Chapter XVII: Part 17

When bees sing chorus in the light,
Of infant day in joy begun,
And sparkling dewdrops clear and bright
Mirror the full uprising sun,
Then let us, Lord of light, arise,
To pay our early _sacrifice_.
_W. Martin._

SAFETY--SAVING.

I am the Lord your God.

Wherefore ye shall do my statutes, and keep my judgments, and do them; and ye shall dwell in the land in _safety_.--Leviticus, xxv. 17, 18.

The horse is prepared against the day of battle: but _safety_ is of the Lord.--Proverbs, xxi. 31.

Look unto me, and be ye _saved_, all the ends of the earth: for I am God, and there is none else.--Isaiah, xiv. 22.

The Son of man is come to _save_ that which was lost.--Matthew, xviii. 11.

But we are not of them who draw back unto perdition; but of them that believe to the _saving_ of the soul.--Hebrews, x. 39.

Should any to himself for _safety_ fly?
The way to _save_ himself (if any were)
Is to fly from himself. Should he rely
Upon the promise of his wife? What there,
What can he see, but that he most may fear,
A syren sweet to death? Upon his friends?
Who what he needs, or what he hath not, lends?
Or wanting aid himself, and to another sends?

His strength? ’Tis dust:--His pleasure? cause of pain:
His hope? False courtier:--Youth or beauty? Brittle:
Intreaty? Fond:--Repentance? Late and vain:
Just recompense? The world were all too little:
Thy love? He hath no title to a tittle:
Hell’s force? In vain her furies hell shall gather:
His servants, kinsmen, or his children rather?
His child (if good) shall judge; (if bad) shall curse his father.

His life? That brings him to his end, and leaves him:
His end? That leaves him to begin his woe:
His goods? What good is this which so deceives him?
His gods of wood? Their feet, alas! are slow
To go to help, which must be helped to go:
Honours, great worth? Ah! little worth they be
Unto their owners:--Wit? That makes him see
He wanted wit, who thought he had it, wanting Thee.
_Giles Fletcher._

O _save_ me, Power
Of powers supreme, in that tremendous hour!
Thou, who beneath the frowns of fate hath stood,
And in Thy dreadful agony sweat blood;
Thou who for me, through ev’ry throbbing vein,
Hast felt the keenest edge of mortal pain;
Whom death led captive through the realms below,
And taught those horrid mysteries of woe:
Defend me, O my God! O _save_ me, Power
Of powers supreme, in that tremendous hour!
_Young._

Encompass’d with ten thousand ills,
Press’d by pursuing foes,
I lift mine eyes unto the hills,
From whence salvation flows.

My help is from the Lord, who made
And governs earth and sky;
I look to his almighty aid,
And ever-watching eye.

He who thy soul in _safety_ keeps,
Shall drive destruction hence;
The Lord thy keeper never sleeps;
The Lord is thy defence.
_J. Montgomery._

Place me on some desert shore
Foot of man ne’er wandered o’er;
Lock me in a lonely cell
Beneath some prison citadel;
Still, here or there, within I find
My quiet kingdom of the mind;
Nay, ’mid the tempest fierce and dark,
Float me in peril’s frailest barque,
My quenchless soul could sit and think,
And smile at danger’s dizziest brink;
And wherefore? God, my God is still
King of kings in good and ill;
And where He dwelleth--every where--
_Safety_ supreme and peace are there;
And where He reigneth--all around--
Wisdom, and love, and power are found,
And, reconciled to Him and bliss,
“My mind to me a kingdom is.”
_Tupper._

SAINT.

O love the Lord, all ye his _saints_: for the Lord preserveth the faithful.--Psalm xxxi. 23.

O fear the Lord, ye his _saints_; for there is no want to them that fear him.--Psalm xxxiv. 9.

Giving thanks unto the Father, which hath made us meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the _saints_ in light.--Colossians, i. 12.

If but one sun with his diffusive fires,
Can fill the stars and the whole world with light,
And joy and light into each heart inspires:
And every _saint_ shall shine in heaven as bright;
As doth the sun in his transcendant might;
(As faith may well believe what truth once says)
What shall so many sun’s united rays
But dazzle all the eyes that now in heaven we praise?

Here let my Lord hang up his conquering lance,
And bloody armour with late slaughter warm;
And looking down on his weak militants,
Behold his _saints_ amidst their hot alarm,
Hang all their golden hopes upon his arm;
And on this lower field when straying wide
Through Satan’s wiles, who would their sails misguide,
Anchor their fleshly ships fast in his wounded side.
_Giles Fletcher._

What are these arrayed in white,
Brighter than the noonday sun?
Foremost of the sons of light,
Nearest the eternal throne?
These are they that bore the cross,
Nobly for their master stood;
Sufferers in his righteous cause,
Followers of the dying God.
Out of great distress they came,
Wash’d their robes by faith below
In the blood of yonder Lamb,
Blood that washes white as snow,
Therefore are they next the throne,
Serve their Maker day and night:
God resides among his own,
God doth in his _saints_ delight.
_De Courcy._

A _Saint_! Oh, would that I could claim
The privileged, the honour’d name,
And confidently take my stand,
Though lowest in the _saintly_ band.

Would, though it were in scorn applied
That term the test of truth could bide!
Like kingly salutation given,
In mockery to the king of Heaven.

A _saint_? and what imports the name
Thus banded in derision’s game?
“Holy and separate from sin;
To good, nay even to God akin.”

How shall the name of _saint_ be prized,
Though now neglected and despised,
And sinners to their doom be hurled,
When scorned _saints_ shall “judge the world.”
_Marriot._

From _saint_ to _saint_ the world around
Celestial odours are diffused;
Sweet thoughts are born on hallow’d ground,
Where holy men have mused.

And none can tell how many springs
Flow to sustain one soul serene;
But every hour some tribute brings
From sources quiet and unseen.

The loneliest pilgrim in the ways
Is never in his prayers alone;
But every one for thousands prays,
And thousands pray for every one.

