centurian, beseeching Him,
And saying, Lord, my servant lieth at home sick of the palsy,
grievously tormented.
And Jesus saith unto him, I will come and _heal_ him.--Matthew, viii.
5, 6, 7.
Now there is at Jerusalem by the sheep-market a pool, which is called
in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches.
In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt,
withered, waiting for the moving of the water.
For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled
the water: whosoever then first after the troubling of the water
stepped in, was made whole of whatsoever disease he had.--John, v. 2,
3, 4.
Around Bethesda’s _healing_ wave,
Waiting to hear the rustling wing
Which spoke the angel nigh, who gave
Its virtues to the holy spring,--
With earnest, fixed solicitude,
Were seen the afflicted multitude.
Among them there was one whose eye
Had often seen the waters stirred;
Whose heart had often heaved the sigh--
The bitter sigh of hope deferred;
Beholding, while he suffered on,
The _healing_ virtue giv’n and gone;
No pow’r had he; no friendly aid
To him the timely succour brought;
But while his coming he delayed,
Another won the boon he sought;
Until the Saviour’s love was shown,
Which _healed_ him by a word alone.
Bethesda’s pool has lost its power!
No angel, by his glad descent,
Dispenses that diviner dower
Which, with its _healing_ waters, went;
But He, whose word surpassed its wave,
Is still omnipotent to save.
_B. Barton._
Oh! Thou who driest the mourner’s tear,
How dark this world would be,
If, when deceived, and wounded here,
We could not fly to Thee!
The friends who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes are flown,
And he who has but tears to give,
May weep those tears alone.
But Thou wilt _heal_ the broken heart,
Which like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathe sweetness out of woe.
_Moore._
Dread Omnipotence alone,
Can _heal_ the wound He gave;
Can point the brim-full, grief-worn eyes,
To scenes beyond the grave.
_Burns._
Thus ever in the steps of grief,
Are sown the precious seeds of joy;
Each fount of Marah hath a leaf,
Whose _healing_ balm we may employ.
Then, ’mid life’s fitful, fleeting day,
Look up! the sky is bright above!
Kind voices cheer thee on thy way!
Faint spirit! trust the God of Love!
_Miss A. D. Woodbridge._
_Heal_ me, for my flesh is weak;
_Heal_ me, for thy grace I seek;
This my only plea I make,
_Heal_ me for thy mercy’s sake.
_Lyte._
Thou cam’st with _healing_ on thy wings,
Oh, gentle gale of spring!
Like one that some sweet message brings
Of hope and comforting;
So with a power to _heal_ the smart
Of sin, comes grace unto the heart.
_Egone._
HEALTH.
Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within
me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise Him, who is the _health_
of my countenance, and my God.--Psalm xlii. 11.
Pleasant words are as an honey-comb, sweet to the soul, and _health_ to
the bones.--Proverbs, xvi. 24.
Is there no balm in Gilead? is there no physician there? why then is
not the _health_ of the daughter of my people recovered?--Jeremiah,
viii. 22.
I will restore _health_ unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds,
saith the Lord.--Jeremiah, xxx. 17.
_Health_, brightest visitant from heaven,
Grant me with thee to rest!
For the short term by nature given,
Be thou my constant guest!
For all the pride that wealth bestows,
The pleasure that from children flows,
Whate’er we court in regal state
That makes men covet to be great;
Whatever sweets we hope to find
In Love’s delightful snare;
Whatever good by Heaven assigned,
Whatever pause from care:
All flourish at thy smile divine;
The spring of loveliness is thine,
And every joy that warms our hearts,
With thee approaches and departs.
_Bland, from Alciphron._
Slow wand’ring on the margin of the deep,
I breathe the cheering gale of _health_ once more;
And see the billows gently dash the steep,
That rears its bold head on the sandy shore.
Fresh looks the landscape with the dews of dawn;
A bluish mist swims o’er the softened grove;
The wanton deer bound lightly o’er the lawn,
And every copse resounds with notes of love.
