismay’d, The reverend champion stood. At his control, Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul: Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise, And his last, faltering accents whisper’d praise. Goldsmith.

Comfort, ye ministers of grace, Comfort my people, saith your God! Ye soon shall see his smiling face, His golden sceptre, not his rod; And own, when now the cloud’s removed, He only chasten’d whom he loved.

Who sow in tears, in joy shall reap, The Lord shall comfort all that mourn, Who now go on their way and weep, With joy they doubtless shall return, And bring their sheaves with vast increase, And have their fruit to holiness. Wesley.

They sank amid the wilderness, The weary and forsaken; She gave the boy one faint caress, And prayed it might not waken.

Far, far away the desert spread; Ah! love is fain to cherish The vainest hopes, but now she said, “Let me not see him perish.”

Then spoke the Lord, and at his word Sprang forth a little fountain, Pure, cold as those whose crystal hoard Is in some pine-clad mountain.

O blessed God! thus doth thy power, When, worn and broken-hearted, We sink beneath some evil hour, And deem all hope departed.

Then doth the fountain of thy grace Rise up within the spirit, And we are strengthened for that race, Whose prize we shall inherit.

When least we hope, our prayer is heard, The judgment is averted, And comes the comfort of thy word, When most we seem deserted. Miss Landon.

On wings of everlasting love The Comforter is come; All terrors at his voice disperse, And endless pleasures bloom. Doddridge.

COMMAND--COMMANDMENT.

Moses went up unto mount Sinai, as the Lord had commanded him, and took in his hand the two tables of stone.

And he wrote upon the tables the words of the covenant, the ten commandments.--Exodus, xxxiv. 4, 28.

Jesus said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

This is the first and great commandment.

And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.--Matthew, xxii. 37, 38, 39, 40.

How, in one house, Should many people, under two commands Hold amity? Shakspere.

Whatever hypocrites austerely talk Of purity, and place, and innocence, Reforming as impure what God declares Pure, and commands to some, leaves free to all Our Maker bids increase; who bids abstain But our destroyer, foe to God and man. Milton.

Heralds of creation cry, --Praise the Lord, the Lord most high; Heaven and earth, obey the call, Praise the Lord, the Lord of all.

For He spake, and forth from night Sprang the universe to light; He commanded,--Nature heard, And stood fast upon his word. J. Montgomery.

What is the first and great command?-- To love thy God above: And what the second?--As thyself Thy neighbour thou shalt love: Who is my neighbour?--He who wants The help that thou canst give: Jesus, our blessed Saviour, said-- This do, and thou shalt live. Anon.

COMPASSION.

Thou O Lord, art a God full of compassion, and gracious, long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth.--Psalm lxxxvi. 15.

It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.--Lamentations, iii. 22.

Have compassion on us, and help us.--Mark, ix. 22.

Ye had compassion of me in my bonds.--Hebrews, x. 34.

Be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another.--I. Peter, iii. 8.

Jesus, the friend of human kind, With strong compassion moved, Descended, like a pitying God, To save the souls he loved.

Exalted high at God’s right hand, And Lord of all below, Through him is pardoning love dispensed, And boundless blessings flow.

And still, for erring, guilty man, A brother’s pity flows; And still his bleeding heart is touched With memory of our woes. Barbauld.

The light of love and glory Has shone through Christ the Saviour, The holy Guide, who lived and died, That we might live for ever.

And since thy great compassion Thus brings thy children near thee, May we to praise devote our days, And love as well as fear thee. Henry Ware, Jun.

Lord, what offerings shall we bring, At thine altars when we bow? Hearts, the pure unsullied spring, Whence the kind affections flow; Soft compassion’s feeling soul, By the melting eye exprest, Sympathy, at whose control Sorrow leaves the wounded breast. John Taylor.

CONCORD.

What concord hath Christ with Belial?--II. Corinthians, vi. 15.

