Chapter XVIII: Part 18

He that uttereth a _slander_, is a fool.--Proverbs, x. 18.

That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect;
For _slander’s_ mark was ever yet the fair;
So thou be good, _slander_ doth but approve
Thy worth the greater.
_Shakspere._

’Tis _slander_,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword; whose tongue
Out-venoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath
Rides on the posting wind, and doth belie
All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave,
The viperous _slander_ enters.
_Shakspere._

_Slander_ lives upon succession,
For ever housed when once it gets possession.
_Shakspere._

Imperfect mischief!
Thou, like an adder, venomous and deaf,
Hast stung the traveller, yet hear’st
Not his pursuing voice. E’en when thou think’st
To hide, the rustling leaves and bended grass
Confess and point the path where thou hast crept.
_Congreve._

Forgot by those who in the grave abide,
And as a broken vessel past repair,
_Slandered_ by many, fear on every side,
Who counsel take and would my life ensnare.

But Lord, my hopes on Thee are fixed: I said
Thou art my God, my days are in Thy hand;
Against my furious foes oppose thy aid,
And those, who prosecute my soul, withstand.
_Sandys._

One who molests a harmless neighbour’s peace,
Insults fall’n worth or beauty in distress;
Who loves a lie, lame _slander_ heaps about,
Who writes a libel, or who copies out.
_Pope._

SLAVERY.

Is Israel a servant? is he a home-born _slave_? why is he spoiled?--Jeremiah, ii. 14.

There is no flesh in man’s obdurate heart,
It does not feel for man; the natural bond
Of brotherhood is severed, as the flax
That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin
Not coloured like his own; and having power
T’ enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause,
Dooms and devotes him as a lawful prey.

* * * * *

Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys;
And worse than all, and most to be deplored,
As human nature’s broadest, foulest blot,
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat
With stripes, that mercy, with a bleeding heart,
Weeps, when she sees inflicted on a beast.
Then what is man? and what man seeing this,
And having human feelings, does not blush,
And hang his head, to think himself a man.
_Cowper._

Though cold as winter, gloomy as the grave,
Stone walls a Prisoner make, but not a _Slave_.
Shall man assume a property in man?
Lay on the moral will a withering ban?
Shame that our laws at distance should protect
Enormities, which they at home reject!
“_Slaves_ cannot breathe in England”--a proud boast!
And yet a mockery! if from coast to coast,
Though fettered _slave_ be none, her floors and soil
Groan underneath a weight of _slavish_ toil,
For the poor many, measured out by rules
Fetched with cupidity from heartless schools,
That to an Idol, falsely called “the wealth
Of Nations,” sacrifice a People’s health,
Body, and mind, and soul, a thirst so keen
Is ever urging on the vast machine
Of sleepless Labour, ’mid whose dizzy wheels
The power least prized is that which thinks and feels.
_Wordsworth._

Man seeks for gold in mines, that he may weave
A lasting chain for his own _slavery_;
In fear and restless care that he may live,
He toils for others, who must ever be
The joyless thralls of his captivity;
He murders, for his chief delight’s in ruin;
He builds the altar, that its idol’s fee
May be his very blood; he is pursuing,
O, blind and willing wretch! his own obscure undoing.
_Shelley._

Lives there a savage ruder than the _slave_?
Cruel as death, insatiate as the grave,
False as the winds that round his vessel blow,
Remorseless as the gulf that yawns below,
Is he who toils upon the wafting flood
A Christian broker in the trade of blood;
Boist’rous in speech, in action prompt and bold,
He buys, he sells--he steals, he kills for gold.
_J. Montgomery._

Hast thou ever asked thyself
What it is to be a _slave_?
Bought and sold for sordid pelf,
From the cradle to the grave.

’Tis to know thy transient powers
E’en of muscle, flesh, and bone,
Cannot, in thy happiest hours,
Be considered as thine own.

But thy master’s goods and chattels,
Lent to thee for little more
Than to fight his selfish battles
For some bits of shining ore.

’Tis to learn thou hast a heart
Beating in that bartered frame
Of whose ownership--no part
Thou canst challenge but in name;

For the curse of _slavery_ crushes
Out the life-blood from its core,
And expends its throbbing gushes
But to swell another’s store.

God’s best gift from heaven above,
Meant to make a heaven on earth,
Hallowing, humanizing love!
With the ties which thence have birth,

These can never be his lot,
Who, like brutes, is bought and sold,
Holding such--as having not
On his own the spider’s hold.

’Tis to feel e’en worse than this,
If aught worse than this can be,
Thou hast shrined, for bale or bliss,
An immortal soul in thee!

But that this undying guest
Shares thy body’s degradation,
Until _slavery’s_ bonds unblest,
Check each kindling aspiration.

And what should have been thy light,
Shining e’en beyond the grave,
Turns to darkness worse than night,
Leaving thee a hopeless _slave_!

Such is _Slavery_! Couldst thou bear
Its vile bondage? Oh! my brother,
How, then, canst thou, wilt thou dare
To inflict it on another?
_Bernard Barton._

_Slave_-mart!--
Oh, mart of blood!--but God for vengeance cries,
And man shall shrink when _slaves_ in judgment rise;
The Power that moulds the lily’s snowy form,
Ordains the sunbeam, and propels the storm,
Whose boundless presence all creation fills,
Adorns the valleys, and surmounts the hills,
Designs for all, and yet creates alone,
Shall rise at last to vindicate His own!
_J. Burbidge._

They are _slaves_ who will not choose
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse,
Rather than in silence shrink
From the truth they needs must think;
They are _slaves_ who dare not be
In the right with two or three.
_Anon._

SLEEP.

I will both lay me down in peace, and _sleep_: for Thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety.--Psalm iv. 8.

He giveth His beloved _sleep_.--Psalm cxxvii. 2.