The village-clocks proclaim the passing hour;
The tall spires glitter to the early sun;
The ploughman, whistling, quits his low-roofed bow’r,
And now his peaceful labour is begun.
Yet not this ocean, cheered with many a sail,
Nor all these rural sounds, and pastures fair,
To solace worn disease could aught avail,
Or from his bosom chase the clouds of care.
The merry morn no rapture could impart,
Nor converse sweet of friends his hours beguile;
In vain could beauty warm his aching heart,
Or on his cold-wan cheek awake a smile.
Yet oft we slight thy worth, O, blessed _Health_!
Poor mortals as we are, till thou art flown;
And thy sweet joys, more dear than fame or wealth,
Touch not our hearts, but pass unfelt, unknown.
The joys, without whose aid whate’er of blest,
Or great, or fair, the heavens to man ordain,
Is dull and tasteless to the unthankful breast,
Love loveless, youth old age, and pleasure pain.
_Rev. E. Hamley._
What is life?--like a flower, with the bane in its bosom,
To-day, full of promise, to-morrow it dies!
And _health_ like the dewdrop that hung on its blossom,
Survives but a night, and exhales to the skies:
How oft ’neath the bud that is brightest and fairest,
The seeds of the canker in embryo lurk!
How oft at the root of the flower that is rarest,
Secure in its ambush the worm is at work!
_Dr. W. Beattie._
Green pastures and clear streams,
Freedom and quiet rest,
Christ’s flock enjoy beneath his beams,
Or in his shadow, blest.
The mountain and the vale,
Forest and field they range;
The morning dew, the evening gale,
Bring _health_ ev’ry change.
The wounded and the weak
He comforts, heals, and binds;
The lost he came from heaven to seek,
And saves them when he finds.
_J. Montgomery._
HEARING.
_Hear_ thou in heaven thy dwelling-place; and when thou _hearest_,
forgive.--I. Kings, viii. 30.
They are like the deaf adder that stoppeth her _ear_; which will not
hearken to the voice of charmers, charming never so wisely.--Psalm
lviii. 4, 5.
He that planted the _ear_, shall he not _hear_?--Psalm xciv. 9.
Incline thine _ear_ unto wisdom.--Proverbs, ii. 2.
The _ear_ that _heareth_ the reproof of life abideth among the
wise.--Proverbs, xv. 31.
The _hearing ear_, and the seeing eye, the Lord hath made even both of
them.--Proverbs, xx. 12.
Take heed what ye _hear_.--Mark, iv. 24.
Take heed therefore how ye _hear_.--Luke, viii. 18.
This is the slowest, yet the daintiest sense;
For even the _ears_ of such as have no skill,
Perceive a discord, and conceive offence;
And knowing not what’s good, yet find the ill.
And though this sense first gentle music sound,
Her proper object is the speech of men;
But that speech, chiefly, which God’s heralds sound,
When their tongues utter what His spirit did pen.
_Sir John Davies._
As Thou hast touched our _ears_, and taught
Our tongues to speak Thy praises plain,
Quell Thou each thankless, godless thought
That would make fast our bonds again.
From worldly strife, from mirth unblest,
Drowning Thy music in the breast,
From foul reproach, from thrilling fears,
Preserve, good Lord, Thy servants’ _ears_.
From idle words that restless throng,
And haunt our hearts when we would pray,
From pride’s false chime, and jarring wrong,
Seal Thou my lips, and guard the way:
For thou hast sworn that every _ear_
Willing, or loath, Thy trump shall _hear_,
And every tongue unchained be,
To own no hope, O God, but Thee.
_Keble._
HEART.
The hypocrites in _heart_ heap up wrath.--Job, xxxvi. 13.
The _heart_ knoweth his own bitterness; and a stranger doth not
intermeddle with his joy.--Proverbs, xiv. 10.
