Shall stand upon the mountains and the sea,
And swear by earth, by Heaven’s throne, and Him
Who sitteth on the throne, there shall be Time
No more, no more! Then veiled _Eternity_
Shall straight unveil her awful countenance
Unto the reeling world, and take the place
Of seasons, years and ages. Aye and aye
Shall be the time of day!
_Miss Barrett._
Time! whither dost thou flee?
--I travel to _eternity_,
_Eternity!_ what art thou?--say!
--Time past--time present--time to come--to-day.
_J. Montgomery._
See, how beneath the moonbeams’ smile
Yon little billow heaves its breast,
And foams and sparkles for awhile,
And murmuring then subsides to rest.
Thus man, the sport of bliss and care,
Rises on time’s eventful sea;
And having swelled a moment there,
Thus melts into _eternity_.
_Moore._
EVENING.
_Evening_, and morning, and at noon, will I pray, and cry aloud: and he
shall hear my voice.--Psalm lv. 17.
It shall come to pass, that at _evening_ time it shall be
light.--Zechariah, xiv. 7.
Abide with us: for it is toward _evening_, and the day is far
spent.--Luke, xxiv. 29.
Now came still _evening_ on, and twilight grey
Had in her sober livery all things clad;
Silence accompanied; for beast and bird--
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests--
Were shrunk, all but the wakeful nightingale:
She all night long her beauteous descant sung:
Silence was pleased. Now glow’d the firmament
With living sapphires. Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length,
Apparent queen, unveil’d her peerless light,
And o’er the dark her silver mantle threw:
When Adam thus to Eve, “Fair consort, the hour
Of night, and all things now retired to rest,
Mind us of long repose, since God has set
Labour and rest, as day and night to men
Successive, and the timely dew of sleep,
Now falling with soft cumbrous weight, inclines
Our eyelids. Other creatures all day long
Rove idle unemployed, and less need rest:
Man hath his daily work of body or mind
Appointed, which declares his dignity,
And the regard of heaven on all his ways,
While other animals inactive range,
And of their doings God takes no account.”
_Milton._
Then is the time
For those whom wisdom, and whom nature charm,
To steal themselves from the degenerate crowd,
And soar above this little scene of things;
To tread low-thoughted vice beneath their feet,
To soothe the throbbing passions into peace,
And woo lone quiet in her silent walks.
_Thomson._
The sun hath sunk behind the hill,
But over earth, and sky, and air,
_Eve’s_ crimson tints are glowing still,
And tidings of to-morrow bear.
Thus hope, when sinks life’s happiness,
Upon our night of sorrow glows,
Promising brighter, endless bliss,
After our pilgrimage of woes.
The longing heart, whose wishes spring
To fond foreboding’s unknown land,
Borrows imagination’s wing,
Though fettered here in reason’s band.
Presumptuous! whither would’st thou fly?
Earth’s vapours mock thine eye of clay.
Mark crimson _evening’s_ golden sky,
And hope the morrow’s promised day.
_From the Swedish of Ingelgren._
Few bring back at _eve_,
Immaculate, the manners of the morn.
Something we thought is blotted; we resolved,
Is shaken; we renounced, returns again.
_Young._
Sweet after showers, ambrosial air,
That rollest from the gorgeous gloom
Of _evening_, over brake, and bloom,
And meadow, slowly breathing bare
The round of space, and rapt below
Through all the dewy-tassell’d wood,
And shadowing down the horned flood
In ripples, fan my brows and blow
The fever from my cheek, and sigh
The full new life that feeds thy breath
Throughout my frame, till doubt and death,
Ill brethren, let the fancy fly
From belt to belt of crimson seas
On leagues of odour streaming far,
To where in yonder orient star
A hundred spirits whisper “Peace.”
_Tennyson._
Pleasantly comest thou,
Dew of the _evening_, to the crisp’d up grass;
And the curl’d corn-blades bow,
And the light breezes pass,
That their parch’d lips may feel thee, and expand,
Thou sweet reviver of the fever’d land.
