Chapter V: Part 5

I sacrifice this Island unto Thee,
And all whom I loved there, and who loved me;
When I have put our seas ’twixt them and me,
Put Thou Thy seas betwixt my sins and Thee:
As the tree’s sap doth seek the root below
In winter, in my winter now I go
Where none but Thee, th’ eternal root
Of true love, I may know.
_Dr. Donne._

Without _Christ_ all gain is loss,
All hope despair, that stands not on his cross;
Except the few his God may have impress’d,
A tenfold phrenzy seizes all the rest.
_Cowper._

Father! in _Christ_ we live, and _Christ_ in Thee!
Eternal Thou, and everlasting we.
The heir of heaven, henceforth I fear not death:
In _Christ_ I live! in _Christ_ I draw the breath
Of the true life! Let then earth, sea, and sky
Make war against me! on my front I show
Their mighty Master’s seal. In vain they try
To end my life, that can but end its woe.
Is that a death-bed where the _Christian_ lies?
Yes! but not his--’tis death itself there dies.
_S. T. Coleridge._

Heaven is within of magnitude immense;
No human thought can its dimensions grasp;
Yet heaven has but one door. _Christ_ is the way--
The only way--to God. Whoever seeks
By other ways to enter, must, ashamed,
Confused, and disappointed, see too late
The gates of hell expanded to his view!
No other name is published under heaven,
Wherein salvation can be found, but His.
_Anon._

Some say that ever ’gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then they say no spirit walks abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike;
No fairy tales; no witch has power to charm;
So hallowed and so gracious is the time!
_Shakspere._

Sweet rest ye, happie _Christians_,
’Tis earlie _Christmas_ daye,
When _Christ_ our Lord and Savioure
Became the sinner’s staye.
Arise, and for such benefits
His precepts all obeye.
Joyful tidings let us singe,
_Christ_ our refuge, _Christ_ our kinge,
To hallowe _Christmas_ daye.

In Judah’s lands, in Bethlehem,
The lovelie babe was born,
Upon a manger poorlie laid,
On _Christmas_ happie morn.
God speed ye, merrie gentlemen,
And _Christian_ grace adorn.
Joyful tidings let us singe,
_Christ_ our refuge, _Christ_ our kinge,
To hallowe _Christmas_ morn.
_Stuart Farquharson._

Hark! what mean those holy voices,
Sweetly sounding through the skies?
Lo! the angelic host rejoices;
Heavenly hallelujahs rise.
Listen to the wondrous story,
Which they chant in hymns of joy:--
“Glory in the highest, glory!
Glory be to God most high!
_Christ_ is born, the Great Anointed,
Heaven and earth His praises sing;
O receive whom God appointed,
For your Prophet, Priest, and King!”
_Cawood._

CHRISTIANITY.

And the disciples were called _Christians_ first in Antioch.--Acts, xi. 26.

Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free.--Galatians, v. 1.

Walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called.--Ephesians, iv. 1.

Yet if any man suffer as a _christian_, let him not be ashamed; but let him glorify God on this behalf.--I. Peter, iv. 16.

But for that contention and brave strife
The _Christian_ hath to enjoy, the future life,
He were the wretchedest of the race of men;
But as he soars at that, he bruiseth then
The serpent’s head; gets above death and sin,
And, sure of Heaven, rides triumphing in.
_Ben Jonson._

All faiths beside, or did by arms ascend;
Or sense indulged has made mankind their friend:
This only doctrine does our lusts oppose;
Unfed by nature’s soil in which it grows;
Cross to our interests, curbing sense and sin;
Oppressed without and undermined within,
It thrives through pain, its own tormentors tires;
And with a stubborn patience still aspires.
To what can reason such effects assign,
Transcending nature, but to laws divine,
Which in that sacred volume are contained,
Sufficient, clear, and for that use ordained?
_Dryden._

Well hast thou fought
The better fight, who, singly, hast maintained
Against revolted multitudes the cause
Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms;
And for the testimony of truth hast borne
Universal reproach, far worse to bear
Than violence.
_Milton._

A _Christian_ is the highest style of man;
And is there who the blessed cross wipes of
As a foul blot from his dishonour’d brow?--
If angels tremble, ’tis at such a sight.
_Young._

O Antioch, thou teacher of the world!--
From out thy portals passed the feet of those,
Who, banished and despised, have made thy name
The next in rank to proud Jerusalem.
Within thy gates the persecuted few,
Who dared to rally round the Holy Cross,
And worship Him whose sacred form it bore,
Were first called _Christians_. In thy sad conceit,
Thou mad’st a stigma of reproach and shame,
This noblest title of the sons of earth:
While, save for this, thy name were scarcely known,
Except among the mouldering vestiges
Of dim antiquity. So doth our God
Make all men’s folly ever praise His name.
_J. L. Chester._

To be an humble follower of Him,
Who left the bliss of Heaven, to be for us
A man on earth in spotless virtue living
As man ne’er lived; such words of comfort speaking,
To raise, and elevate, and cheer the heart,
As man ne’er spake; and suffering poverty,
Contempt, and wrong, and pain, and death itself,
As man ne’er suffered.
_Joanna Baillie._

The _Christian’s_ faith had many mysteries too.
The uncreated Holy Three in One;
Divine Incarnate, Human in Divine;
The inward call; the Sanctifying Dew;
Coming unseen, unseen departing thence;
Anew creating all, and yet not heard;
Compelling, yet not felt:--mysterious these;
Not that Jehovah to conceal them wished;
Not that Religion wished. The _Christian_ faith,
Unlike the timorous creeds of Pagan priest,
Was frank, stood forth to view, invited all
To prove, examine, search, investigate,
And gave herself a light to see her by.
Mysterious these--because too large for eye
Of man, too long for human arm to mete.
_Pollok._

CHURCH.

Whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in Heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in Heaven.--Matthew, xvi. 19.

Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.--Matthew, xxviii. 20.

So were the _churches_ established in the faith, and increased in number daily.--Acts, xvi. 5.

And God hath set some in the _church_, first, apostles, secondarily, prophets, thirdly, teachers.--I. Corinthians, xii. 28.

And hath put all things under his feet, and gave him to be the head over all things to the _church_,

Which is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all.--Ephesians, i. 22, 23.

Christ also loved the _church_, and gave himself for it.--Ephesians, v. 25.

That thou mayest know how thou oughtest to behave thyself in the house of God, which is the _church_ of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth.--I. Timothy, iii. 15.

Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is.--Hebrews, x. 25.

The solemn scene
The sun, through storied panes, surveys with awe,
And bashfully withholds each bolder beam.
_Smart._

Think, when the bells do chime,
’Tis angels’ music; therefore come not late.
God then deals blessings: if a king did so,
Who would not haste, nay give, to see the show?

When once thy foot enters the _church_, be bare.
God is more there than thou: for thou art there
Only by His permission. Then beware;
And make thyself all reverence and fear.
Kneeling ne’er spoil’d silk stocking. Quit thy state.
All equal are within the _church’s_ gate.

Resort to sermons, but to prayers most:
Praying’s the end of preaching. O be drest;
Stay not for the other pin: why thou hast lost
A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest
Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee,
Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose about thee.

In time of service seal up both thine eyes,
And send them to thy heart; that spying sin,
They may weep out the stains by them did rise:
Those doors being shut, all by the ear comes in.
Who marks in _church_-time others’ symmetry,
Makes all their beauty his deformity.

Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part;
Bring not thy plots, thy plough, thy pleasure thither.
Christ purged His temple--so must thou thy heart.
All worldly thoughts are but thieves met together
To cozen thee. Look to thy actions well,
For _churches_ either are our heaven or hell.
_George Herbert._

Dear is the ancient village _church_, which rears
By the lone yew, or lime, or elm-girt mound,
Its modest fabric: clear, and pleasant sound
Of bells, the grey embattled tower that wears
Of changeful hue the marks of bye-gone years,
Buttress, and porch, and arch with mazy round
Of curious feet or shapes fantastic crown’d;
Tall pinnacles and mingled window tiers,
Norman, or misnamed Gothic. Fairer spot
Thou givest not, England, to the tasteful eye,
Nor to the heart more soothing. Blest their lot!
Know they their bliss, who own their dwelling nigh
Such resting-place; there by the world forgot,
In life to worship, and when dead to lie!
_Bishop Mant._

Some there are
Who hold it meet to linger now at home,
And some o’er fields and the wide hills to roam,
And worship in the temple of the air!
For me, not heedless of the lone address,
Nor slack to meet my Maker on the height,
By wood, or living stream; yet not the less
Seek I His presence in each social rite
Of His own temple: that He deigns to bless,
There still He dwells, and that is His delight.
_Bishop Mant._

I love to hear the sound of holy bell,
And peaceful men, their praises lift to Heaven.
_Joanna Baillie._

Clad in a robe of pure and spotless white,
The youthful bride, with timid steps, comes forth
To greet the hand to which she plights her troth,
Her soft eyes radiant with a strange delight.
The snowy veil which circles her around,
Shades the sweet face from every gazer’s eye,
And thus enwrapt, she passes calmly by--
Nor casts a look, but on the unconscious ground.
So should the _Church_, the bride elect of Heaven,--
Remembering whom she goeth forth to meet,
And with a truth that cannot brook deceit,
Holding the faith which unto her is given--
Pass through this world, which claims her for a while,
Nor cast about her longing look nor smile.
_Mrs. Neal._

Thy best type, Desire
Of the sad heart,--the Heaven-ascending spire!
_Sir E. B. Lytton._

To Thee the _churches_ here rejoice,
The solemn organs aid the voice;
To sacred roofs the sound we raise,
The sacred roofs re-sound Thy praise;
And while our notes in one agree,
Oh! bless the _church_ that sings to Thee!
_Parnell._

The _Church_ of Christ, the school of grace,
The Spirit teaching by the Word;
In these our Saviour’s steps we trace,
By this His living voice is heard.
_J. Montgomery._

So shall her holy bounds increase,
With walls of praise and gates of peace;
So shall the Vine which martyr tears
And blood sustained, in other years,
With fresher life be clothed upon;
And to the world in beauty show
Like the rose-plant of Jericho,
And glorious as Lebanon.
_J. G. Whittier._

O, prayer is good when many pour
Their voices in one solemn tone;
Conning their sacred lessons o’er,
Or yielding thanks for mercies shown.
’Tis good to see the quiet train
Forget their worldly joy and care,
While loud response, and choral strain,
Re-echo in the House of Prayer.
_Eliza Cook._

There is a Presence spiritually vast
Around Thy _Church_, arisen Saviour! cast;
A holy effluence, an unspoken awe,
A sanctity which carnal eye ne’er saw,--
A pure, impalpable, almighty sense
Of peace, by reconciled Omnipotence,--
That hallows, haunts, and makes a Christian mind
Rich in all grace, celestially refined:
Mere Nature’s worshippers can never feel
The fulness of that high seraphic zeal
Which veileth all things with religious light,
And works unwearied in Jehovah’s sight;
Thought, dream, and action, ev’ry pulse of soul
The awe of Christ will solemnly control:
Girt by the Spirit, wheresoe’er they rove,
True faith is feeding on His breath of love.
_R. Montgomery._

How sweetly wide this Sabbath morn
The chime of village bells is sent
O’er the hamlets, o’er the fields,
With Sabbath sunshine blent.
The noble hears and quits his hall--
The peasant quits his cottage-home;
All cheerfully, all pleasantly,
To _church_ the people come.
They come from far-off heathy moors,
From lonely farms, from quiet dells,
Led strongly, irresistibly,
By the sweet chime of Sabbath bells.
Across the fields, across the green,
From shades emerge they to the light;
And seen in groups, or singly seen,
It is a charming sight.
_Richard Howitt._

CITY.

Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is mount Zion, the _city_ of the great King.--Psalm xlviii. 2.

Except the Lord keep the _city_, the watchman waketh but in vain.--Psalm cxxvii. 1.

Thou shalt be called The _city_ of righteousness; the faithful _city_.--Isaiah, i. 26.

How doth the _city_ sit solitary that was full of people! All her gates are desolate.--Lamentations, i. 1, 4.

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

And the _city_ had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it; for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.--Revelations, 21, 23.

Where are the _cities_ which of old in mighty grandeur rose!
Amid the desert’s burning sands, or girt with frozen snows;
Is there no vestige now remains their wondrous tale to tell,
Of how they blazed, like meteor-stars, and how, like them, they
fell?
Hark! hark! the voice of prophecy comes o’er the desert wide,
Come down, come down, and in the dust thy virgin beauties hide;
Oh “Daughter of Chaldea,” thou no more enthroned shall be,
For the desert and the wilderness alone shall tell of thee.
Though old Euphrates still rolls in his everlasting stream,
Thy brazen gates and golden halls, as though they ne’er had been;
Where stood thy massy tower-crowned walls, and palaces of pride,
The dragon and the wild beast now therein securely hide.
The “besom of destruction” o’er thee hath swept its way
In wrath, because thine impious hand on God’s Anointed lay.
_H. Brownlee._

This is the _city_ John did once discern
Descend from heaven apocalyptical,
Whereof “his thoughts do breathe, his words do burn.”

Beautiful _city_! Mother of us all!
Vision of Peace! white bride of Deity!
Whose Glory clothes thine apostolic walls!
Angels thy gates encompass lovingly,
Equal in all dimensions as beseems,
And like an angel’s thy capacity.
Death is not in thee, nor the fierce extremes
Of pain or sorrow, nor anxiety.
Here evil comes not, neither evil dreams;
No temple hast thou, for the Lord Most High
Thy temple is. No sun thou hast, nor moon,
His Glory is thy light eternally.
Lo! every nation brings to thee a boon;
Thy gates shall not be shut at all by day,
Nor night be thine, land of perpetual noon;
The kings of earth to thee their homage pay.
But no defiled thing shall enter thee,
Loving a lie, or tempting to betray.
_J. A. Heraud._

Jehovah is great, and great be his praise;
In the _city_ of God He is King;
Proclaim ye his triumphs in jubilant lays,
On the mount of his holiness sing.

The joy of the earth, from her beautiful height,
Is Zion’s impregnable hill;
The Lord in her temple still taketh delight,
God reigns in her palaces still.

Go walk about Zion, and measure the length,
Her walls and her bulwarks mark well;
Contemplate her palaces, glorious in strength,
Her towers and her pinnacles tell.

Then say to your children:--Our stronghold is tried;
This God is our God to the end;
His people for ever his counsel shall guide;
His arm shall for ever defend.
_J. Montgomery._

CLOTHES.

Then all the princes of the sea shall come down from their thrones, and lay away their robes, and put off their broidered garments: they shall _clothe_ themselves with trembling.--Ezekiel, xxvi. 16.

Take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be _clothed_? for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.--Matthew, vi. 31, 32.

For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened: not for that we would be _unclothed_, but _clothed_ upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life.--II. Corinthians, v. 4.

If there come unto your assembly a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor man in vile raiment:

And ye have respect to him that weareth the gay _clothing_, and say unto him, Sit thou here in a good place; and say to the poor, Stand thou there, or sit here under my footstool:

Are ye not then partial in yourselves, and are become judges of evil thoughts?--James, ii. 2, 3, 4.

If thou beest he; but O how fall’n! how changed
From him who in the happy realms of light,
_Clothed_ with transcendent brightness, did’st outshine
Myriads, though bright!
_Milton._

The golden palace of my God,
Towering above the clouds I see;
Beyond the cherub’s bright abode,
Higher than angels’ thoughts can be!
How can I in those courts appear
Without a wedding garment on?
Conduct me, Thou life-giver, there,
Conduct me to thy glorious throne!
And _clothe_ me with thy robes of light,
And lead me through sin’s darksome night.
_Bowring, from the Russian._

All _clothed_ with majesty and power,
The Lord of glory and of might,
He comes, who can abide the hour?
Who can behold the dreadful sight?
He, even he, who hath put on
The spotless robe of righteousness,
Washed in the blood of God’s dear Son:
Thus _clothed_, the ransomed soul may press
Into the presence bright with songs of thankfulness.
_Egone._

CLOUDS.

Behold, God is great, and we know him not, neither can the number of His years be searched out.

For He maketh small the drops of water: they pour down rain according to the vapour thereof;

Which the _clouds_ do drop and distil upon man abundantly.

With _clouds_ He covereth the light; and commandeth it not to shine by the _cloud_ that cometh betwixt.--Job, xxxvi. 26, 27, 28, 32.

Who maketh the _clouds_ His chariot; who walketh upon the wings of the wind.--Psalm civ. 3.

While they beheld, He was taken up; and a _cloud_ received Him out of their sight.--Acts, i. 9.

Behold He cometh with _clouds_; and every eye shall see Him.--Revelation, i. 7.