But lovely concord, and most sacred peace, Doth nourish virtue, and fast friendship breedes; Weake she makes strong, and strong things does increase, Till it the pitch of highest praise exceedes-- Brave be her warres, as honourable deedes, By which she triumphs over ire and pride, And winnes an olive garden for her meedes. Spenser.

One shall rise Of proud ambitious heart, who, not content With fair equality, fraternal state, Will arrogate dominion undeserved Over his brethren, and quite dispossess Concord, and law of nature from the earth. Milton.

E’en as the dew, that, at the break of morning, All nature with its beauty is adorning, And flows for Heaven, calm and still, And bathes the tender grass on Zion’s hill, And to the young and withering herb resigns The drops for which it pines: So are fraternal peace and concord ever The cherishers without whose guidance, never Would sainted quiet seek the breast,-- The life, the soul of unmolested rest,-- The antidote to sorrow and distress, And prop of human happiness. Kamphuyzen.

It is not once an age two hearts are set So well in unison, that not a note Jars in their music; but a skilful hand Slurs lightly over the discordant tones, And wakens only the full power of those That sound in concord. Happy, happy those Who thus perform in the grand concert--life. Mrs. Southey.

CONQUEST.

As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.

Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.--Romans, viii. 36, 37.

And I saw, and behold a white horse; and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him; and he went forth conquering and to conquer.--Revelations, vi. 2.

The conquered also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose, And fear of God. Milton.

Well then, my soul, joy in the midst of pain; Thy Christ, that conquered hell, shall from above With greater triumph yet return again, And conquer his own justice with his love-- Commanding earth and seas to render those Unto His bliss, for whom He paid His woes. Henry Wotton.

Strange conquest, when the conqueror must die, And he is slain who wins the victory, And yet another conquest he must gain, Or all our faith and highest hopes are vain. Anon.

He on whose eyes sweet light revealed hath been, He on whose ears the mysteries of sound, The lame who now can walk, he who hath seen The gate of death and he whom death hath bound, Rejoice aloud--a choral company! And had they not, the stones from out the ground Witness of Him, whom Patriarchs longed to see, Had borne; such was the aspiration then, The rapture and procession. And lo, He Went like a conqueror on his way, while men Cowered as before a God. J. A. Heraud.

To Thee, who dying, conquerest, all hail! Son of the virgin! Hero of the blest! Over the gates of death and hell prevail; Warrior who hast alone the wine-press trod. J. A. Heraud.

CONSCIENCE.

And herein do I exercise myself, to have always a conscience void of offence toward God, and toward men.--Acts, xxiv. 16.

Their conscience also bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another.--Romans, ii. 15.

Ye must needs be subject, not only for wrath, but also for conscience sake.--Romans, xiii. 5.

Holding the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience.--I. Timothy, iii. 9.

Purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God.--Hebrews, ix. 14.

We trust we have a good conscience.--Hebrews, xiii. 18.

Guilt still alarms, and conscience, ne’er asleep, Wounds with incessant strokes, not loud but deep; While the vexed mind her own tormentor flies, A scorpion scourge unmark’d by human eyes! Trust me no tortures that the poets feign, Can match the fierce, the unutterable pain He feels, who day and night, devoid of rest, Carries his own accuser in his breast. Juvenal.

Study conscience, more than thou wouldst fame; Though both be good, the latter yet is worst, And ever is ill got, without the first. Ben Jonson.

For though the plain judge, Conscience, makes no show, But silently to her dark session comes, Not as red law does to arraignment go, Or war to execution, with loud drums;

Though she on hills sets not her gibbets high, Where frightful law sets hers; nor bloody seems, Like war in colours spread, yet secretly She does her work, and many men condemns;

Chokes in the seed what law, till ripe, ne’er sees; What law would punish, Conscience can prevent; And so the world from many mischiefs frees; Known by her cures, as law by punishment. Sir William Davenant.

So gnaws the grief of conscience evermore, And in the heart it is so deeply grave, That they may never sleep nor rest therefor, Nor think one thought but on the dread they have. Earl of Dorset.