We dwell with shadows round us here,
And nought is bright but heaven above:
When all our secret friends appear,
How many shall we know and love!

Yet, as we learn the mystery,
Around One holy fount we fall,
And, in the light eternal, see
That God is all in all.
_J. Gostick._

SALVATION.

He that is our God, is the God of _salvation_.--Psalm lxviii. 20.

And all the ends of the earth shall see the _salvation_ of our God.--Isaiah, lii. 10.

For God hath not appointed us to wrath, but to obtain _salvation_ by our Lord Jesus Christ.--I. Thessalonians, v. 9.

A cheerful confidence I feel,
My well-placed hopes with joy I see;
My bosom glows with heavenly zeal
To worship Him who died for me.
As man He pities my complaint;
His power and truth are all divine;
He will not fail, He cannot faint,
_Salvation’s_ sure, and must be mine.
_Cowper._

Almighty framer of the skies!
O let our pure devotion rise,
Like incense in thy sight!
Wrapt in impenetrable shade
The texture of our souls was made
Till Thy command gave light.

The Son of Glory gleamed the ray,
Refined the darkness into day,
And bid the vapours fly:
Impelled by his eternal love,
He left his palaces above
To cheer our gloomy sky.

How shall we celebrate the day,
When God appeared in mortal clay,
The mark of worldly scorn:
When the Archangel’s heavenly lays
Attempted the Redeemer’s praise,
And hail’d _salvation’s_ morn.
_Chatterton._

“Thy Spirit knows I love Thee.” Worthless wretch,
To dare to love a God! But, grace requires--
And grace accepts--Love divine
Constrains me; I am thine. Incarnate Love
Has seized and holds me in Almighty arms:
Here’s my _salvation_, my eternal hope,
Amidst the wreck of worlds and dying nature,
“I am the Lord’s; and He for ever mine.”
_Watts._

_Salvation!_ O the joyful sound!
’Tis pleasure to our ears;
A sov’reign balm for every wound,
A cordial for our fears.

Buried in sorrow and in sin,
At hell’s dark door we lay;
But we arise by grace divine
To see a heavenly day.

_Salvation!_ let the echo fly
The spacious earth around,
While all the armies of the sky
Conspire to raise the sound.
_Watts._

Jesus, transporting sound!
The joy of earth and heaven;
No other help is found,
No other name is given,
By which we can _salvation_ have,
But Jesus came the world to save.
_Wesley._

If the best Thy great _salvation_
Must attain with trembling fear,
Lord and Judge of all creation,
Where should sinful man appear?

God of love and mercies tender,
Stern to vice, to weakness mild,
Teacher, Saviour, Sire, Defender,
Save, O save Thy suppliant child!

By the claims which saints inherit
From Thy blood for converts pour’d,
By thy all-prevailing Spirit,--
By Thy covenanted Word,--

By Thy tears, in sorrow weeping,
Over harden’d sinners’ doom;
Take me to Thy gracious keeping,
Lead me to Thy glorious home!
_Bishop Spencer._

SATAN.

Then saith Jesus unto him, Get thee hence, _Satan_: for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.--Matthew, iv. 10.

And the God of peace shall bruise _Satan_ under your feet shortly.--Romans, xvi. 20.

The other shape,
If shape it might be called that shape had none
Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb;
Or substance might be called that shadow seemed,
For each seemed either; black it stood as night,
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell,
And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed his head,
The likeness of a kingly crown had on.
_Satan_ was now at hand; and from his seat
The monster, moving onward, came as fast
With horrid strides, hell trembled as he strode.
_Milton._

He trusted to have equalled the Most High,
If he opposed; and with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God,
Raised impious war in Heav’n and battle proud
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from the 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._

_Satan_, thy power’s decline is nigh;
Like lightning flashing through the sky,
Thy demons hear the Heavenly Word,
And owning Him Creation’s Lord,
Confess, with fierce appalling yell--
Emmanuel deigns on earth to dwell.
_Shepherd._

How sad our state by nature is!
Our sin how deep it stains!
And _Satan_ binds our captive minds
Fast in his slavish chains.
_Watts._

SAVIOUR.

I, even I, am the Lord; and beside me there is no _Saviour_.--Isaiah, xliii. 11.

Thou shalt know that I the Lord am thy _Saviour_ and thy Redeemer, the mighty One of Jacob.--Isaiah, lx. 16.

And the angel said unto them, fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a _Saviour_, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.--Luke, ii. 10, 11, 12.

For our conversation is in heaven; from whence also we look for the _Saviour_, the Lord Jesus Christ.--Philippians, iii. 20.

We trust in the living God, who is the _Saviour_ of all men, specially of those that believe.--I. Timothy, iv. 10.

And thou, my soul, inspired with holy flame,
View and review with most regardful eye
That holy cross whence thy salvation came,
On which thy _Saviour_ and thy sin did die!
For in that sacred object is much pleasure,
And in that _Saviour_ is my life, my treasure.
_Sir Walter Raleigh._

O unexampled Love!
Love nowhere 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.
_Milton._

O may I pant for Thee in each desire!
And with strong Faith foment the holy fire!
Stretch out my soul in Hope, and grasp the prize,
Which in Eternity’s deep bosom lies!
At the great day of recompense behold,
Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold!
Then wafted upward to the blissful seat,
From age to age my graceful song repeat;
My Light--my Life--my God--my _Saviour_,--see,
And rival angels in the praise of Thee.
_Young._

O _Saviour_ God! O Lamb once slain!
At thought of Thee, Thy love, Thy flowing blood,
All thoughts decay; all things remembered fade;
All hopes return; all actions done by men
Or angels disappear, absorbed and lost.
_Pollok._

Exalted high at God’s right hand
And Lord of all below,
Through Him is pardoning love dispensed,
And boundless blessings flow.

And still for erring guilty man
A brother’s pity flows;
And still His bleeding heart is touched
With memory of our woes.