Come _sleep_, O _sleep_, the certain knot peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release,
Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low.
_Sir Philip Sidney._

_Sleep_ that knits up the revelled sleeve of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.
_Shakspere._

Why rather _sleep_ liest thou in smoky cribs
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lulled with sounds of sweetest melody?

* * * * *

Canst thou, O partial _sleep_! give thy repose
To the wet seaboy in an hour so rude;
And in the calmest and most stillest night
With all appliances and means to boot
Deny it to a king?
_Shakspere._

_Sleep_ on, my love! in thy cold bed
Never to be disquieted!
My last ‘Good night!’--thou wilt not wake
Till I thy fate shall overtake--
Till age, or grief, or sickness, must
Marry my body to the dust
It so much loves--and fill the room
My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
Stay for me there! I will not fail
To meet thee in that hollow vale:
And think not much of my delay,
I am already on the way,
And follow thee with all the speed
Desire can make, or sorrows breed.
Each minute is a short degree,
And every hour a step towards thee.
At night when I betake to rest,
Next morn I rise nearer my West
Of life, almost by eight hours’ sail,
Than when _sleep_ breath’d his drowsy gale.
_Bishop King._

How blessed was that _sleep_
The sinless Saviour knew!
In vain the storm-winds blew,
Till He awoke to others’ woes,
And hushed the billows to repose.

How beautiful is _sleep_!
The _sleep_ that christians know:
Ye mourners! cease your woe.
While soft upon his Saviour’s breast,
The righteous sinks to endless rest.
_Mrs. M’Cartee._

Good night!
Slumber till the morning light!
Slumber till the dawn of day
Brings its troubles with its ray!
_Sleep_ without or fear or fright!
Our Father wakes! Good night!
_Korner._

_Sleep_ sweetly, tender heart, in peace!
_Sleep_, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.

_Sleep_ till the end, true soul and sweet,
Nothing comes to thee new or strange.
_Sleep_, full of rest from head to feet;
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
_Tennyson._

O Thou, who in the garden’s shade
Didst wake Thy weary ones again,
Who slumbered at that fearful hour;
Forgetful of Thy pain;

Bend o’er us now, as over them,
And set our _sleep_-bound spirits free;
Nor leave us slumbering in the watch
Our souls should keep with Thee!
_J. G. Whittier._

SLOTH.

The hand of the diligent shall bear rule: but the _slothful_ shall be under tribute.--Proverbs, xii. 24.

_Slothfulness_ casteth into a deep sleep; and an idle soul shall suffer hunger.--Proverbs, xix. 15.

Be not _slothful_, but followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises.--Hebrews, vi. 12.

He that outlives Nestor, and appears
To have passed the date of grey Methusalem’s years,
If he his life to _sloth_ and sin doth give,
I say he only was, he did not live.
_Thomas Randolph._

Two principles from the beginning strove
In human nature, still dividing man,--
_Sloth_ and activity; the lust of praise,
And indolence that rather wished to sleep.

* * * * *

_Sloth_ lay till mid-day, turning on his couch
Like ponderous door upon its weary hinge,
And having rolled him out with much ado,
And many a dismal sigh, and vain attempt,
He sauntered out, accoutred carelessly,--
With half-oped, misty, unobservant eye,
Somniferous, that weighed the object down
On which its burden hung,--an hour or two,
Then with a groan retired to rest again.
The one, whatever deed had been achieved,
Thought it too little, and too small the praise:
The other tried to think, for thinking so
Answered his purpose best, that what of great
Mankind could do had been already done;
And therefore laid him calmly down to sleep.
_Pollok._

Why in _sloth_ thy days consume?
Why anticipate the tomb?
Wasting thus thy youthful prime,
Slumbering before the time?
Sluggard up! there’s work to do,
Let not _sloth_ thy soul ensnare;
Only the reward is due
Unto those the toil who share.
_Egone._

SNARE.

The proud have hid a _snare_ for me, and cords; they have spread a net by the wayside; they have set gins for me.--Psalm cxl. 5.

The law of the wise is a fountain of life, to depart from the _snares_ of death.--Proverbs, xiii. 14.

Make no friendship with an angry man; and with a furious man thou shalt not go:

Lest thou learn his ways, and get a _snare_ to thy soul.--Proverbs, xxii. 24, 25.

Warn all creatures from thee
Henceforth, lest that too heavenly form pretended
To hellish falsehood _snare_ them.
_Milton._

In the embattled plain
Though Death exults and claps his raven wings,
Yet reigns he not, even there, so absolute,
So merciless, as in yon frantic scenes
Of midnight revel and tumultuous mirth,
Where, in the intoxicating draught concealed,
Or couched beneath the glance of lawless love,
He _snares_ the simple youth, who, nought suspecting,
Meant to be blest--but finds himself undone.
_Bishop Porteus._

Beset with _snares_ on every hand,
In life’s uncertain path I stand;
Saviour divine! diffuse Thy light
To guide my doubtful footsteps right.
_Doddridge._

He that hath made his refuge God,
Shall find a most secure abode;
Shall walk all day beneath His shade,
And there at night shall rest his head.

Then will I say, “My God, Thy pow’r
Shall be my fortress and my tow’r:
I, that am form’d of feeble dust,
Make Thine almighty arm my trust.”

Thrice happy man! thy Maker’s care
Shall keep thee from the fowler’s _snare_;
Satan, the fowler, who betrays
Unguarded souls a thousand ways.
_Watts._

SOLDIERS.

Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good _soldier_ of Jesus Christ.

No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life; that he may please him who hath chosen him to be a _soldier_.--II. Timothy, ii. 3, 4.

Thy life’s a warfare, thou a _soldier_ art,
Satan’s thy foeman, and a faithful heart
Thy two-edged weapon, patience is thy shield,
Heaven is thy chieftain, and the world thy field.
To be afraid to die, or wish for death,
Are words and passions of despairing breath:
Who doth the first, the day doth faintly yield;
And who the second, basely flies the field.
_Francis Quarles._

_Soldiers_ of Christ, arise,
And put your armour on,
Strong in the strength which God supplies,
Through His eternal Son;
Strong in the Lord of Hosts,
And in His mighty power,
Who in the strength of Jesus trusts,
Is more than conqueror.

