And watch with a quivering breath;
No mortal eye beheld his birth,
But all shall behold his death,
For the nations from every land and clime
Shall gather to gaze on the close of _Time_.
The Moon shall look down with a tearful eye,
And the Sun shall withhold his fire,
And the hoary Earth, all parched and dry,
Shall flame for his funeral pyre,
When the Angel, that standeth on earth and shore,
Proclaimeth that “_Time_ shall be no more!”
_Edward Pollok._
O, God of _times_, and yet, in _time_ a man!
Before all _times_ thy _time_ of being was;
And yet in _time_ thy human birth began,
Lest we should fade, _untimely_, like the grass,--
Thou that hast said thy word should never pass,
And thou that dost all _times_ begin and end,--
Vouchsafe thy comfort to my sad soul send.
_G. Ellis._
A moment is a mighty thing,
Beyond the soul’s imagining,
For in it, though we trace it not,
How much there crowds of varied lot!
How much of life, life cannot see,
Darts onward to eternity!
While vacant hours of beauty roll
Their magic o’er some yielded soul,
Ah! little do the happy guess
The sum of human wretchedness;
Or dream, amid the soft farewell
That _time_ of them is taking,
How frequent mourns the funeral knell,
What noble heart is breaking,
While myriads to their tombs descend
Without a mourner, creed, or friend!
_R. Montgomery._
TO-DAY--TO-MORROW.
Boast not thyself of _to-morrow_, for thou knowest not what a day may
bring forth.--Proverbs, xxvii. 1.
Ye know not what shall be on the _morrow_.--James, iv. 14.
To-day is yesterday returned; returned
Full-powered to cancel, expiate, raise, adorn,
And reinstate us on the rock of peace.
Let it not share its predecessors’ fate;
Nor, like its elder sisters, die a fool.
_Young._
At thirty man suspects himself a fool,
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve.
In all the magnanimity of thought
Resolves and re-resolves, then dies the same.
In human hearts what bolder thought can rise
Than man’s presumption on _to-morrow’s_ dawn.
Where is _to-morrow_? in another world.
And yet on this perhaps, this peradventure,
(Infamous for lies) as on a rock of adamant
We build our mountain hopes, spin our eternal schemes,
And big with life’s futurities expire.
_Young._
_To-morrow_ you will live, you always cry,
In what far country does this _morrow_ lie,
That ’tis so mighty long ere it arrive?
Beyond the Indies does this _morrow_ live?
’Tis so far fetch’d this _morrow_, that I fear
’Twill be both very old and very dear.
_To-morrow_ I will live, the fool does say;
_To-day_ itself’s too late, the wise lived yesterday.
_Cowley._
_To-morrow!_
That fatal mistress of the young, the lazy,
The coward and the fool, condemned to lose
An useless life in waiting for _to-morrow_,
Till interposing death destroys the prospect:
Strange! that this general fraud, from day to day,
Should fill the world with wretches undetected.
_Dr. Johnson._
_To-morrow_ then begins the task, you say:
Alas! you’ll act _to-morrow_ as _to-day_:
What? is one day, (you cry,) too much to ask?
Trust me _to-morrow_ shall commence the task.
But think, ere yet _to-morrow’s_ dawn come on,
Our yesterday’s _to-morrow_ will be gone.
Thus, while the present from the future borrows,
_To-morrows_ slowly creep upon _to-morrows_,
Till months and years behold the task undone,
Which, still beginning, never is begun.
Just as the hinder of two chariot wheels
Still presses closely on its fellow’s heels;
So flies _to-morrow_, while you fly so fast,
For ever following, and for ever last.
_Howes, from Persius._
_To-morrow_, didst thou say?
Methought I heard Horatio say, _To-morrow_.
Go to--I will not hear of it--_To-morrow_!
’Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury
Against thy plenty--who takes thy ready cash,
And pays thee nought but wishes, hopes, and promises,
The currency of idiots--injurious bankrupt,
That gulls the easy creditor!--_To-morrow!_
It is a period nowhere to be found
In all the hoary registers of Time,
Unless perchance in the fool’s calender.