So then, my _Saviour_, and my King,
Glad homage let me give;
And stand prepared like Thee to die,
With Thee that I may live.
_Mrs. Barbauld._

My soul shall cry to Thee, O Lord!
To Thee supreme incarnate word!
My rock and fortress, shield and friend,
Creator, _Saviour_, source, and end!
Yea, Thou wilt hear Thy servant’s prayer,
Though death and darkness speak despair.
_Bowdler._

Dear _Saviour_! draw reluctant hearts,
To Thee let sinners fly,
And take the bliss Thy love imparts,
And drink, and never die!
_Steele._

_Saviour!_ and dost Thou speak
Such gracious words to me?
Dost Thou the wanderer seek
Who basely fled from Thee?
Wilt Thou my footsteps guide
To where Thy sheep beside
The living streams abide?
I come, I come, with shame and grief opprest,
Thy feet embrace, and shelter in thy breast.
_Pearson._

A _Saviour’s_ light shall break,
A ray from Jacob’s star the darkness streak:
To Him the fairest scenes their lustre owe;
His covenant brightens the celestial bow;
His vast benevolence profusely spreads
The yellow harvests, and the verdant meads.
_John Duick._

Great God, Thy judgments all are just and right;
Thou art all pity, and to anger slow;
But I have done such evil in Thy sight,
That mercy now with justice cannot flow.

Yes, gracious God, my sins have reached such height,
As leaves no choice but how to deal the blow;
Such guilt to pardon would Thy honour blight,
And even Thy goodness seals my final woe.

Consult Thy glory, then withhold no more,
Let fall Thy thunder, and my tears forget,
Wage war for war, pour Thy avenging flood;
The justice which consumes me I adore.
But where to strike, O Lord? where find even yet
A spot not covered by the _Saviour’s_ blood?
_James Glassford._

’Tis midnight; and on Olive’s brow
The star is dimmed that lately shone;
’Tis midnight, in the garden, now,
The suffering _Saviour_ prays alone.

’Tis midnight; and from all removed,
The _Saviour_ wrestles lone, with fears;
E’en that disciple whom He loved
Heeds not his Master’s grief and tears.

’Tis midnight; and for others’ guilt
The Man of Sorrows weeps in blood;
Yet He that hath in anguish knelt,
Is not forsaken by His God.

’Tis midnight; and from ether plains
Is borne the song that angels know;
Unheard by mortals are the strains
That sweetly soothe the _Saviour’s_ woe.
_W. B. Tappan._

SCORN.

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the _scornful_.--Psalm i. 1.

The _scorner_ is an abomination to men.--Proverbs, xxiv. 9.

The _scorner_ is consumed, and all that watch for iniquity are cut off.--Isaiah, xxix. 20.

Blessed is the man who hath not walked astray
In counsel of the wicked; and i’ the way
Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat
Of _scorners_ hath not sat.
_Milton._

Thrice happy he, who shuns the way
That leads ungodly men astray;
Who fears to stand where sinners meet,
Nor with the _scorner_ takes his seat.

The law of God is his delight;
That cloud by day, that fire by night,
Shall be his comfort in distress,
And guide him through the wilderness.
_J. Montgomery._

I may not _scorn_ the meanest thing
That on the earth doth crawl;
The slave who dares not burst his chain,
The tyrant in his hall.

The vile oppressor, who hath made
The widowed mother mourn,
Though worthless, he before me stand--
I cannot, dare not _scorn_.

The darkest night that shrouds the sky,
Of beauty hath a share;
The blackest heart hath signs to tell
That God still lingers there.

I pity all that evil are--
I pity, and I mourn;
But the Supreme hath fashioned all,
And, oh! I dare not _scorn_.
_Robert Nicol._

SEA.

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

The _sea_ is His, and He made it: and His hands formed the dry land.--Psalm xcv. 3, 5.

They that go down to the _sea_ in ships, that do business in great waters;

These see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep.--Psalm cvii. 23, 24.

And the _sea_ gave up the dead which were in it.--Revelation, xx. 13.

And I saw a new heaven and new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more _sea_.--Revelation, xxi. 1.

_Sea!_--of Almightiness itself the immense
And glorious mirror!--how thy azure face
Renews the heavens in their magnificence!
What awful grandeur rounds thy heavy space:
Thy surge two worlds eternal-warring sweeps,
And God’s throne rests on thy majestic deeps.
_Chenedolle._

Mysterious deep, farewell!
I turn from thy companionship, but lo,
Thy voice doth follow me. ’Mid lonely bower,
Or twilight dream, or wakeful couch, I hear
That solemn and reverberated hymn
From thy deep organ, which doth speak God’s praise
In thunder, night and day. Still by my side,
Even as a dim-seen spirit, deign to walk,
Prompter of holy thought, and type of Him,
Sleepless, immutable, omnipotent.
_Mrs. Sigourney._

To thee the love of woman hath gone down;
Dark flow thy tides o’er manhood’s noble head,
O’er youth’s bright looks, and beauty’s flowery crown!
Yet must thou hear a voice--Restore the dead!
Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee:--
Restore the dead, thou _sea_!
_Mrs. Hemans._

How humbling to one, with a heart and a soul,
To look on thy greatness, and list to its roll;
To think how that heart in cold ashes shall be,
While the voice of Eternity rises from thee!

But when thy deep surges no longer shall roll,
And the firmament’s length is drawn back like a scroll,
Then--then shall the spirit that sighs by thee now,
Be more mighty, more lasting, more chainless than thou!
_John A. Shea._

God of the dark and heavy deep!
The waves lie sleeping on the sands,
Till the fierce trumpet of the storm
Hath summoned up their slumbering bands;
Then the white sails are dashed like foam,
Or hurry, trembling, o’er the _seas_,
Till, calmed by Thee, the sinking gale
Serenely breathes,--Depart in peace.
_W. B. O. Peabody._

In every object here I see
Something, O Lord, that leads to Thee;
Firm as the rock Thy promise stands,
Thy mercies countless as the sands,
Thy love a _sea_ immensely wide,
Thy grace an overflowing tide.

