And yet ’twas good to bear;
_Affliction_ brought me to Thy feet,
And I found comfort there.
My wearied soul was all resigned
To Thy most gracious will;
Oh! had I kept that better mind,
Or been _afflicted_ still!
Where are the vows which then I vowed,
The joys which then I knew?
Those vanished like the morning cloud,
These like the early dew.
Lord, grant me grace for every day,
Whate’er my state may be;
Through life, in death, with truth to say,
“My God is all to me!”
_J. Montgomery._
Come then, _Affliction_, if my Father bids,
And be my frowning friend: a friend that frowns,
Is better than a smiling enemy.
We welcome clouds that bring the former rain,
Though they the present prospect blacken round,
And shade the beauties of the opening year,
That, by their stores enriched, the earth may yield
A fruitful summer and a plenteous crop.
_Swaine._
Mid pleasure, plenty, and success,
Freely we take from Him who lends;
We boast the blessings we possess,
Yet scarcely thank the one who sends.
But let _affliction_ pour its smart,
How soon we quail beneath the rod!
With shattered pride, and prostrate heart,
We seek the long-forgotten God.
_Eliza Cook._
AGE.
Great men are not always wise, neither do the _aged_ understand
judgment.--Job, xxxii. 9.
And even to your old _age_ I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry
you.--Isaiah, xlvi. 4.
Cast me not off in the time of old _age_; forsake me not when my
strength faileth.--Psalm lxxi. 9.
Now also, when I am old and grey-headed, O God, forsake me not; until I
have showed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to every
one that is to come.--Psalm lxxi. 18.
They shall still bring forth fruit in old _age_; they shall be fat and
flourishing.--Psalm xcii. 14.
That the _aged_ men be sober, grave, temperate, sound in faith, in
charity, in patience. The _aged_ women likewise, that they be in
behaviour as becometh holiness.--Titus, ii. 2, 3.
Ye gods! how easily the good man bears
His cumbrous honours of increasing years.
_Age_, oh my father, is not, as they say,
A load of evils heaped on mortal clay,
Unless impatient folly aids the curse,
And weak lamenting makes our sorrows worse.
He, whose soft soul, whose temper ever even,
Whose habits placid as a cloudless heaven,
Approve the partial blessings of the sky,
Smooths the rough road, and walks untroubled by;
Untimely wrinkles furrow not his brow,
And graceful wave his locks of reverend snow.
_M., from Anaxandrides._
And next in order sad, _Old age_ we found,
His beard all hoar, his eyes hollow and blind;
With drooping cheer still pouring on the ground,
As on the place where nature him assign’d
To rest, when that the sisters had untwined
His vital thread, and ended with their knife
The fleeting course of fast-declining life:
There heard we him with broke and hollow plaint,
Rue with himself his end approaching fast,
And all for nought his wretched mind torment
With sweet remembrance of his pleasures past,
And fresh delights of lusty youth forewaste;
Recounting which, how would he sob and shriek,
And to be young again of Jove beseek!
Crook-backed he was, tooth-shaken, and blear-eyed,
Went on three feet and sometime crept on four,
With old lame bones that rattled by his side:
His scalp all piled, and he with eld forelore,
His wither’d fist still knocking at death’s door;
Fumbling and drivelling as he draws his breath;
For brief, the shape and messenger of death.
_Sackville._
So mayest thou live till, like ripe fruit, thou drop
Into thy mother’s lap, or be with ease
Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature.
This is old _age_, but then thou must outlive
Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change
To withered, weak, and grey.
_Milton._
O my coevals! remnants of yourselves!
Poor human ruins, tottering o’er the grave!
Shall we, shall _aged_ men, like _aged_ trees,
Strike deeper their vile root, and closer cling,
Still more enamoured of this wretched soil?
Shall our pale, withered hands be still stretched out,
Trembling at once with eagerness and _age_?
With avarice and convulsions griping hard?
Grasping at air! For what has earth beside?
Man wants but little, nor that little long:
How soon must he resign his very dust,
Which frugal nature lent him for an hour!
_Young._
_Age_ should fly concourse, cover in retreat
Defects of judgment, and the will subdue;
Walk thoughtful on the silent solemn shore
Of that vast ocean it must sail so soon;
And put good works on board; and wait the wind
That shortly blows us into worlds unknown.
_Young._
But were death frightful, what has _age_ to fear?
If prudent, _age_ should meet the friendly foe,
And shelter in his hospitable gloom.
_Young._
The seas are quiet when the winds are o’er,
So calm are we, when passions are no more!
