Chapter XIV: Part 14

The card-built house amused our infant age;
The child was pleased; but is the man more sage?
A breath could level childhood’s tottering toy:
See manhood--effort, art, and time employ,
To build that brittle _name_ a whisper can destroy!

There is a Book where nought our _name_ can spot,
If we ourselves refuse to fix the blot;
’Tis kept by One that sets alike at nought
The tale with malice or with flatt’ry fraught,--
He reads the heart, and sees the whisper in the thought.
_C. C. Colton._

Jesus, the spring of joys divine,
Whence all our hopes and comforts flow:
Jesus, no other _name_ but Thine
Can save us from eternal woe.
_Steele._

NATURE.

O Lord God of hosts, who is a strong Lord like unto Thee?

Thou rulest the raging of the sea: when the waves thereof arise, Thou stillest them.

The heavens are Thine, the earth also is Thine: as for the world and the fulness thereof, Thou hast founded them.--Psalm lxxxix. 8, 9, 11.

The Lord is a great God, and a Great King above all Gods.

In His hand are the deep places of the earth; the strength of the hills is His also.

The sea is His, and he made it; and His hands formed the dry land.--Psalm xcv. 3, 4, 5.

Mine hand also hath laid the foundation of the earth, and my right hand hath spanned the heavens; when I call unto them they stand up together.--Isaiah, xlviii. 13.

From dearth to plenty, and from death to life,
Is _Nature’s_ progress, when she lectures man
In heavenly truth; evincing as she makes
The grand transition, that there lives and works
A soul in all things, and that soul is God.
_Cowper._

_Nature_, employed in her allotted place,
Is hand-maid to the purposes of Grace;
By good vouchsafed, makes known superior good,
And bliss not seen, by blessings understood.
_Cowper._

He looks abroad into the varied field
Of _Nature_; and though poor, perhaps, compared
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
His are the mountains, and the valleys his,
And the resplendent rivers; his to enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel,
But who, with filial confidence inspired,
Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say, “My Father made them all!”
_Cowper._

By swift degrees the love of _Nature_ works,
And warms the bosom; till, at last sublimed
To rapture and enthusiastic heat,
We feel the present Deity, and taste
The joy of God to see a happy world.
_Thomson._

From _Nature’s_ constant or eccentric laws,
The thoughtful soil this general inference draws--
That an effect must pre-suppose a cause.
_Prior._

All _Nature_ is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil, universal good.
_Pope._

Read _Nature_; _Nature_ is a friend to truth:
_Nature_ is Christian; preaches to mankind;
And bids dead matter aid us in our creed.
_Young._

How faint is language when we strive to sing
The beauties of the Almighty hand!
Each year upon our outward sense they win,
With all increasing and still varying force;
The seasons, days, months, years, incessant bring
Contrasting changes! First seeds, leaves, expand
As the young years with tender warmth begin,
Then bloom and fruit, and life bursts from its source,
In animated _Nature_, then decays,
And with revolving time is still renew’d.
Thus hope’s bright beam the distant scene displays
Where no repelling shadow’s may intrude;
So life may joyous be, and genius dwells
In new awaked fires, and fresh enchantment spells.
_Sir E. Brydges._

Almighty Father! such the lesson is
That in these cool and venerable woods,
I con to-day; and firmer in my breast,
By every syllable, these truths are fixed
That Thou art the Beginning and the End
Of all this glorious work, and that Thy love
Pervades the universe; and that Thy smile
Seeketh all hearts, to sun them; and that Thou,
In every glorious thing we here behold,
Declarest and reveal’st Thyself to be
The Majesty Supreme--Eternal God.
_W. D. Gallagher._

_Nature’s_ self, which is the breath of God,
Or His pure Word by miracle revealed.
_Wordsworth._

_Nature_, when sprung thy glorious frame?
--My Maker called me, and I came.
_J. Montgomery._

Live thou with God in _Nature_: never falter
In thy communings with Him. Be
Like those blest birds we read of in the Psalter,
Who found a borne from peril free
In God’s own house, and nestled near His altar,
Making it ring with melody.
That temple stands no more,
But _Nature_ standeth still; God’s holy presence
Abideth with us, and the offering
Of thankful joy to Him whose perfect essence
Is perfect love, our glowing lips may bring,
Till this brief life is o’er;
And in a brighter, better,
Our spirits know no fetter.
_Bethune._

Never have the works of _Nature_
Yet to mortal man revealed,
How his much offended Maker
May to him be reconciled.

Flower, nor tree, nor rock, nor mountain,
Ever yet have showed the way,
Ever told him of a Fountain
That could wash his guilt away.

Man could never yet discover,
From the sky, the earth, the sea,
When his days on earth are over,
Where or what his state should be.

But the page of inspiration
Casts a light upon the whole,
Bringing peace and consolation
To the never-dying soul.
_Alexander Letham._

NIGHT.

Day unto day uttereth speech, and _night_ unto _night_ showeth knowledge.--Psalm xix. 2.

Thou makest darkness, and it is _night_.--Psalm civ. 20.

If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the _night_ shall be light about me.

Yea, the darkness hideth not from Thee; but the _night_ shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to Thee.--Psalm cxxxix. 11, 12.