In every object here I see
Something, my heart, that points to thee;
Hard as the rocks that bound the strand,
Unfruitful as the barren sand,
Deep and deceitful as the _Ocean_,
And like the tides in constant motion.
_B. Barton._

The prayer is said,
And the last rite man pays to man is paid;
The plashing water marks his resting-place,
And folds him round, in one long, cold embrace;
Bright bubbles for a moment sparkle o’er,
Then break, to be, like him, beheld no more;
Down, countless fathoms down, he sinks to sleep,
With all the nameless shapes that haunt the deep.
_Charles Sprague._

Thou paragon of elemental powers,
Mystery of waters--never slumbering _sea_!
Impassioned orator with lips sublime,
Whose waves are arguments which prove a God!
_R. Montgomery._

SEASONS.

And God said, Let there be lights in the firmament of heaven to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for _seasons_, and for days, and years.--Genesis, i. 14.

While the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night, shall not cease.--Genesis, viii. 22.

He giveth snow like wool: He scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes.

He casteth forth His ice like morsels: who can stand before His cold?

He sendeth out His word, and melteth them: He causeth His wind to blow, and the waters flow.--Psalm cxlvii. 16, 17, 18.

He changeth the times and the _seasons_.--Daniel, ii. 21.

The earth which drinketh in the rain that cometh oft upon it, and bringeth forth herbs meet for them by whom it is dressed, receiveth blessing from God.--Hebrews, vi. 7.

These, as they change, Almighty Father, these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring
Thy beauty walks, Thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;
And every sense, and every heart is joy.
Then comes Thy glory in the Summer months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year;
And oft Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks;
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow whispering gales.
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined,
And spreads a common feast for all that live.
In Winter awful Thou! with clouds and storms
Around Thee thrown, tempest o’er tempest rolled,
Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind’s wing,
Riding sublime, Thou bid’st the world adore,
And humblest nature with Thy northern blast.
_Thomson._

Truth bids me look on men as Autumn leaves;
And all they bleed for, as the Summer’s dust,
Driven by the whirlwind.
_Young._

What prodigies can power divine perform
More grand than it produces year by year,
And all in sight of inattentive man?
Familiar with the effect, we slight the cause,
And in the constancy of nature’s course,
The regular return of genial months,
See nought to wonder at.
_Cowper._

When Spring unlocks the flowers, to paint the laughing soil;
When Summer’s balmy showers refresh the mower’s toil;
When Winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the flood,
In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns her Maker good.

The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade;
The winds that sweep the mountain, or lull the drowsy glade;
The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way,
The moon and stars their Maker’s name in silent pomp display.

Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky--
Shall man, alone unthankful, his meed of praise deny?
No,--let the sun forsake its course, the _seasons_ cease to be,
Thee, Maker, must we still adore; and, Saviour, honour Thee.

The flowers of spring may wither,--the hope of Summer fade,--
The Autumn droop in Winter,--the birds forsake the shade,--
The wind be lull’d,--the sun and moon forget their old decree,--
But we in nature’s latest hour, O Lord! will cling to Thee.
_Bishop Heber._

Is there a heart that beats and lives,
To which no joy the Spring-time gives?
Alas! in that unfeeling heart
Nor love nor kindliness has part;
Or chilling want, or pining care
Must brood, or comfortless despair.
Blest, who without profane alloy
Can revel in that blameless joy!
More blest, in every welcome hour,
If Spring-time smile, or winter lower,
Who round him scatter’d hears or sees
What still the excursive sense may please;
Who round him finds, perchance unsought,
Fresh matter for improving thought;
And more, the more he looks abroad,
Marks, owns, and loves the present God!
_Bishop Mant._

When youthful Spring around us breathes,
Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh;
And every flower that Summer wreathes,
Is born beneath thy kindling eye;
Where’er we turn Thy glories shine,
And all things bright and fair are Thine.
_Thomas Moore._

Ah, how soon
The shades of twilight follow hazy noon,
Short’ning the busy day!--day that slides by
Amidst th’ unfinish’d toils of husbandry;
Toils still each morn resumed with double care,
To meet the icy terrors of the year;
To meet the threats of Boreas undismay’d,
And Winter’s gathering frowns and hoary head.

Then welcome, cold; welcome, ye snowy nights!
Heaven ’midst your rage shall mingle pure delights,
And confidence of hope the soul sustain,
While devastation sweeps along the plain:
Nor shall the child of poverty despair,
But bless the Power that rules the changing year;
Assur’d--though horrors round his cottage reign--
That Spring will come, and Nature smile again.
_Bloomfield._

SEEING--SIGHT.

Thou God _seest_ me.--Genesis, xvi. 13.

He that planted the ear, shall He not hear? He that formed the eye, shall He not _see_.--Psalm xciv. 9.

The light of the body is the eye: if, therefore, thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light.

But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore, the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!--Matthew, vi. 22, 23.

First the two eyes that have the _seeing_ power,
Stand as one watchman, spy, or sentinel,
Being placed aloft within the head’s high tower;
And though both _see_, yet both but one thing tell.

These mirrors take into their little space
The forms of moon, and sun, and every star,
Of every body, and of every place,
Which with the wide world’s arms embraced are:

Yet their best objects, and their noblest use,
Hereafter, in another world, will be;
When God in them shall heavenly light infuse,
That face to face they may their Maker _see_,

Here are they guides, which do the body lead,
Which else would stumble in eternal night;
Here in this world they do most knowledge read,
And are the casements which admit most light.
_Sir John Davies._

Though all the doors are sure, and all our servants
As sure bound with their sleeps; yet there is One
That wakes above, whose eye no sleep can bind;
He _sees_ through doors, and darkness, and our thoughts;
And, therefore, as we should avoid with fear,
To think ourselves amiss before His search;
So should we be as curious to shun
All cause that others think not ill of us.
_George Chapman._

God nought _foresees_, but _sees_: for to His eyes
Nought is to come, or past: nor are you vile
Because that Heaven _foresees_, for God, not we,
_Sees_ as things are; things are not as we _see_.
_John Marston._

SEEKING.