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society
With those who own it. No, my Horatio,
’Tis Fancy’s child, and folly is its father;
Wrought of such stuff as dreams are, and as baseless
As the fantastic visions of the evening.
_Cotton._
As Time glides on in silent flow,
_To-day_ yields to _to-morrow_;
_To-morrow’s_ expectations grow
_To-day’s_ own bliss or sorrow.
Still, as _to-morrow’s_ sun appears,
It shines upon _to-day_;
So, realized, our hopes and fears
For ever melt away.
_Anon._
TONGUE.
The _tongue_ of the wise useth knowledge aright: but the mouth of fools
poureth out foolishness.
A wholesome _tongue_ is a tree of life: but perverseness therein is a
breach in the spirit.--Proverbs, xv. 2, 4.
The _tongue_ is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how
great a matter a little fire kindleth!
And the _tongue_ is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the _tongue_
among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire
the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell.
The _tongue_ can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly
poison.
Therewith bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men,
which are made after the similitude of God.
Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren,
these things ought not so to be.--James, iii. 5, 6, 8, 9, 10.
The man
In whom this spirit entered, was undone.
His _tongue_ was set on fire of hell, his heart
Was black as death, his legs were faint with haste
To propagate the lie his soul had framed.
_Pollok._
Sacred interpreter of human thought,
How few respect, or use thee as they ought!
But all shall give account of every wrong,
Who dare dishonour or defile the _tongue_;
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice,
Or sell their glory at the market price!
_Cowper._
Nor did the pulpit’s oratory fail
To achieve its higher triumph.--Not unfelt
Were its admonishments, nor lightly heard
The awful truths, delivered thence by _tongues_
Endowed with various power to search the soul.
_Wordsworth._
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 loth, Thy trump shall hear,
And every _tongue_ unchained be,
To own no hope, O God, but Thee.
_Keble._
TREASURE.
_Treasures_ of wickedness profit nothing: but righteousness delivereth
from death.--Proverbs, x. 2.
Lay not up for yourselves _treasures_ upon earth, where moth and rust
doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal:
But lay up for yourselves _treasures_ in heaven:
For where your _treasure_ is, there will your heart be also.--Matthew,
vi. 19, 20, 21.
He is a path, if any be misled;
He is a robe, if any naked be;
If any chance to hunger, He is bread;
If any be a bondman, He is free;
If any be but weak, how strong is He!
To dead men life He is, to sick men health;
To blind men sight, and to the needy, wealth--
A pleasure without loss, a _treasure_ without stealth.
_Giles Fletcher._
Not to understand a _treasure’s_ worth
Till time has stolen away the slighted good,
Is cause of half the poverty we feel,
And makes the world the wilderness it is.
_Cowper._
Engage this roving treacherous heart,
Great God! to choose the better part;
To scorn the trifles of a day,
For joys that none can take away.
Then let the wildest storms arise,
Let tempests mingle earth and skies;
No fatal shipwreck shall I fear,
But all my _treasure_ with me bear.
If Thou, my Jesus, still art nigh,
Cheerful I live, and cheerful die;
Secure, when mortal comforts flee,
To find ten thousand worlds in Thee.
_Doddridge._
Think’st thou the man whose mansions hold
The worldling’s pomp, and miser’s gold,
Obtains a richer prize
Than he, who, in his cot at rest,
Finds heavenly peace a willing guest,
And bears the promise in his breast
Of _treasure_ in the skies.
_Mrs. Sigourney._
What are they?--gold and silver,
Or what such ore can buy?
The price of silken luxury--
Rich robes of Tyrian dye?
Guests that come thronging in
With lordly pomp and state?
Or thankless liveried serving men,
To stand about the gate?
Or are they daintiest meats,
Sent up on silver fine?
Or golden cups o’er brimm’d
With rich Falernian wine?
Or parchments, setting forth
Broad lands our fathers held?