One sun by day, by _night_ ten thousand shine,
And light us deep into the Deity;
How boundless in magnificence is _night_!
O what a confluence of ethereal fires,
From urns unnumber’d, down the steep of heaven,
Streams to a point, and centres in my sight!
Nor tarries there, I feel it at my heart.
My heart, at once, it humbles, and exalts;
Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies.
Who sees it unexalted? or unaw’d?
Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen?
Material offspring of Omnipotence!
Inanimate, all animating birth!
Work worthy Him who made it! worthy praise!
All praise! praise more than human! nor denied
Thy praise divine!--But tho’ man, drown’d in sleep,
Withholds his homage, not alone I wake;
Bright legions swarm unseen, and sing, unheard
By mortal ear, the glorious Architect,
In this his universal temple hung
With lustres, with innumerable lights,
That shed religion on the soul; at once
The temple and the preacher! O how loved
It calls devotion! genuine growth of _night_!
_Young._

The glorious sun is gone,
And the gathering darkness of _night_ comes on.
Like a curtain from God’s kind hand it flows,
To shade the couch where His children repose.
Then kneel, while the watching stars are bright,
And give your last thoughts to the Guardian of _night_.
_Henry Ware, Jun._

And still as day concludes in _night_
To break again with new-born light,
God’s wondrous bounty let me find,
With still a more enlightened mind;
When Grace and Love in one agree,
Grace from God and Love from me;
Grace that will from Heaven inspire,
Love that seals it in desire.
_Parnell._

Now, with religious awe, the farewell light
Blends with the solemn colouring of the _night_.
_Wordsworth._

Ye quenchless stars! so eloquently bright;
Untroubled sentries of the shadowy _night_,
While half the world is lapp’d in blissful dreams,
And round the lattice creep your fairy beams,
How sweet to gaze upon those placid eyes,
In lambent beauty looking from the skies!
And when, oblivious of the world, we stray
At dead of _night_ along some noiseless way,
How the heart mingles with a moon-lit hour,
And feels from heaven a sympathetic power!
See! not a cloud careers yon pathless deep
Of molten azure,--mute as lovely sleep;
Full in her pallid light the moon presides,
Shrined in a halo, mellowing as she rides;
And far around, the forest and the stream
Wear the rich garment of her woven beam.
The lull’d winds, too, are sleeping in her caves,
No stormy prelude rolls upon the waves;
Nature is hush’d, as if her works ador’d,
Still’d into homage of her living Lord!
_R. Montgomery._

O, blessed _Night_! that comes to rich and poor
Alike; bringing us dreams that lure
Our hearts to One above!
_Henry B. Hirst._

Clouds and thick darkness are thy throne,
Thy wonderful pavilion;
O, dart from thence a shining ray,
And then my _midnight_ shall be day!
_Thomas Flatman._

OBEDIENCE--DISOBEDIENCE.

For as by one man’s _disobedience_ many were made sinners, so by the _obedience_ of one shall many be made righteous.--Romans, v. 19.

Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to _obey_, his servants ye are to whom ye _obey_; whether of sin unto death, or of _obedience_ unto righteousness?--Romans, vi. 16.

Though He were a Son, yet learned He _obedience_ by the things which He suffered.--Hebrews, v. 8.

The will of heav’n
Be done in this and all things! I _obey_.
_Shakspere._

Of man’s first _disobedience_, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top
Of Oreb or of Sinai, didst inspire
That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed
In the beginning, how the heavens and earth
Rose out of Chaos. Or if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flow’d
Fast by the oracle of God; I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th’ Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet, in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all temples, th’ 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.
Say first, for Heaven hides nothing from Thy view,
Nor the deep tract of hell; say first what cause
Moved our grand parents, in that happy state
Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off
From their Creator, and transgress His will.
For one restraint, lords of the world besides?
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?
Th’ infernal serpent: he it was whose guile,
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host
Of rebel angels; by whose aid, aspiring
To set himself in glory ’bove his peers,
He trusted to have equalled the Most High,
If He opposed; and, with ambition’s aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God,
Raised impious war in Heaven, and battle proud
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition; there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.
_Milton._

Nor can this be
But by fulfilling that which thou didst want--
_Obedience_ to the law of God, imposed
On penalty of death.
_Milton._

Flatter not folly with an idle faith,
Nor let earth stand upon her own desert;
But show what wisdom in the Scripture saith
The fruitful hand doth shew the fruitful heart;
Believe the word, and thereto bend thy will,
And teach _obedience_ for a blessed skill.
_Nicholas Breton._

Other bond have I
None with the Father, but _obedience_ whole.
The Son returns through all eternity
Entire _obedience_ to the Father’s will
Inscrutable, devout and finally--
Relying on his love, that shall fulfil
All gracious purposes--and so became
The Mediator to all creatures, till
God shall be all in all.
_J. A. Heraud._

OFFERING.

And in process of time it came to pass, that Cain brought of the fruit of the ground an _offering_ unto the Lord.

And Abel, he also brought of the firstlings of his flock, and of the fat thereof. And the Lord had respect unto Abel and to his _offering_.

But unto Cain and to his _offering_ He had not respect.--Genesis, iv. 3, 4, 5.

So Christ was once _offered_ to bear the sins of many; and unto them that look for Him shall He appear the second time, without sin unto salvation.--Hebrews, ix. 8.

For by one _offering_ He hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified.--Hebrews, x. 14.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thy aid!
Star of the east the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on His cradle the dew-drops are shining,
Low lies His bed with the beasts of the stall;
Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,
Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all!

Say, shall we yield Him in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom, and _offerings_ divine;
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine.

Vainly we _offer_ each ample oblation,
Vainly with gold would His favour secure,
Richer by far is the heart’s adoration;
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.
_Bishop Heber._

What _offering_ can I bring to Thee
Which may find favour in Thine eye?
Is it some work of charity?
Some form of prayer on bended knee,
Some spoil of earthly treasury,
That toil can win, or gold can buy?
Nay, all were worthless, all were vain
As that oblation made by Cain,
If a sad spirit, and a contrite heart,
Form of the sacrifice no part.
_Egone._

ONE.

That they all may be _one_; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be _one_ in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me.--John, xvii. 21.

_One_ Lord, _one_ faith, _one_ baptism.--Ephesians, iv. 5.

_One_ baptism, and _one_ faith,
_One_ lord, below, above!
The fellowship of Zion hath
_One_ only watchword,--Love.
From different temples though it rise,
_One_ song ascendeth to the skies.

