Of all this wondrous _world_ we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from Thee;
Where’er we turn, Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine.
_Thomas Moore._
O _world_! how little do thy joys
Concern a soul that knows
Itself not made for such low toys
As thy poor hand bestows!
Then take away thy tinsel wares,
That dazzle here our eyes;
Let us go up above the stars,
Where all our treasure lies.
The way we know: our dearest Lord
Himself has gone before:
And has engaged His faithful word,
To open us the door.
_Hicks._
The _world_ is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
_Wordsworth._
Pass on, relentless _world_! I grieve
No more for all that thou hast riven;
Pass on, in God’s name, only leave
The things thou never yet hast given--
A heart at ease, a mind at home,
Affections fixed above thy sway,
Faith set upon a _world_ to come,
And patience through life’s little day.
_George Lunt._
WORSHIP.
O _worship_ the Lord in the beauty of holiness: fear before him, all
the earth.--Psalm xcvi. 9.
In vain do they _worship_ me, teaching for doctrines the commandments
of men.--Mark, vii. 7.
But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true _worshippers_ shall
_worship_ the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh
such to _worship_ him.--John, iv. 23.
First _worship_ God; he that forgets to pray
Bids not himself good-morrow nor good-day:
Let thy first labour be to purge thy sin,
And serve Him first, whence all things did begin.
_Thomas Randolph._
There is a joy which angels well might prize:
To see, and hear, and aid God’s _worship_, when
Unnumbered tongues--a host of Christian men,
Youths, matrons, maidens, join. Their sounds arise
“Like many waters;” now glad symphonies
Of thanks and glory to our God, and then,
Seal of the social prayer, the loud Amen.
Faith’s common pledge, contrition’s mingled cries.
Thus when the church of Christ was hale and young,
She call’d on God, one spirit and one voice;
Thus from corruption cleansed, with health new strung,
Her son she nurtured. Oh! be theirs by choice,
What duty bids, to _worship_, heart and tongue,
At once to pray, at once in God rejoice!
_Bishop Mant._
The cheerfu’ supper done, wi’ serious face,
They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
The sire turns o’er, wi’ patriarchal grace,
The big ha’-bible, ance his father’s pride;
His bonnet rev’rently is laid aside,
His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare;
Those strains that ance did sweet in Zion glide,
He wales a portion with judicious care;
And “Let us _worship_ God!” he says, with solemn air.
_Burns._
Not always he
Hath holiest heart, whose _worship_ is most loud,
And that is purest prayer, where one alone is bowed.
_G. H. Colton._
Sweet is the solemn voice that calls
The christian to the house of prayer!
I love to stand within its walls,
For Thou, O Lord, art present there!
I love to tread the hallowed courts,
Where two or three for _worship_ meet;
For thither Christ himself resorts,
And makes the little band complete.
_Lyte._
The earth is one great temple, made
For _worship_ everywhere;
And its flowers are the bells, in glen and glade,
That ring the heart to prayer.
A solemn preacher is the breeze;
At noon or twilight dim,
The ancient trees give homilies--
The river hath a hymn.
For the city bell takes seven days
To reach the townsman’s ear,
But he who kneels in nature’s ways,
Hath sabbath all the year.
_T. K. Hervey._
Give to the sceptic gain and gaud;
The Christian envies not his lot,
Who, while his fellow-men applaud,
Is by his outraged God forgot.
More blest is he, who, ’mid the cares
Of this world’s loud and busy mart,
The melody of _worship_ bears
For ever, in his inmost heart.
_Miss Pardoe._
The God who reigns on high
The great archangels sing;
And “Holy, holy, holy,” cry,
“Almighty King!
Who was and is the same,
And evermore shall be;
Jehovah, Father, Great I am,
We _worship_ Thee.”
_T. Olivers._
WORTHY.
Thou art _worthy_, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for
Thou hast created all things, and for Thy pleasure they are and were
created.--Revelation, iv. 11.
_Worthy_ is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and
wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.--Revelation,
v. 12.