A _cloud_ lay cradled near the setting sun,
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow,
Long had I watch’d the glory moving on,
O’er the still radiance of the lake below:
Tranquil its spirit seem’d, and floated slow,
Even in its very motion there was rest,
While every breath of eve that chanced to blow,
Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west.
Emblem, methought, of the departed soul,
To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given,
And by the breath of mercy made to roll
Right onward to the golden gates of heaven,
Where to the eye of faith it peaceful lies,
And tells to man his glorious destinies.
_J. Wilson._

See’st yon light _cloud_, the wind is hurrying by?
The eagle’s scarce more rapid in his flight,
’Tis thus the years of youth,--hope--rapture fly,
Clad in attractive hues and robes of light,
Swiftly they fly, but ah! a weary night
Their reign succeeds--a more than midnight gloom,
That gives no peace to morn’s uprising bright,
Nor bids sweet Hope her wonted smile resume.
Ah! yes; though dark our night and drear the tomb,
Through its long vista, lo! the glorious star,
Whose rays from heaven’s bright vestibule illume
Death’s deepest vaults with radiance from afar,
Sun of immortal day! victorious faith
Eyes thy uprising blaze, and triumphs over death.
_G. M. J._

I asked the _clouds_, in their pomp of light,
As they sat in the crimson west at night,
Wherefore they gathered around the sun,
And brightened although his race was run;
When, perhaps, the breezes of night might strew
Their fragile folds into mist and dew?
The _clouds_ replied, “Though we should be driven
Away from our rest, we shall still be in heaven.”
_M. A. Browne._

When gathering _clouds_ around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few;
On Him I lean, who not in vain
Experienced every human pain:
He sees my wants, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.

And, oh! when I have safely past
Through every conflict--but the last;
Still, still unchanging, watch beside
My dying bed,--for thou hast died.
Then point to realms of _cloudless_ day,
And wipe the latest tear away.
_Grant._

See where yonder _cloudlet_ lingers
On the tranquil verge of day;
The golden sunset with its fingers,
Gilds it with its burnished ray;
Swiftly, calmly, on it glides,
Mingling, melting, into air,
Fainter, fainter--now it hides
In the bosom of its lair.

So I’ve seen the gentle spirit
Linger as it pass’d away,
Softly, brightly glowing, ere it
Faded in eternal day.
Glowing with the light of Heaven--
Light of God’s eternal love:--
Like the _cloudlet_ of the even,
So it pass’d to realms above.
_Rev. E. Case._

COMFORT.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me: thy rod and thy staff they _comfort_ me.--Psalm xxiii. 4.

This is my _comfort_ in my affliction: for thy word hath quickened me.--Psalm cxix. 50.

_Comfort_ ye, _comfort_ ye my people, saith your God.--Isaiah, xl. 1.

I, even I, am He that _comforteth_ you: who art thou, that thou shouldest be afraid of a man that shall die, and of the Son of Man which shall be made as grass; and forgettest the Lord thy Maker.--Isaiah, li. 12, 13.

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

To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to _comfort_ all that mourn.--Isaiah, lxi. 1, 2.

Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all _comfort_;

Who _comforteth_ us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to _comfort_ them which are in any trouble, by the _comfort_ wherewith we ourselves are _comforted_ of God.--II. Corinthians, i. 3, 4.

There is a haven yet to rest my soul on,
In midst of all unhappiness, which I look on
With the same _comfort_ as a distressed seaman
Afar off views the coast he would enjoy,
When yet the seas do toss his reeling barque,
’Twixt hope and danger.
_Shirley._

In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, _comfort_ me!

When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, _comfort_ me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drowned in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, _comfort_ me!

When the priest his last hath prayed,
And I nod to what is said,
’Cause my speech is now decayed,
Sweet Spirit, _comfort_ me!

When the judgment is revealed,
And that open which was sealed,
When to thee I have appealed,
Sweet Spirit, _comfort_ me!
_Robert Herrick._

The voice which I did more esteem
Than music in her sweetest key;
Those eyes which unto me did seem
More _comfortable_ than the day!
Those now by me, as they have been,
Shall never more be heard or seen;
But what I once enjoyed in them,
Shall seem hereafter as a dream.

All earthly _comforts_ vanish thus;
So little hold of them have we,
That we from them, or they from us,
May in a moment ravished be.
Yet we are neither just nor wise,
If present mercies we despise;
Or mind not how there may be made
A thankful use of what we had.
_Wither._

Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismay’d,
The reverend champion stood. At his control,
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul:
_Comfort_ came down, the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last, faltering accents whisper’d praise.
_Goldsmith._

_Comfort_, ye ministers of grace,
_Comfort_ my people, saith your God!
Ye soon shall see his smiling face,
His golden sceptre, not his rod;
And own, when now the cloud’s removed,
He only chasten’d whom he loved.

Who sow in tears, in joy shall reap,
The Lord shall _comfort_ all that mourn,
Who now go on their way and weep,
With joy they doubtless shall return,
And bring their sheaves with vast increase,
And have their fruit to holiness.
_Wesley._

They sank amid the wilderness,
The weary and forsaken;
She gave the boy one faint caress,
And prayed it might not waken.

Far, far away the desert spread;
Ah! love is fain to cherish
The vainest hopes, but now she said,
“Let me not see him perish.”

Then spoke the Lord, and at his word
Sprang forth a little fountain,
Pure, cold as those whose crystal hoard
Is in some pine-clad mountain.

O blessed God! thus doth thy power,
When, worn and broken-hearted,
We sink beneath some evil hour,
And deem all hope departed.

Then doth the fountain of thy grace
Rise up within the spirit,
And we are strengthened for that race,
Whose prize we shall inherit.

When least we hope, our prayer is heard,
The judgment is averted,
And comes the _comfort_ of thy word,
When most we seem deserted.
_Miss Landon._

On wings of everlasting love
The _Comforter_ is come;
All terrors at his voice disperse,
And endless pleasures bloom.
_Doddridge._

COMMAND--COMMANDMENT.

Moses went up unto mount Sinai, as the Lord had _commanded_ him, and took in his hand the two tables of stone.

And he wrote upon the tables the words of the covenant, the ten _commandments_.--Exodus, xxxiv. 4, 28.

Jesus said, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

This is the first and great _commandment_.