Our Sacrifice is _one_;
_One_ priest before the throne,--
The crucified, the risen Son,
Redeemer, Lord alone!
And sighs from contrite hearts that spring,
Our chief, our choicest offering.

Oh, why should they who love
_One_ Gospel to unfold,
Who look for _one_ bright home above,
On earth, be strange and cold?
Why, subjects of the Prince of Peace.
In strife abide, and bitterness?

Oh, may that holy prayer,
His tenderest and his last,
The utterance of his latest care,
Ere to his throne he pass’d,--
No longer unfulfill’d remain
The world’s offence, the people’s stain!

Head of thy church beneath,
The catholic,--the true,--
On her disjointed members breathe,
Her broken frame renew!
Then shall thy perfect will be done
When Christians love and live as _one_.
_E. Robinson._

O Thou Eternal _One_! whose presence bright
All space doth occupy, all motion guide,
Unchanged through time’s all-devastating flight,
Thou only God!
_From the Russian._

PARADISE.

And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto Thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in _Paradise_.--Luke, xxiii. 43.

To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the tree of life, which is in the midst of the _Paradise_ of God.--Revelation, ii. 7.

So on he fares, and to the border comes
Of Eden, whose delicious _Paradise_
Now nearer crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champaign head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hoary sides,
With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,
Access denied: and overhead up-grew
Insuperable height of loftiest shade,
Cedar and pine, and fir, and branching palm;
A sylvan scene! And as the ranks ascend,
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops
The verdurous wall of _Paradise_ up-sprung;
Which to our general sire gave prospect large
Into his nether empire neighb’ring round.
_Milton._

Say’st thou there was no “_Paradise_ of God?”
No happy, sinless state of early man?
Ask all the ages past, each record scan,
And see if always cursed was this now barren sod.
Go ask the Greek--he tells of Golden age,
When the god-governed earth was heavenly pure;
When never death, nor woes men now endure
Had entered here, nor hate, nor guile, nor rage.
The eastern Magian speaks of earliest days,
When holy Oromasdes reign’d o’er man:
The far Egyptian tells Osiris’ praise,
Governing all in peace, ere rude revolt began.
And wilt thou God’s own _Paradise_ deny,
When e’en the heathen tales affirm it ceaselessly?
_Ann Flinders._

Lord I will take no comfort but of Thee!
I had an earthly plant--a pleasant vine,
From whose dear grapes I pressed delightful wine,
Which made my heart as merry as could be.
Thine anger hath cut down that cheerful tree;
Or at the least, (for yet I but divine,)
Thou hast cut off its joyful fruit from me,
And made its precious shade no longer mine.
Shall I then murmur? If my road henceforth
Lies but before me wearisome and bare,
And no green garland twined amid my hair
Will guard, as it was wont, my tortured eyes,
What then? The sweeter after this stripped earth
Will be the shady rest of _Paradise_.
_Thomas Burbidge._

The God of nature and of grace
In all His work 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.

Lift to the firmament your eye,
Thither His path pursue;
His glory boundless as the sky,
O’erwhelms the wandering view.

The forests in His strength rejoice,
Hark! on the evening breeze,
As once of old, the Lord God’s voice
Is heard among the trees.

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 the world so fair,
Where sin and death abound;
How beautiful, beyond compare,
Will _Paradise_ be found!
_James Montgomery._

PARDON.

And Moses said unto the Lord, _Pardon_, I beseech Thee, the iniquity of this people according unto the greatness of Thy mercy, and as Thou hast forgiven this people, from Egypt even until now.

And the Lord said, I have _pardoned_ according to thy word.--Numbers, xiv. 13, 19, 20.

Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for He will abundantly _pardon_.--Isaiah, lv. 7.

But infinite in _pardon_ is our judge.
_Milton._

What can we better do than prostrate fall
Befort Him reverent, and there confess
Humbly our faults, and _pardon_ beg, with tears
Watering the ground?
_Milton._

When with deep agony His heart was racked,
Not for Himself the tear-drop dewed His cheek,
For them He wept, for them to Heaven He prayed,--
His persecutors--“Father _pardon_ them;
They know not what they do.”
_Charles Lamb._

O Time! O Life! ye were not made
For languid dreaming in the shade,
Nor sinful hearts to moor all day
By lily-isle, or grassy bay,
Nor drink at noontide’s balmy hours
Sweet opiates from the meadow-flowers.
O give me grace, dear Lord! to win
Thy _pardon_ for my youthful sin,
For all the days, in woods embowered,
When currents of sweet thought o’erpowered
With pleasant force the sense of duty,
And gentle nature’s harmless beauty,
Too much adored, gave birth to throngs
Of joys effeminate, and songs
Which sprung from earth, and, like a breeze,
Died wantonly among the trees,
Without a moral or a mirth
Above the passing bliss of earth!
_Frederic W. Faber._

PARENTS.

Children, obey your _parents_ in all things: for this is well pleasing unto the Lord.--Colossians, iii. 20.

Honour thy _parents_ to prolong thine end;
With them, though for a truth, do not contend;
Whoever makes his father’s heart to bleed,
Shall have a son that will avenge the deed.
_Thomas Randolph._

Not those alone are _parents_, to whose cares
The opening buds of human life are given;
Truth, Beauty, Love, have each unnumbered heirs,
And Earth itself is but the child of Heaven.

Nature repeats herself; and human thought
Mirrored in deeds, becomes more truly real:
Thus only on the web of life are wrought
The glowing pictures of the world ideal.

The labourer who embowers his cottage round
With tasteful gifts--his honest hand the donor,
Makes of that little spot of cultured ground,
A pleasing transcript of its joyful owner.

The matron, toiling with unselfish aim
To bless her little band of cherished creatures,
But mounts the picture, from whose shining frame
For ever beam her dear, benignant features.

Thought is the favoured child of thoughtful ones,
As heaven is mirrored in the quiet waters;
The statesman’s high achievements are his sons,
And the sweet poet’s lays his tuneful daughters.