The soul’s rough file that smoothness does impart; The hammer that does break the stony heart! The worm that never dies! the “thorn within,” That pricks and pains! the whip and scourge of sin! The voice of God in man! that without rest Does softly cry within a troubled breast-- “To all temptations is that soul set free That makes not to itself a curb of me.” Sir E. Sherburne.

For him a waking bloodhound, yelling loud, (That in his bosom long had sleeping laid, A guilty conscience lurking after blood,) Pursued eagerly, nor ever stayed, Till the betrayer’s self it had betrayed; Oft changed he place in hope away to wind, But change of place could never change his mind, Himself he flies to lose, but follows but to find. Giles Fletcher.

There is a kind of conscience some men keep, Is like a member that’s benumbed with sleep; Which, as it gathers blood, and wakes again, It shoots, and pricks, and feels as big as ten. Quarles.

The swelling of an outward fortune can Create a prosperous, not a happy, man; A peaceful conscience is the true content, And wealth is but her golden ornament. Quarles.

Divine authority, within man’s breast, Brings every thought, word, action, to the test; Warns him or prompts, approves him or restrains, As reason, or as passion takes the reins. Heaven from above, and Conscience from within, Cries in his startled ear,--Abstain from sin. Cowper.

From behind her secret stand, The sly informer minutes every fault, And her dread diary with horror fills. Not the gross act alone employs her pen; She reconnoitres fancy’s airy band, Our dawning purposes of heart explores, And steals our embryos of iniquity. Young.

’Tis ever thus With noble minds; if chance they slide to folly, Remorse stings deeper, and relentless conscience Pours more of gall into the bitter cup Of their severe repentance. Mason.

Knowledge or wealth to few are given, But mark how just the ways of heaven: True joy to all is free. Nor wealth nor knowledge grant the boon, ’Tis thine, O Conscience! thine alone-- It all belongs to thee. Mickle.

What terrestial woe can match The self-convicted bosom, which hath wrought The bane of others, or enslaved itself With shackles vile? Not poison, nor sharp fire, Nor the worst pangs that ever monkish hate Suggested, or despotic rage imposed, Were at that season an unwished exchange; When the soul loathes herself, when flying thence, To crowds, on every brow she sees pourtrayed Fell demons, hate or scorn, which drive her back To solitude, her Judge’s voice divine, To hear in secret, haply sounding through The troubled dreams of midnight, and still, still Demanding for his violated laws Fit recompense; or charging her own tongue To speak the award of justice on herself. Akenside.

Conscience distasteful truths may tell, But mark her sacred lessons well, With her whoever lives at strife, Loses his better friend for life. Anon.

Conscience, tremendous conscience, in his fits Of inspiration, whencesoe’er it came, Rose like a ghost, inflicting fear of death On those who feared not death in fiercest battle, And mocked him in their martyrdoms of torments; That secret, swift, and silent messenger, Broke on them in their lonely hours;--in sleep, In sickness; haunting them with dire suspicions Of something in themselves that would not die-- Of an existence elsewhere, and hereafter; Of which tradition was not wholly silent, Yet spake not out; its dreary oracles Confounded superstition to conceive, And baffled scepticism to reject, What fear of death is like the fear beyond it? J. Montgomery.

Nothing they saw, but a low voice was heard Threading the ominous silence of that fear, Gentle and terrorless, as if a bird, Wakened by some volcano’s glare, should cheer The murk air with his song; yet every word In the cathedral’s farthest arch seemed near, As if it spoke to every one apart, Like the clear voice of conscience to each heart. Lowell.

Lest too powerful passions should propel Headlong to acts immoral, nor allow Time for slow Reason to deduce a rule To curb their mad career, Conscience kind heaven Appointed her assistant; Conscience quick To heed the call of duty, to discern ’Twixt right and wrong, and bias to the best. William Gibson.

Oh, that folk would well consider What it is to lose a name, What this world is altogether, If bereft of honest fame. Poverty ne’er brings dishonour, Hardship ne’er breeds sorrow’s smart, If bright conscience takes upon her To shed sunshine round the heart. Hector Mc’ Neill.