The _heart_ is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who
can know it?--Jeremiah, xvii. 9.
A new _heart_ also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within
you: and I will take away the stony _heart_ out of your flesh, and I
will give you an _heart_ of flesh.--Ezekiel, xxxvi. 26.
Blessed are the pure in _heart_: for they shall see God.--Matthew, v. 8.
A good man, out of the good treasure of his _heart_, bringeth forth
that which is good; and an evil man, out of the evil treasure of his
_heart_, bringeth forth that which is evil: for of the abundance of the
_heart_ his mouth speaketh.--Luke, vi. 45.
Hope maketh not ashamed, because the love of God is shed abroad in our
_hearts_ by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us.--Romans, v. 5.
With the _heart_ man believeth unto righteousness.--Romans, x. 10.
That Christ may dwell in your _hearts_ by faith.--Ephesians, iii. 17.
I care not, so my kernel relish well,
How slender be the substance of my shell;
My _heart_ being virtuous, let my face be wan,
I am to God, I only seem to man.
_Quarles._
So now the soul’s sublimed, her sour desires
Are re-calcined in Heaven’s well-tempered fires;
The _heart_ restored, and purged from drossy nature,
Now finds the freedom of a new-born creature;
It lives another life, it breathes new breath,
It neither fears nor feels the sting of death.
_Quarles._
Heaven’s Sovereign saves all beings but Himself
That hideous sight--a naked, human _heart_.
_Young._
The Almighty, from His throne, on earth surveys
Naught greater than an honest, humble _heart_;
An humble _heart_, His residence! pronounced
His second seat, and rival to the skies.
_Young._
Wash, Lord, and purify my _heart_,
And make it clean in every part,
And when ’tis clean, Lord, keep it too,
For that is more than I can do.
_Thomas Ellwood._
A temple of the Holy Ghost, and yet
Oft lodging fiends; the dwelling-place of all
The heavenly virtues--charity and truth,
Humility, and holiness, and love--
And yet the common haunt of anger, pride,
Hatred, revenge, and passions foul with lust;
Allied to heaven, yet parleying oft with hell.
_Pollok._
Consider well. The _heart_ is a deceiver,
O, paltering with it, in some double sense,
Thou’st shunned, perhaps, the word that would condemn thee,
E’en while thy will was partner in the crime.
_Schiller._
Thou too, my _heart_, whom He, and He alone,
Who all things knows, can know, with love replete,
Regenerate and pure, pour all thyself
A living sacrifice before His throne!
_Christopher Smart._
Walk in the light! and sin, abhorred,
Shall ne’er defile again;
The blood of Jesus Christ, the Lord,
Shall cleanse from every stain.
Walk in the light! and thou shalt find
Thy _heart_ made truly His,
Who dwells in cloudless light enshrined,
In whom no darkness is.
_Bernard Barton._
All our actions take
Their hues from the complexion of the _heart_,
As landscapes their variety from light.
_William Thompson Bacon._
Would’st thou the life of souls discern?
Nor human wisdom nor divine
Helps thee by aught beside to learn;
Love is life’s only sign.
The spring of the regenerate _heart_,
The pulse, the glow of every part,
Is the true love of Christ our Lord,
As man embraced, as God adored.
_Keble._
HEAVEN--HEAVENS.
The _heavens_ declare the glory of God.--Psalm xix. 1.
All the host of _heaven_ shall be dissolved, and the _heavens_ shall
be rolled together as a scroll: and all their host shall fall down, as
the leaf falleth off from the vine, and as a falling fig from the fig
tree.--Isaiah, xxxiv. 4.
Lay up for yourselves treasures in _heaven_, where neither moth nor
rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal;
For where your treasure is there will your heart be also.--Matthew, vi.
20, 21.
For we know that if our earthly house of this tabernacle were
dissolved, we have a building of God, an house not made with hands,
eternal in the _heavens_.--II. Corinthians, v. 1.
An inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away,
reserved in _heaven_.--I. Peter, i. 4.
We, according to His promise, look for new _heavens_ and a new earth,
wherein dwelleth righteousness.--II. Peter, iii. 13.
In having all things, and not Thee, what have I?
Not having Thee, what have my labours got?
Let me enjoy but Thee, what further crave I?
And having Thee alone, what have I not?
I wish not sea nor land; nor would I be
Possessed of _Heaven_, _Heaven_ unpossessed of Thee.
_Quarles._
Shall we serve _heaven_
With less respect than we do minister
To our gross selves?
_Shakspere._
Plenteous of grace, descend from high,
Rich in thy seven-fold energy!
Thou strength of his Almighty hand,
Whose power does _heaven_ and earth command.
_Dryden._
Inquirer cease, petitions yet remain,
Which _heaven_ may hear, nor deem religion vain.
* * * * *
Still raise for good the supplicated voice,
But leave to _heaven_ the measure and the choice.
_Dr. Johnson._
_Heaven_’s the perfection of all that can
Be said or thought, riches, delight, or harmony,
Health, beauty; and all these not subject to
The waste of time, but in their height eternal.
_Shirley._
_Heav’n_ is a great way off, and I shall be
Ten thousand years in travel, yet ’twere happy
If I may find a lodging there at last,
Though my poor soul get thither upon crutches.
_Shirley._
I sat, one day, upon a stone,
’Rapt in a musing fit, alone,
And resting on my hand my head,
Thus to myself, in thought, I said--
“How in these times of care and strife,
Shall I direct my fleeting life?
Three precious jewels I require
To satisfy my heart’s desire:
The first is honour, bright and clear;
The next is wealth; but (far more dear!)
The third is _Heaven’s_ approving smile.”
Then, after I had mused awhile,
I saw that it was vain to pine
For these three pearls in one small shrine;
To find within one heart a place
For honour, wealth, and _heavenly_ grace,
For how can one, in days like these,
_Heaven_ and the world together please?
_Gostick, from Walter Von Der Vogelweide._
As through the artist’s intervening glass
Our eye observes the distant planets pass,
A little we discover, but allow
That more remains unseen than art can show:
So whilst our mind its knowledge would improve,
(Its feeble eye intent on things above,)
High as we may we lift our reason up,
By Faith directed, and confirmed by Hope:
Yet we are able only to survey
Dawnings of beams, and promises of day.
_Heaven’s_ fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight;
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light:
But soon the ’mediate clouds shall be dispelled;
The sun shall then be face to face beheld,
In all his robes, with all his glory on,
Seated sublime on his meridian throne.
_Prior._
Friends, even in _Heaven_, one happiness would miss,
Should they not know each other when in bliss.
_Bishop Ken._
All hail! all hail! resplendent vault, so wondrously display’d,
Abyss, where the Eternal’s hand the scattered scene array’d;
He gave them light; His mighty hand suspended them alone;
And ever from the chilling north, to India’s sultry zone,
In every region of the west, and isle of southern sea,
All raise, Oh! glorious firmament, their suppliant glance to thee!
Vast sea of air, with countless gems, I love on thee to gaze!
Oh empyreal space! Oh stars! I love your softened rays;
Mysterious torches; ye have made the universe so bright!
Yet from this temple far above, ye bring your borrowed light!
What rapture fills thy spirit, borne on contemplation’s wing,
What charms, oh, beauteous canopy! thy varied aspects bring.
_From the French of Anna H. P. Le Chatelain._
This world is all a fleeting show,
For man’s illusion given;
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,
There’s nothing true but _heaven_.
And false the light on glory’s plume,
As fading hues of even,
And love, and hope, and beauty’s bloom,
Are blossoms gathered for the tomb:
There’s nothing bright but _heaven_.
_Moore._
To live in darkness--in despair to die--
Is this indeed the boon to mortals given?
Is there no port--no rock of refuge nigh?