The sculptor, bending o’er his marble child,
Models himself in fixed, enduring beauty;
The painter’s soul hath from the canvass smiled,
Breathing deep tones of passion or of duty.

None shall die childless; and the frailest one
Of all the living crowds around us pressing,
May, like the Eternal Father, give his son
To be humanity’s perpetual blessing.
_Mrs. F. H. Cooke._

PASSIONS.

We also are men of like _passions_ with you, and preach unto you that ye should turn from those vanities unto the living God.--Acts, xiv. 15.

What profits us, that we from heaven derive
A soul immortal, and with looks erect
Survey the stars, if, like the brutal kind
We follow where our _passions_ lead the way?
_Claudian._

While _passions_ glow, the heart like heated steel
Takes each impression, and is worked at pleasure.
_Young._

The gales
Of pleasure haply waft him, and he bounds
Exultingly upon the flattering main;
Nor heeds the inexperienced boy the hints
Of prudence, and the counsel of the wise;
He steers impetuously through dancing waves
And oceans of illusive bliss, till now,
Crashing upon the keel, his vessel lies
A total wreck upon th’ undreaded reef!
“Avoid the shoal!” the sacred preacher cries,
The volumes of the dead and living, ope
The monitory page, alas, in vain!
If _passion_ hold the helm, and pleasure fill
The swelling sail, though reason, conscience, say
“Avoid the shoal!” the voyager is lost.
_Carrington._

Thou must chain thy _passions_ down;
Well to serve, but ill to sway,
Like the fire they must obey.
They are good, in subject state,
To strengthen, warm, and animate;
But if once we let them reign,
They sweep with desolating train,
’Till they but leave a hated name,
A ruined soul, and blackened fame.
_Eliza Cook._

_Passions_, indulged beyond a certain bound,
Lead to a precipice, and plunge in woe
The heedless agent.
_George Bally._

PAST.

That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is _past_.--Ecclesiastes, iii. 15.

The _past_ lives o’er again,
In its effects, and to the guilty spirit
The ever-frowning present is its image.
_Coleridge._

Who bears no trace of passion’s evil force?
Who shuns thy sting, O, terrible Remorse?--
Who does not cast
On the thronged pages of his memory’s book,
At times, a sad, and half-reluctant look,
Regretful of the _Past_?
_J. G. Whittier._

Full many a mighty name
Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered;
With thee are silent fame,
Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared.

Thine for a space are they--
Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last;
Thy gates shall yet give way,
Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable _Past_!

All that of good and fair
Has gone into thy womb from earliest time,
Shall then come forth, to wear
The glory and the beauty of its prime.
_W. C. Bryant._

Whene’er upon the _past_ I gaze,
Though thorns and clouds appear,
Rich gifts from Heaven demand my praise,
Gifts to the heart most dear,
The strong One’s arm, the friend above,
The fulness of Redeeming Love.

Through childhood’s hours and youthful snares,
That Arm my footsteps led,
That friend amid the heart’s own cares,
The balm of pity shed,
And raised my drooping soul to feel
How deep the wound Love’s power can heal.
_W. J. Brock._

PASTOR.

I will give you _pastors_ according to mine heart, which shall feed you with knowledge and understanding.--Jeremiah, iii. 15.

Woe be unto the _pastors_ that destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! saith the Lord.--Jeremiah, xxiii. 1.

He was a shepherd, and no mercenary.
And though he holy was and virtuous,
He was to sinful men full piteous;
His words were strong, but not with anger fraught;
A love benignant he discreetly taught.
To draw mankind to Heaven by gentleness
And good example, was his business.
But if that any one were obstinate,
Whether he were of high or low estate,
Him would he sharply check with altered mien:
A better parson there was nowhere seen.
He paid no court to pomps and reverence,
Nor spiced his conscience at his soul’s expense;
But Jesus’ love, which owns no pride or pelf,
He taught--but first he followed it himself.
_Chaucer._

Do not, as some ungracious _pastors_ do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,
Whilst, like a puff’d and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own road.
_Shakspere._

A genial hearth, a hospitable board,
And a refined rusticity, belong
To the neat mansion, where, his flock among,
The learned _pastor_ dwells, their watchful lord.
Though meek and patient as a sheathed sword,
Though pride’s least lurking thought appears a wrong
To human kind; though peace be on his tongue,
Gentleness in his heart; can earth afford
Such genuine state, pre-eminence so free,
As when, array’d in Christ’s authority,
He from the pulpit lifts his awful hand;
Conjures, implores, and labours all he can
For re-subjecting to divine command
The stubborn spirit of rebellious man?
_Wordsworth._

He is a faithful _pastor_ of the poor;--
He thinks not of himself; his Master’s words,
“Feed, feed my sheep,” are ever at his heart,
The Cross of Christ is aye before his eyes.
_Grahame._

So glorious let Thy _pastors_ shine,
That, by their speaking lives, the world may learn
First, filial duty, then divine;
That sons to parents, all to Thee may turn.
_Keble._

Of the deep learning in the schools of yore,
The reverend _pastor_ hath a golden stock;
Yet, with a vain display of useless lore,
Or sapless doctrine, never will he mock
The better cravings of his simple flock;
But faithfully their humble shepherd guides
Where streams eternal gush from Calvary’s rock;
For well he knows, not learning’s purest tides
Can quench the immortal thirst that in the soul abides.
_Mrs. Little._

By weakest ministers, the Almighty thus
Makes known His sacred will, and shows His power;
By Him inspired, they speak with urgent tongue
Authoritative, while the illumined breast
Heaves with unwonted strength; high as their theme,
Their great conceptions rise in rapturous flow,
As quick the ready organs catch the thought,
And, in such strains as science could not teach,
Bear it, in all its radiance, to the heart;
The listening throng there feel its bless’d effect,
And deep conviction glows in every breast.
_Charles Jenner._

Shepherd of Israel, Thou dost keep
With constant care, Thy humble sheep,
By Thee inferior _pastors_ rise
To feed our souls and bless our eyes.