Parks for our deer, ponds for our fish,
And woods that may be fell’d?
No, no! they are not these! or else
God help the poor man’s need!
Then, sitting ’mid his little ones,
He would be poor indeed!
They are not these--our household wealth
Belongs not to degree:
It is the love within our souls--
The children at our knee!
My heart o’erfloweth to mine eyes
When I see the poor man stand,
After his daily work is done,
With children by the hand:--
And this he kisseth tenderly,
And that sweet names doth call;
For I know he has no _treasure_
Like those dear children small!
Oh, children young, I bless ye!
Ye keep such love alive!
And the home can ne’er be desolate
Where love has room to thrive!
Oh, precious household _treasures_,
Life’s sweetest, holiest claim--
The Saviour bless’d ye while on earth--
I bless ye in His name!
_Mary Howitt._
TREE.
The _trees_ of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon which He
hath planted.--Psalm civ. 16.
And now also the axe is laid unto the root of the _trees_: therefore
every _tree_ which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down and cast
into the fire.--Matthew, iii. 10.
Every good _tree_ bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt _tree_
bringeth forth evil fruit.--Matthew, xii. 17.
A tree was first the instrument of strife,
When Eve to sin her soul did prostitute;
A _tree_ is now the instrument of life,
Though ill that trunk, and Christ’s fair body suit;
Ah, cursed _tree_! and yet, oh, blessed fruit!
That death to Him, this life to us doth give:
Strange is the cure when things past cure revive,
And the physician dies to make his patient live.
_Giles Fletcher._
Like crowded forest _trees_ we stand,
And some are marked to fall:
The axe shall smite, at God’s command,
And soon shall smite us all.
Green as the bay _tree_, ever green,
With its new foliage on,
The gay, the thoughtless have I seen;
I passed, and they were gone.
_Cowper._
Of all the _trees_ that in earth’s vineyard grow,
And with their clusters tempted man to pull
And eat, one _tree_ alone the true
Celestial manna bore, which filled the soul.
The _tree_ of holiness, of heavenly seed,
A native of the skies, though stunted made,
And dwarfed by time’s cold, damp, ungenial soil,
And chilling winds, yet yielding fruit so pure,
So nourishing and sweet, as on his way
Refreshed the pilgrim; and begot desire
Unquenchable, to climb the arduous path
To where her sister plants, in their own clime,
Around the fount and by the stream of life,
Blooming beneath the sun that never sets,
Bear fruit of perfect relish fully ripe.
_Pollok._
God spake: the hills and plains put on
Their robe of freshest green;
Dark forest in the valleys wave,
And budding _trees_ are seen.
The word of His breath clothes the forest with leaves,
The high gift of beauty the spring-tide receives.
_Krummacher._
I heard the language of the _trees_,
In the noons of the early summer;
As the leaves were moved like rippling seas
By the wind--a constant comer.
It came and it went at its wanton will;
And evermore loved to dally,
With branch and flower, from the cope of the hill
To the warm depths of the valley.
The sunlight glow’d; the water flow’d;
The birds their music chanted,
And the words of the _trees_ on my senses fell--
By a spirit of Beauty haunted:--
Said each to each, in mystic speech:--
“The skies our branches nourish;--
The world is good,--the world is fair,--
Let us enjoy and flourish!”
Again I heard the steadfast _trees_;
The wintry winds were blowing;
There seem’d a roar as of stormy seas,
And of ships to the depths down-going.
And ever a moan through the woods was blown,
As the branches snapp’d asunder,
And the long boughs swung like the frantic arms
Of a crowd in affright and wonder,
Heavily rattled the driving hail;
And storm and flood combining,
Laid bare the roots of mighty oaks
Under the shingle twining.
Said _tree_ to _tree_, “These tempests free
Our sap and strength shall nourish;
Though the world be hard--though the world be cold--
We can endure and flourish.”
_Charles Mackay._
TREMBLING.
Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with _trembling_.--Psalm ii. 11.
