Extracting joy from all around,
And winging towards our heavenly home,
Rise up with pure devotion crowned;
And Thee, great King of Glory, meet,
As tuneful larks the sun would greet.
Give us the faith to feel and know
That Thou art mirrored full and true
Within the breast, as Thou dost show
Thy sun amid a drop of dew.
And thus from sleep Thy saints upraise,
To _seek_ Thy face in prayer and praise.
_W. Martin._
Lord, we come before Thee now,
At Thy feet we humbly bow;
O, do not our suit disdain:
Shall we _seek_ Thee Lord in vain?
In Thy own appointed way,
Now we _seek_ Thee, here we stay;
Lord, from hence we would not go,
Till a blessing Thou bestow.
_Hammond._
SEPULCHRE--TOMB.
And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen
cloth.
And laid it in his own new _tomb_, which he had hewn out in the rock:
and he rolled a great stone to the door of the _sepulchre_, and
departed.--Matthew, xxvii. 59, 60.
In the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first
day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to see the
_sepulchre_.--Matthew, xxviii. 1.
And entering into the _sepulchre_, they saw a young man sitting on the
right side.
And he saith unto them, Be not affrighted: Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth,
which was crucified: He is risen.--Mark, xvi. 5, 6.
How sweet, in the musing of faith to repair
To the garden where Mary delighted to rove;
To sit by the _tomb_ where she breathed her fond prayer,
And paid her sad tribute of sorrow and love;
To see the bright beam which disperses her fear,
As the Lord of her soul breaks the bars of her prison,
And the voice of the angel salutes her glad ear,--
The Lord is a captive no more--“He is risen.”
_Cunningham._
I saw two women weeping by the _tomb_
Of one new buried, in a fair green place,
Bower’d with shrubs; the eye retained no trace
Of aught that day performed; but the faint gloom
Of dying day was spread upon the sky.
The moon was broad and bright above the wood;
The distance sounded of a multitude,
Music, and shout, and mingled revelry.
At length came gleaming through the thicket-shade
Helmet and casque, and a steel-armed band
Watched round the _sepulchre_ in solemn stand.
The night-word passed, from man to man convey’d;
And I could see those women rise and go
Under the dark trees, moving sad and slow.
_Henry Alford._
Hark from the _tomb_ a doleful sound,
My ears attend the cry;
Ye living men come view the ground,
Where you must shortly lie.
_Watts._
SERVICE.
As for me and my house, we will _serve_ the Lord.--Joshua, xxiv. 15.
I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye
present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,
which is your reasonable _service_.--Romans, xii. 1.
_Servants_, be obedient to them that are your masters according to the
flesh,
Not with eye-_service_ as men-pleasers; but as the _servants_ of
Christ, doing the will of God from the heart.--Ephesians, vi. 5, 6.
Had I but _served_ my God with half the zeal
I _served_ my king, He would not, in mine age,
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
_Shakspere._
To tell you truly what I wish to be,
And never would be other, if I could,
But in the comfort of the heaven’s decree
In soul and body that I ever should--
Though in the world, not to the world to live,
But to my God my _service_ wholly give.
This would I be, and would none other be,
But a religious _servant_ of my God;
And know there is none other God but He,
And willingly to suffer mercy’s rod;
Joy in His grace, and live but in His love,
And seek my bliss but in the heaven above.
Thus would I spend in _service_ of my God
The ling’ring hours of these few days of mine,
To show how sin and death are overtrod
But by the virtue of the power divine;
Our thoughts but vain, our substance slime and dust,
And only Christ for our eternal trust.
_Nicolas Breton._
Expect not more from _servants_ than is just;
Reward them well, if they observe their trust,
Nor them with cruelty, or pride invade;
Since God and nature them our brothers made.
_Denham._
A few forsake the throng; with lifted eyes,
Ask wealth of Heaven, and gain a real prize--
Truth, wisdom, grace, and peace like that above,
Sealed with His signet whom they _serve_ and love.