And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.

On these two _commandments_ hang all the law and the prophets.--Matthew, xxii. 37, 38, 39, 40.

How, in one house,
Should many people, under two _commands_
Hold amity?
_Shakspere._

Whatever hypocrites austerely talk
Of purity, and place, and innocence,
Reforming as impure what God declares
Pure, and _commands_ to some, leaves free to all
Our Maker bids increase; who bids abstain
But our destroyer, foe to God and man.
_Milton._

Heralds of creation cry,
--Praise the Lord, the Lord most high;
Heaven and earth, obey the call,
Praise the Lord, the Lord of all.

For He spake, and forth from night
Sprang the universe to light;
He _commanded_,--Nature heard,
And stood fast upon his word.
_J. Montgomery._

What is the first and great _command_?--
To love thy God above:
And what the second?--As thyself
Thy neighbour thou shalt love:
Who is my neighbour?--He who wants
The help that thou canst give:
Jesus, our blessed Saviour, said--
This do, and thou shalt live.
_Anon._

COMPASSION.

Thou O Lord, art a God full of _compassion_, and gracious, long-suffering, and plenteous in mercy and truth.--Psalm lxxxvi. 15.

It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his _compassions_ fail not.--Lamentations, iii. 22.

Have _compassion_ on us, and help us.--Mark, ix. 22.

Ye had _compassion_ of me in my bonds.--Hebrews, x. 34.

Be ye all of one mind, having _compassion_ one of another.--I. Peter, iii. 8.

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

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

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

The light of love and glory
Has shone through Christ the Saviour,
The holy Guide, who lived and died,
That we might live for ever.

And since thy great _compassion_
Thus brings thy children near thee,
May we to praise devote our days,
And love as well as fear thee.
_Henry Ware, Jun._

Lord, what offerings shall we bring,
At thine altars when we bow?
Hearts, the pure unsullied spring,
Whence the kind affections flow;
Soft _compassion’s_ feeling soul,
By the melting eye exprest,
Sympathy, at whose control
Sorrow leaves the wounded breast.
_John Taylor._

CONCORD.

What _concord_ hath Christ with Belial?--II. Corinthians, vi. 15.

But lovely _concord_, and most sacred peace,
Doth nourish virtue, and fast friendship breedes;
Weake she makes strong, and strong things does increase,
Till it the pitch of highest praise exceedes--
Brave be her warres, as honourable deedes,
By which she triumphs over ire and pride,
And winnes an olive garden for her meedes.
_Spenser._

One shall rise
Of proud ambitious heart, who, not content
With fair equality, fraternal state,
Will arrogate dominion undeserved
Over his brethren, and quite dispossess
_Concord_, and law of nature from the earth.
_Milton._

E’en as the dew, that, at the break of morning,
All nature with its beauty is adorning,
And flows for Heaven, calm and still,
And bathes the tender grass on Zion’s hill,
And to the young and withering herb resigns
The drops for which it pines:
So are fraternal peace and _concord_ ever
The cherishers without whose guidance, never
Would sainted quiet seek the breast,--
The life, the soul of unmolested rest,--
The antidote to sorrow and distress,
And prop of human happiness.
_Kamphuyzen._

It is not once an age two hearts are set
So well in unison, that not a note
Jars in their music; but a skilful hand
Slurs lightly over the discordant tones,
And wakens only the full power of those
That sound in _concord_.
Happy, happy those
Who thus perform in the grand concert--life.
_Mrs. Southey._

CONQUEST.

As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.

Nay, in all these things we are more than _conquerors_ through Him that loved us.--Romans, viii. 36, 37.

And I saw, and behold a white horse; and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him; and he went forth _conquering_ and to _conquer_.--Revelations, vi. 2.

The _conquered_ also, and enslaved by war,
Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose,
And fear of God.
_Milton._

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

Strange _conquest_, when the _conqueror_ must die,
And he is slain who wins the victory,
And yet another _conquest_ he must gain,
Or all our faith and highest hopes are vain.
_Anon._

He on whose eyes sweet light revealed hath been,
He on whose ears the mysteries of sound,
The lame who now can walk, he who hath seen
The gate of death and he whom death hath bound,
Rejoice aloud--a choral company!
And had they not, the stones from out the ground
Witness of Him, whom Patriarchs longed to see,
Had borne; such was the aspiration then,
The rapture and procession. And lo, He
Went like a _conqueror_ on his way, while men
Cowered as before a God.
_J. A. Heraud._

To Thee, who dying, _conquerest_, all hail!
Son of the virgin! Hero of the blest!
Over the gates of death and hell prevail;
Warrior who hast alone the wine-press trod.
_J. A. Heraud._

CONSCIENCE.

And herein do I exercise myself, to have always a _conscience_ void of offence toward God, and toward men.--Acts, xxiv. 16.

Their _conscience_ also bearing witness, and their thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one another.--Romans, ii. 15.

Ye must needs be subject, not only for wrath, but also for _conscience_ sake.--Romans, xiii. 5.

Holding the mystery of the faith in a pure _conscience_.--I. Timothy, iii. 9.

Purge your _conscience_ from dead works to serve the living God.--Hebrews, ix. 14.

We trust we have a good _conscience_.--Hebrews, xiii. 18.