So, to the thirsting soul,
Cometh the dew of the Almighty’s love;
And the scathed heart, made whole,
Turneth in joy above,
To where the spirit freely may expand,
And rove, untrammelled, in that better “land.”
_W. D. Gallagher._
Behold the western _evening_-light!
It melts in deepening gloom;
So calmly Christians sink away,
Descending to the tomb.
The winds breathe low; the withering leaf
Scarce whispers from the tree;
So gently flows the parting breath,
When good men cease to be.
How beautiful on all the hills
The crimson light is shed!
’Tis like the peace the Christian gives
To mourners round his bed.
How mildly on the wandering cloud
The sunset beam is cast;
’Tis like the memory left behind,
When loved ones breathe their last.
And now above the dews of night,
The yellow star appears;
So faith springs in the heart of those
Whose eyes are bathed in tears.
But soon the morning’s happier light
Its glory shall restore,
And eyelids that are seal’d in death.
Shall wake, to close no more.
_Peabody._
EXAMPLE.
If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet: ye also ought
to wash one another’s feet.
For I have given you an _example_, that ye should do as I have done to
you.--John, xiii. 14, 15.
Be thou an _example_ of the believers, in word, in conversation, in
charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity.--I. Timothy, iv. 12.
Take, my brethren, the prophets, who have spoken in the name
of the Lord, for an _example_ of suffering affliction, and of
patience.--James, v. 10.
Sodom and Gomorrha, and the cities about them in like manner, giving
themselves over to fornication, and going after strange flesh, are set
forth for an _example_, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire.--Jude,
i. 7.
Taught this by his _example_, whom I now
Acknowledge my Redeemer, ever blest!
_Milton._
Since great _examples_ justify command,
Let glorious acts more glorious acts inspire,
And catch from breast to breast the noble fire.
_Pope, from Homer._
His faults, that in a private station sits,
Do mainly harm him only that commits:
Those placed on high a bright _example_ owe,--
Much to themselves, more to the crowd below.
A paltry watch, in private pocket borne,
Misleads but him alone by whom ’tis worn:
But the town-clock that domes or towers display,
By going wrong, leads half the world astray.
_C. C. Colton._
Ye who look for great _examples_
O’er the wide historic page:--
Teachers, who with good ensamples
Would the thoughts of youth engage!
To the sacred record turning,
There behold the perfect man!
There the light, for ever burning;
Match its lustre, if you can!
Imitate the Great _Example_,
Humbly as a Christian should,
Ever like that bright ensample,
Speaking well and doing good.
_Egone._
FAITH.
For therein is the righteousness of God revealed from _faith_ to
_faith_: as it is written, the just shall live by _faith_.--Romans, i.
17.
So then _faith_ cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of
God.--Romans, x. 17.
By grace are ye saved through _faith_.--Ephesians, ii. 8.
The shield of _faith_, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the
fiery darts of the wicked.--Ephesians, vi. 16.
Now _faith_ is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of
things not seen.--Hebrews, xi. 1.
But without _faith_ it is impossible to please Him: for he that cometh
to God, must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that
diligently seek Him.--Hebrews, xi. 6.
For as the body without the spirit is dead, so _faith_ without works is
dead also.--James, ii. 26.
If bliss had lien in art or strength,
None but the wise and strong had gained it;
Where now, by _faith_, all arms are of a length;
One size doth all conditions fit.
A peasant may believe as much
As a great clerk, and reach the highest stature;
Thus dost thou make proud knowledge bend and crouch,
While grace fills up uneven nature.
_Faith_ makes me any thing, or all
That I believe is in the sacred story;
And when sin placeth me in Adam’s fall,
_Faith_ sets me higher in his glory.
_George Herbert._
From purer manners to sublimer _faith_,
Is nature’s unavoidable ascent;
An honest deist, where the gospel shines,
Matured to nobler, in the christian ends.