Come, let us join our cheerful songs,
With angels round the throne,
Ten thousand thousand are their tongues,
But all their joys are one.
“_Worthy_ the Lamb that died,” they cry,
“To be exalted thus!”
“_Worthy_ the Lamb,” our lips reply,
“For He was slain for us.”
Jesus is _worthy_ to receive
Honour and power divine,
And blessings more than we can give,
Be Lord for ever Thine!
_Watts._
_Worthy_, O Lord, art Thou,
That every knee should bow,
Every tongue to Thee confess;
Universal nature join,
Strong and mighty, Thee to bless,
Gracious, merciful, benign.
Wisdom is due to Thee,
And might and majesty;
Thee in mercy rich we prove,
Glory, honour, praise receive;
_Worthy_ thou of all our love,
More than all we pant to give.
_C. Wesley._
Sing we the song of those who stand,
Around the eternal throne,
Of every kindred, clime, and land,
A multitude unknown.
“_Worthy_ the Lamb for sinners slain,”
Cry the redeem’d above,
“Blessing and honour to obtain,
And everlasting love.”
_J. Montgomery._
WOUND.
Praise ye the Lord: for it is good to sing praises unto our God.
He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their _wounds_.--Psalm
cxlvii. 1, 3.
The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity: but a _wounded_ spirit
who can bear?--Proverbs, xviii. 14.
He was _wounded_ for our transgressions, he was bruised for our
iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his
stripes we are healed.--Isaiah, liii. 5.
No _wounds_ like those a _wounded_ spirit feels,
No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals.
And thou, sad sufferer under nameless ill,
That yields not to the touch of human skill,
Improve the kind occasion, understand
A Father’s frown, and kiss His chastening hand.
_Cowper._
Come! said Jesus’ sacred voice,
Come, and make my ways your choice:
I will guide you to your home;
Weary pilgrim, hither come.
Ye, by fiercest anguish torn,
In strong remorse for guilt, who mourn;
Here repose your heavy care:
A _wounded_ spirit who can bear?
_Mrs. Barbauld._
Saviour! all the stone remove
From my flinty, frozen heart;
Thaw it with the beams of love,
Pierce it with Thy mercy’s dart:
_Wound_ the heart that _wounded_ Thee;
Break it in Gethsemane!
_Hart._
Angels rejoice in Jesu’s grace,
And vie with man’s more favoured race,
The blood that did for us atone,
Conferred on them some gift unknown;
Their joy through Jesu’s pains abounds,
They triumph by his glorious _wounds_.
_C. Wesley._
WRATH.
O Lord rebuke me not in thy _wrath_: neither chasten me in Thy hot
displeasure.--Psalm xxxviii. 1.
He that is slow to _wrath_ is of great understanding: but he that is
hasty of spirit exalteth folly.--Proverbs, xiv. 29.
O Lord, in _wrath_ remember mercy.--Habakkuk, iii. 2.
For the great day of his _wrath_ is come; and who shall be able to
stand.--Revelation, vi. 17.
O throw away Thy rod,
O throw away Thy _wrath_!
My gracious Saviour and my God,
O take the gentle path!
Thou seest my heart’s desire
Still unto Thee is bent;
Still does my longing soul aspire
To an entire consent.
Not even a word or look
Do I approve or own,
But by the model of Thy book,
Thy sacred book alone.
Although I fail, I weep;
Although I halt in pace,
Yet still with trembling steps I creep
Unto the throne of grace.
O then, let _wrath_ remove!
For love will do the deed:
Love will the conquest gain; with love
E’en stony hearts will bleed.
O throw away Thy rod!
What though man frailties hath!
Thou my Saviour and my God,
O throw away Thy _wrath_!
_Herbert._
Awake!
Thou who shalt wake when the creation sleeps;
When, like a taper, all these suns expire;
When Time, like him of Gaza in his _wrath_,
Plucking the pillars that support the world,
In Nature’s ample ruins lies intombed;
And midnight, universal midnight reigns!