There is--to those who fix their anchor-hope in _heaven_.
Turn then, O man! and cast all else aside;
Direct thy wandering thoughts to things above--
Low at the cross bow down--in that confide,
Till doubt be lost in faith, and bliss secured in love.
_C. C. Colton._
The world, in all its boasted grandeur proud,
In all its stores of dazzling splendour bright,
Is but a transient, unsubstantial cloud,
Which the sun skirts with momentary light:
Anon, the assailing winds impetuous rise,
Black lowers the tempest in the sullen sky;
Before the driving blast the vision dies,
And all the vivid tints of splendour fly:
Pass but a moment, every ray is gone:
Nor e’en a vestige left where the bright glories shone.
And shall we, for this visionary gleam,
Degenerate, swerve from _Heaven’s_ immortal plan?
Give up, for vanity’s light airy dream,
The nobler heritage reserved for man?
Though rocks their cragged heads in ambush hide,
Though storms and tempests sweep the angry main,
While Hope’s fair star shines forth, auspicious guide,
E’en tempests, storms, and rocks oppose in vain.
Safe, ’mid the ocean’s iterated force,
The sacred vessel shapes her _Heaven_-directed course.
_Samuel Hayes._
There is an hour of peaceful rest,
To mourning wanderers given;
There is a tear for souls distrest,
A balm for every wounded breast,
’Tis found above--in _heaven_!
There is a soft, a downy bed,
’Tis fair as breath of even;
A couch for weary mortals spread,
Where they may rest their aching head,
And find repose in _heaven_!
_Anon._
HELL.
The wicked shall be turned into _hell_, and all the nations that forget
God.--Psalm ix. 17.
I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath
killed hath power to cast into _hell_.--Luke, xii. 5.
God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to _hell_,
and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto
judgment.--II. Peter, ii. 4.
Divines and dying men may talk of _hell_,
But in my heart her several torments dwell.
_Shakspere._
_Hell_, their fit habitation, fraught with fire
Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain.
_Milton._
Which way shall I fly,
Infinite wrath and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is _hell_; myself am _hell_;
And in the lowest deep, a lower deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
To which the _hell_ I suffer seems a heaven.
_Milton._
_Hell_ hath no limits, nor is circumscribed
In one self place; but where we are is _hell_;
And where _hell_ is, there must we ever be;
And, to be short, when all the world dissolves,
And every creature shall be purified,
All places shall be _hell_ that are not heaven.
_Marlowe._
Will without power, the element of _hell_,
Abortive all its acts returning still
Upon itself; ... oh! anguish terrible!
Meet guerdon of self-love, its proper ill!
Malice would scowl upon the foe he fears;
And he with lip of scorn would seek to kill;
But neither sees the other, neither hears--
For darkness each in his own dungeon bars,
Lust pines for dearth, and grief drinks its own tears--
Each in its solitude apart. Hate wars
Against himself, and feeds upon his chain,
Whose iron penetrates the soul it scars,
A dreadful solitude each mind insane,
Each its own place, its prison all alone,
And finds no sympathy to soften pain.
_J. A. Heraud._
I’ll tell thee what is _hell_--thy memory
Still mountained up with records of the past,
Heap over heap, all accents and all forms,
Telling the tale of joy and innocence,
And hope, and peace, and love; recording, too,
With stern fidelity, the thousand wrongs
Worked upon weakness and defencelessness;
The blest occasions trifled o’er or spurned;
All that hath been that ought not to have been,
That might have been so different, that now
Cannot but be irrevocably past!
Thy gangrened heart,
Stripped of its self-worn mask, and spread at last
Bare, in its horrible anatomy,
Before thine own excruciated gaze!
_D. P. Starkey._
The day
Will come, when virtue from the cloud shall burst,
That long obscured her beams; when sin shall fly
Back to her native _hell_; there sink eclipsed
In penal darkness, where nor star shall rise,
Nor ever sunshine pierce the impervious gloom.