O God thou art my God; early will I _seek_ thee.--Psalm lxiii. 1.

_Seek_ ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near.--Isaiah, lv. 6.

It is time to _seek_ the Lord, till he come and rain righteousness upon you.--Hosea, x. 12.

_Seek_ and ye shall find.--Matthew, vii. 7.

We’ll _seek_ Thy face at early dawn
When clouds and darkness veil the sky,
Upon the rising mist of morn,
Confess our errors in a sigh,
And the first beam that shines above
Shall glow with Thy forgiving love.

Then will the clouds that linger oft
About the region of the breast,
Like those that faint in light aloft,
Flee far away and give us rest;
While every darksome grief shall be
Dispelled by glory shed from Thee.

Like happy bees, O! let us roam,
Extracting joy from all around,
And winging towards our heavenly home,
Rise up with pure devotion crowned;
And Thee, great King of Glory, meet,
As tuneful larks the sun would greet.

Give us the faith to feel and know
That Thou art mirrored full and true
Within the breast, as Thou dost show
Thy sun amid a drop of dew.
And thus from sleep Thy saints upraise,
To _seek_ Thy face in prayer and praise.
_W. Martin._

Lord, we come before Thee now,
At Thy feet we humbly bow;
O, do not our suit disdain:
Shall we _seek_ Thee Lord in vain?

In Thy own appointed way,
Now we _seek_ Thee, here we stay;
Lord, from hence we would not go,
Till a blessing Thou bestow.
_Hammond._

SEPULCHRE--TOMB.

And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth.

And laid it in his own new _tomb_, which he had hewn out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of the _sepulchre_, and departed.--Matthew, xxvii. 59, 60.

In the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to see the _sepulchre_.--Matthew, xxviii. 1.

And entering into the _sepulchre_, they saw a young man sitting on the right side.

And he saith unto them, Be not affrighted: Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, which was crucified: He is risen.--Mark, xvi. 5, 6.

How sweet, in the musing of faith to repair
To the garden where Mary delighted to rove;
To sit by the _tomb_ where she breathed her fond prayer,
And paid her sad tribute of sorrow and love;
To see the bright beam which disperses her fear,
As the Lord of her soul breaks the bars of her prison,
And the voice of the angel salutes her glad ear,--
The Lord is a captive no more--“He is risen.”
_Cunningham._

I saw two women weeping by the _tomb_
Of one new buried, in a fair green place,
Bower’d with shrubs; the eye retained no trace
Of aught that day performed; but the faint gloom
Of dying day was spread upon the sky.
The moon was broad and bright above the wood;
The distance sounded of a multitude,
Music, and shout, and mingled revelry.
At length came gleaming through the thicket-shade
Helmet and casque, and a steel-armed band
Watched round the _sepulchre_ in solemn stand.
The night-word passed, from man to man convey’d;
And I could see those women rise and go
Under the dark trees, moving sad and slow.
_Henry Alford._

Hark from the _tomb_ a doleful sound,
My ears attend the cry;
Ye living men come view the ground,
Where you must shortly lie.
_Watts._

SERVICE.

As for me and my house, we will _serve_ the Lord.--Joshua, xxiv. 15.

I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable _service_.--Romans, xii. 1.

_Servants_, be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh,

Not with eye-_service_ as men-pleasers; but as the _servants_ of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart.--Ephesians, vi. 5, 6.

Had I but _served_ my God with half the zeal
I _served_ my king, He would not, in mine age,
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
_Shakspere._

To tell you truly what I wish to be,
And never would be other, if I could,
But in the comfort of the heaven’s decree
In soul and body that I ever should--
Though in the world, not to the world to live,
But to my God my _service_ wholly give.

This would I be, and would none other be,
But a religious _servant_ of my God;
And know there is none other God but He,
And willingly to suffer mercy’s rod;
Joy in His grace, and live but in His love,
And seek my bliss but in the heaven above.

Thus would I spend in _service_ of my God
The ling’ring hours of these few days of mine,
To show how sin and death are overtrod
But by the virtue of the power divine;
Our thoughts but vain, our substance slime and dust,
And only Christ for our eternal trust.
_Nicolas Breton._

Expect not more from _servants_ than is just;
Reward them well, if they observe their trust,
Nor them with cruelty, or pride invade;
Since God and nature them our brothers made.
_Denham._

A few forsake the throng; with lifted eyes,
Ask wealth of Heaven, and gain a real prize--
Truth, wisdom, grace, and peace like that above,
Sealed with His signet whom they _serve_ and love.
_Cowper._

SHADE--SHADOW.

We are but of yesterday, and know nothing, because our days upon earth are a _shadow_.--Job, viii. 9.

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the _shadow_ of the Almighty.--Psalm xci. 1.

I am gone like the _shadow_ when it declineth.--Psalm cix. 23.

The Lord is thy _shade_ upon thy right hand.--Psalm cxxi. 5.

It is a dial--which points out
The sunset as it moves about,
And _shadows_ out in lines of night
The subtle stages of time’s flight,
Till all-obscuring earth hath laid
His body in perpetual _shade_.
_Dr. Henry King._

Alas! the idle tale of man is found
Depicted in the dial’s moral round;
With Hope Reflection blinds his sacred rays
To gild the total tablet of his days;
Yet still the sport of some malignant Power,
He knows but from its _shade_ the present hour.
_Wordsworth._

Between two breaths, what crowded mysteries lie,--
The first short gasp, the last and long drawn sigh!
Like phantoms painted on the magic slide,
Forth from the darkness of the past we glide,
As living _shadows_ for a moment seen
In airy pageant on the eternal screen,
Traced by a ray from one unchanging flame,
Then seek the dust and stillness, whence we came.
_O. W. Holmes._

This _shadow_ on the dial’s face,
That steals, from day to day,
With slow, unseen, unceasing pace,
Moments, and months, and years away;
This _shadow_, which in every clime,
Since light and motion first began,
Hath held its course sublime:
What is it?--Mortal man!
It is the scythe of Time.
A _shadow_ only to the eye,
It levels all beneath the sky.
_Anon._

SHEEP--SHEPHERD.