Stand then in His great might,
With all His strength endued;
But take, to arm you for the fight,
The Panoply of God:
That having all things done,
And all your conflicts pass’d,
Ye may o’ercome though Christ alone,
And stand entire at last.
_Wesley._

_Soldier_ rise! the war is done;
Lo! the hosts of hell are flying:
’Twas the Lord thy battle won;
Jesus vanquished them by dying.
Pass the stream--before thee lies
All the conquered land of glory.
Hark!--what songs of rapture rise!
These proclaim the victor’s story.
_Soldier_, lay thy weapons down,
Quit the sword, and take the crown.
Triumph! all thy foes are banished,
Death is slain, and earth has vanished.
_Phelan._

SOLOMON.

In Gibeon the Lord appeared to _Solomon_ in a dream by night: and God said, Ask what I shall give thee.

And _Solomon_ said, Give Thy servant an understanding heart to judge Thy people, that I may discern between good and bad.

And the speech pleased the Lord, that _Solomon_ had asked this thing.--I. Kings, iii. 5, 6, 9, 10.

And God said to _Solomon_, Because this was in thine heart, and thou hast not asked riches, wealth, or honour, nor the life of thine enemies, neither yet hast asked long life; but hast asked wisdom and knowledge for thyself, that thou mayest judge my people, over whom I have made thee king:

Wisdom and knowledge is granted unto thee; and I will give thee riches and wealth, and honour, such as none of the kings have had that have been before thee, neither shall there any after thee have the like.--II. Chronicles, i. 11, 12.

A righteous sceptre in Jerusalem
Reigned over Israel; and the arts of peace
In higher honour placed King David’s son,
Than all the father’s fierce and weary wars.
Plenty and comfort blessed the labouring poor,
And splendour graced the noble and the wise:
Silver was nothing counted; massive gold
Adorned the temple and the royal board,
And richly-laden ships, from distant shores,
Swelled the king’s tribute and the people’s wealth.
Worthier than gold, than jewels far more rare,
Was the king’s wisdom; all the people bowed
Before the mighty mind of _Solomon_,
For God was with him.
_H. H. Weld._

In wealth, in power, tranquillity, and fame,
His mightier son, high-favoured _Solomon_,
Serene in strength, and dreadful without war,
Reigns jubilant: in knowledge peerless he,
With proverb, meditation, holy song,
Exalts the soul; while o’er his laws preside
Truth unncorrupt, integrity severe,
By keen discernment led. With lustrous train
See Sheba’s queen, to prove his wisdom come,
And kings from every realm, admiring, hear
His varied eloquence; admiring, view
Magnificence and regal state profuse
Beyond compare.
_Charles Hoyle._

SON.

In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten _Son_ into the world, that we might live through him.

Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his _Son_ to be the propitiation for our sins.

And we have seen and do testify that the Father sent the _Son_ to be the Saviour of the world.--I. John, iv. 9, 10, 14.

Of all creation, first
Begotten _Son_, divine Similitude,
In whose conspicuous countenance, without cloud
Made visible, the Almighty Father shines,
Whom else no creature can behold: on Thee
Impressed, the effulgence of His glory bides;
Transfused in Thee His ample spirit rests.
The Heaven of heavens, and all the powers therein
By Thee created.
_Milton._

The Lord of Hosts hath walked
This world of man; the one Almighty sent
His everlasting _Son_ to wear the flesh,
And glorify this mortal human shape;
And the blind eyes unclosed to see the Lord,
And the dumb tongues broke out in songs of praise,
And the grave cast forth its wondering dead,
And trembling devils murmured sullen homage.
_H. H. Milman._

I am ere the beginning. Manifold
Creation of the Father’s will, by me
Expressed, in its begotten order rolled;
Image express of Him whom none may see,
My glory veils and shadows for behoof
Of all His creatures, His great Deity;
Whereof ye are partakers, though aloof
It dwells from you, ye in its light doth dwell,
Sun of the soul--a pattern and a proof.
The Father sitteth inaccessible
To eye or ear. In me His plenitude
Abides--His only _Son_ for whom ye will,
Rays of that Radiance wherein may be viewed
His glory only. I His brightness am,
His word in whom He sole is understood.
_J. A. Heraud._

SORROW.

Many _sorrows_ shall be to the wicked: but he that trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall compass him about.--Psalm xxxii. 10.

_Sorrow_ is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.--Ecclesiastes, vii. 3.

For godly _sorrow_ worketh repentance to salvation not to be repented of: but the _sorrow_ of the world worketh death.--II. Corinthians, vii. 10.

Oh, sacred _sorrow_, by whom hearts are tried
Sent not to punish mortals, but to guide,
If thou art mine (and who shall proudly dare
To tell his Maker he has had his share?)
Still let me feel for what Thy pangs are sent,
And be my guide, and not my punishment.
_From the Russian._

I suffer now for what hath former been,
_Sorrow_ is held the eldest son of sin.
_John Webster._

Peace was theirs, and harmony within,
They know no _sorrow_, for they know no sin.
_Whyte._

Whate’er thy lot, whoe’er thou be,
Confess thy folly,--kiss the rod;
And in thy chastening _sorrow_, see
The hand of God.

A bruised reed He will not break--
Afflictions all His children feel:
He wounds them for His mercy’s sake--
He wounds to heal.
_James Montgomery._

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

If affliction grasps thee rudely
And presents the rack and cup,
Drink the draught and brave the torture--
Even in despair,--look up!
Still look up! For One there liveth
With the will and power to save--
One who knows each human _sorrow_,
From the cradle to the grave.
_J. L. Chester._

SOUL.

And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living _soul_.--Genesis, ii. 7.

Bless the Lord, O my _soul_: and all that is within me, bless his holy name.--Psalm ciii. 1.