Fed by their active, tender care,
Healthful may all Thy sheep appear,
And by their fair example led,
The way to Zion’s pastures tread.
_Doddridge._

PATIENCE.

In your _patience_ possess ye your souls.--Luke, xxi. 19.

And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh _patience_;

And _patience_, experience; and experience, hope.--Romans, v. 3, 4.

Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name of the Lord, for an example of suffering affliction, and of _patience_.

Behold, we count them happy which endure. Ye have heard of the _patience_ of Job, and have seen the end of the Lord; that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy.--James, v. 10, 11.

Many are the sayings of the wise,
In ancient and in modern books unroll’d,
Extolling _patience_ as the truest fortitude;
And to the bearing well of all calamities,
All chances incident to man’s frail life,
Consolitaries writ
With studied argument, and much persuasion sought,
Lenient of grief and anxious thought:
But with th’ afflicted in his pangs their sound
Little prevails, or rather seems a tune
Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint,
Unless he feel within
Some source of consolation from above,
Secret refreshings, that repair his strength
And fainting spirits uphold.
_Milton._

Give me care,
By thankful _patience_, to prevent despair:
Fit me to bear whate’er Thou shalt assign;
I kiss the rod, because the rod is Thine.
_Francis Quarles._

_Patience_ and resignation are the pillars
Of human peace on earth.
_Young._

Like some well-fashioned arch thy _patience_ stood,
And purchased strength from each increasing load.
_Goldsmith._

A dungeon, dark and drear
As death, but in its cold and gloomy depths
I see a form of beauty, round whose locks
A glory plays, that lights the dungeon with
A quivering lustre--she is stretched upon
The damp cold earth, her head is pillowed on
One arm, the while its fellow presses to
Her heart a holy volume. O’er her eyes
The dove of peace seems brooding, while deep sleep
Heaves the long ringlets of the golden hair
That cluster on her neck, and sweep the earth:
A smile is lingering on her placid lip,
As though she dreamt of heaven, the while her brow,
As that same heaven, arched and calm, shoots forth
A halo--in her breast a dove is nestling,
And angel wings are spread to guard her dreams
From evil--favoured one of God--who art thou?

’Tis _patience_, the beloved of Heaven! the meek,
The mild, the lowly, and the gentle _patience_,
Whose eye looks up to God; and ne’er unbends
Its fixed and placid gaze to look upon
The thorns that tear her bleeding breast; who stands
Pale, calm, unmoved amid the storms of life;
Whose soul weeps not for heart’s torture--_patience_,
The meek-eyed pilgrim of the earth, that child
Of heaven--perfection’s crown.
_C. L. Reddell._

For God, who binds the broken heart,
And dries the mourner’s tear,
If faith and _patience_ be their part,
Will unto these be near.

Let such but say “Thy will be done!”
And He who Jesus raised,
Will qualify them, through His Son,
To say “Thy name be praised!”
_Bernard Barton._

When, in justice, he appals us
By the threat of endless pain,
Sink not--soon His mercy calls us
To His pardoning arms again.
Father! O, with _patience_ bless us,
Till each seeming ill be past:
Let whatever gloom oppress us,
All must end in light at last.
_Thomas Ward._

PEACE.

Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is _peace_.--Psalm xxxvii. 37.

Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding.

Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are _peace_.--Proverbs, iii. 13, 17.

Lord, thou wilt ordain _peace_ for us.--Isaiah, xxvi. 12.

Blessed are the _peacemakers_, for they shall be called the children of God.--Matthew, v. 9.

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth _peace_, good will toward men.--Luke, ii. 14.

_Peace_ I leave with you, my _peace_ I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.--John, xiv. 27.

The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, _peace_.--Galatians, v. 22.

The _peace_ of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.--Philippians, iv. 7.

No war or battle’s sound
Was heard the world around:
The idle spear and shield were high up hung,
The hooked chariot stood
Unstained with hostile blood,
The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
And kings sat still, with awe-full eye
As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by.

But _peaceful_ was the night
Wherein the Prince of Light,
His reign of _peace_ upon the earth began:
The winds, with wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kissed,
Whispering new joys to the mild ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While birds of calm sat brooding on the charmed wave.
_Milton._

No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,
Nor fields with gleaming steel be covered o’er,
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.
_Pope._

My soul, there is a country
Far beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
All skilful in the wars;
There above noise and danger
Sweet _peace_ sits crown’d with smiles;
And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious friend,
And oh! my soul, awake;
Did in pure love descend
To die here for my sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flower of _peace_;
The rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress and thy ease
Leave then thy foolish ranges;
For none can thee secure,
But one who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.
_Henry Vaughan._

Sure the last end
Of the good man is _peace_. How calm his exit!
Night dews fall not more calmly on the ground,
Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft.
_Blair._

Hear the last words the believer saith.
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends;
There is _peace_ in his eye that upward bends;
There is _peace_ in his calm confiding air;
For his last thoughts are God’s, his last words, prayer.
_Henry Ware, Jun._

“_Peace_” was the word our Saviour breathed,
When from our world His steps withdrew;
The gift He to His friends bequeathed,
With Calvary and the Cross in view:--
Redeemer! With adoring love
Our spirits take Thy rich bequest,
The watchword of the host above,
The passport to their realm of rest.
_Mrs. Sigourney._

Oh, _peace_; thou source and soul of social life,
Beneath whose calm inspiriting influence,
Science his views enlarges; art refines,
And swelling Commerce opens all her ports;
Blest be the man divine who gives us thee;
Who bids the trumpet hush its horrid clang,
Nor blow the giddy nations into rage.
Who sheathes the murderous blade, the deadly gun
Into the well-piled armoury returns;
And every vigour from the work of death
To grateful industry converting, makes
The country flourish and the city smile.
_Thomson._

When groves by moonlight silence keep,
And winds the vexed waves release,
And fields are hushed, and cities sleep,--
Lord! is not this the hour of _Peace_?

