Chapter I: Part 1

GEORGE HERBERT

MILTON

YOUNG

COWPER

MONTGOMERY

HEBER

_Engraved by P. P. Becker._

London, Groombridge and Sons.]

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.

EDITED BY H. G. ADAMS.
EDITOR OF THE “CYCLOPÆDIA OF POETICAL QUOTATIONS,” ETC.

NEW EDITION.

“A verse may find him who a sermon flies,
And turn delight into a sacrifice.”--HERBERT.

ALEX. GARDNER,
PAISLEY; AND PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.

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._