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our youthful eyes
Conceal the emptiness which _age_ descries:
The soul’s dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new lights through chinks that time has made.
Stronger by weakness, wiser men become
As they draw near to their eternal home;
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
_Waller._
The fruits of _age_, less fair, are yet more sound
Than those a brighter season pours around;
And, like the stores autumnal suns mature,
Through wintry regions unimpaired endure.
_Cowper._
_Age_, by long experience well informed,
Well read, well tempered, with religion warmed,
That fire abated which impels rash youth,
Proud of his speed, to overshoot the truth,
As time improves the grape’s authentic juice,
Mellows and makes the speech more fit for use,
And claims a reverence, in his shortening day,
That ’tis an honour and a joy to pay.
_Cowper._
How pure
The grace, the gentleness of virtuous _age_!
Though solemn, not austere; though wisely dead
To passion, and the wildering dreams of hope,
Not unalive to tenderness and truth,--
The good old man is honoured and revered,
And breathes upon the young-limbed race around
A grey and venerable charm of years.
_Robert Montgomery._
Youth, with swift feet, walks onward in the way,
The land of joy lies all before his eyes;
_Age_, stumbling, lingers slower day by day,
Still looking back, for it behind him lies.
_Frances Ann Kemble._
Oh! Youth is firmly bound to earth,
When hope beams on each comrade’s glance:
His bosom-chords are tuned to mirth,
Like harp-strings in the cheerful dance;
But _Age_ has felt those ties unbound,
Which fixed him to that spot of ground
Where all his household comforts lay;
He feels his freezing heart grow cold,
He thinks of kindred in the mould,
And cries, amid his grief untold,
“I would not live alway.”
_William Knox._
He passeth calmly from that sunny morn,
Where all the buds of youth are newly born,
Through varying intervals of onward years,
Until the eve of his decline appears;
And while the shadows round his path descend,
And down the vale of _age_ his footsteps tend,
Peace o’er his bosom sheds her soft control,
And throngs of gentlest memories charm the soul;
Then, weaned from earth, he turns his steadfast eye
Beyond the grave, whose verge he falters nigh,
Surveys the brightening regions of the blest,
And, like a wearied pilgrim, sinks to rest.
_Willis G. Clark._
The _aged_ Christian stands upon the shore
Of Time, a storehouse of experience,
Filled with the treasures of rich heavenly lore;
I love to sit and hear him draw from thence
Sweet recollections of his journey past,
A journey crowned with blessings to the last.
_Mrs. St. Leon Loud._
Why should old _age_ escape unnoticed here,
That sacred era to reflection dear;
That peaceful shore where passion dies away,
Like the last wave that ripples o’er the bay;
O, if old _age_ were cancelled from our lot,
Full soon would man deplore the unhallowed blot;
Life’s busy day would want its tranquil even,
And earth would lose her stepping-stone to Heaven.
_Caroline Gilman._
ALMIGHTY.
I am the _Almighty_ God.--Genesis, xvii. 1.
If thou return to the _Almighty_, thou shalt be built up, thou shalt
put away iniquity far from thy tabernacles.
Yea, the _Almighty_ shall be thy defence, and thou shalt have plenty of
silver.
For then shalt thou have thy delight in the _Almighty_, and shalt lift
up thy face unto God.--Job, xxii. 23, 25, 26.
And when they went, I heard the noise of their wings, like the noise of
great waters, as the voice of the _Almighty_.--Ezekiel, i. 24.
These are thy glorious works, Parent of good;
_Almighty!_ this thy universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then;
Unspeakable! who sitt’st above the heavens,
To us invisible, or dimly seen
In these thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought and power divine.
Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light,
Angels! for ye behold him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing: ye in heaven,
On earth join all ye creatures to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
_Milton._
What though th’ _Almighty’s_ regal throne
High o’er yon azure heaven’s exalted dome,
By mortal eye unkenned; where east, nor west,
Nor south, nor blustering north has breath to blow:
Albeit he then with angels and with saints
Holds conference, and to his radiant host
E’en face to face, stands visibly confest;
Yet know that not in presence nor in power,
Shines he less perfect here: ’tis man’s dim eye
That makes the obscurity.
_Christopher Stuart._
Tell me, hast ever thought upon the Being
Whom we _Almighty_ call? Hast ever sent
Thy prayerful thoughts unto His holy throne?
And felt His power, and trembled at the thought?
If not, I cannot call thee man! thou art
A stone, a clod, a dull insensate thing.
_Old Play._
_Almighty_ Father, gracious Lord,
Kind guardian of my days,
Thy mercies let my heart record
In songs of grateful praise.