_Cowper._
SHADE--SHADOW.
We are but of yesterday, and know nothing, because our days upon earth
are a _shadow_.--Job, viii. 9.
He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under
the _shadow_ of the Almighty.--Psalm xci. 1.
I am gone like the _shadow_ when it declineth.--Psalm cix. 23.
The Lord is thy _shade_ upon thy right hand.--Psalm cxxi. 5.
It is a dial--which points out
The sunset as it moves about,
And _shadows_ out in lines of night
The subtle stages of time’s flight,
Till all-obscuring earth hath laid
His body in perpetual _shade_.
_Dr. Henry King._
Alas! the idle tale of man is found
Depicted in the dial’s moral round;
With Hope Reflection blinds his sacred rays
To gild the total tablet of his days;
Yet still the sport of some malignant Power,
He knows but from its _shade_ the present hour.
_Wordsworth._
Between two breaths, what crowded mysteries lie,--
The first short gasp, the last and long drawn sigh!
Like phantoms painted on the magic slide,
Forth from the darkness of the past we glide,
As living _shadows_ for a moment seen
In airy pageant on the eternal screen,
Traced by a ray from one unchanging flame,
Then seek the dust and stillness, whence we came.
_O. W. Holmes._
This _shadow_ on the dial’s face,
That steals, from day to day,
With slow, unseen, unceasing pace,
Moments, and months, and years away;
This _shadow_, which in every clime,
Since light and motion first began,
Hath held its course sublime:
What is it?--Mortal man!
It is the scythe of Time.
A _shadow_ only to the eye,
It levels all beneath the sky.
_Anon._
SHEEP--SHEPHERD.
The Lord is my _shepherd_; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the
still waters.--Psalm xxiii. 1, 2.
All we like _sheep_ have gone astray; we have turned every one to his
own way.--Isaiah, liii. 6.
Then said Jesus, I am the good _shepherd_ and know my _sheep_, and am
known of mine.
As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down my
life for the _sheep_.--John, x. 7, 14, 15.
’Tis said, that God is a consuming fire,
But oh! ’tis sure, He now lays by his ire:
He thunders out,
With trumpet’s shout,
No judgment from Mount Sinai; but a still
Soft voice of love and free good will:
He that appear’d then in a warlike dress,
Seeks now the stray _sheep_ in the wilderness.
_P. Fletcher._
Lamb of Jesus’ blood-bought flock,
Brought again from sin and straying!
Hear the _Shepherd’s_ gentle voice,
’Tis a true and faithful saying--
“Greater love how can there be
Than to yield up life for thee!
Bought with pang, and tear, and sigh,
Turn and live! why will ye die?”
_Bishop Doane._
And dost Thou, Holy _Shepherd_, leave
Thine unprotected flock alone,
Here in this darksome vale to grieve,
While Thou ascend’st Thy glorious throne?
Oh, where can they their hopes now turn,
Who never lived but on Thy love?
Where rest the hearts for Thee that burn,
When Thou art lost in light above?
How shall those eyes now find repose
That turn in vain Thy smile to see?
What can they hear save mortal woes,
Who lose Thy voice’s melody?
And who shall lay his tranquil hand
Upon the troubled ocean’s might?
Who hush the winds by His command?
Who guide us through this starless night?
For Thou art gone!--that cloud so bright,
That bears Thee from our love away,
Springs upwards through the dazzling light,
And leaves us here to weep and pray.
_From the Spanish of Luis Ponce de Leon._
The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a _shepherd’s_ care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noonday walks He shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant;
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wandering steps He leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For Thou, O Lord, art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my wants beguile,
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown’d,
And streams shall murmur all around.
_Addison._
The Lord is my _shepherd_, no want shall I know,
I feed in green pastures, safe-folded I rest;
He leadeth my soul where the still waters flow,
Restores me when wandering, redeems when opprest.
_J. Montgomery._
SHORTNESS.