Fear ye not me? saith the Lord: will ye not _tremble_ at my
presence?--Jeremiah, v. 22.
Eternal Lord of light and life; the soul
Of nature and the Deity of all,
Whose spirit bending o’er the wondrous whole,
Suffers unwill’d, no flower or bird to fall:
Can the proud eye look upwards to yon dome,
Or view the rich array spread forth below,
And not feel pledges of a dearer home,
That make the bosom leap, the spirit glow,
And stretch its hopes far into eternity,
Till, like the Patriarch’s dove, it rests, great Lord on Thee.
On Thee, its ark of perfect holiness,
With tokens of its everlasting peace,
And certainty of fadeless joy to bless
It in a higher state when time shall cease,
The stars shall burn; those living orbs were fed
With pure effulgence from Thy vital ray,
To light us deep into Thy essence, shed
Abroad through earth and air by night and day:
Fill’d with that glory would my spirit soar,
And, although _trembling_, yet exultingly, adore.
_W. Martin._
Ye _trembling_ souls dismiss your fears,
Be mercy all your theme;
Mercy, which like a river flows,
In one perpetual stream!
Fear not the powers of earth and hell,
God will those powers restrain;
His arm shall all their rage repel
And make their efforts vain!
Fear not that he will e’er forsake,
Or leave His work undone;
He’s faithful to his promises,
And faithful to His Son!
_Beddome._
TRIAL.
Search me, O God, and know my heart: _try_ me, and know my
thoughts.--Psalm cxxxix. 23.
The _trial_ of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that
perisheth, though it be _tried_ with fire, might be found unto praise
and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ.--I. Peter, i. 7.
Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery _trial_ which is to
_try_ you, as though some strange thing happened unto you.--I. Peter,
iv. 12.
Lest our _trial_, when least sought,
May find us both perhaps far less prepared.
_Milton._
Within our life these sorrows we contain
Uncertain days, yet full of certain grief;
In number few, yet infinite in pain;
O’ercharged with wants, but naked of relief,
In ruling it our evil parts are chief;
And though our time be not cut short by death,
Old age will creep to stop uncertain breath.
Yet to the much affliction of the mind,
This of the body is a scant compare,
Wherein so many and so much I find,
As would astone my spirits to declare--
_Trial_ can only tell us what we are:
For we whom custom hath with grief acquainted,
By us her sad proportion best is painted.
_Christopher Lever_, 1607.
He bids him glow with unremitting love
To all on earth, and to Himself above
Condemns the injurious deed, the slanderous tongue,
The thought that meditates a brother’s wrong;
Brings not alone the more conspicuous part--
His conduct--to the test, but _tries_ his heart.
_Cowper._
Lord, search my soul, try ev’ry thought;
Though my own heart accuse me not
Of walking in a false disguise,
I beg a _trial_ of Thine eyes.
Doth secret mischief lurk within?
Do I indulge some unknown sin?
O turn my feet whene’er I stray,
And lead me in Thy perfect way.
_Watts._
TRIBULATION.
In the world ye shall have _tribulation_.--John, xvi. 33.
We must through much _tribulation_ enter into the kingdom of
God.--Acts, xiv. 22.
Patient in _tribulation_.--Romans, xii. 12.
The wisdom of this world is idiotism;
Strength, a weak reed; health, sickness’ enemy;
(And it at length will have the victory;)
Beauty is but a painting; and long life
Is a long journey in December gone:
Tedious and full of _tribulation_.
_Dekkar._
Begone unbelief, my Saviour is near,
And for my relief will surely appear;
By prayer let me wrestle, and He will perform;
With Christ in the vessel, I smile at the storm.
His love in time past forbids me to think
He’ll leave me at last in trouble to sink;
Each sweet Ebenezer I have in review,
Confirms His good pleasure to help me quite through.
Why should I complain of want or distress,
Temptation or pain? he told me no less!
The heirs of salvation, I know from His word,
Through much _tribulation_ must follow their Lord.