I wait for the Lord, my _soul_ doth wait, and in his word do I hope.

My _soul_ waiteth for the Lord more than they than watch for the morning.--Psalm cxxx. 5, 6.

For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own _soul_? or what shall a man give in exchange for his _soul_?--Matthew, xvi. 26.

Though life, since finite, has so ill excuse
For being but in finite objects learned,
Yet sure the _soul_ was made for little use,
Unless it be in infinites concerned.
_Sir William Davenant._

But Thou which didst man’s _soul_ of nothing make,
And when to nothing it was fallen again,
To make it new, the form of man didst take,
And, God with God, becam’st a man with men:

Thou that hast fashioned twice this _soul_ of ours,
So that she is by double title thine;
Thou only know’st her nature and her powers,
Her subtile form Thou only canst define.

We that acquaint ourselves with every zone,
And pass the tropics and behold each pole;
When we come home are to ourselves unknown,
And unacquainted still with our own _soul_.
_Davies._

Poor _soul_, the centre of my sinful earth,
Fooled by those rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a leese,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body’s end?
Then, _soul_, live thou upon thy servant’s loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more;
So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men;
And, death once dead, there’s no more dying then.
_Shakspere._

The _soul_ which doth with God unite,
Those gaieties how doth she slight,
Which o’er opinion sway!
Like sacred virgin wax, which shines
On altars or on Martyrs’ shrines,
How doth she burn away!

How violent are her throes till she
From envious earth deliver’d be,
Which doth her flight restrain!
How doth she doat on whips and racks,
On fires, and the so dreaded axe,
And every murdering pain!

How soon she leaves the pride of wealth,
The flatteries of youth and health,
And fame’s more precious breath;
And every gaudy circumstance
That doth the pomp of life advance
At the approach of death.
_W. Habington._

Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright!
The bridal of the earth and sky:
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,
For Thou must die.

Sweet rose! whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye:
Thy root is ever in the grave,
And thou must die.

Sweet spring! full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie:
My music shows you have your closes,
And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous _soul_,
Like season’d timber never gives,
But, though the whole world turns to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
_Herbert._

The _soul_ of man (let man in homage bow
Who names his _soul_) a native of the skies!
High-born and free, her freedom should maintain,
Unsold, unmortgaged for earth’s little bribes.
_Young._

Dearly pays the _soul_
For lodging ill; too dearly rents her day.
_Young._

The _soul_, secure in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point:
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years:
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth,
Unhurt amidst the war of elements,
The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds!
_Addison._

For from the birth
Of mortal man, the sovereign Maker said,
That not in humble, nor in brief delight,
Not in the fading echoes of renown,
Power’s purple robe, nor pleasure’s flowery lap,
The _Soul_ should find enjoyment: but from these
Turning, disdainful, to an equal good,
Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view,
Till every bound at length should disappear,
And infinite perfection close the scene.
_Akenside._

The _soul_ on earth is an immortal guest,
Condemned to starve at an unreal feast:
A spark, which upwards tends by nature’s force;
A stream, diverted from its parent source;
A drop dissevered from the boundless sea;
A moment, parted from eternity;
A pilgrim panting for the rest to come;
An exile, anxious for his native home.
_Hannah More._

Since _soul_ decays not; freed from earth,
And earthly coils, it bursts away;
Receiving a celestial birth,
And spurning off its bonds of clay,
It soars and seeks another sphere,
And blooms through heaven’s eternal year.
_Moir._

O Lady! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does nature live:
Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud!
And would we aught behold, of higher worth
Than that inanimate cold world allowed
To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
Ah! from the _soul_ itself must issue forth,
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
Enveloping the earth,
And from the _soul_ itself must there be sent
A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element.
_Coleridge._

The spirit leaves the body’s wondrous frame,
That frame itself a world of strength and skill;
The nobler inmate new abodes will claim,
In every change to Thee aspiring still.

Although from darkness born, to darkness fled,
We know that light beyond surrounds the whole;
The man survives, though the weird corpse be dead,
And He who dooms the flesh, redeems the _soul_.
_John Sterling._

Lord! we sit and cry to Thee,
Like the blind beside the way:
Make our darkened _souls_ to see
The glory of Thy perfect day!
Lord! rebuke our sullen night,
And give Thyself unto our sight!
_H. H. Milman._

The _Soul_!--the _Soul_!--with its eye of fire,
Thus, thus shall it soar when its foes expire;
It shall spread its wings o’er the ills that pained,
The evils that shadowed, the sins that stained;
It shall dwell where no rushing cloud hath sway,
And the pageants of earth shall have melted away.
_Mrs. Sigourney._

That mysterious thing,
Which hath no limit from the walls of sense,--
No chill from hoary time,--with pale decay
No fellowship,--but shall stand forth unchanged,
Unscorched amid the resurrection fires,
To bear its boundless lot of good or ill.
_Mrs. Sigourney._

SOWING.

They that _sow_ in tears shall reap in joy.--Psalm cxxvi. 5.

In the morning _sow_ thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand: for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or whether both shall be alike good.--Ecclesiastes, xi. 6.

Sow in the morn thy seed,
At eve hold not thine hand;
To doubt and fear give thou no heed,--
Broad-cast it o’er the land.

Beside all waters _sow_,
The highway furrows stock;
Drop it where thorns and thistles grow,
Scatter it on the rock.

The good, the fruitful ground,
Expect not here nor there;
O’er hill and dale, by plots ’tis found;
Go forth, then, everywhere.

Thou know’st not which may thrive,
The late or early _sown_;
Grace keeps the precious germs alive,
When and wherever strown.

And duly shall appear,
In verdure, beauty, strength,
The tender blade, the stalk, the ear,
And the full corn at length.

Thou canst not toil in vain;
Cold, heat, and moist, and dry,
Shall foster and mature the grain,
For garners in the sky.