How long, Lord? wilt Thou hide Thyself for ever? shall Thy wrath burn
like fire?
Remember how _short_ my time is: wherefore hast Thou made all men in
vain.--Psalm lxxxix. 46, 47.
Man’s life, sir, being
So _short_, and then the way that leads unto
The knowledge of ourselves so long and tedious,
Each minute should be precious.
_Beaumont and Fletcher._
Busy, curious, thirsty fly!
Drink with me, and drink as I!
Freely welcome to my cup,
Couldst thou sip and sip it up:
Make the most of life you may;
Life is _short_ and wears away.
Both alike are mine and thine
Hastening quick to their decline!
Thine’s a summer, mine no more,
Though repeated to threescore!
Threescore summers, when they’re gone,
Will appear as _short_ as one!
_Oldys._
How _short_, how narrow is the span,
How few the years allow’d to man;
And e’en in those few years he feels,
And groans, beneath a thousand ills.
As springs the flower in some gay mead,
Then sudden hangs its drooping head,
So does our boasted strength decay,
And, like the shadow, flee away.
For every moment that we breathe,
We’re hast’ning to the gates of Death!
And who can needful help afford,
In that sad hour, but Thou, O Lord?
Conscious of guilt, to Thee we cry,
And raise the hand and lift the eye;
Yet sure our sins may justly move
Thine anger, rather than Thy love!
_R. Brown._
SICKNESS.
And Jesus went about all Galilee, healing all manner of _sickness_, and
all manner of disease among the people.--Matthew, iv. 23.
That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Esaias the
prophet, saying, Himself took our infirmities, and bare our
_sicknesses_.--Matthew, viii. 17.
But chiefly, Thou,
Whom soft-eyed pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And O, still harder lesson, how to die;
Disdain not Thou to smooth the restless bed
Of _sickness_ and of pain.
_Bishop Porteus._
When _sickness_ to my fainting soul
Her fearful form display’d,
I to my secret chamber stole,
And humbly thus I pray’d.
If softened by the impending stroke,
My heart, O Lord, will yield,
In mercy Thy decree revoke,
And let my wound be heal’d.
But if from memory’s tablet soon
Ingratitude would tear
The bounteous giver, and the boon,
Oh, hear not Thou my prayer.
Rather than bear that blackest stain
Within my breast, I’d brave
The keenest throes of restless pain--
The terrors of the grave.
If health’s unmerited return
Should bless my future days,
Oh, may I from Thy Spirit learn
A daily song of praise.
But should I shortly hence depart,
Or, lingering suffer still,
May that blest Spirit, Lord, impart
Submission to Thy will.
_Bishop Heber._
SILENCE.
Unto Thee will I cry, O Lord, my rock; be not _silent_ to me: lest
if Thou be _silent_ to me, I become like them that go down to the
pit.--Psalm xxviii. 1.
The Lord is in His holy temple; let all the earth keep _silence_ before
Him.--Habakkuk, ii. 20.
Be _silent_, O all flesh, before the Lord.--Zechariah, ii. 13.
The _silence_, often, of pure innocence,
Persuades when speaking fails.
_Shakspere._
Sacred _silence_! thou that art
Floodgate of the deeper heart,
Offspring of a heavenly kind;
Frost o’ the mouth, and thaw o’ the mind,
Admiration’s readiest tongue,
Leave the desert shades, among
Reverend hermits’ hallow’d cells,
Where retired devotion dwells.
_Flecknoe._
In _silence_ mend what ills deform thy mind;
But all thy good impart to all thy kind.
_John Sterling._
True prayer is not the noisy sound
That clamorous lips repeat,
But the deep _silence_ of a soul
That clasps Jehovah’s feet.
_Mrs. Sigourney._
When some beloved voice, that was to you
Both sound and sweetness, failed suddenly,
And _silence_ against which you dare not cry,
Aches round you like a strong disease and new--
What hope, what help, what music will undo
That _silence_ to your sense.