CONSOLATION.

Are the consolations of God small with thee?--Job, xv. 11.

Woe unto you that are rich; for you have received your consolation.--Luke, vi. 24.

Barnabas, which is, being interpreted, the son of consolation.--Acts, iv. 36.

For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ.--II. Corinthians, i. 5.

Many are the sayings of the wise, In ancient and in modern books enroll’d, Extolling patience as the truest fortitude; And to the bearing well of all calamities, All chances incident to man’s frail life Consolatories writ With studied argument, and much persuasion sought Lenient of grief and anxious thought; But with the afflicted, in his pangs their sound Little prevails, or rather seems a time Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint; Unless he feels within Some source of consolation from above, Secret refreshings, that repair his strength, And fainting spirits uphold. Milton.

A faded flower, a bud of beauty blasted, A broken lute, a precious diamond shattered, A stream of purest water, early wasted, A priceless essence on the desert scattered, Like these thou hast perished, in thy beauty mild. To which shall we compare thee, lovely child?

If to the faded flower, we know its fruit Is garner’d up midst Heaven’s holy treasures; If to the lovely-toned, but broken lute, Its echo mingleth now, in heavenly measures; The diamond is not lost; its fragments gather Into a star before the Eternal Father.

The stream beside the stream of life is flowing, And ever fed from their celestial springs; The essence round the Throne eternal, going Embodied on a Seraph’s radiant wings; Oh, lost one!--let us call thee what we will, The very name hath consolation still. Anon.

CONTENT.

But godliness, with contentment, is great gain.

For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.

And having food and raiment, let us be therewith content.--I. Timothy, vi. 6, 7, 8.

I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.--Philippians, iv. 11.

Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for He hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.--Hebrews, xiii. 5.

Poor and content is rich and rich enough. Shakspere.

My conscience is my crown, Contented thoughts my rest; My heart is happy in itself, My bliss is in my breast.

Enough I reckon wealth, A mean the surest lot; That lies too high for base contempt, Too low for envy’s shot. Robert Southwell.

Though still thou get’st, yet is thy want not spent, But, as thy wealth, so grows thy wealthy itch; But with my little I have much content-- Content hath all; and who hath all, is rich: Then this in reason thou must needs confess-- If I have little, yet that thou hast less.

Whatever man possesses, God hath lent, And to his audit liable is, ever, To reckon how, and when, and where he spent; Then this thou bragg’st--thou art a great receiver: Little my debt, when little is my store-- The more thou hast, the debt still grows the more. Phineas Fletcher.

I grieve, and dare not show my dis_content_; I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate; I do, yet dare not say I ever meant, I seem stark mute, but inwardly do prate: I am, and not, I freeze, and yet am burn’d, Since from myself my other self I turn’d.

My care is like my shadow in the sun-- Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it; Stands and lies by me, does what I have done, This too-familiar care does make me rue it. No means I find to rid him from my breast, Till by the end of things it is suppress’d.

Some gentler passions slide into my mind, For I am soft, and made of melting snow; Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind, Let me or float or sink, be high or low, Or let me live with some more sweet content, Or die, and so forget what love e’er meant. Queen Elizabeth.

Welcome pure thoughts, welcome ye silent groves, These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves: Now the wing’d people of the sky shall sing My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring: A prayer book now shall be my looking-glass, In which I will adore sweet virtue’s face. Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace-cares, No broken vows dwell here, no pale-faced fears: Then here I’ll sit, and sigh my hot love’s folly, And learn ’t affect an holy melancholy; And if Contentment be a stranger then, I’ll ne’er look for it but in Heaven again. Sir Henry Wotton.

There’s discontent from sceptre to the swain, And from the peasant to the king again. Then whatsoever in thy will afflict thee, Or in thy pleasure seem to contradict thee, Give it a welcome as a wholesome friend, That would instruct thee to a better end. Since no condition from defect is free, Think not to find what here can never be. Alexander Nicholas.