In life’s first dawn, my tender frame,
Was thy indulgent care,
Long ere I could pronounce thy name,
Or breathe the infant prayer.
Each rolling year new favours brought
From thy exhaustless store;
But ah! in vain my lab’ring thought,
Would count thy mercies o’er.
While sweet reflection, through my days,
Thy bounteous hand would trace;
Still dearer blessings claim my praise,
The blessings of thy grace.
_Steele._
_Almighty_ Father of mankind,
On thee my hopes remain;
And, when the day of trouble comes,
I shall not trust in vain.
Thou art our kind preserver, from
The cradle to the tomb,
And I was cast upon thy care,
E’en from my mother’s womb.
Thou wilt not cast me off, when age
And evil days descend;
Thou wilt not leave me in despair
To mourn my latter end.
Therefore in life I’ll trust in thee,
In death I will adore;
And after death will sing thy praise,
When time shall be no more.
_Logan._
AMBITION.
A high look, and a proud heart, and the ploughing of the wicked is
sin.--Proverbs, xxi. 4.
Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and though thou set thy
nest among the stars, thence will I bring thee down, saith the
Lord.--Obadiah, 4.
Woe unto you Pharisees, for ye love the uppermost seats in the
synagogues, and greetings in the markets.--Luke, xi. 43.
Twice told the period spent on stubborn Troy,
Court favour, yet untaken, I besiege;
_Ambition’s_ ill-judged efforts to be rich.
Alas! _Ambition_ makes my little, less;
Embittering the possessed: why wish for more?
Wishing, of all employments, is the worst.
_Young._
Woe to thee, wild _Ambition_! I employ
Despair’s low notes thy dread effects to tell;
Born in high heaven, her peace thou could’st destroy;
And but for thee, there had not been a hell.
Through the celestial domes thy clarion pealed;
Angels, entranced, beneath thy banners ranged,
And straight were fiends; hurled from the shrinking field,
They waked in agony to wail the change.
Darting through all her veins the subtle fire,
The world’s fair mistress first inhaled thy breath;
To lot of higher beings learned to aspire;
Dared to attempt, and doomed the world to death.
_Maria A. Brooks._
The sons of earth
Who, vexed with vain disquietude, pursue
_Ambition’s_ fatuous light through miry pools,
That yawn for their destruction, stray, foredoomed,
Amid delusive shadows to their end.
_William Herbert._
_Ambition_, when the pinnacle is gained
With many a toilsome step, the power it sought
Wants to support itself, and sighs to find
The envied height but aggravates the fall.
_George Bally._
ANGELS.
And he dreamed, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top
of it reached to Heaven: and behold the _angels_ of God ascending and
descending on it.--Genesis, xxviii. 12.
The _angel_ of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and
delivereth them.--Psalm xxxiv. 7.
For He shall give His _angels_ charge over thee, to keep thee in all
thy ways.
They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against
a stone.--Psalm xci. 11, 12.
Then the devil leaveth Him, and behold, _angels_ came and ministered
unto Him.--Matthew, iv. 11.
Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and He shall
presently give me more than twelve legions of _angels_.--Matthew, xxvi.
53.
There is joy in the presence of the _angels_ of God over one sinner
that repenteth.--Luke, xv. 10.
Verily, verily, I say unto you, hereafter ye shall see Heaven open,
and the _angels_ of God ascending and descending upon the Son of
Man.--John, i. 51.
And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many _angels_ round about the
throne, and the beasts and the elders: and the number of them was ten
thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands; Saying with
a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power,
and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and
blessing.--Revelations, v. 11, 12.
And I saw another _angel_ fly in the midst of Heaven, having
the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the
earth.--Revelations, xiv. 6.
And is there care in heaven? and is there love
In heavenly spirits to the creatures base,
That may compassion of their evils move?
There is; else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts. But O! th’ exceeding grace
Of highest God that loves his creatures so,
And all his works with mercy doth embrace,
That blessed _angels_ he sends to and fro,
To serve to wicked men, to serve his wicked foe.
_Spenser._
The multitude of _angels_, with a shout
Loud as from numbers without number, sweet
As from blest voices uttering joy, Heaven rung
With jubilee, and loud Hosannas filled
The eternal regions: lowly reverent
Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground,
With solemn adoration down they cast
Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold.
_Milton._
_Angels_ are men of a superior kind;
_Angels_ are men in lighter habit clad,
High o’er celestial mountains winged in flight;
And men are _angels_ loaded for an hour,
Who wade the miry vale, and climb with pain,
And slippery step, the bottom of the steep.