_Elizabeth Barrett Browning._
Ours is a world of words; Quiet we call
“_Silence_,” which is the merest word of all.
All nature speaks, and ev’n ideal things
Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings--
But ah! not so when, thus in realms on high,
The eternal voice of God is passing by,
And the red winds are withering in the sky!
_E. A. Poe._
SIN.
Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose _sin_ is
covered.--Psalm xxxii. 1.
I will declare my iniquity; I will be sorry for my _sin_.--Psalm
xxxviii. 18.
Hide Thy face from my _sins_, and blot out all my iniquities.--Psalm
li. 9.
I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgressions, and, as a
cloud, thy _sins_: return unto me; for I have redeemed thee.--Isaiah,
xliv. 22.
By one man _sin_ entered into the world, and death by _sin_; and so
death passed upon all men, for that all have _sinned_.--Romans, v. 12.
All things are of God, who hath reconciled us to Himself by Jesus
Christ.
For He hath made Him to be _sin_ for us, who knew no _sin_; that we
might be made the righteousness of God in Him.--II. Corinthians, v. 18,
21.
_Sin_ ever must
Be tortured with the rack of his own frame;
For he that holds no faith, shall find no trust,
But sowing wrong, is sure to reap the same.
_Daniel._
O, how unsufferable is the weight
Of _sin_! how miserable is their state,
The silence of whose secret _sin_ conceals
The smart, till justice to revenge appeals!
* * * * *
Who loves to _sin_, in hell his portion’s given;
Who dies to _sin_ shall, after, live in heaven.
_Quarles._
’Tis not to cry God mercy, or to sit
And droop, or to confess that thou hast failed:
’Tis to bewail the _sins_ thou didst commit;
And not commit those _sins_ thou hast bewailed.
He that bewails, and not forsakes them too,
Confesses rather what he means to do.
_Quarles._
That _sin_ does ten times aggravate itself,
That is committed in a holy place;
An evil deed done by authority,
Is _sin_ and subornation; deck an ape
In tissue, and the beauty of the robe
Adds but the greater scorn unto the beast;
The poison shows worst in a golden cup;
Dark night seems darker by the lightning’s flash;
Lilies that fester smell far worse then weeds;
And every glory that inclines to _sin_,
The same is treble by the opposite.
_Old Play._ (1597.)
Much have we _sinned_ to our shame,
But spare us who our _sins_ confess;
And for the glory of Thy name,
To our sick souls afford redress.
_Drummond._
It is a shame, that man, that has the seeds
Of virtue in him springing unto glory,
Should make his soul degenerate with _sin_,
And slave to luxury; to drown his spirits
In lees of sloth; to yield up the weak day
To wine, to lust, and banquets.
_Shackerly._
_Sin_, like a bee, unto thy hive may bring
A little honey, but expect the sting.
_Watkyns._
Woe unto those who countenance a _sin_,
Siding with vice that it may credit win,
By their unhallowed vote; that do benight
The truth with error, putting dark for light,
And light for dark; that call an evil good,
And would by vice have virtue understood.
_Bishop King._
O, the dangerous siege
_Sin_ lays about us! And the tyranny
He exercises, when he hath expunged:
Like to the horror of a winter’s thunder,
Mixed with a gushing storm, that suffers nothing
To stir abroad on earth but their own rages,
Is _sin_, when it hath gathered head above us:
No roof, no shelter will secure us so,
But he will drown our cheeks in fear or woe.
_Chapman._
To threats the stubborn _sinner_ oft is hard,
Wrapped in his crimes, against the storm prepared;
But when the milder beams of mercy play,
He melts, and throws his cumbrous cloak away.
_Dryden._
For he that but conceives a crime in thought,
Contracts the danger of an actual fault;
Then what must he expect, that still proceeds
To finish _sin_, and work up thoughts in deeds?
_Dryden._
What if the _sinner’s_ magazines are stored
With the rich spoils that Ophir’s mines afford?
What if he spends his happy days and nights
In softest joys, and undisturbed delights?