Thence, when the glorious end,
The day of God is come,
The angel-reapers shall descend,
And heaven cry, “Harvest home!”
_James Montgomery._

_Sow_ thy seed, and reap in gladness!
Man himself is all a seed;
Hope and hardship, joy and sadness,
Slow the plant to ripeness lead.
_John Sterling._

SPEECH.

Day unto day uttereth _speech_, and night unto night sheweth knowledge.--Psalm xix. 2.

Let not an evil _speaker_ be established in the earth.--Psalm cxl. 11.

Let your _speech_ be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man.--Colossians, iv. 6.

The glittering heaven’s refulgent glow,
And sparkling spheres of golden light,
Jehovah’s work and glory show,
By burning day or gentle night.

In silence, through the vast profound,
They move their orbs of fire on high,
Nor _speech_, nor word, nor answering sound,
Is heard upon the tranquil sky;

Yet to the earth’s remotest bar
Their burning glory all is known;
Their living light has sparkled far,
And on the attentive silence shone.

God ’mid the shining legions, rears
A tent where burns the radiant sun;
As, like a bridegroom bright, appears
The monarch, on his course begun.

From end to end of azure heaven
He holds his fiery path along;
To all, his circling heat is given,
His radiance flames the spheres among.

By sunny ray, and starry throne,
The wonders of our mighty Lord
To man’s attentive heart are known,
Bright as the promise of His word.
_J. W. Eastbourne._

First think; and if thy thoughts approve thy will,
Then _speak_; and, after, that thou _speak’st_, fulfil.
_Thomas Randolph._

_Speak_ gently!--’tis a little thing
Dropped in the heart’s deep well;
The good, the joy that it may bring
Eternity shall tell.
_Daniel Bates._

SPIRIT.

If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy _Spirit_ to them that ask Him.--Luke, xi. 13.

The Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things.--John, xiv. 26.

And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting.

And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them.

And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the _Spirit_ gave them utterance.--Acts, ii. 2, 3, 4.

Likewise the _Spirit_ also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the _Spirit_ itself maketh intercession for us.--Romans, viii. 26.

Your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost.--I. Corinthians, vi. 19.

Every _spirit_ as it is most pure,
And hath in it the more of heavenly light,
So it the fairer body doth procure
To habit in, and is more fairly dight
With cheerful grace, and amiable sight;
For of the soul the body form doth take,
For soul is form, and doth the body make.
_Spenser._

Darkness profound
Covered the abyss; but on the watery calm
His brooding wings the _Spirit_ of God outspread,
And vital virtue infused, and vital warmth,
Throughout the fluid mass.
_Milton._

Millions of _spiritual_ creatures walk the earth,
Unseen, both when we sleep and when we wake.
_Milton._

Immortal honour, endless fame
Attend the Almighty Father’s name;
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for lost man’s redemption died;
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete! to Thee.
_Dryden._

That He, The Third
In the Eternal Essence, to the prayer
Sincere should come, should come as soon as asked,
Proceeding from the Father and the Son,
To give Faith and Repentance, such as God
Accepts.
_Pollok._

Our God is a _Spirit_, and they who, aright,
Would perform the pure worship He loveth,
In the heart’s holy temple will seek with delight,
That _spirit_ the Father approveth.
_Bernard Barton._

Will He again in flames of glory
From His celestial hill unfold
His _Spirit_, to confirm the story
Of the inspired Twelve of old?
Else, when the light so brightly glowing,
Each dark cloud fringing with its flame,
Like snow-white mantle lightly flowing
Around the Ethiop’s sable frame?

Forth from the open doors of Heaven,
The radiance over all is shed;
A splendour to the earth is given,
Like glory round a saintly head!
The valleys all, the mountain spires,
The world and all therein, to-night
Are bathed in the celestial fire,
As once the Twelve were crowned with light!

To-morrow is the celebration
Of the out-flowing _Spirit’s_ might,
And all the earth, in preparation,
Is consecrated in this light!
And, like yon golden candles burning
Around the glorious evening skies,
The _Spirit’s_ holy fire returning,
From every Christian heart shall rise!
_Gostick, from the German of Freiligrath._

’Tis a solemn place:
For this dark purple loam, wherein I lie,
And this green mould, the mother of bright flowers,
Was bone and sinew once, now decomposed;
Perhaps has lived, breathed, walked, as proud as we,
And animate with all the faculties,
And finer senses of the human soul!
And now what are they? To their elements
Each has returned, dust crumbled back to dust,
The _spirit_ gone to God.
_William Thompson Bacon._

When the _Spirit_ of our God
Came down, His flock to find,
A voice from Heaven was heard abroad--
A rushing, mighty wind.

Nor doth the outward ear alone
At that high warning start;
Conscience gives back th’ appalling tone;
’Tis echoed in the heart.
_Keble._

If yet the Holy _Spirit_ deigns to dwell
In earthly domes, ’tis not in those defiled
With pride, with fraud, with rapine, or with lust;
’Midst the rough foliage of the thorny brake,
The clustering grape not blushes, and the fig
Decks not the prickly thistle’s barren stalk;
Even thus shall all be measured by their fruits.
_Charles Jenner._

On your souls
The _Spirit_ of God shall dart with inward ray,
And heavenly light in fullest streams be poured.
Then shall ye to remotest peoples, Jew
Or Gentile, bear Christ’s name, and through the world
Proclaim forgiveness of repented sins.
_Thomas Hughes._

The _Spirit_ of God
From Heaven descending, dwells in domes of clay;
In mode far passing human thought, He guides,
Impels, instructs: intense pursuit of good
And cautious flight of evil He suggests,
But in such gentle murmurs, that to know
His heavenly voice, we must have done His will.
_John Hay._

STARS.

And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the _stars_ also.--Genesis, i. 16.

Where wast thou when the morning _stars_ sang together?--Job, xxxviii. 4, 7.

He telleth the number of the _stars_; he calleth them all by their names.--Psalm cxlvii. 4.

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem.

Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his _star_ in the east, and are come to worship him.--Matthew, ii. 1, 2.