The Lord is my _shepherd_; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.--Psalm xxiii. 1, 2.

All we like _sheep_ have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way.--Isaiah, liii. 6.

Then said Jesus, I am the good _shepherd_ and know my _sheep_, and am known of mine.

As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down my life for the _sheep_.--John, x. 7, 14, 15.

’Tis said, that God is a consuming fire,
But oh! ’tis sure, He now lays by his ire:
He thunders out,
With trumpet’s shout,
No judgment from Mount Sinai; but a still
Soft voice of love and free good will:
He that appear’d then in a warlike dress,
Seeks now the stray _sheep_ in the wilderness.
_P. Fletcher._

Lamb of Jesus’ blood-bought flock,
Brought again from sin and straying!
Hear the _Shepherd’s_ gentle voice,
’Tis a true and faithful saying--
“Greater love how can there be
Than to yield up life for thee!
Bought with pang, and tear, and sigh,
Turn and live! why will ye die?”
_Bishop Doane._

And dost Thou, Holy _Shepherd_, leave
Thine unprotected flock alone,
Here in this darksome vale to grieve,
While Thou ascend’st Thy glorious throne?

Oh, where can they their hopes now turn,
Who never lived but on Thy love?
Where rest the hearts for Thee that burn,
When Thou art lost in light above?

How shall those eyes now find repose
That turn in vain Thy smile to see?
What can they hear save mortal woes,
Who lose Thy voice’s melody?

And who shall lay his tranquil hand
Upon the troubled ocean’s might?
Who hush the winds by His command?
Who guide us through this starless night?

For Thou art gone!--that cloud so bright,
That bears Thee from our love away,
Springs upwards through the dazzling light,
And leaves us here to weep and pray.
_From the Spanish of Luis Ponce de Leon._

The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a _shepherd’s_ care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noonday walks He shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.

When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant;
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wandering steps He leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.

Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For Thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.

Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my wants beguile,
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown’d,
And streams shall murmur all around.
_Addison._

The Lord is my _shepherd_, no want shall I know,
I feed in green pastures, safe-folded I rest;
He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow,
Restores me when wandering, redeems when opprest.
_J. Montgomery._

SHORTNESS.

How long, Lord? wilt Thou hide Thyself for ever? shall Thy wrath burn like fire?

Remember how _short_ my time is: wherefore hast Thou made all men in vain.--Psalm lxxxix. 46, 47.

Man’s life, sir, being
So _short_, and then the way that leads unto
The knowledge of ourselves so long and tedious,
Each minute should be precious.
_Beaumont and Fletcher._

Busy, curious, thirsty fly!
Drink with me, and drink as I!
Freely welcome to my cup,
Couldst thou sip and sip it up:
Make the most of life you may;
Life is _short_ and wears away.

Both alike are mine and thine
Hastening quick to their decline!
Thine’s a summer, mine no more,
Though repeated to threescore!
Threescore summers, when they’re gone,
Will appear as _short_ as one!
_Oldys._

How _short_, how narrow is the span,
How few the years allow’d to man;
And e’en in those few years he feels,
And groans, beneath a thousand ills.

As springs the flower in some gay mead,
Then sudden hangs its drooping head,
So does our boasted strength decay,
And, like the shadow, flee away.

For every moment that we breathe,
We’re hast’ning to the gates of Death!
And who can needful help afford,
In that sad hour, but Thou, O Lord?

Conscious of guilt, to Thee we cry,
And raise the hand and lift the eye;
Yet sure our sins may justly move
Thine anger, rather than Thy love!
_R. Brown._

SICKNESS.

And Jesus went about all Galilee, healing all manner of _sickness_, and all manner of disease among the people.--Matthew, iv. 23.

That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Esaias the prophet, saying, Himself took our infirmities, and bare our _sicknesses_.--Matthew, viii. 17.

But chiefly, Thou,
Whom soft-eyed pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And O, still harder lesson, how to die;
Disdain not Thou to smooth the restless bed
Of _sickness_ and of pain.
_Bishop Porteus._

When _sickness_ to my fainting soul
Her fearful form display’d,
I to my secret chamber stole,
And humbly thus I pray’d.

If softened by the impending stroke,
My heart, O Lord, will yield,
In mercy Thy decree revoke,
And let my wound be heal’d.

But if from memory’s tablet soon
Ingratitude would tear
The bounteous giver, and the boon,
Oh, hear not Thou my prayer.

Rather than bear that blackest stain
Within my breast, I’d brave
The keenest throes of restless pain--
The terrors of the grave.

If health’s unmerited return
Should bless my future days,
Oh, may I from Thy Spirit learn
A daily song of praise.

But should I shortly hence depart,
Or, lingering suffer still,
May that blest Spirit, Lord, impart
Submission to Thy will.
_Bishop Heber._

SILENCE.

Unto Thee will I cry, O Lord, my rock; be not _silent_ to me: lest if Thou be _silent_ to me, I become like them that go down to the pit.--Psalm xxviii. 1.

The Lord is in His holy temple; let all the earth keep _silence_ before Him.--Habakkuk, ii. 20.

Be _silent_, O all flesh, before the Lord.--Zechariah, ii. 13.