_Young._
Dreadful attempt!
Just reeking from self-slaughter, in a rage
To push into the presence of our Judge!
As if we challenged Him to do His worst,
And mattered not His _wrath_.
_Blair._
O day of _wrath_! that dreadful day,
When earth in dust shall pass away!
What dread shall strike the sinner dumb,
When the Almighty Judge shall come,
Every bidden sin to sum!
When the wondrous trumpet’s tone,
Ringing through each cavern lone,
Calls the dead before the Throne--
When cruel death himself shall die,
And, freed from dark mortality,
The creature to his Judge reply:
What shall then that creature say?
What power shall be the sinner’s stay,
When the just are in dismay?
Lord of all power and majesty,
Pure fountain of all piety,
Save us when we cry to Thee!
O thou whose vengeance waits on sin,
Cleanse our souls from guilt within,
Ere the day of _wrath_ begin!
With suppliant heart and bended knee,
Low stooping in the dust to Thee,
Lord! save us in extremity!
That day of _wrath_, that dreadful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay--
Be thou the trembling sinner’s stay,
When heaven and earth shall pass away.
_From the Latin, R. P._
The day of _wrath_, that dreadful day,
Shall all the world in ashes lay,
The last loud trumpet’s mighty sound
Shall wake the nations under ground.
Thou Great Creator of mankind,
Let guilty souls now favour find;
My God, my Saviour, and my Friend,
Do not forsake me in the end.
_Roscommon._
YEAR.
When a few _years_ are come, then I shall go the way whence I shall not
return.--Job, xvi. 22.
Thou crownest the _year_ with thy goodness, thy paths drop
fatness.--Psalm lxv. 11.
For a thousand _years_ in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is
past, and as a watch in the night.
For all our days are passed away in thy wrath: we spend our _years_ as
a tale that is told.
The days of our _years_ are threescore _years_ and ten; and if by
reason of strength they be fourscore _years_, yet is their strength
labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.--Psalm xc.
4, 9, 10.
If a man live many _years_ and rejoice in them all; yet let him
remember the days of darkness for they shall be many.--Ecclesiastes,
xi. 8.
Another _year_ of time has passed away,
And long eternity is drawing near:
Another _year_--perhaps another day,
And man and all his works, may disappear,
Time’s but a courser, and his fleet career
May end before he reach another round;
Or, should he chance to run another _year_,
He lays a thousand dead at every bound!
Why longer trust to future _years_ in store?
Why hang our hopes upon a spider’s thread?
Begin the work of life, and, sleep no more,
A flower late planted ne’er may raise its head;
Or choked by weeds neglected in the soil,
May never, never bloom, nor shed a cheerful smile.
_Peter Still._
Eternal source of every joy,
Well may Thy praise our lips employ,
While in Thy temple we appear
To hail Thee sovereign of the _year_.
Wide as the wheels of nature roll
Thy hand supports and guides the whole!
The sun is taught by Thee to rise,
And darkness when to veil the skies.
The flowery spring at Thy command,
Perfumes the air and paints the land;
The summer rays with vigour shine
To raise the corn and cheer the vine.
Thy hand, in Autumn, richly pours
Through all our coasts redundant stores;
And winters softened by thy care,
No more the face of horror wear.
Seasons, and months, and weeks, and days,
Demand successive songs of praise;
And be the grateful homage paid,
With morning light and evening shade.
Here in thy house let incense rise,
And circling sabbaths bless our eyes,
Till to those lofty heights we soar,
Where days and _years_ revolve no more.
_Doddridge._
The middle watch is past! Another _year_
Dawns on the human race with hope and fear.
The last has gone, with mingl’d sigh and song,
To join for ever its ancestral throng;
And Time reveals,
As past it steals,
The potent hand of God, the Everlasting,
Guiding the Sun, with all his blazing peers,
And filling up the measure of our _years_,
Until Messiah, Prince, to judgment hasting,
Shall roll the darkness from this world of sin,
And bid a bright eternity begin.