Confusion heard His voice, and wild uproar
Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined;
Till, at His second bidding, darkness fled,
Light shone, and order from disorder sprung:
Swift to their several quarters hasted then
The cumbrous elements, Earth, Flood, Air, Fire;
And this ethereal quintessence of Heaven
Flew upward, spirited with various forms,
That rolled orbicular, and turned to _stars_
Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move:
Each had his place appointed, each his course.
_Milton._

At His birth, a _star_
Unseen before in Heaven, proclaims Him come,
And guides the eastern sages, who inquire
His place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold,
His place of birth, a solemn angel tells
To simple shepherds, keeping watch by night:
They gladly thither haste, and by a choir
Of squadroned angels, hear His carol sung:
A Virgin is His Mother, but His Sire,
The Power of the Most High.
_Milton._

Child of the earth! oh, lift thy glance
To yon bright firmament’s expanse;
The glories of its realm explore,
And gaze, and wonder, and adore!

Doth it not speak to every sense,
The marvels of Omnipotence?
Seest thou not there the Almighty name
Inscribed in characters of flame?

Count o’er those lamps of quenchless light,
That sparkle through the shades of night;
Behold them!--can a mortal boast
To number that celestial host?

Mark well each little _star_, whose rays
In distant splendour meet thy gaze:
Each is a world by Him sustain’d
Who from eternity hath reign’d.

Each, kindled not for earth alone,
Hath circling planets of its own,
And beings whose existence springs
From Him, the all-powerful King of Kings.
_Mrs. Hemans._

Ye _stars_! bright legions that before all time,
Camped on yon plain of sapphire, what shall tell
Your burning myriads, but the eye of Him,
Who bade thro’ heaven your golden chariots wheel,
Yet who earth-born can see your hosts, nor feel
Immortal impulses--Eternity?
What wonder if the o’erwrought soul should reel
With its own weight of thought, and the wild eye
See fate within your tracks of sleepless glory lie?

For ye behold the Mightiest. From that steep
What ages have ye worshipped round your King,
Ye heard his trumpet sounded o’er the deep
Of earth:--ye heard the morning angels sing.
Upon that orb now o’er me quivering,
The gaze of Adam fixed from Paradise?
The wanderers of the deluge saw it spring
Above the mountain’s surge, and hailed its rise,
Lighting their lonely track with hope’s celestial dyes.

On Calvary shot down that purple eye,
When, but the soldier and the sacrifice,
All were departed.--Mount of Agony!
But Time’s broad pinion, ere the giant dies,
Shall cloud your clime.--Ye fruitage of the skies,
Your vineyard shall be shaken! From your urn,
Censers of heaven, no more shall glory rise
Your incense to the throne! The heavens shall burn!
For all your pomps are dust, and shall to dust return.
_Croly._

And ye, bright sisters, _stars_ my dear companions,
Which with enamel deck Heaven’s azure field,
And to the heavenly lyre your steps adapting,
Knit and unknit your choruses harmonious,
Into your chain celestial introduced,
Ye shall direct mine eyes to that bright desert,
That view bewildering labyrinths of fire;
Your beams should teach me how to praise and show
Him whom ye seek, and whom, perhaps, ye see;
And merging in my breast his trembling brightness,
I should perceive in him all ye perceive.
_Rev. W. Pulling, from Lamartine._

Ye quenchless _stars_! so eloquently bright,
Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night,
While half the world is lapp’d in downy dreams,
And round the lattice creep your midnight beams,
How sweet to gaze upon your placid eyes,
In lambent beauty looking from the skies.
_R. Montgomery._

_Stars_, wherefore do ye rise?
To light thy spirit to the skies.
_J. Montgomery._

When up to nightly skies we gaze,
Where _stars_ pursue their endless ways,
We think we see, from earth’s low clod,
The wide and shining home of God.

’Tis vain to dream those tracts of space,
With all their worlds, approach His face:
One glory fills each wheeling ball--
One love has shaped and moved them all.

This earth, with all its dust and tears,
Is no less His than yonder spheres;
And rain-drops weak, and grains of sand,
Are stamped by His immediate hand.
_John Sterling._

Yet as the _stars_, the holy _stars_ of night,
Shine out when all is dark,
So would I, cheered by hopes more purely bright,
Tread still the thorny path, whose close is light;
If, but at last, the tossed and weary barque,
Gains the sure haven of her final rest.
_Lucy Hooper._

STILLNESS.

And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:

And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a _still_ small voice.--I. Kings, xix. 11, 12.

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

Be _still_, and know that I am God.--Psalm xlvi. 10.

’Tis _stillness_ now! A sudden stay
Has check’d the wild wind on its way,
As, screaming on its mother’s breast,
At once the infant sinks to rest.
And now, throughout the wood, that late
Wav’d bending to the tempest’s weight,
Nor could its depths an echo form,
Save to the wailing of the storm;
Nor bends a twig, nor breathes a breath:
’Tis silence, like the calm of death.
’Twould seem that winter had foregone,
By wrong unsurp’d, his stormy throne,
And giv’n the rightful sway again
To mild October’s placid reign.
Or rather He, whose boundless force
Directs each month’s, each season’s course,
Who formed creation’s works of old,
And, what He form’d, hath still controll’d,
Even He hath said, at whose high will
The wind or swells or falls, “Be _still_!”
_Mant._

The Almighty King,
Not always in the splendid scene of pomp
Tremendous, on the sounding tempest rides,
Or sweeping whirlwind; nor in the awful peal
Of echoing thunder is He always heard,
Or seen in lightning’s livid flames; but oft,
When every turbid element is hushed,
In the _still_ voice of nature stands confest
The Lord Omnipotent.
_Samuel Hayes._

STORM.

He commandeth, and raiseth the _stormy_ wind.

He maketh the _storm_ a calm.--Psalm cvii. 25, 29.

Thou shalt be visited of the Lord of Hosts with thunder, and with earthquake, and great noise, with _storm_ and tempest.--Isaiah, xxix. 6.