_Young._
If weak thy _faith_, why choose the harder side?
We nothing know but what is marvellous;
Yet what is marvellous, we can’t believe.
So weak our reason, and so great our God,
What most surprises in the sacred page,
Or full as strange, or stranger, must be true.
_Faith_ is not reason’s labour, but repose.
_Young._
O ye, whom, struggling on life’s craggy road,
With obstacles and dangers, secret foes
Supplant, false friends betray, disastrous rage
Of elements, of war, of civil broil
Brings down to Poverty’s cold floor, while grief
Preys on the heart, and dims the sinking eye;
Faint not! There is, who rules the storm, whose hand
Feeds the young ravens, nor permits blind chance
To close one sparrow’s flagging wing in death.
Trust in the rock of ages. Now, even now
He speaks, and all is calm. Or if, to prove
Your inmost soul, the hurricane still spread
Its licensed ravages. He whispers hope,
Earnest of comfort; and through blackest night
Bids keen-eyed _Faith_ on heaven’s pure sunshine gaze,
And learn the glories of her future home.
_Gisborne._
The pious man
In this bad world, when mists and couchant storms
Hide heaven’s fine circlet, spring aloft in _faith_
Above the clouds that threat him, to the fields
Of ether, where the day is never veiled
With intervening vapours, and looks down
Serene upon the troublous sea, which hides
The earth’s fair breast; that sea whose nether face
To grovelling mortals frowns and darkens all,
But on whose billowy back, from man conceal’d
The glowing sunbeams play.
_H. K. White._
Through _Faith_ on earth, man holds a life sublime,
And in the past and future, as he lists,
Expatiates, and confers with every clime.
Through _faith_ he knows whereby the frame subsists,
Of the expanded universe, by whom
Created, and whereto it yet exists;
A stranger and a pilgrim till the tomb
Opens the way to the celestial land,
Where God prepares a city, as a womb.
So hopeful o’er the grave the _faithful_ stand,
Wherein their brethren in the dust repose,
Grasped in the Father’s Omnipresent hand.
_J. A. Heraud._
I saw in visions of still thought reveal’d,
Two silent forms before me; both were fair,
But yet how much unlike that voiceless pair,
Except in outward beauty. One appeal’d
To all, save hearts by pride and passion steel’d,
With meek-eyed gentleness; and seem’d to wear
Mixt with each human charm, an heavenlier air,
To which humanity had wisely kneel’d.
Beautiful was the other’s speechless shade,
And called herself Philosophy; but proud,
Cold, statue-like, she look’d upon the crowd,
Who to the lovelier spirit homage paid--
Her name was Scepticism! That gentler maid
Was titled _Faith_ by acclamation loud!
_B. Barton._
Behold the chamber where the Christian sleeps,
And where, from year to year, he prays and weeps;
Whence, in the midnight watch, his prayers arise
To those bright mansions where his treasure lies,
How near it is to all that _Faith_ can see;
How short and peaceful may his passage be!
One beating pulse, one feeble struggle o’er,
May open wide the everlasting door;
Yes, for that bliss unspeakable unseen,
Is ready, and the veil of flesh between
A gentle sigh may rend, and then display
The broad full splendour of an endless day.
--This bright conviction elevates his mind,
He presses forward, leaving all behind.
Thus from his throne the tyrant foe is hurl’d--
This is the _Faith_ that overcomes the world.
_Jane Taylor._
Thou ask’st why Christ so lenient to the deed,
So sternly claims the _Faith_ which founds the creed;
Because, reposed in _Faith_, the soul has calm;
The hope a haven, and the wound a balm;
Because the light, dim seen in Reason’s dream,
On all alike, through _faith_ alone, could stream.
God willed support to weakness, joy to grief,
And so descended from His throne, BELIEF!
_Sir E. B. Lytton._
To reason less is to imagine more;
They most aspire, who, meekly, most adore--
Therefore the God-like Comforter’s decree--
“His sins be loosened who hath _faith_ in me.”