The _silence_, often, of pure innocence,
Persuades when speaking fails.
_Shakspere._

Sacred _silence_! thou that art
Floodgate of the deeper heart,
Offspring of a heavenly kind;
Frost o’ the mouth, and thaw o’ the mind,
Admiration’s readiest tongue,
Leave the desert shades, among
Reverend hermits’ hallow’d cells,
Where retired devotion dwells.
_Flecknoe._

In _silence_ mend what ills deform thy mind;
But all thy good impart to all thy kind.
_John Sterling._

True prayer is not the noisy sound
That clamorous lips repeat,
But the deep _silence_ of a soul
That clasps Jehovah’s feet.
_Mrs. Sigourney._

When some beloved voice, that was to you
Both sound and sweetness, failed suddenly,
And _silence_ against which you dare not cry,
Aches round you like a strong disease and new--
What hope, what help, what music will undo
That _silence_ to your sense.
_Elizabeth Barrett Browning._

Ours is a world of words; Quiet we call
“_Silence_,” which is the merest word of all.
All nature speaks, and ev’n ideal things
Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings--
But ah! not so when, thus in realms on high,
The eternal voice of God is passing by,
And the red winds are withering in the sky!
_E. A. Poe._

SIN.

Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose _sin_ is covered.--Psalm xxxii. 1.

I will declare my iniquity; I will be sorry for my _sin_.--Psalm xxxviii. 18.

Hide Thy face from my _sins_, and blot out all my iniquities.--Psalm li. 9.

I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a cloud, thy _sins_: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee.--Isaiah, xliv. 22.

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.

All things are of God, who hath reconciled us to Himself by Jesus Christ.

For He hath made Him to be _sin_ for us, who knew no _sin_; that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him.--II. Corinthians, v. 18, 21.

_Sin_ ever must
Be tortured with the rack of his own frame;
For he that holds no faith, shall find no trust,
But sowing wrong, is sure to reap the same.
_Daniel._

O, how unsufferable is the weight
Of _sin_! how miserable is their state,
The silence of whose secret _sin_ conceals
The smart, till justice to revenge appeals!

* * * * *

Who loves to _sin_, in hell his portion’s given;
Who dies to _sin_ shall, after, live in heaven.
_Quarles._

’Tis not to cry God mercy, or to sit
And droop, or to confess that thou hast failed:
’Tis to bewail the _sins_ thou didst commit;
And not commit those _sins_ thou hast bewailed.
He that bewails, and not forsakes them too,
Confesses rather what he means to do.
_Quarles._

That _sin_ does ten times aggravate itself,
That is committed in a holy place;
An evil deed done by authority,
Is _sin_ and subornation; deck an ape
In tissue, and the beauty of the robe
Adds but the greater scorn unto the beast;
The poison shows worst in a golden cup;
Dark night seems darker by the lightning’s flash;
Lilies that fester smell far worse then weeds;
And every glory that inclines to _sin_,
The same is treble by the opposite.
_Old Play._ (1597.)

Much have we _sinned_ to our shame,
But spare us who our _sins_ confess;
And for the glory of Thy name,
To our sick souls afford redress.
_Drummond._

It is a shame, that man, that has the seeds
Of virtue in him springing unto glory,
Should make his soul degenerate with _sin_,
And slave to luxury; to drown his spirits
In lees of sloth; to yield up the weak day
To wine, to lust, and banquets.
_Shackerly._

_Sin_, like a bee, unto thy hive may bring
A little honey, but expect the sting.
_Watkyns._

Woe unto those who countenance a _sin_,
Siding with vice that it may credit win,
By their unhallowed vote; that do benight
The truth with error, putting dark for light,
And light for dark; that call an evil good,
And would by vice have virtue understood.
_Bishop King._

O, the dangerous siege
_Sin_ lays about us! And the tyranny
He exercises, when he hath expunged:
Like to the horror of a winter’s thunder,
Mixed with a gushing storm, that suffers nothing
To stir abroad on earth but their own rages,
Is _sin_, when it hath gathered head above us:
No roof, no shelter will secure us so,
But he will drown our cheeks in fear or woe.
_Chapman._

To threats the stubborn _sinner_ oft is hard,
Wrapped in his crimes, against the storm prepared;
But when the milder beams of mercy play,
He melts, and throws his cumbrous cloak away.
_Dryden._

For he that but conceives a crime in thought,
Contracts the danger of an actual fault;
Then what must he expect, that still proceeds
To finish _sin_, and work up thoughts in deeds?
_Dryden._

What if the _sinner’s_ magazines are stored
With the rich spoils that Ophir’s mines afford?
What if he spends his happy days and nights
In softest joys, and undisturbed delights?
Where is his hope at last, when God shall wrest
His trembling soul from his reluctant breast?
_Blackmore._

What havoc hast thou made, foul monster, _Sin_!
Greatest and first of ills! The fruitful parent
Of woes of all dimensions! But for thee,
Sorrow had never been!
_Blair._

Lord! with what care hast Thou begirt us round!
Parents first season us; the schoolmasters
Deliver us to laws; they send us bound
To rules of reason; holy messengers:
Pulpits and Sundays; sorrow, dogging _sin_;
Afflictions sorted; anguish of all sizes;
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in;
Bibles laid open; millions of surprises;
Blessings beforehand; ties of gratefulness;
The sound of glory ringing in our ears;
Without, our shame; within, our consciences;
Angels and Grace; eternal hopes and fears!
Yet all these fences and their whole array,
One cunning bosom _sin_ blows quite away.
_George Herbert._

As the fond sheep that idly strays,
With wanton play, through devious ways,
Which never hits the road of home,
O’er wilds of danger learns to roam,
Till, wearied out with idle fear,
And passing there, and turning here,
He will, for rest, to covert run,
And meet the wolf he strove to shun:
Thus wretched I, through wanton will,
Ran blind and headlong on in ill.