The _years_ fly faster than they did whilom--
With greater speed they go, with greater come,
Has time renewed its youth? or fearing age,
Perspiring, pants it to fulfil its stage?
Perhaps men’s fears,
And falling tears,
Oiling its wheels has caused this rapid rolling;
Or, urged along by old Creation’s groans,
And sympathizing with its piteous moans,
It flies to set their massive death-bell tolling;
When blooming Paradise shall clothe the earth,
And angels shout to heaven its second birth.
All _years_ are like, yet no one like another;
Sons of one sire, yet no one like his brother;
All use one language, yet the tales they tell
Speak now of earth, anon of heaven and hell.
They all are sent,
With kind intent,
The messengers of God, the loving Father,
To tell his weeping children, that his eye
Watches their sorrows from his world on high,
Where, near himself, he means them all to gather;
Yet when they reach this cloud-environ’d globe,
These messengers assume a sable robe.
On then, ye _years_! accelerate your flight;
Ye’ll sooner cross the realm of murky night,
On, on, unresting! till your pinions, riven,
Drop down exhausted in the vault of heaven!
And thou, O Time,
The sage sublime,
Nobly obedient to the King Eternal,
Shalt lay thy silver’d head to peaceful rest,
Close by the mansions of the ransom’d blest,
Who on thy breast were borne to joys supernal.
Then shall the memory of thy faithful flight
Be set to music in the realms of light!
_W. Leask._
Awake, ye saints, and raise your eyes,
And raise your voices high:
Awake, and praise that sov’reign love,
That shows salvation nigh!
On all the wings of time it flies;
Each moment brings it near;
Then welcome each declining day!
Welcome each closing _year_.
_Doddridge._
Old time has turn’d another page
Of eternity and truth;
He reads with a warning voice to age,
And whispers a lesson to youth.
A _year_ has fled o’er heart and head
Since last the yule-log burnt;
And we have a task to closely ask,
What the bosom and brain have learnt?
Oh! let us hope that our souls have run
With wisdom’s precious grains;
Oh! may we find that our hands have done
Some work of glorious pains.
Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new _year_,
While the holly gleams above us;
With a pardon for the foes who hate,
And a prayer for those who love us.
We may have seen some loved ones pass
To the land of hallow’d rest;
We may miss the glow of an honest brow
And the warmth of a friendly breast:
But if we nursed them while on earth,
With hearts all true and kind,
Will their spirits blame the sinless mirth
Of those true hearts left behind?
No no! it were not well or wise
To mourn with endless pain;
There’s a better world beyond the skies,
Where the good shall meet again.
Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new _year_,
While the holly gleams above us;
With a pardon for the foes who hate,
And a prayer for those who love us.
Have our days rolled on serenely free
From sorrow’s dim alloy?
Do we still possess the gifts that bless
And fill our souls with joy?
Are the creatures dear still clinging near?
Do we hear loved voices come?
Do we gaze on eyes whose glances shed
A halo round our home?
Oh, if we do, let thanks be pour’d
To Him who hath spared and given,
And forget not o’er the festive board
The mercies held from heaven.
Then a welcome and cheer to the merry new _year_,
While the holly gleams above us;
With a pardon for the foes who hate,
And a prayer for those who love us.
_Eliza Cook._
YOUTH.
Wherewithal shall a _young_ man cleanse his way? by taking heed thereto
according to Thy word.--Psalm cxix. 9.
I love them that love me; and those that seek me early shall find
me.--Proverbs, viii. 17.
Rejoice O _young_ man in thy _youth_; and let thy heart cheer thee in
the days of thy _youth_, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in
the sight of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God
will bring thee into judgment.--Ecclesiastes, xi. 9.
Thrice happy he whose downy age had been
Reclaimed by scourges from the prime of sin;
And, early seasoned with the taste of truth,
Remembers his Creator in his _youth_.
_Francis Quarles._
Something of _youth_ I in old age approve,
But more the marks of age in _youth_ I love.