The _storm_ was laid, the winds retired,
Obedient to Thy will;
The sea, that roared at Thy command,
At Thy command was still.
_Addison._

O God! have mercy in this dreadful hour
On the poor mariner! in comfort here
Safe shelter’d as I am, I almost fear
The blast that rages with resistless power.
What were it now to toss upon the waves--
The madden’d waves, and know no succour near;
The howling of the _storm_ alone to hear,
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves;
To gaze amid the horrors of the night,
And only see the billows’ gleaming light;
And in the dread of death to think of her
Who, as she listens sleepless to the gale,
Puts up a silent prayer and waxes pale?
O God! have mercy on the mariner!
_Southey._

A thunder-_storm_!--the eloquence of heaven,
When every cloud is from its slumber riven,
Who hath not paused beneath its hollow groan,
And felt Omnipotence around him thrown?
With what a gloom the ush’ring scene appears!
The leaves all fluttering with instinctive fears,
The waters curling with a fellow dread,
A breezeless fervour round creation spread,
And, last, the heavy rain’s reluctant shower,
With big drops patt’ring on the tree and bower,
While wizard shapes the low’ring sky deform,--
All mark the coming of a thunder-_storm_.
_R. Montgomery._

STRANGER.

I am a _stranger_ and a sojourner with you.--Genesis, xxiii. 4.

The Lord loveth the _stranger_, in giving him food and raiment.

Love ye therefore the _stranger_: for ye were _strangers_ in the land of Egypt.--Deuteronomy, x. 18, 19.

Do no wrong, do no violence to the _stranger_.--Jeremiah, xxii. 3.

He will vouchsafe
This day to be your guest: bring forth, and pour
Abundance, fit to honour and receive
The heavenly _stranger_.
_Milton._

The _stranger’s_ heart! Oh, wound it not!
A yearning anguish is its lot;
In the green shadow of thy tree,
The _stranger_ finds no rest with thee.

Thou think’st the vine’s low rustling leaves
Are music round the household eaves;
To him that sound hath sorrow’s tone--
The _stranger’s_ heart is with his own.

Thou think’st the children’s laughing play
A lovely sight at fall of day;
Then are the _stranger’s_ thoughts opprest--
A mother’s voice comes o’er his breast.

Thou think’st it sweet when friend to friend
Beneath one roof in prayer may blend;
Then doth the _stranger’s_ eye grow dim--
Far, far are those who’ve prayed with him.

Thy hearth, thy home, thy vintage land--
The voices of thy kindred band;
Oh! ’midst them all when blest thou art,
Deal gently with the _stranger’s_ heart.
_Mrs. Hemans._

Why should I a _stranger_ be
In my Father’s dwelling,
While hill and river, rock and tree,
Of His love are telling?
Always heard, their simple voice,
Bidding child-like hearts rejoice,
Whispers us that love is near.
What we seek in yonder sphere,
Love can find it now, and here.
_J. Gostick._

STREAM.

There is a river, the _streams_ whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High.--Psalm xlvi. 4.

He brought _streams_ also out of the rock, and caused waters to run down like rivers.--Psalm lxxviii. 16.

In the wilderness shall waters break out, and _streams_ in the desert.--Isaiah, xxxv. 6.

Who see not that the valleys of the world
Might even right with the mountains: that they grow
Green and lie warmer; and ever peaceful are
When clouds spit fire at hills, and burn them bare.
Not valley’s part, but we should imitate _streams_
That run below the valleys, and do yield
To every mole-hill; every bank embrace
That checks their currents; and when torrents come,
That swell and raise them past their natural height,
How mad they are and troubled; like low _streams_
With torrents crown’d are men with diadems.
_Chapman._

Around Thy throne, in peaceful _streams_,
O God! celestial pleasure glides;
The brightening wave Thine image beams,
Untinged by sorrow’s darkened tides.

That _stream_ my fainting spirit cheers
When sultry suns pour down their heat;
And when I cross the vale of tears,
It makes the cup of sorrow sweet.
_J. Alexander._

I know a _stream_, a gentle _stream_
Which by a valley glides along,
That well might suit a Poet’s theme,
Or fit a raptured Minstrel’s song;
And often I have stood to look
On the calm beauty of that brook,
And thought the scene was such as might
Have shone upon Creation’s morn,
When all the morning stars of light,
Sang joyously that earth was born;
And angels as they paused to see,
Joined the triumphant Jubilee!
And God himself in glory stood,
And there pronounced it very good.
_Ann Pratt._

STRENGTH.

As thy days, so shall thy _strength_ be.--Deuteronomy, xxxiii. 25.

The Lord is my _strength_ and song, and is become my salvation.--Psalm cxviii. 14.

He that is mighty hath done to me great things; and holy is His name.

He hath shewed _strength_ with his arm; He hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.--Luke, i. 49, 51.

Vigour from toil, from trouble patience grows.
The weakly blossom, warm in summer bower,
Some tints of transient beauty may disclose;
But ah! it withers in the chilling hour.
Mark yonder oaks! Superior to the power
Of all the warring winds of heaven they rise,
And from the stormy promontory tower,
And toss their giant arms amid the skies,
While each assailing blast increase of _strength_ supplies.
_Beattie._

The _strength_ of man sinks in the hour of trial;
But there doth live a power, that to the battle
Girdeth the weak.
_Joanna Baillie._

When adverse winds and waves arise,
And in my heart despondence sighs,--
While life her throng of care reveals,
And weakness o’er my spirit steals,--
Grateful I hear the kind decree,
That “as my day, my _strength_ shall be.”

When, with sad footstep, memory roves
’Mid smitten joys, and buried loves,--
When sleep my tearful pillow flies,
And dewy morning drinks my sighs,--
Still to Thy promise, Lord, I flee,
That “as my day, my _strength_ shall be.”