Guilt still alarms, and _conscience_, ne’er asleep,
Wounds with incessant strokes, not loud but deep;
While the vexed mind her own tormentor flies,
A scorpion scourge unmark’d by human eyes!
Trust me no tortures that the poets feign,
Can match the fierce, the unutterable pain
He feels, who day and night, devoid of rest,
Carries his own accuser in his breast.
_Juvenal._

Study _conscience_, more than thou wouldst fame;
Though both be good, the latter yet is worst,
And ever is ill got, without the first.
_Ben Jonson._

For though the plain judge, _Conscience_, makes no show,
But silently to her dark session comes,
Not as red law does to arraignment go,
Or war to execution, with loud drums;

Though she on hills sets not her gibbets high,
Where frightful law sets hers; nor bloody seems,
Like war in colours spread, yet secretly
She does her work, and many men condemns;

Chokes in the seed what law, till ripe, ne’er sees;
What law would punish, _Conscience_ can prevent;
And so the world from many mischiefs frees;
Known by her cures, as law by punishment.
_Sir William Davenant._

So gnaws the grief of _conscience_ evermore,
And in the heart it is so deeply grave,
That they may never sleep nor rest therefor,
Nor think one thought but on the dread they have.
_Earl of Dorset._

The soul’s rough file that smoothness does impart;
The hammer that does break the stony heart!
The worm that never dies! the “thorn within,”
That pricks and pains! the whip and scourge of sin!
The voice of God in man! that without rest
Does softly cry within a troubled breast--
“To all temptations is that soul set free
That makes not to itself a curb of me.”
_Sir E. Sherburne._

For him a waking bloodhound, yelling loud,
(That in his bosom long had sleeping laid,
A guilty _conscience_ lurking after blood,)
Pursued eagerly, nor ever stayed,
Till the betrayer’s self it had betrayed;
Oft changed he place in hope away to wind,
But change of place could never change his mind,
Himself he flies to lose, but follows but to find.
_Giles Fletcher._

There is a kind of _conscience_ some men keep,
Is like a member that’s benumbed with sleep;
Which, as it gathers blood, and wakes again,
It shoots, and pricks, and feels as big as ten.
_Quarles._

The swelling of an outward fortune can
Create a prosperous, not a happy, man;
A peaceful _conscience_ is the true content,
And wealth is but her golden ornament.
_Quarles._

Divine authority, within man’s breast,
Brings every thought, word, action, to the test;
Warns him or prompts, approves him or restrains,
As reason, or as passion takes the reins.
Heaven from above, and _Conscience_ from within,
Cries in his startled ear,--Abstain from sin.
_Cowper._

From behind her secret stand,
The sly informer minutes every fault,
And her dread diary with horror fills.
Not the gross act alone employs her pen;
She reconnoitres fancy’s airy band,
Our dawning purposes of heart explores,
And steals our embryos of iniquity.
_Young._

’Tis ever thus
With noble minds; if chance they slide to folly,
Remorse stings deeper, and relentless _conscience_
Pours more of gall into the bitter cup
Of their severe repentance.
_Mason._

Knowledge or wealth to few are given,
But mark how just the ways of heaven:
True joy to all is free.
Nor wealth nor knowledge grant the boon,
’Tis thine, O _Conscience_! thine alone--
It all belongs to thee.
_Mickle._

What terrestial woe can match
The self-convicted bosom, which hath wrought
The bane of others, or enslaved itself
With shackles vile? Not poison, nor sharp fire,
Nor the worst pangs that ever monkish hate
Suggested, or despotic rage imposed,
Were at that season an unwished exchange;
When the soul loathes herself, when flying thence,
To crowds, on every brow she sees pourtrayed
Fell demons, hate or scorn, which drive her back
To solitude, her Judge’s voice divine,
To hear in secret, haply sounding through
The troubled dreams of midnight, and still, still
Demanding for his violated laws
Fit recompense; or charging her own tongue
To speak the award of justice on herself.
_Akenside._

_Conscience_ distasteful truths may tell,
But mark her sacred lessons well,
With her whoever lives at strife,
Loses his better friend for life.
_Anon._

_Conscience_, tremendous _conscience_, in his fits
Of inspiration, whencesoe’er it came,
Rose like a ghost, inflicting fear of death
On those who feared not death in fiercest battle,
And mocked him in their martyrdoms of torments;
That secret, swift, and silent messenger,
Broke on them in their lonely hours;--in sleep,
In sickness; haunting them with dire suspicions
Of something in themselves that would not die--
Of an existence elsewhere, and hereafter;
Of which tradition was not wholly silent,
Yet spake not out; its dreary oracles
Confounded superstition to conceive,
And baffled scepticism to reject,
What fear of death is like the fear beyond it?
_J. Montgomery._

Nothing they saw, but a low voice was heard
Threading the ominous silence of that fear,
Gentle and terrorless, as if a bird,
Wakened by some volcano’s glare, should cheer
The murk air with his song; yet every word
In the cathedral’s farthest arch seemed near,
As if it spoke to every one apart,
Like the clear voice of _conscience_ to each heart.
_Lowell._

Lest too powerful passions should propel
Headlong to acts immoral, nor allow
Time for slow Reason to deduce a rule
To curb their mad career, _Conscience_ kind heaven
Appointed her assistant; _Conscience_ quick
To heed the call of duty, to discern
’Twixt right and wrong, and bias to the best.
_William Gibson._

Oh, that folk would well consider
What it is to lose a name,
What this world is altogether,
If bereft of honest fame.
Poverty ne’er brings dishonour,
Hardship ne’er breeds sorrow’s smart,
If bright _conscience_ takes upon her
To shed sunshine round the heart.
_Hector Mc’ Neill._

CONSOLATION.

Are the _consolations_ of God small with thee?--Job, xv. 11.

Woe unto you that are rich; for you have received your _consolation_.--Luke, vi. 24.

Barnabas, which is, being interpreted, the son of _consolation_.--Acts, iv. 36.

For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our _consolation_ also aboundeth by Christ.--II. Corinthians, i. 5.

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

A faded flower, a bud of beauty blasted,
A broken lute, a precious diamond shattered,
A stream of purest water, early wasted,
A priceless essence on the desert scattered,
Like these thou hast perished, in thy beauty mild.
To which shall we compare thee, lovely child?