_Newton._
Lo! round the throne, a glorious band,
The saints, in countless myriads, stand;
Of ev’ry tongue, redeem’d to God,
Array’d in garments wash’d in blood!
Through _tribulation_ great they came;
They bore the cross, despis’d the shame;
But now from all their labours rest,
In God’s eternal glory bless’d.
_Duncan._
Thou dost conduct Thy people
Through torrents of temptation
Nor will we fear, while Thou art near,
The fire of _tribulation_.
_De Courcey._
TRIUMPH.
Then sang Moses and the children of Israel this song unto the Lord,
and spake, saying, I will sing unto the Lord, for He hath _triumphed_
gloriously: the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the
sea.--Exodus, xv. 1.
The _triumphing_ of the wicked is short.--Job, xx. 5.
Thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to _triumph_ in
Christ.--II. Corinthians, ii. 14.
Hail, Thou! that on this glorious morn didst burst
The bands of death! all hail, incarnate Lord!
First-born of heaven, what time the barren grave
With wondrous throes gave forth Thy present flesh,
In all its incorruptible array
Of majesty and light. _Triumphant_ Lord,
Who, in Thy rising power, didst captive lead
Captivity, and at Thy chariot wheels
The vanquished hosts of hell didst with Thee bring!
Hail, conquering King! Almighty Prince of Life!
First-fruits of those that sleep, in hope assured
Of that bright morning, when the trumpet’s sound
Shall wake the slumbering dead, when from the tomb
Thy quickened saints shall spring to swell Thy strain,
Clad in immortal bloom. Thy angel bands
Attend Thee up the skies with cheerful notes;
We, too, responsive cry “Our God is gone,
Is upward gone.”
_S. Stennet._
Rejoice, believer, in the Lord,
Who makes your cause His own;
The hope that’s built upon His word,
Can ne’er be overthrown!
As surely as He overcame,
And _triumph’d_ once for you;
So surely you that love His name,
Shall _triumph_ in Him too!
_Newton._
The Lord of Lords has _triumphed_ gloriously.
_H. H. Milman._
Humility o’er self victorious,
Of earthly _triumphs_ the most glorious.
_William Peter._
TROUBLE.
The Lord hear thee in the day of _trouble_.--Psalm xx. 1.
In the day of my _trouble_ I will call upon thee: for thou wilt answer
me.--Psalm lxxxvi. 7.
I cried unto the Lord with my voice; with my voice unto the Lord did I
make my supplication.
I poured out my complaint before him; I shewed before him my
_trouble_.--Psalm cxlii. 1, 2.
From out of the depths of misery I cry
To Thee O Lord, and that most earnestly,
Prayers intermixed with sighs and tears
My soul sends up into Thine ears.
I pour out all my moan
Before Thee, Thee alone,
And for relief
Show Thee my grief.
Lord, when my _troubled_ spirit could not rest
For anguish of my mind, Thou knowest best
What way to help me, and did see
A path through all to set me free.
Thy foes, and mine, do lay
Snares for me, in my way
One did privily
In ambush lie.
I looked on every side, but I could see
None who would know, and much less succour me.
My friends revolted totally,
On whom I used to rely;
All ways to ’scape by flight
Were stopped, and shut up quite,
And none did care
My soul to spare.
Thus _troubled_; laid on wait for; desolate;
Enclosed around; and thus disconsolate;
I cried to Thee, O Lord, and said,
Thou art my hope, my help, my aid,
The rock I build upon;
My lot, my portion,
For this life, and
A better land.
_Joseph Bunyan._
When the heart is sore smitten by sorrow,
And the bosom is darksome and drear,
And when bright hope no longer may borrow
A smile from the future to cheer;
And the eye that would gaze on the morrow,
Is constrain’d to gaze on through a tear--
Even then there’s a hope that can brighten
The soul in its darksome abode,
That can dry up its sorrow, and lighten,
The weight of its wearisome load:
’Tis the hope which no joy can heighten,
That leads it to trust in its God.