One trial more must yet be past,
One pang,--the keenest and the last;
And when, with brow convulsed and pale,
My feeble quivering heart-strings fail,
Redeemer, grant my soul to see
That “as her day, her _strength_ shall be.”
_Mrs. Sigourney._

STRIFE.

Let there be no _strife_, I pray thee, between me and thee.--Genesis, xiii. 8.

Thou shalt hide them in the secret of Thy presence from the pride of man; Thou shalt keep them secretly in a pavilion from the _strife_ of tongues.--Psalm xxxi. 20.

He that passeth by, and meddleth with _strife_ belonging not to him, is like one that taketh a dog by the ears.--Proverbs, xxvi. 17.

Foolish and unlearned questions avoid, knowing that they do gender _strifes_.--II. Timothy, ii. 22.

O shame to men! Devil with Devil damned
Firm concord holds, men only disagree
Of creatures rational, though under hope
Of heavenly grace; and God proclaiming peace,
Yet live in hatred, enmity, and _strife_
Among themselves.
_Milton._

O for thy children too confined!
Thy sons in peace thou canst not feed,
Doomed land! to strangers now resigned
Such judgment hath begun on thee.
A foe, by thee unharmed indeed,
Sits at thy board and mocks thy toils,
Divides thy frantic people’s spoils,
And holds thy sword of sovereignty.

Frantic he too! O never! no,
Was nation blessed by blood and wrong;
The conquered feel not all the wo;
Still turns to tears the guilty’s joy:
Though not his haughty way along
Th’ eternal vengeance sweeps and breaks;
It follows, watches still, and wakes,
At his last moment to destroy.

Stamped in one image at our birth,
Made in the likeness all of one;
Ever at every part of earth
Where breath of life we may inherit,
Be brethren all! Our unison
Accursed be he to _strife_ who turns,
Accursed who mocketh him that mourns,
Or saddeneth one immortal spirit!
_From the Italian of Manzoni._

SUBMISSION.

_Submit_ yourselves therefore to God.--James, iv. 7.

_Submit_ yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord’s sake.--I. Peter, ii. 13.

Since ’tis Thy sentence I should part
With the most precious treasure of my heart,
I freely that and more resign,
My heart itself, as its delight is thine;
My little all I give to thee,
Thou gav’st a greater gift, Thy Son, to me.

Take all, great God, I will not grieve,
But still will wish that I had still to give;
I hear thy voice, thou bid’st me quit
My paradise; I bless and do _submit_;
I will not murmur at thy word,
Nor beg thy angel to sheathe up his sword.
_Norris._

Almighty power, I love Thee! blissful name,
My healer, God! and may my inmost soul
Love and adore for ever! Oh, ’tis good
To wait _submissive_ at Thy holy throne,
To leave petitions at Thy feet, and bear
Thy frowns and silence with a patient soul.
The hand of mercy is not short to save,
Nor is the ear of heavenly pity deaf
To mortal cries.
_Watts._

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

Christ had his sorrows--so must thou,
If thou wilt tread the path He trod--
O then, like Him, _submissive_ bow,
And own the sovereignty of God.
_Anon._

SUFFERING.

For I reckon that the _sufferings_ of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.--Romans, viii. 18.

Christ hath _suffered_ for us in the flesh.

If any man _suffer_ as a Christian let him not be ashamed.--I. Peter, iv. 1, 16.

But the God of all grace, who hath called us unto his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye have _suffered_ awhile, make you perfect, stablish, strengthen, settle you.--I. Peter, v. 10.

Christ _suffers_, and in this his tears begin;
_Suffers_ for us, and joy on us bestows:
_Suffers_ to death,--here is his manhood seen;
_Suffers_ to rise,--and hence his Godhead shows;
For man that could not by himself have rose
Out of the grave doth by the Godhead rise;
And God that could not die, in manhood dies,
That we in both might live, by that sweet sacrifice.
_Giles Fletcher._

They who have rarest joy, know joy’s true measure;
They who most _suffer_, value _suffering’s_ pause;
They who but seldom taste the simplest pleasure,
Kneel oftenest to the Giver and the Cause.
_Mrs. Norton._

O ye, whose hearts in secret bleed
O’er transient hope, like morning dew,
O’er friendship faithless in your need,
Or love to all its vows untrue,
Who shrink from persecution’s rod,
Or slander’s fang, or treachery’s tone,
Look meekly to the Son of God,
And in His griefs forget your own.

Forsaken are ye?--so was He;
Reviled?--yet check the ’vengeful word;
Rejected?--should the servant be
Exalted o’er his _suffering_ Lord?
Nor deem that Heaven’s omniscient eye
Is e’er regardless of your lot,--
Deluded man from God may fly,
But when was man by God forgot?
_Mrs. Sigourney._

SUN.

O give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good:

To Him that made great lights; the _sun_ to rule by day: for His mercy endureth for ever.--Psalm cxxxvi. 1, 7, 8.

The Lord, which giveth the _sun_ for a light by day; the Lord of Hosts is His name.--Jeremiah, xxxi. 35.

He maketh His _sun_ to rise on the evil and on the good.--Matthew, v. 45.

When creatures had no real light
Inherent in them, Thou didst make the _sun_
Impart a lustre, and allow them bright;
And in this, show what Christ hath done.
_George Herbert._

Great source of day! best image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide
From world to world the vital ocean round.
On nature write with every beam his praise.
The thunder rolls: he hushed the prostrate world;
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh ye hills, ye mossy rocks
Return the sound; the broad responsive low
Ye valleys raise, for the great shepherd reigns,
And His unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
_Thomson._

Look up to Heaven! the industrious _sun_
Already half his race hath run,
He cannot halt nor go astray,
But our immortal spirits may.

Lord! since his rising in the east,
If we have faltered or transgressed,
Guide, from thy love’s abundant source,
What yet remains of this day’s course.

Help with thy grace through life’s short day
Our upward and our downward way,
And glorify for us the west,
When we shall sink to final rest.
_Wordsworth._