Where is his hope at last, when God shall wrest
His trembling soul from his reluctant breast?
_Blackmore._
What havoc hast thou made, foul monster, _Sin_!
Greatest and first of ills! The fruitful parent
Of woes of all dimensions! But for thee,
Sorrow had never been!
_Blair._
Lord! with what care hast Thou begirt us round!
Parents first season us; the schoolmasters
Deliver us to laws; they send us bound
To rules of reason; holy messengers:
Pulpits and Sundays; sorrow, dogging _sin_;
Afflictions sorted; anguish of all sizes;
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in;
Bibles laid open; millions of surprises;
Blessings beforehand; ties of gratefulness;
The sound of glory ringing in our ears;
Without, our shame; within, our consciences;
Angels and Grace; eternal hopes and fears!
Yet all these fences and their whole array,
One cunning bosom _sin_ blows quite away.
_George Herbert._
As the fond sheep that idly strays,
With wanton play, through devious ways,
Which never hits the road of home,
O’er wilds of danger learns to roam,
Till, wearied out with idle fear,
And passing there, and turning here,
He will, for rest, to covert run,
And meet the wolf he strove to shun:
Thus wretched I, through wanton will,
Ran blind and headlong on in ill.
’Twas thus from _sin_ to _sin_ I flew,
And thus I might have perished too;
But mercy dropped the likeness here,
And showed and saved me from my fear,
While o’er the darkness of my mind
The sacred Spirit purely shined,
And marked and brightened all the way
Which leads to everlasting day;
And broke the thickening clouds of _sin_,
And fixed the light of love within.
_Parnell._
On His pale brow the drops are large and red
As victim’s blood at votive altar shed--
His hands are clasped, His eyes are raised in prayer--
Alas, and is there strife He cannot bear,
Who calmed the tempest, and who raised the dead?
There is! there is! for now the powers of hell
Are struggling for the mastery--’tis the hour
When death exerts his last permitted power,
When the dead weight of _sin_, since Adam fell,
Is visited on Him who deigned to dwell--
A man with men, that He might bear the stroke
Of wrath divine, and break the captive’s yoke--
But O, of that dread strife, what words can tell?
Those, only those which broke, with many a groan,
From His full heart--“O, Father, take away
The cup of vengeance I must drink to-day--
Yet, Father, not My will, but Thine, be done!”
It could not pass away, for He alone
Was mighty to endure and strong to save:
Nor would Jehovah leave Him in the grave,
Nor could corruption taint His Holy One.
_Dale._
When at first from virtue’s path we stray,
How shrinks the feeble heart with sad dismay!
More bold at length, by powerful habit led,
Careless and sered, the dreary wilds we tread;
Behold the gaping gulf of _sin_ with scorn,
And plunging deep, to endless death are borne.
_James Scott._
SINAI.
The Lord came from _Sinai_, and rose up from Seir unto them; He shined
forth from Mount Paran, and He came with ten thousands of saints: from
His right hand went a fiery law.--Deuteronomy, xxxiii. 2.
The mountains melted from before the Lord, even that _Sinai_ from
before the Lord God of Israel.--Judges, v. 5.
God from the Mount of _Sinai_, whose grey top
Shall tremble, He descending, will himself,
In thunder, lightning, and loud tempest’s sound,
Ordain them laws; part such as appertain
To civil justice, part religious rites
Of sacrifice, informing them by types
And shadows, of that destined Seed to bruise
The serpent, by what means He shall achieve
Mankind’s deliverance. But the voice of God
To mortal ear is dreadful! They beseech
That Moses might repeat to them His will,
And terror cease. He grants what they besought,
Instructed that to God is no access
Without Mediator, whose high office now
Moses in figure bears, to introduce
One greater, of whose day he shall foretell.
_Milton._
The mountain rocked round _Sinai’s_ trembling sides;
In gloomy spires the dreadful smoke arose;
Angelic trumpets pierced the ethereal vault;
Wide-echoing thunder rent the conscious air;
Fierce lightning shot its terrors through the sky;
All nature spake, and with convulsive shock
Gave awful proof of the descending God.