Unfit for greatness, I her snares defy, And look on riches with untainted eye. To others let the glittering baubles fall, Content shall place us far above them all. Churchill.

O may I with myself agree, And never covet what I see! Content me with an humble shade; My passions tamed, my wishes laid; For while our wishes idly roll, We banish quiet from the soul; ’Tis then we busy beat the air, And misers gather wealth and care. Dyer.

Happy is he, who, though the cup of bliss Has ever shunn’d him when he thought to kiss, Who still in abject poverty or pain, Can count with pleasure what small joys remain; Though, were his sight convey’d from zone to zone, He would not find one spot of ground his own; Yet as he looks around, he cries with glee, These bounding prospects all are made for me: For me yon waving fields their burden bear, For me yon labourer guides the shining share; While happy I, in idle ease recline, And mark the glorious visions as they shine. This is the charm, by sages often told, Converting all it touches into gold. Content can soothe, where’er by fortune placed, Can rear a garden in the desert waste. H. K. White.

O Thou, who kindly dost provide For every creature’s want! We bless Thee, God of Nature wide, For all thy goodness lent; And if it please Thee, Heavenly Guide, May never worse be sent; But whether granted, or denied, Lord! bless us with content! Burns.

There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy, No chemic art can counterfeit; It makes men rich in greatest poverty, Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold, The homely whistle to sweet music’s strain; Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent, That much in little--all in nought--content. Anon.

Ye venerable groves! whose open glades Invite the musing wanderer to your shades, Ye birds! whose honied notes enthral the ear, Wake the bright morn, the darksome evening cheer, Ye fountains! murmuring music as ye flow, Ye flowers! that on their purple margins glow, Ye winds! that o’er those flowers soft breathing play, Calm the hot sky, and mitigate the day;-- Take me, O take me to your loved retreats; All, all conspire to bless me with your sweets. Here in your soft enclosure let me prove The shade and silence of the life I love! Not idle here;--for, as I rove along, I form the verse, and meditate the song; Or mend my mind by what the wise have taught, Studious to be the very thing I ought Here will I taste the blessings of content, No hope shall flatter, and no fear torment: Unlike the sea, the sport of every wind, And rich with wrecks, the ruin of mankind, My life an honest, humble praise shall claim, As the small stream, scarce honoured with a name, Whose gladdening waters through my garden play, Give a few flowers to smile, then glide away. Bishop Hurd.

The wisest, happiest, of our kind are they That ever walk content with Nature’s way, God’s goodness measuring bounty as it may; For whom the gravest thought of what they miss, Chastening the fulness of a present bliss, Is with that wholesome office satisfied; While unrepining sadness is allied In thankful bosoms to a modest pride. Wordsworth.

Grant, gracious Lord, as through this troubled scene I walk unsafely, stumbling as I go, Glimpses of hope, the murky clouds between, May break at times, and light the way below; But if I may not such sweet solace find, Give me a prayerful and contented mind. Egone.

CONTRITION.

The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.--Psalm xxxiv. 18.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.--Psalm li. 17.

Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.--Isaiah, lvii. 15.

To this man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at my word.--Isaiah, lxvi. 2.

Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed Sown with contrition in his heart, than those Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees Of Paradise could have produced. Milton.

I, who have gone so far and long astray, Adding to primal guilt the mountains high Of trespass day by day, as if to try Thy long forbearance, still for mercy pray; For mercy even yet. Look ere thou slay, Great God! upon my tears; look where I lie Repentant; give, O give, before I die, Thy grace, and guide my feet into thy way. Reveal thy sufferings, thy blood and sweat: Short is my time; reveal thy bitter cross To my dark eyes, all used to other sight. Quench, O my God! all that unhallowed heat Of former life, which now I count but loss: Lord, thou hast ne’er despised a heart contrite. From the Italian of Gabriel Fiamma.