When Infancy at Evening tries
By turns to climb each Parent’s knees,
And gazing meets their raptured eyes,--
Lord! is not this the hour of _Peace_?

In golden pomp when autumn smiles;
And every vale its rich increase
In man’s full barns exulting piles;--
Lord! is not this the hour of _Peace_?

When Mercy points where Jesus bleeds,
And Faith beholds thine anger cease;
And Hope to black despair succeeds;--
This, Father! this alone is _Peace_!
_Gisborne._

Wherefore from His throne exalted,
Came He on this earth to dwell;
All His pomp an humble manger--
All His court a narrow cell?
“From that world to bring to this,
_Peace_, which of all earthly blisses
Is the brightest, purest bliss.”
_Violante Di Ceo._

Down the dark future, through long generations,
The echoing sounds grow fainter, and then cease!
And like a bell with solemn sweet vibrations,
I hear once more the voice of Christ say “_Peace_!”

_Peace_! and no longer from its brazen portals
The blast of war’s great organ shakes the skies;
But, beautiful as songs of the immortals,
The holiest melodies of love arise.
_Longfellow._

“_Peace_,” shall the world outwearied ever see
Its universal reign? Will states, will kings,
Put down these murderous and unholy things,
Which fill the earth with blood and misery?
Will nations learn that love--not enmity--
Is heaven’s first lesson--which beneath the wings
Of mercy, brooding over land and sea,
Fills earth with joy by its soft ministerings?
’Twere a sad prospect--’twere a vista dark
As midnight--could this wearied mortal eye,
Through the dim mists that veil futurity,
Discern not that heaven-bright though distant spark,
Lighted by prophecy, whose ray sublime
Sheds a soft gleam of hope o’er the dull path of time.

I hate that noisy drum, it is a sound
That tells of war, of bondage, and I blush
That liberty had ever cause to rush
Into a warrior’s arms; that right e’er found
Asylum in the furious field. Not so
The holy crowns of genuine glory grow;
Not there should they who bear the badge serene
Of Him who was the Prince of _Peace_, be seen;
Can such His faithful followers be?--Oh no!
His laurels are not drenched in blood,--but green
And beautiful as spring:--His arms are love
And mercy and forgiveness; and with them
He rules the nations’ mighty destinies
And gently leads us to our homes above.
_Dr. Bowring._

If there be sore strife and care,
In the world below,
Restless spirits never there
Could chase away their woe,
Let the storm that raves about us,
By our faith be kept without us;
Let us from our troubles cease,
Power and conquest dwell in _peace_.
_J. Gostick._

PERFECTION.

Out of Zion, the _perfection_ of beauty, God hath shined.--Psalm l. 2.

O when wilt thou come unto me? I will walk within my house with a _perfect_ heart.--Psalm ci. 2.

I have seen an end of all _perfection_.--Psalm cxix. 96.

Be ye therefore _perfect_, even as your Father which is in heaven is _perfect_.--Matthew, v. 48.

Give glory to the Son, who came
Clothed in our fleshy, mortal frame;
Who bore our sins, vouchsafed to give
Himself to die, that we might live;
Who--holy, harmless, undefiled,
Was patient--spurned, was dumb--reviled;
Who, in the agonies of death,
Poured for His foes His parting breath;
Was _perfect_ God and man in one:
Give glory to the Incarnate Son!
_Barton._

Behold the beauty of His matchless life
In deed and thought connecting earth and heaven:--
Call every virtue which the mind conceives,
Or view _perfection_ in sublime excess
Of glory, such as dreams of God pourtray,
And what can emulate the Prince of Peace!
_R. Montgomery._

Oh! who shall paint them--let the sweetest tone
That ever trembled on the harps of Heaven,
Be discord; let the chanting seraphim,
Whose anthem is eternity, be dumb;
For praise and wonder, adoration,--all
Melt into muteness, ere they soar to Thee,
Thou sole _Perfection_!--Theme of countless worlds!
_R. Montgomery._

Oh, Thou, who all _perfection_ art!
How shall my soul approach to Thee?
How can my black, polluted heart
Endure Thy searching scrutiny?
Only through grace of Him by whom
The just avenging arm is stayed;
By whose descent into the tomb
Was im_perfection perfect_ made.
_Egone._

PESTILENCE--PLAGUE.

And the Lord said unto Moses, Rise up early in the morning, and stand before Pharoah, and say unto him, Thus saith the Lord God of the Hebrews, Let my people go, that they may serve me.

For I will at this time send all my _plagues_ upon thine heart, and upon thy servants, and upon thy people; that thou mayest know that there is none like me in all the earth.

For now I will stretch out my hand, that I may smite thee and thy people with _pestilence_; and thou shalt be cut off from the earth.--Exodus, ix. 13, 14, 15.

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most high shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome _pestilence_.

There shall no evil befal thee, neither shall any _plague_ come nigh thy dwelling.--Psalm xci. 1, 3, 10.

A terrible change is come; I see a cloud
Brooding above the valley like the wing
Of a destroying angel dark and dread;
And in its awful depth I see a brow
On which is stamped in fiery characters
The one word--_Plague_. The beds of dewy flowers
Are pressed by loathsome forms of dark disease,
Putrid though living; some have dragged their weak
And fainting limbs to where the pure stream glides,
But sink ere they can quench their burning thirst
In its cool waters; some bow down their heads
In prayer, but the unfinished words are quelled
By groans of agony; some wait for death
With stubborn pride that scorns to murmur; some
Rave of cool forests and of shady rivers,
In their delirious pain; the dead and dying
Tenant that valley only.
_C. L. Reddell._

From the sword at noonday wasting,
From the noisome _pestilence_,
In the depth of midnight blasting,
God shall be thy sure defence.