_Samuel Hayes._
Those laws which from Mount _Sinai_
Jehovah, clothed with terrors, while thick clouds
And darkness wrapt him round, pronounced, in sounds
Which chilled the hearts of those who heard, and froze
Their very blood. Beneath His awful feet
Earth trembled, and the lofty mountain shook;
Hoarse thunder growled, and livid lightnings flashed,
While sounds of horror and distress amid
The howling wilderness were heard.
_William Hodson._
SINGING--SONG.
O sing unto the Lord a new _song_: _sing_ unto the Lord, all the earth.
_Sing_ unto the Lord, bless his name; shew forth his salvation from day
to day.--Psalm xcvi. 1, 2.
And they _sing_ the _song_ of Moses the servant of God, and the _song_
of the Lamb, saying, Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God
Almighty.--Revelation, xv. 3.
Who is the Lord, then? Earth to me hath cried:
He, whose soul boundless everywhere is spread;
Who measures the Creation with a stride;
He, who with splendour e’er the sun hath fed.
He, who from nothingness all matter drew;
He, who built up the universe on nought;
He, who round shoreless seas a girdle threw;
He, whose sole look forth light from darkness brought.
He, who no heed to Time’s progression gives;
He, who draws being from his own command;
Who, in the future as the present lives;
And recalls years, departed from his hand.
’Tis He!--it is the Lord! Oh! may my tongue,
His countless glorious names to man repeat;
As the gold lamp before His altars hung;
I’ll _sing_ to Him, while holds my life her seat!
_Rev. W. Pulling, from Lamartine._
Thanks be to God! His grace has shown
How sinful man on earth
May join the _songs_ which round his throne
Give endless praises birth:
He gave His Son for man to die!
He sent His Spirit from on high
To consummate the scheme:
O be that consummation blest!
And let Redemption be confest
A poet’s noblest theme.
_B. Barton._
“Worthy the Lamb,” on earth we _sing_
“Who died our souls to save.”
Henceforth, O Death where is thy sting?
Thy victory, O Grave?
_J. Montgomery._
SKY.
Stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God.
Hast thou with him spread out the _sky_, which is strong, and as a
molten looking-glass?--Job, xxxvii. 14, 18.
Drop down, ye heavens, from above, and let the _skies_ pour down
righteousness.--Isaiah, xlv. 8.
When yonder glorious _sky_
Lighted with million lamps, I contemplate;
And turn my dazzled eye
To this vain mortal state,
All dim and visionary, mean and desolate,
A mingled joy and grief
Fills all my soul with dark solicitude;
I find a short relief
In tears, whose torrents rude
Roll down my cheeks, or thoughts which then intrude.
Thou bright, sublime abode!
Temple of light, and beauty’s fairest shrine:
My soul! a spark of God,
Aspiring to thy seats divine,
Why, why is it condemned in this dull cell to pine?
For there, and there alone,
Are peace, and joy, and never-dying love;
There, on a splendid throne,
’Midst all those fires above,
In glories and delights which never wane nor move.
Oh, wondrous blessedness!
Whose shadowy effluence hope o’er time can fling;
Day that shall never cease,
No night there threatening,
No winter there to chill joy’s ever-during spring.
Ye fields of changeless green
Covered with living streams and fadeless flowers,
Thou Paradise serene,
Eternal, joyful hours
My disembodied soul shall welcome in thy bowers.
_Luis Ponce de Leon, Spanish._
SLANDER.
For I have heard the _slander_ of many: fear was on every side: while
they took counsel together against me, they devised to take away my
life.--Psalm xxxi. 13.
He that uttereth a _slander_, is a fool.--Proverbs, x. 18.
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect;
For _slander’s_ mark was ever yet the fair;
So thou be good, _slander_ doth but approve
Thy worth the greater.
_Shakspere._