_Sir E. B. Lytton._
O, thou that rearest with celestial aim
Thy future seraph in my mortal frame,
Thrice holy _Faith_! whatever thorns I meet,
As on I totter with unpractised feet,
Still let me stretch my arms, and cling to thee,
Meek nurse of souls, through my long infancy!
_Coleridge._
As evening’s pale and solitary star
But brightens while the darkness gathers round;
So _Faith_, unmoved amid surrounding storms,
Is fairest seen in darkness most profound.
However deep be the mysterious word,
However dark, she disbelieves it not;
Where reason would examine, _Faith_ obeys,
And “It is written” answers every doubt.
_Caroline Fry._
Lo, when dangers closer threaten,
And thy soul draws near to death;
When assaulted sore by Satan,
Then present the shield of _Faith_:
Fiery darts of fierce temptations,
Intercepted by thy God,
Then shall lose their force in patience,
Sheathed in love, and quenched in blood.
_Hart._
Redeemed from fear, and washed from lustful blot,
By _Faith_ we then might rise above our lot;
And like Thy chosen few, restored within,
By hearts, as morning pure, might conquer sin.
* * * * *
_Faith_, Hope, and Love, together work in gloom;
What _Faith_ believes, Hope shapes in form and bloom,
And Love sends forth to daylight from the tomb.
_John Sterling._
O thou of little _faith_, lift up thine eyes!
Are the ten thousand glorious stars of night
But a vain dream, because thy feeble sight
May not behold them in the noon-day skies?
_Mary Howitt._
The steps of _Faith_
Fall on the seeming void, and find
The Rock beneath.
_J. G. Whittier._
Lady, there is one star, and one alone,
That tells the future. Its interpreter
Is in man’s heart, and is called Conscience:
The star, True _Faith_; the future that it shows
Is beyond human life.
_G. P. R. James._
_Faith_ is the Spirit’s sweet control,
From which assurance springs,
_Faith_ is the pencil of the soul,
That pictures heavenly things.
_Faith_ is the conq’ring host that storms
The battlements of sin,
_Faith_ is the quick’ning fire that warms
The trembling heart within.
O Rock of Ages, Fount of Bliss,
Thy needful help afford,
And let our constant prayer be _this_--
“Increase my _faith_, O Lord.”
_J. Burbidge._
We walk by _faith_, and not by sight,
Along this vale of tears,
’Till our wrapt souls shall wing their flight
To Heaven’s unclouded spheres.
Triumphant then o’er sin and death,
We’ll praise our living head,
And, looking back, behold the path,
Through which we have been led.
_W. J. Brock._
FALL.
The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord: and he delighteth in
his way.
Though he _fall_, he shall not be utterly cast down: for the Lord
upholdeth him with his hand.--Psalm xxxvii. 23, 24.
And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not,
shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the
sand:
And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and
beat upon that house; and it _fell_: and great was the _fall_ of
it.--Matthew, vii. 26, 27.
And Simeon blessed them, and said unto Mary his mother, Behold, this
child is set for the _fall_ and rising again of many in Israel.--Luke,
ii. 34.
Poor race of men! said the pitying Spirit,
Dearly ye pay for your primal _Fall_--
Some flowerets of Eden ye still inherit,
But the trail of the serpent is over them all!
_Thomas Moore._
Alas--the evil that we fain would shun
We do, and leave the wished-for good undone;
Our strength to-day
Is but to-morrow’s weakness, prone to _fall_;
Poor, blind, unprofitable servants, all,
Are we alway.
_J. G. Whittier._
Grim-hearted world, that look’st with Levite eyes
On those poor _fallen_ by too much faith in man,
She that upon thy freezing threshold lies,
Starved to more sinning by thy savage ban,--
Seeking that refuge because foulest vice
More godlike than thy virtue is, whose span
Shuts out the wretched only,--is more free
From all her crimes than thou wilt ever be.