_Glynn._
In the human breast there dwell
Warring passions fierce and dark,
Making of their home a _hell_,
Of the soul a driving bark
On a wild tempestuous sea,
Till too oft ’tis wrecked and driven
Far away, far away!
Hear the pitying angels say--
Soul so lost, and tempest-tost,
Upon _hell_ and death’s bleak coast,
Far away from heaven!
_Egone._
HELP.
And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone: I
will make him an _help_ meet for him.--Genesis, ii. 18.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present _help_ in
trouble.--Psalm xlvi. 1.
Give us _help_ from trouble: for vain is the _help_ of man.--Psalm lx.
11.
Our _help_ is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and
earth.--Psalm cxxiv. 8.
Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
Have I so found it full of pleasing charms?
Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between:
Some gleams of sunshine ’mid renewing storms.
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms?
Or death’s unlovely, dreary, dark abode?
For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms:
I tremble to approach an angry God,
And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod.
Fain would I say, “Forgive my foul offence!”
Fain promise never more to disobey;
But should my Author health again dispense,
Again I might desert from virtue’s way:
Again in folly’s path might go astray;
Again exalt the brute and sink the man;
Then how should I for Heav’nly mercy pray,
Who act so counter Heav’nly mercy’s plan?
Who sin so oft have mourn’d: yet to temptation ran.
O thou great governor of all below!
If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee,
Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow,
Or still the tumult of the raging sea;
With that controlling power assist ev’n me,
Those headlong furious passions to confine,
For all unfit I feel my powers to be,
To rule their torrent in th’ allowed line;
O, aid me with Thy _help_, Omnipotence Divine!
_Burns._
God, my supporter and my hope,
My _help_ for ever near,
Thine arm of mercy held me up,
When sinking in despair.
_Watts._
HILLS.
The chief things of the ancient mountains, and for the precious things
of the lasting _hills_.--Deuteronomy, xxxiii. 15.
The _hills_ melted like wax at the presence of the Lord, at the
presence of the Lord of the whole earth.--Psalm xcvii. 5.
For the mountains shall depart, and the _hills_ be removed; but my
kindness shall not depart from thee, saith the Lord that hath mercy on
thee.--Isaiah, liv. 10.
Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the
_hills_, cover us.--Luke, xxiii. 30.
Oh! my heart panteth to be far away,
Amid the _hills_--the everlasting _hills_;
For in my dreams last night a thousand rills
And mountain torrents held resistless sway
O’er my hush’d spirit; and the silent play
Of golden lights and gleamy shadowings
Chequer’d my veiled eyes, like seraphs’ wings,
That fan the crimson light of fading day.
I woke: the hum of traffic, and the din
Of mercenary crowds, fill’d the calm air:
I heard the voice of mendicant despair
Echo the hollow laugh of reckless sin;
And love was not, nor peace. Oh! let me win
The _hills_, the eternal _hills_--for peace dwells there!
_R. F. Housman._
Oh! ye time-honoured _hills_,
The ancient, the immortal is it not
A high-born privilege ne’er to be forgot,
To feel none of earth’s ills?
Sublime are ye as heaven!
Though bleak, not barren; silent, yet not dumb,
From outgone shadows health and music come,
And thronging thoughts are given!
Not worthless is your aim,
To stand from age to age, from hour to hour,
The Almighty’s temple, token of his power,
And record of His name.
_W. Anderson._
For the strength of the _hills_ we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers’ God!
Thou hast made the children mighty,
By the touch of the mountain sod.
Thou hast fix’d our arch of refuge
Where the spoilers foot ne’er trod;
For the strength of the _hills_ we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers’ God.
We are watchers of a beacon
Whose lights must never die;
We are guardians of an altar
’Midst the silence of the sky;
The rocks yield founts of courage,
Struck forth as by thy rod;
For the strength of the _hills_ we bless thee,
Our God, our fathers’ God.