If to the faded flower, we know its fruit
Is garner’d up midst Heaven’s holy treasures;
If to the lovely-toned, but broken lute,
Its echo mingleth now, in heavenly measures;
The diamond is not lost; its fragments gather
Into a star before the Eternal Father.

The stream beside the stream of life is flowing,
And ever fed from their celestial springs;
The essence round the Throne eternal, going
Embodied on a Seraph’s radiant wings;
Oh, lost one!--let us call thee what we will,
The very name hath _consolation_ still.
_Anon._

CONTENT.

But godliness, with _contentment_, is great gain.

For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.

And having food and raiment, let us be therewith _content_.--I. Timothy, vi. 6, 7, 8.

I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be _content_.--Philippians, iv. 11.

Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be _content_ with such things as ye have: for He hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.--Hebrews, xiii. 5.

Poor and _content_ is rich and rich enough.
_Shakspere._

My conscience is my crown,
_Contented_ thoughts my rest;
My heart is happy in itself,
My bliss is in my breast.

Enough I reckon wealth,
A mean the surest lot;
That lies too high for base contempt,
Too low for envy’s shot.
_Robert Southwell._

Though still thou get’st, yet is thy want not spent,
But, as thy wealth, so grows thy wealthy itch;
But with my little I have much _content_--
_Content_ hath all; and who hath all, is rich:
Then this in reason thou must needs confess--
If I have little, yet that thou hast less.

Whatever man possesses, God hath lent,
And to his audit liable is, ever,
To reckon how, and when, and where he spent;
Then this thou bragg’st--thou art a great receiver:
Little my debt, when little is my store--
The more thou hast, the debt still grows the more.
_Phineas Fletcher._

I grieve, and dare not show my dis_content_;
I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate;
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant,
I seem stark mute, but inwardly do prate:
I am, and not, I freeze, and yet am burn’d,
Since from myself my other self I turn’d.

My care is like my shadow in the sun--
Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it;
Stands and lies by me, does what I have done,
This too-familiar care does make me rue it.
No means I find to rid him from my breast,
Till by the end of things it is suppress’d.

Some gentler passions slide into my mind,
For I am soft, and made of melting snow;
Or be more cruel, love, and so be kind,
Let me or float or sink, be high or low,
Or let me live with some more sweet _content_,
Or die, and so forget what love e’er meant.
_Queen Elizabeth._

Welcome pure thoughts, welcome ye silent groves,
These guests, these courts, my soul most dearly loves:
Now the wing’d people of the sky shall sing
My cheerful anthems to the gladsome spring:
A prayer book now shall be my looking-glass,
In which I will adore sweet virtue’s face.
Here dwell no hateful looks, no palace-cares,
No broken vows dwell here, no pale-faced fears:
Then here I’ll sit, and sigh my hot love’s folly,
And learn ’t affect an holy melancholy;
And if _Contentment_ be a stranger then,
I’ll ne’er look for it but in Heaven again.
_Sir Henry Wotton._

There’s _discontent_ from sceptre to the swain,
And from the peasant to the king again.
Then whatsoever in thy will afflict thee,
Or in thy pleasure seem to contradict thee,
Give it a welcome as a wholesome friend,
That would instruct thee to a better end.
Since no condition from defect is free,
Think not to find what here can never be.
_Alexander Nicholas._

Unfit for greatness, I her snares defy,
And look on riches with untainted eye.
To others let the glittering baubles fall,
_Content_ shall place us far above them all.
_Churchill._

O may I with myself agree,
And never covet what I see!
_Content_ me with an humble shade;
My passions tamed, my wishes laid;
For while our wishes idly roll,
We banish quiet from the soul;
’Tis then we busy beat the air,
And misers gather wealth and care.
_Dyer._

Happy is he, who, though the cup of bliss
Has ever shunn’d him when he thought to kiss,
Who still in abject poverty or pain,
Can count with pleasure what small joys remain;
Though, were his sight convey’d from zone to zone,
He would not find one spot of ground his own;
Yet as he looks around, he cries with glee,
These bounding prospects all are made for me:
For me yon waving fields their burden bear,
For me yon labourer guides the shining share;
While happy I, in idle ease recline,
And mark the glorious visions as they shine.
This is the charm, by sages often told,
Converting all it touches into gold.
_Content_ can soothe, where’er by fortune placed,
Can rear a garden in the desert waste.
_H. K. White._

O Thou, who kindly dost provide
For every creature’s want!
We bless Thee, God of Nature wide,
For all thy goodness lent;
And if it please Thee, Heavenly Guide,
May never worse be sent;
But whether granted, or denied,
Lord! bless us with _content_!
_Burns._

There is a jewel which no Indian mine can buy,
No chemic art can counterfeit;
It makes men rich in greatest poverty,
Makes water wine, turns wooden cups to gold,
The homely whistle to sweet music’s strain;
Seldom it comes, to few from heaven sent,
That much in little--all in nought--_content_.
_Anon._

Ye venerable groves! whose open glades
Invite the musing wanderer to your shades,
Ye birds! whose honied notes enthral the ear,
Wake the bright morn, the darksome evening cheer,
Ye fountains! murmuring music as ye flow,
Ye flowers! that on their purple margins glow,
Ye winds! that o’er those flowers soft breathing play,
Calm the hot sky, and mitigate the day;--
Take me, O take me to your loved retreats;
All, all conspire to bless me with your sweets.
Here in your soft enclosure let me prove
The shade and silence of the life I love!
Not idle here;--for, as I rove along,
I form the verse, and meditate the song;
Or mend my mind by what the wise have taught,
Studious to be the very thing I ought
Here will I taste the blessings of _content_,
No hope shall flatter, and no fear torment:
Unlike the sea, the sport of every wind,
And rich with wrecks, the ruin of mankind,
My life an honest, humble praise shall claim,
As the small stream, scarce honoured with a name,
Whose gladdening waters through my garden play,
Give a few flowers to smile, then glide away.
_Bishop Hurd._

The wisest, happiest, of our kind are they
That ever walk _content_ with Nature’s way,
God’s goodness measuring bounty as it may;
For whom the gravest thought of what they miss,
Chastening the fulness of a present bliss,
Is with that wholesome office satisfied;
While unrepining sadness is allied
In thankful bosoms to a modest pride.
_Wordsworth._

Grant, gracious Lord, as through this troubled scene
I walk unsafely, stumbling as I go,
Glimpses of hope, the murky clouds between,
May break at times, and light the way below;
But if I may not such sweet solace find,
Give me a prayerful and _contented_ mind.
_Egone._

CONTRITION.