Thou wilt not let her wash thy dainty feet
With such salt things as tears, or with rude hair
Dry them, soft Pharisee, that sit’st at meat
With him who made her such, and speak’st him fair,
Leaving God’s wandering lamb the while to bleat
Unheeded, shivering in the pitiless air:
Thou hast made prisoned virtue shew more wan
And haggard, than a vice to look upon.
_James R. Lowell._
FAME.
So the Lord was with Joshua; and his _fame_ was noised throughout all
the country.--Joshua, vi. 27.
And the _fame_ of David went out into all lands; and the Lord brought
the fear of him upon all nations.--I. Chronicles, xiv. 17.
And Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, and
preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing all manner of sickness
and all manner of disease among the people.
And his _fame_ went throughout all Syria.--Matthew, iv. 23, 24.
But _Fame_, alarmed, o’er Libya’s cities flies:
_Fame_, the most fleet of mischief’s progenies:
Who gathers speed from every passing hour;
Grows as she moves, and travels into power.
Timid and small at first, at length she shrouds,
While treading on the ground, her forehead in the clouds.
Offended at the gods, great parent Earth,
’Tis said, in vengeance gave the monster birth,
Of all her giant family the last;
A swift-wing’d portent, foul, deform’d, and vast,
Beneath each numerous plume, that lifts her flight,
An active eye extends her scope of sight.
As many ears, and mouths, and tongues she moves,
To catch and spread the rumours as she roves.
Midway ’twixt heaven and earth, through night she flies
Clanging, nor bathes in dewy sleep her eyes.
By day she keeps on watch, and takes her stand
On some high roof or tower of wide command;
And thence, alike for truth or falsehood loud,
She shakes the city and distracts the crowd.
_Symmons, from Virgil._
Let _fame_, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register’d upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant-devouring time,
The endeavour of his present death may buy
That honour, which shall bate his scythe’s keen edge,
And makes us heirs of all eternity.
_Shakspere._
Then straight thro’ all the world ’gan _fame_ to fly;
A monster swifter none is under sun;
Increasing, as in waters we discry
The circles small, of nothing that begun,
Till of the drops, which from the skies do fall,
The circles spread and hide the waters all.
_Sackville._
_Fame_ is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble minds)
To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
_Fame_ is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glittering foil,
Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies.
_Milton._
For _fame_ the wretch beneath the gallows lies,
Disowning every crime for which he dies,
Of life profuse, tenacious of a name,
Fearless of death, and yet afraid of shame.
Nature has wove into the human mind
This anxious care of names we leave behind.
To extend our narrow views beyond the tomb,
And give an earnest of a life to come;
For, if when dead, we are but dust or clay,
Why think of what posterity shall say?
Her praise or censure cannot us concern,
Nor ever penetrate the silent urn.
_Soame Jennins._
All _fame_ is foreign, but of true desert;
Plays round the head, but comes not near the heart;
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas;
And more true joy Marcellus exil’d feels,
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.
* * * * *
And what is _fame_? the meanest have their day;
The greatest can but blaze, and pass away.
_Pope._
I hate this _Fame_, false avarice of fancy,
The sickly shade of an unsolid greatness!
The lying lure of pride that Europe cheats by.
_Hill._
Absurd! to think to overreach the grave,
And from the wreck of names to rescue ours:
The best concerted schemes men lay for _fame_,
Die fast away; only themselves die faster.
_Blair._
Not inspiration can obtain
That _fame_, which poets languish for in vain.
How mad their aim, who thirst for glory, strive
To grasp, what no man can possess alive!
_Fame_’s a reversion in which men take place
(O late reversion!) at their own decease.
_Young._
Of all the phantoms fleeting in the mist
Of Time, though meagre all, and ghostly thin,
Most unsubstantial, unessential shade,
Was earthly _Fame_. She was a voice alone,
And dwelt upon the noisy tongues of men.