Thee, though winds and waves be swelling,
God, thine hope, shall bear through all,
_Plague_ shall not come nigh thy dwelling,
Thee no evil shall befall.
_J. Montgomery._

PHILOSOPHY.

Beware lest any man spoil you through _philosophy_ and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ.--Colossians, ii. 8.

Philosophy consists not
In airy schemes, or idle speculation;
The rule and conduct of all social life
Is her great province. Not in lonely cells
Obscure she lurks; but holds her heavenly light
To senates and to kings, to guide their councils,
And teach them to reform and bless mankind.
All policy but her’s is false and rotten;
All valour not conducted by her precepts
Is a destroying fury sent from hell,
To plague unhappy man, and ruin nations.
_Thomson._

What is an high-praised _philosophy_,
But books of poesy in prose compil’d,
Far more delightful than they fruitful be,
Witty appearance, guile that is beguil’d;
Corrupting minds much rather than directing,
Th’ alloy of duty, and our pride’s erecting.

For, as among physicians, what they call
Word magic, never helpeth the disease,
Which drugs and diet ought to deal withal,
And by their real working give us ease;
So these word-sellers have no power to cure
The passions which corrupted lives endure.
_Sir Falke Greville._

In its sublime research, _philosophy_
May measure out the ocean deep--may count
The sands or the sun’s rays--but God! for Thee
There is no weight nor measure:--none can mount
Up to Thy mysteries: Reason’s brightest spark,
Though kindled at Thy light, in vain would try
To trace Thy counsels, infinite and dark
And thought is lost ere thought can soar so high,
Even like past moments in eternity.
_From the Russian._

With thee, serene _Philosophy_, with thee
And thy bright garland, let me crown my song!
Effusive source of evidence and truth!
A lustre shedding o’er the ennobled mind
Stronger than summer noon; and pure as that
Whose mild vibrations soothe the parted soul,
New to the dawning of celestial day.
Hence through her nourished powers, enlarged by thee
She springs aloft, with elevated pride,
Above the tangling mass of low desires
That bind the fluttering crowd; and, angel-winged,
The heights of science and of virtue gains,
Where all is calm and clear; with nature round,
Or in the starry regions, or the abyss,
To reason and to fancy’s eye displayed:
The first up-tracing from the dreary void,
The chain of causes and effects to Him,
The world-producing Essence, who alone
Possesses being; while the last receives
The whole magnificence of Heaven and earth,
And every beauty, delicate or bold,
Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense,
Diffusive painted on the rapid mind.
_Thomson._

Survey the magnet’s sympathetic love,
That woos the yielding needle; contemplate
Th’ attractive amber’s power, invisible
Ev’n to the mental eye; or when the blow
Sent from th’ electric sphere assaults thy frame,
Show me the hand that dealt it!--Baffled here
By His Omnipotence, _Philosophy_
Slowly her thoughts inadequate revolves,
And stands with all His circling wonders round her,
Like heavy Saturn, in th’ ethereal space
Begirt with an inexplicable ring.
_Smart._

Sublime _Philosophy_!
Thou are the patriarch’s ladder, reaching heaven,
And bright with beckoning angels; but, alas!
We see thee, like the patriarch, but in dreams,
By the first step, dull slumbering on the earth.
_Bulwer._

PILGRIMAGE.

These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced them, and confessed that they were strangers and _pilgrims_ on the earth.

For they that say such things declare plainly that they seek a country.--Hebrews, xi. 13, 14.

Dearly beloved, I beseech you, as strangers and _pilgrims_, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul.--I. Peter, ii. 11.

Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon;
My scrip of joy, immortal diet;
My bottle of salvation;
My gown of glory, (hope’s true gage,)
And thus I’ll take my _pilgrimage_.
Blood must be my body’s only balmer
Whilst my soul, like a quiet Palmer,
Travelleth towards the land of Heaven;
No other balm will there be given.
_Sir W. Raleigh._

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._

While his staff the traveller handles
In his weary journeying,
Thorns may tear his dusty sandals,
Fangs his tender feet may sting;
But were life devoid of pain,
Bliss were proffered man in vain.
Look aloft, where light is breaking
Through this doubt-enveloped sky--
Forward leap, the joy partaking,
Of a higher destiny.
Lift thy staff, and move apace
In the _pilgrim_-thronging race.
_T. G. Spear._

There is a light on the hills, and the valley is past!
Ascend, happy _pilgrim_! thy labours are o’er!
The sunshine of Heaven around thee is cast,
And thy weak, doubting footsteps can falter no more.
On, _pilgrim_! that hill richly circled with rays
Is Zion! Lo, there is the “city of saints!”
And the beauties, the glories, that region displays,
Inspiration’s own language imperfectly paints.
_Mrs. Opie._

_Pilgrim_, burden’d with thy sin,
Come the way to Zion’s gate,
There, till mercy speaks within,
Knock, and weep, and watch, and wait.
Knock--he knows the sinner’s cry;
Weep--he loves the mourner’s tears;
Watch--for saving grace is nigh;
Wait--till heavenly grace appears.
Hark, it is thy Saviour’s voice,
“Welcome _pilgrim_ to thy rest.”
Now within the gate rejoice,
Safe, and own’d, and bought, and blest.
Safe--from all the lures of vice;
Own’d--by joys the contrite know;
Bought--by love and life the price;
Blest--the mighty debt we owe.
Holy _pilgrim_ what for thee,
In a world like this remain?
From thy guarded breast shall flee
Fear, and shame, and doubt and pain.
Fear--the hope of heaven shall flee;
Shame--from glory’s view retire;
Doubt--in full belief shall die;
Pain--in endless joy expire.
_Crabbe._

We journey through a vale of tears
By many a cloud o’ercast;
And worldly cares, and worldly fears,
Go with us to the last!
Not to the last--Thy word hath said,
Could we but read aright;
Poor _Pilgrim_! lift, in hope, thy head;
At eve there shall be light.
_Bernard Barton._

PITY.