Though the world to our griefs may be ever
Disdainful, unkind, and unjust;
And mankind may be eager to sever
The links of our holier trust;
And the mighty may daily endeavour
To tread our torn hearts in the dust,
Still thy presence, Lord, cannot be taken
From those that all faithful will be:
Then why should our spirits be shaken?
And why should we languish to flee?
When we know we are never forsaken,
In the midst of our _troubles_, by Thee.
_W. Martin._
If the nation-feeding corn
Thriveth under iced snow;
If the small bird on the thorn
Useth well its guarded sloe;
Bid thy cares thy comforts double,
Gather fruit from thorns of _trouble_.
_E. Elliot._
In the time of Grief and _trouble_,
Then we call upon the Lord,
And he hears our supplication,
Ever faithful to his word;
But when o’er the _trouble_ passeth,
As a cloud that hid the sun,
We forget the hand that raised us,
Careless of the blessing won.
_Egone._
TRUST.
Some _trust_ in chariots, and some in horses; but we will remember the
name of the Lord our God.--Psalm xx. 7.
O my God, I _trust_ in Thee: let me not be ashamed.--Psalm xxv. 2.
Commit thy way unto the Lord; _trust_ also in Him; and He shall bring
it to pass.--Psalm xxxvii. 5.
_Trust_ in the Lord with all thine heart: and lean not unto thine own
understanding.--Proverbs, iii. 5.
But, O, the soul that never dies
At once it leaves the clay;
Ye thoughts pursue it where it flies,
And track its wondrous way.
Up to the courts where angels dwell,
It mounts triumphant there;
Or devils plunge it down to hell,
In infinite despair.
And must my body faint and die?
And must this soul remove?
O for some guardian angel high,
To bear it safe above!
Jesus, to Thy dear faithful hand,
My naked soul I _trust_;
And my flesh waits for Thy command,
To drop into the dust.
_Watts._
Backsliding Israel, bear the voice
Of thy forgiving God;
Nor force such goodness to exert
The terrors of the rod.
Thus saith the Lord, “My mercy flows,
An unexhausted stream;
And after all its millions saved,
Its sway is still supreme.”
Own but the follies thou hast done,
And mourn thy sins in dust,
And soon thy trembling heart shall learn
To hope, and love, and _trust_.
_Doddridge._
Men safelier _trust_ to Heaven than to themselves
When least themselves, in the mad whirl of crowds,
Where folly is contagious, and, too oft,
Even wise men leave their better sense at home,
To chide and wonder at them when returned.
_Coleridge._
Frail children of dust,
And feeble as frail,
In Thee do we _trust_,
Nor find Thee to fail;
Thy mercies how tender,
How firm to the end!
Our Maker--Defender,
Redeemer, and Friend.
O measureless might!
Ineffable love!
While angels delight
To hymn Thee above,
The humbler creation,
Though feeble their lays,
With true adoration,
Shall lisp to Thy praise.
_Sir R. Grant._
Do good, shun evil: live not thou
As if at death thy being died,
Nor error’s syren voice allow
To draw thy steps from truth aside;
Look to thy journey’s end--the grave!
And _trust_ in Him whose arm can save.
_Moir._
Then shall, gorgeous as a gem,
Shine thy mount, Jerusalem;
Then shall in the desert rise
Fruits of more than Paradise;
Earth by angel feet be trod,
One great garden of her God;
Till are dried the martyr’s tears
Through a glorious thousand years.
Now, in hope of Him, we _trust_
Earth to earth, and dust to dust.
_Croly._
We see no more in Thy pure skies,
How soft, O God! the sunset dies:
How every coloured hill and wood
Seems melting in the golden flood:
Yet, by the precious memories won
From bright hours, now for ever gone,
Father, o’er all Thy works we know
Thou still art shedding beauty’s glow;
Still touching every cloud and tree
With glory, eloquent of Thee;
Still feeding all Thy flowers with light,
Though man hath barred it from our sight.
We know Thou reignest, the unchanging One, All-just!
And bless Thee still, with free and boundless _trust_.
_Mrs. Hemans._