She never thought, but gabbled ever on,
Applauding most what least deserved applause.
The motive, the result, was nought to her.
The deed alone, though dyed in human gore,
And steeped in widows’ tears, if it stood out
To prominent display, she talked of much,
And roared around it with a thousand tongues.
As changed the wind her organ, so she changed
Perpetually; and whom she praised to-day,
Vexing his ear with acclamations loud,
To-morrow blamed, and hissed him out of sight.
_Pollok._
True _fame_’s a plant that seems to need
A body buried--for its seed;
And ere the churlish sucklings thrive,
The parent-stock must cease to live.
The good, the great, the wise, the just,
Are little valued till they’re dust,
Nor till they mutter “Earth to earth,”
Can men perceive another’s worth.
_C. C. Colton._
What though the mounds that mark’d each name,
Beneath the wings of Time,
Have worn away?--Theirs is the _fame_
Immortal and sublime;
For who can tread on Freedom’s plain,
Nor wake her dead to life again.
_R. Montgomery._
FAREWELL.
Another said, Lord, I will follow Thee; but let me first go bid them
_farewell_, which are at home at my house.--Luke, ix. 61.
When they desired him to tarry longer time with them, he consented not;
but bade them _farewell_.--Acts, xviii. 20, 21.
Finally, brethren, _farewell_.--II. Corinthians, xiii. 11.
_Farewell!_ There is a spell within the word:
Methinks I never heard it sound so mournful;
Oh, thou subdued, oft scarce articulate sound,
How powerful thou art! How strong to move
The hidden strings that guide us puppet mortals!
Pass-word of memory--of by-gone days--
Thou everlasting epitaph--is there
A land in which thou hast no dwelling-place?
Wherein may be nor pageantry nor pride,
Nor altars, save the pure one of the heart,
Nor tombs, except for sorrow; and no tears;
There is a world, Oh God, where human lips
May say _Farewell!_ no more.
_Dilnot Sladden._
When eyes are beaming
What never tongue might tell,
When tears are streaming
From their crystal cell:
When hands are link’d that dread to part,
And heart is met by throbbing heart.
Oh! bitter, bitter is the smart
Of them that bid _Farewell_!
When hope is chidden,
That fain of bliss would tell,
And love forbidden
In the breast to dwell:
When fettered by a viewless chain,
We turn and gaze, and turn again;
Oh! death were mercy to the pain
Of them that bid _Farewell_.
_Bishop Heber._
’Tis well, if well thou farest
Upon thy heavenly way;
With joy the lips that love thee
Then _Fare-thee-well_ may say.
_Egone._
FATHER.
The Mighty God, the everlasting _Father_.--Isaiah, ix. 6.
O Lord, Thou art our _Father_; we are the clay, and Thou our potter;
and we all are the work of Thy hand.--Isaiah, lxiv. 8.
Our _Father_ which art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name.
Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in
Heaven.--Matthew, vi. 9, 10.
We have one _Father_, even God.--John, viii. 41.
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down
from the _Father_ of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither
shadow of turning.--James, i. 17.
_Father_, King, whose heav’nly face
Shines serene upon our race;
Mindful of Thy guardian care,
Slow to punish, prone to spare;
We Thy majesty adore,
We Thy well-known aid implore;
Not in vain Thy aid we call,
Nothing want, for Thou art all!
Source of being, source of light,
With unfading beauties bright;
Thee, when morning greets the skies,
Blushing sweet with humid eyes:
Thee, when soft declining day
Sinks in purple waves away;
Thee, O Parent, will I sing,
To Thy feet my tribute bring!
_Wesley._
_Father_ and Friend! Thy light, Thy love,
Beaming through all Thy works we see;
Thy glory gilds the heavens above,
And all the earth is full of Thee.
Thy voice we hear, Thy presence feel,
Whilst Thou, too pure for mortal sight,
Involved in clouds invisible,
Reignest the Lord of life and light.