’Twas thus from _sin_ to _sin_ I flew,
And thus I might have perished too;
But mercy dropped the likeness here,
And showed and saved me from my fear,
While o’er the darkness of my mind
The sacred Spirit purely shined,
And marked and brightened all the way
Which leads to everlasting day;
And broke the thickening clouds of _sin_,
And fixed the light of love within.
_Parnell._

On His pale brow the drops are large and red
As victim’s blood at votive altar shed--
His hands are clasped, His eyes are raised in prayer--
Alas, and is there strife He cannot bear,
Who calmed the tempest, and who raised the dead?
There is! there is! for now the powers of hell
Are struggling for the mastery--’tis the hour
When death exerts his last permitted power,
When the dead weight of _sin_, since Adam fell,
Is visited on Him who deigned to dwell--
A man with men, that He might bear the stroke
Of wrath divine, and break the captive’s yoke--
But O, of that dread strife, what words can tell?
Those, only those which broke, with many a groan,
From His full heart--“O, Father, take away
The cup of vengeance I must drink to-day--
Yet, Father, not My will, but Thine, be done!”
It could not pass away, for He alone
Was mighty to endure and strong to save:
Nor would Jehovah leave Him in the grave,
Nor could corruption taint His Holy One.
_Dale._

When at first from virtue’s path we stray,
How shrinks the feeble heart with sad dismay!
More bold at length, by powerful habit led,
Careless and sered, the dreary wilds we tread;
Behold the gaping gulf of _sin_ with scorn,
And plunging deep, to endless death are borne.
_James Scott._

SINAI.

The Lord came from _Sinai_, and rose up from Seir unto them; He shined forth from Mount Paran, and He came with ten thousands of saints: from His right hand went a fiery law.--Deuteronomy, xxxiii. 2.

The mountains melted from before the Lord, even that _Sinai_ from before the Lord God of Israel.--Judges, v. 5.

God from the Mount of _Sinai_, whose grey top
Shall tremble, He descending, will himself,
In thunder, lightning, and loud tempest’s sound,
Ordain them laws; part such as appertain
To civil justice, part religious rites
Of sacrifice, informing them by types
And shadows, of that destined Seed to bruise
The serpent, by what means He shall achieve
Mankind’s deliverance. But the voice of God
To mortal ear is dreadful! They beseech
That Moses might repeat to them His will,
And terror cease. He grants what they besought,
Instructed that to God is no access
Without Mediator, whose high office now
Moses in figure bears, to introduce
One greater, of whose day he shall foretell.
_Milton._

The mountain rocked round _Sinai’s_ trembling sides;
In gloomy spires the dreadful smoke arose;
Angelic trumpets pierced the ethereal vault;
Wide-echoing thunder rent the conscious air;
Fierce lightning shot its terrors through the sky;
All nature spake, and with convulsive shock
Gave awful proof of the descending God.
_Samuel Hayes._

Those laws which from Mount _Sinai_
Jehovah, clothed with terrors, while thick clouds
And darkness wrapt him round, pronounced, in sounds
Which chilled the hearts of those who heard, and froze
Their very blood. Beneath His awful feet
Earth trembled, and the lofty mountain shook;
Hoarse thunder growled, and livid lightnings flashed,
While sounds of horror and distress amid
The howling wilderness were heard.
_William Hodson._

SINGING--SONG.

O sing unto the Lord a new _song_: _sing_ unto the Lord, all the earth.

_Sing_ unto the Lord, bless his name; shew forth his salvation from day to day.--Psalm xcvi. 1, 2.

And they _sing_ the _song_ of Moses the servant of God, and the _song_ of the Lamb, saying, Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty.--Revelation, xv. 3.

Who is the Lord, then? Earth to me hath cried:
He, whose soul boundless everywhere is spread;
Who measures the Creation with a stride;
He, who with splendour e’er the sun hath fed.

He, who from nothingness all matter drew;
He, who built up the universe on nought;
He, who round shoreless seas a girdle threw;
He, whose sole look forth light from darkness brought.

He, who no heed to Time’s progression gives;
He, who draws being from his own command;
Who, in the future as the present lives;
And recalls years, departed from his hand.

’Tis He!--it is the Lord! Oh! may my tongue,
His countless glorious names to man repeat;
As the gold lamp before His altars hung;
I’ll _sing_ to Him, while holds my life her seat!
_Rev. W. Pulling, from Lamartine._

Thanks be to God! His grace has shown
How sinful man on earth
May join the _songs_ which round his throne
Give endless praises birth:
He gave His Son for man to die!
He sent His Spirit from on high
To consummate the scheme:
O be that consummation blest!
And let Redemption be confest
A poet’s noblest theme.
_B. Barton._

“Worthy the Lamb,” on earth we _sing_
“Who died our souls to save.”
Henceforth, O Death where is thy sting?
Thy victory, O Grave?
_J. Montgomery._

SKY.

Stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God.

Hast thou with him spread out the _sky_, which is strong, and as a molten looking-glass?--Job, xxxvii. 14, 18.

Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the _skies_ pour down righteousness.--Isaiah, xlv. 8.

When yonder glorious _sky_
Lighted with million lamps, I contemplate;
And turn my dazzled eye
To this vain mortal state,
All dim and visionary, mean and desolate,

A mingled joy and grief
Fills all my soul with dark solicitude;
I find a short relief
In tears, whose torrents rude
Roll down my cheeks, or thoughts which then intrude.

Thou bright, sublime abode!
Temple of light, and beauty’s fairest shrine:
My soul! a spark of God,
Aspiring to thy seats divine,
Why, why is it condemned in this dull cell to pine?

For there, and there alone,
Are peace, and joy, and never-dying love;
There, on a splendid throne,
’Midst all those fires above,
In glories and delights which never wane nor move.

Oh, wondrous blessedness!
Whose shadowy effluence hope o’er time can fling;
Day that shall never cease,
No night there threatening,
No winter there to chill joy’s ever-during spring.

Ye fields of changeless green
Covered with living streams and fadeless flowers,
Thou Paradise serene,
Eternal, joyful hours
My disembodied soul shall welcome in thy bowers.
_Luis Ponce de Leon, Spanish._

SLANDER.

For I have heard the _slander_ of many: fear was on every side: while they took counsel together against me, they devised to take away my life.--Psalm xxxi. 13.