The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a _contrite_ spirit.--Psalm xxxiv. 18.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a _contrite_ heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.--Psalm li. 17.

Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a _contrite_ and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the _contrite_ ones.--Isaiah, lvii. 15.

To this man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a _contrite_ spirit, and trembleth at my word.--Isaiah, lxvi. 2.

Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed
Sown with _contrition_ in his heart, than those
Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees
Of Paradise could have produced.
_Milton._

I, who have gone so far and long astray,
Adding to primal guilt the mountains high
Of trespass day by day, as if to try
Thy long forbearance, still for mercy pray;
For mercy even yet. Look ere thou slay,
Great God! upon my tears; look where I lie
Repentant; give, O give, before I die,
Thy grace, and guide my feet into thy way.
Reveal thy sufferings, thy blood and sweat:
Short is my time; reveal thy bitter cross
To my dark eyes, all used to other sight.
Quench, O my God! all that unhallowed heat
Of former life, which now I count but loss:
Lord, thou hast ne’er despised a heart _contrite_.
_From the Italian of Gabriel Fiamma._

Where sad _contrition_ harbours, there the heart
Is truly acquainted with the secret smart
Of past offences, hates the bosom sin
The most, which most the soul took pleasure in;
No crime unsifted, no sin unpresented
Can lurk unseen, and seen, none unlamented;
The troubled soul’s amazed with dire aspects
Of lesser sins committed, and detects
The wounded conscience; it cries amain
For mercy--mercy; cries, and cries again.

It sadly grieves, and soberly laments,
It yearns for grace, reforms, returns, repents.
Aye, this is incense whose accepted savour
Mounts up the heavenly throne, and findeth favour:
Aye, this it is whose valour never fails--
With God it stoutly wrestles and prevails:
Aye, this it is that pierces heaven above,
Never returning home, (like Noah’s dove,)
But brings an olive leaf, or some increase,
That works salvation and eternal peace.
_Quarles._

All powerful is the penitential sigh
Of true _contrition_; like the placid wreaths
Of incense, wafted from the righteous shrine
Where Abel ministered, to the blest seat
Of Mercy, an accepted sacrifice,
Humiliation’s conscious plaint ascends.
_Samuel Hayes._

Lord! who art merciful as well as just,
Incline thine ear to me, a child of dust!
Not what I would, O Lord! I offer thee,
Alas! but what I can.
Father Almighty, who hast made me man,
And bade me look to heaven, for thou art there,
Accept my sacrifice and humble prayer.
Four things which are not in my treasury,
I lay before thee, Lord, with this petition:--
My nothingness, my wants,
My sins, and my _contrition_.
_Southey, imitated from the Persian._

O, my soul! thy lost condition
Brought the gentle Saviour low!
Hast thou felt one hour’s _contrition_
For those sins that pierced him so?
Dost thou bear the love thou owest
For such proof of grace divine?
Can’st thou answer,--Lord thou knowest
That this heart is wholly Thine?
_C. Bowles._

COURAGE.

Wait on the Lord: be of good _courage_.--Psalm xxvii. 14.

Be of good _courage_, and He shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.--Psalm xxxi. 24.

And he that is _courageous_ among the mighty shall flee away naked in that day, saith the Lord.--Amos, ii. 16.

When the brethren heard of us they came to meet us: whom when Paul saw, he thanked God, and took _courage_.--Acts, xxviii. 15.

That _courage_ which the vain for valour take,
Who proudly danger seek for glory’s sake,
Is impudence; and what they rashly do,
Has no excuse, but that ’tis madness too.
_Sir William Davenant._

Stand but your ground, your ghostly foes will fly--
Hell trembles at a heaven-directed eye;
Choose rather to defend than to assail--
Self-confidence will in the conflict fail:
When you are challenged, you may dangers meet--
True _courage_ is a fixed, not sudden heat;
Is always humble, lives in self-distrust,
And will itself into no danger thrust.
Devote yourself to God, and you will find
God fights the battles of a will resigned.
Love Jesus! Love will no base fear endure--
Love Jesus! And of conquest rest secure.
_Bishop Ken._

True _courage_ is not moved by breath of words;
While the rash bravery of boiling blood,
Impetuous, knows no settled principle.
A feverish tide, it has its ebbs and flows,
As spirits rise or fall, as wine inflames,
Or circumstances change: but inborn _courage_,
The generous child of fortitude and faith,
Holds its firm empire in the constant soul;
And like the steadfast pole-star, never once
From the same fixed and faithful point declines.
_Hannah More._

COURT.

Blessed is the man whom Thou choosest, and causest to approach unto Thee, that he may dwell in Thy _courts_.--Psalm lxv. 4.

Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the _courts_ of our God.--Psalm xcii. 13.

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.

Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His _courts_ with praise.--Psalm c. 1, 4.

It shall be an habitation of dragons, and a _court_ for owls.--Isaiah, xxxiv. 13.

Gaze but upon the house where man doth live,
With flowers and verdure to adorn his way;
Where all the creatures due obedience give;
The winds to sweep his chambers every day;
The clouds to wash his rooms, the ceiling gay
With glittering stars, that night’s dark empire brave;
If such an house God to another gave,
How shine those splendid _courts_ He for Himself will have?