To him that is afflicted _pity_ should be shewed from his friend.--Job, v. 14.

Like as a father _pitieth_ his children, so the Lord _pitieth_ them that fear him.--Psalm ciii. 13.

He that hath _pity_ upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord.--Proverbs, xix. 17.

Genius of _pity_! exercise thy sway,
And with thy soft emotions soothe each breast;
May every heart thy kind dictates obey,
And be thy humanizing pow’r confess’d!

May sweet Benevolence, auspicious fair,
Vouchsafe thy cheering progress to attend,
And smiling Charity, with constant care,
Where’er distress appears, her succour lend.

In the drear season of embitter’d woe,
Oh! may the sons of opulence and ease
Feel _pity’s_ genial animating glow,
Nor suffer avarice their soul to freeze!

May they, whene’er the child of want is seen,
Dispense their warm benevolence around,--
The hapless suff’rer from misfortune screen,
Nor to a narrow sphere their mercies bound!

Not to the wanderer their gifts confine,
But the sad roofs of silent woe explore,
Where modest mourners secretly repine,
And, unsoliciting, their wants deplore.

Then shall the orphan’s and the widow’s prayer,
To Heav’n, with thanks for such relief, be made;
The welcome boon with grateful hearts they share,
And bless the donor for his timely aid.
_Anon._

Oh! do not seek the mirthful throng,
But find where friendship lingers,
And feel the strings, untouched so long,
Swept o’er by _Pity’s_ fingers.
Though not a star has lent its light,
Who knows what may be dawning?
The mists that robe the earth at night
Precede the brightest morning!
_J. Burbidge._

PLEASING--PLEASURE.

The Lord taketh _pleasure_ in them that fear Him.--Psalm cxlvii. 11.

He that loveth _pleasure_ shall be a poor man: he that loveth wine and oil shall not be rich.--Proverbs, xxi. 17.

Hear now this, thou that art given to _pleasures_, that dwellest carelessly, evil shall come upon thee.--Isaiah, xlvii. 8, 11.

Walk worthy of the Lord unto all _pleasing_, being fruitful in every good work.--Colossians, i. 10.

So we speak; not as _pleasing_ men, but God, which trieth our hearts.--I. Thessalonians, ii. 4.

Admirers of false _pleasures_ must sustain
The weight and sharpness of ensuing pain.
_John Beaumont._

Short is the course of every lawless _pleasure_--
Grief, like a shade, on all its footsteps waits,
Scarce visible in joy’s meridian height;
But, downwards as its blaze declining speeds,
The dwarfish shadow to a giant spreads.
_Milton._

_Pleasures_ are few, and fewer we enjoy;
_Pleasure_, like quicksilver, is bright and coy;
We strive to grasp it, with our utmost skill,
Still it eludes us, and it glitters still:
If seized at last, compute your mighty gains;
What is it but rank poison in your veins?
_Young._

_Pleasure_ is good, and man for _pleasure_ made;
But _pleasure_ full of glory as of joy;
_Pleasure_ which neither blushes nor expires.

* * * * *

Death treads in _pleasure’s_ footsteps round the world,
When _pleasure_ treads the paths which reason shuns.
_Young._

_Pleasure_, admitted in undue degree,
Enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.

* * * * *

Peace follows virtue as its sure reward;
And _pleasure_ brings as surely in her train
Remorse, and sorrow, and vindictive pain.
_Cowper._

_Pleasures_, like wonders, quickly lose their price,
When reason or experience makes us wise.
_Bishop King._

If the soft hand of winning _pleasure_ leads
By living waters and through flowery meads,
Where all is smiling, tranquil, and serene;
And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene;
Oh! teach me to elude each latent snare,
And whisper to my sliding heart--Beware!
With caution let me hear the syren’s voice,
And doubtful with a trembling heart rejoice.
_Mrs. Barbauld._

Graces withered by too warm a beam,
May spread and flourish in the dreary shade:
And _pleasure_, to voluptuous guilt denied,
May bloom ambrosial from affliction’s thorn.
_George Bally._

All these fond _pleasures_, if fond things
Deserve so good a name,
Should not seduce a noble mind
To stain itself with shame.
The time shall come when all these same,
Which seem so rich with joy,
Like tyrants, shall torment thy mind,
And vex thee with annoy.
_Brandon._

I ask Thee for the daily strength,
To none that ask denied,
And a mind to blend with outward life
While keeping at Thy side;
Content to fill a little space,
If Thou be glorified.
And if some things I do not ask,
In my cup of blessing be,
I would have my spirit fill’d the more
With grateful love to Thee--
More careful--not to serve Thee much,
But to _please_ Thee perfectly.
_A. L. Waring._

That _pleasure_ is of all
Most bountiful and kind,
That fades not straight, but leaves
A living joy behind.
_Campion._

POVERTY.

The Lord maketh _poor_, and maketh rich: He bringeth low, and lifteth up.--I. Samuel, ii. 7.

Give me neither _poverty_ nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me;

Lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, Who is the Lord? or lest I be _poor_, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.--Proverbs, xxx. 8, 9.

Blessed be ye _poor_: for yours is the kingdom of God.--Luke, vi. 20.

In a great trial of affliction, the abundance of their joy, and their deep _poverty_, abounded unto the riches of their liberality.--II. Corinthians, viii. 2.

If well thou view’st us with no squinted eye,
No partial judgment, thou wilt quickly rate
Thy wealth no richer than my _poverty_;
My want no _poorer_ than thy rich estate.
Our ends and births alike, in this as I,
_Poor_ thou wert born, and _poor_ again shalt die.

My little fills my little-wishing mind,
Thou having more than much, yet seekest more;
Who seeks, still wishes what he seeks to find;
Who wishes, wants; and whoso wants, is _poor_:
Then this must follow of necessity,
_Poor_ are thy riches, rich my _poverty_.