_Angels_ their failings, mortals have their praise;
While here, of corps ethereal, such enrolled,
And summoned to the glorious standard soon,
Which flames eternal crimson through the skies.
Nor are our brothers thoughtless of their kin,
Yet absent but not absent from their love.
Michael has fought our battles; Raphael sung
Our triumphs; Gabriel on our errands flown,
Sent by the Sovereign; and are these, O man!
Thy friends and warm allies, and thou (shame burn
Thy cheek to cinder!) rival to the brutes!
_Young._
These are the haunts of meditation, these
The scenes where ancient bards the inspiring breath,
Ecstatic felt: and, from this world retired,
Conversed with _angels_, and immortal forms,
On gracious errands bent: to save the fall
Of virtue, struggling on the brink of vice;
In waking whispers, and repeated dreams;
To hint pure thought, and warn the favoured soul,
For future trials fated, to prepare.
_Thomson._
They are God’s minist’ring spirits, and are sent,
His messengers of mercy, to fulfil
Good for salvation’s heirs. For us they still
Grieve when we sin, rejoice when we repent:
And on the last dread day they shall present
The severed righteous at His holy hill,
With them God’s face to see, to do His will,
And bear with them His likeness. Was it meant,
That we this knowledge should in secret seal,
Unthought of, unimproving? Rather say,
God deigned to man His _angel_ hosts reveal,
That man might learn, like _angels_, to obey;
And those who long their bliss in Heaven to feel,
Might strive on earth to serve him ev’n as they.
_Bp. Mant._
When by a good man’s grave I muse alone,
Methinks an _angel_ sits upon the stone;
Like those of old on that thrice-hallowed night,
Who sate and watched in heavenly raiment bright;
And with a voice inspiring joy, not fear,
Said, pointing upward, that he is not here,
That he is risen!
_Samuel Rogers._
Elysian race! while o’er their slumbering flocks
The Galilean shepherds watched, ye came
To sing hosannas to the heaven-born Babe,
And shed the brightness of your beauty round:
Nor have ye left the world, but still, unseen,
Surround the earth, as guardians of the good,
Inspiring souls, and leading them to heaven;
And oh! when shadows of the state unknown
Advance, and life endures the grasp of death,
’Tis yours to hallow and illume the mind,
The starry wreath to bring, by _angels_ worn,
And crown the spirit for her native sphere.
_Robert Montgomery._
Hark! what mean those holy voices,
Sweetly sounding through the skies?
Lo! the _angelic_ host rejoices,
Heavenly hallelujahs rise.
Listen to the wond’rous story,
Which they chant in hymns of joy:
“Glory in the highest, glory!
Glory be to God most high!
Peace on earth, good will from heaven,
Reaching far as man is found;
Souls redeemed, and sins forgiven:--
Loud our golden harps shall sound!”
_Cawood._
“Many in this world of cares,”
Truly hath the poet said,
“Sit with _angels_ unawares;”
Round our path, and round our bed,
_Angels_ ever watch and wait,
Striving still to turn our steps unto heaven’s gate.
_Anon._
ANGER.
O Lord, rebuke me not in thine _anger_, neither chasten me in thy hot
displeasure.--Psalm vi. 1.
A wrathful man stirreth up strife; but he that is slow to _anger_
appeaseth strife.--Proverbs, xv. 18.
Be not hasty in thy spirit to be _angry_; for _anger_ resteth in the
bosom of fools.--Ecclesiastes, vii. 9.
Be ye _angry_, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your
wrath.--Ephesians, iv. 26.
The _anger_ of the Lord? Oh, dreadful thought!
How can a creature frail as man endure
The tempest of His wrath? Ah, whither flee
To ’scape the punishment he well deserves?
Flee to the cross! the great atonement there
Will shield the sinner, if he supplicate
For pardon with repentance true and deep,
And faith that questions not. Then will the frown
Of _anger_ pass from off the face of God,
Like a black tempest-cloud that hides the sun.
_Anon._
The golden sun is going down,
Or melting in the west away:
Where are the clouds that seem’d to frown
So darkly on the rising day?
Molten is every gloomy fold,
In yonder sea of liquid gold.
The winds, at morn so rude and hoarse,
Make music for an angel’s ear;
The sun, beclouded in his course,
Beholds the heavens, at evening, clear,
And now doth with the tempest’s wreck
His glorious pavilion deck.
Lord, sure thy countenance is here;
Thy spirit all the vale informs:
Whatever, in this inward sphere,
Remains to tell of _angry_ storms,
Oh! let it melt away, and leave
No cloud to darken life’s calm eve!