Where sad contrition harbours, there the heart Is truly acquainted with the secret smart Of past offences, hates the bosom sin The most, which most the soul took pleasure in; No crime unsifted, no sin unpresented Can lurk unseen, and seen, none unlamented; The troubled soul’s amazed with dire aspects Of lesser sins committed, and detects The wounded conscience; it cries amain For mercy--mercy; cries, and cries again.

It sadly grieves, and soberly laments, It yearns for grace, reforms, returns, repents. Aye, this is incense whose accepted savour Mounts up the heavenly throne, and findeth favour: Aye, this it is whose valour never fails-- With God it stoutly wrestles and prevails: Aye, this it is that pierces heaven above, Never returning home, (like Noah’s dove,) But brings an olive leaf, or some increase, That works salvation and eternal peace. Quarles.

All powerful is the penitential sigh Of true contrition; like the placid wreaths Of incense, wafted from the righteous shrine Where Abel ministered, to the blest seat Of Mercy, an accepted sacrifice, Humiliation’s conscious plaint ascends. Samuel Hayes.

Lord! who art merciful as well as just, Incline thine ear to me, a child of dust! Not what I would, O Lord! I offer thee, Alas! but what I can. Father Almighty, who hast made me man, And bade me look to heaven, for thou art there, Accept my sacrifice and humble prayer. Four things which are not in my treasury, I lay before thee, Lord, with this petition:-- My nothingness, my wants, My sins, and my contrition. Southey, imitated from the Persian.

O, my soul! thy lost condition Brought the gentle Saviour low! Hast thou felt one hour’s contrition For those sins that pierced him so? Dost thou bear the love thou owest For such proof of grace divine? Can’st thou answer,--Lord thou knowest That this heart is wholly Thine? C. Bowles.

COURAGE.

Wait on the Lord: be of good courage.--Psalm xxvii. 14.

Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.--Psalm xxxi. 24.

And he that is courageous among the mighty shall flee away naked in that day, saith the Lord.--Amos, ii. 16.

When the brethren heard of us they came to meet us: whom when Paul saw, he thanked God, and took courage.--Acts, xxviii. 15.

That courage which the vain for valour take, Who proudly danger seek for glory’s sake, Is impudence; and what they rashly do, Has no excuse, but that ’tis madness too. Sir William Davenant.

Stand but your ground, your ghostly foes will fly-- Hell trembles at a heaven-directed eye; Choose rather to defend than to assail-- Self-confidence will in the conflict fail: When you are challenged, you may dangers meet-- True courage is a fixed, not sudden heat; Is always humble, lives in self-distrust, And will itself into no danger thrust. Devote yourself to God, and you will find God fights the battles of a will resigned. Love Jesus! Love will no base fear endure-- Love Jesus! And of conquest rest secure. Bishop Ken.

True courage is not moved by breath of words; While the rash bravery of boiling blood, Impetuous, knows no settled principle. A feverish tide, it has its ebbs and flows, As spirits rise or fall, as wine inflames, Or circumstances change: but inborn courage, The generous child of fortitude and faith, Holds its firm empire in the constant soul; And like the steadfast pole-star, never once From the same fixed and faithful point declines. Hannah More.

COURT.

Blessed is the man whom Thou choosest, and causest to approach unto Thee, that he may dwell in Thy courts.--Psalm lxv. 4.

Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God.--Psalm xcii. 13.

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.

Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His courts with praise.--Psalm c. 1, 4.

It shall be an habitation of dragons, and a court for owls.--Isaiah, xxxiv. 13.

Gaze but upon the house where man doth live, With flowers and verdure to adorn his way; Where all the creatures due obedience give; The winds to sweep his chambers every day; The clouds to wash his rooms, the ceiling gay With glittering stars, that night’s dark empire brave; If such an house God to another gave, How shine those splendid courts He for Himself will have?

And if a heavy cloud, opaque at night, In which the sun may seem embodied, Deprived of all its dregs we see so white, Burning in liquid gold its watery head, Or round with ivory edges silvered; What lustre supereminent will HE Lighten on those who shall his sunshine see In that all-glorious court, in which all glories be. Giles Fletcher.