_Joseph Gostick._
_Angry_ words are likely spoken
In a rash and thoughtless hour;
Brightest links of life are broken,
By their deep insidious power.
Hearts inspired by warmest feeling,
Ne’er before by _anger_ stirred,
Oft are rent past human healing,
By a single _angry_ word.
Poison drops of care and sorrow,
Bitter poison drops are they,
Weaving for the coming morrow,
Saddest memories of to-day.
_Angry_ words! oh, let them never
From thy tongue unbridled slip;
May the heart’s best impulse ever,
Check them ere they soil the lip.
Love is much too pure and holy,
Friendship is too sacred far,
For a moment’s reckless folly
Thus to desolate and mar.
_Angry_ words are lightly spoken;
Bitterest thoughts are rashly stirred;
Brightest links of life are broken,
By a single _angry_ word.
_J. Middleton._
_Angry_ looks can do no good,
And blows are dealt in blindness,
Words are better understood,
If spoken but in kindness.
Simple love far more hath wrought,
Although by childhood muttered,
Then all the battles ever fought,
Or oaths that men have uttered.
Foolish things are frowns and sneers,
_Angry_ thoughts revealing;
Better far to drown in tears,
Harsh and _angry_ feeling.
_J. Burbridge._
APOSTLES.
He called unto Him His disciples, and of them He chose Twelve, whom
also He named _Apostles_.--Luke, vi. 13.
And He said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel
to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved,
but he that believeth not shall be damned.--Mark, xvi. 15, 16.
Ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and
in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth.--Acts, i. 8.
By the hands of the _Apostles_ were many signs and wonders wrought
among the people.--Acts, v. 12.
And He gave some, _apostles_; and some, prophets; and some,
evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers.--Ephesians, iv. 11.
And the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and in them the names
of the twelve _Apostles_ of the Lamb.--Revelations, xxi. 14.
But all his mind is bent to holiness,
His champions are the prophets and _apostles_.
_Shakspere._
When because faith is in too low degree,
I thought it some _apostleship_ in me,
To speak things which by faith alone I see.
_Donne._
For them the fullness of His might is shown,
O’erleaping the strong bounds of Nature’s law;
Grim death for them contracts his hasty stride,
And checks his dart, e’en in the act to strike;
His horrid messengers, disease and pain,
Loose their remorseless grasp unwillingly,
And leave their prey to ease and thankfulness;
For them bright wisdom opens all her stores,
Her golden treasures spreading to their view,
Whilst Inspiration’s all enlivening light
Hangs hovering o’er their heads in glittering blaze;
Warmed by the ray, they pour the sacred strain
In eloquence seraphic.
_Charles Jenner._
Oh! who shall dare in this frail scene,
On holiest, happiest thoughts to lean,
On friendship, kindred, or on love?
Since not _Apostles’_ hands can clasp
Each other in so firm a grasp,
But they shall change, and variance prove.
Yet deem not on such parting sad,
Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad;
Divided in this earthly race,
Together at the glorious goal,
Each leading many a rescued soul,
The faithful champions shall embrace.
_Keble._
Sit down, and take thy fill of joy
At God’s right hand a bidden guest,
Drink of the cup that cannot cloy,
Eat of the bread that cannot waste.
O great _Apostle_ rightly now
Thou readest all thy Saviour meant,
What time his grave, yet gentle brow,
In sweet reproof on thee was bent.
_Keble._
Rash was the tongue, and unadvisedly bold,
Which sought, Salome, for thy favoured twain
Above their fellows, in Messiah’s reign
On right, on left, the foremost place to hold.
More rash, perhaps, and bolder, that which told
Of power the Saviour’s bitter cup to drain,
And, passing stretch of human strength, sustain
His bath baptismal. Lord, by Thee enrolled
Thy servant, grant me Thy Almighty grace,
My destined portion of Thy griefs to bear,
Ev’n what Thou wilt! But chiefly grant, Thy face
Within Thy glory’s realm to see, whene’er
Most meet Thy wisdom deems; whate’er the place,
It must be blest, for Thou, my God, art there.
_Bp. Mant._
Thy eloquence, O _Paul_, thy matchless tongue,
With strong persuasion, as with magic’s voice,
From heathen darkness to the paths of light
Led the benighted wanderers, who, like thee,
Through superstition’s gloomy mazes strayed,
Till, Heaven’s effulgence bursting on the view.
To thy astonished and enraptured sight
Revealed the glories of unfading day.
_William Bolland._