Who this observes, may in his body find
Decrepit age, but never in his mind.
_Denham._
_Youth_ lost in dissipation,--we deplore
Through life’s sad remnant, what no sighs restore;
Our years, a fruitless loss without a prize,
Too many--yet too few to make us wise.
_Cowper._
Grace is a plant, where’er it grows,
Of pure and heavenly root;
But fairest in the _youngest_ shows,
And yields the sweetest fruit.
_Cowper._
_Youth_’s a soft scene, but trust her not;
Her airy minutes swift as thought,
Slide off the slippery sphere;
Moons with their months make hasty rounds,
The sun has passed his vernal bounds,
And wheels about his year.
_Watts._
For pleasures, vanities, and hates,
The compact we renew,
And Judas rises in our hearts--
We sell our Saviour too.
How, for some moments’ vain delights,
We will embitter years,
And in our _youth_ lay up for age
Only remorse and tears.
_Miss Landon._
Days of my _youth_! ye have glided away;
Hairs of my _youth_! ye are frosted and gray;
Eyes of my _youth_! your keen sight is no more;
Cheeks of my _youth_! ye are furrow’d all o’er;
Strength of my _youth_! all your vigour is gone;
Thoughts of my _youth_! your gay visions are flown.
Days of my _youth_! I wish not your recall;
Hairs of my _youth_! I’m content you should fall;
Eyes of my _youth_! ye much evil have seen;
Cheeks of my _youth_! bathed in tears have you been;
Thoughts of my _youth_! ye have led me astray!
Strength of my _youth_! why lament your decay?
Days of my age! ye will shortly be past;
Pains of my age! but awhile can ye last;
Joys of my age! in true wisdom delight;
Eyes of my age! be religion your light;
Thoughts of my age! dread not the cold sod;
Hopes of my age! be ye fixed on your God!
_C. Tucker._
Come, while the blossoms of thy years are brightest,
Thou _youthful_ wanderer in a flowery maze;
Come, while the restless heart is bounding lightest,
And joy’s pure sunbeams tremble in thy ways;
Come while sweet buds, like summer flowers unfolding,
Waken rich feelings in the careless breast;
While yet thy hand the ephemeral wreath is holding,
Come--and secure interminable rest!
Come, while the morning of thy life is glowing,
Ere the dim phantoms thou art chasing die;
Ere the gay spell which earth is round thee throwing,
Fades like the crimson from a sunset sky;
Life hath but shadows, save a promise given,
Which lights the future with a fadeless ray;
O, touch the sceptre, win a hope in Heaven;
Come, turn thy spirit from the world away!
_Willis G. Clark._
Live that thy _young_ and glowing breast
Can think of death without a sigh,
And be assured that life is best
Which finds us least afraid to die.
_Eliza Cook._
ZEAL.
For I bear them record that they have a _zeal_ of God, but not
according to knowledge.--Romans, x. 2.
It is good to be _zealously_ affected always in a good
thing.--Galatians, iv. 18.
As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten: be _zealous_, therefore, and
repent.--Revelation, iii. 19.
Farewell to earth; my life of sense is o’er;
My heart is changed, I feel my bonds untied;
And casting every thought impure aside,
My guilty course abandon and deplore.
Fallacious leaders I obey no more;
I follow thee, refuse all other guide;
And ne’er did shipwrecked bark with broken side
Loose from the shelves more anxious for a shore.
And since I spent with risk of mortal harm,
My life and dearest hours, nor gathered thence
Profit or fruit, I crowd my sail to thee.
Lord, I am turned! now let thy gracious arm
Sustain me: and my future service be
With _zeal_ proportioned to my past offence.
_From the Italian of Gabriel Fiamma._
_Zeal_ is that pure and heavenly flame
The fire of love supplies;
While that which often bears the name,
Is self in a disguise.
True _zeal_ is merciful and mild,
Can pity and forbear;
The false is headstrong, fierce, and wild;
And breathes revenge and war.
While _zeal_ for truth the Christian warms,
He knows the worth of peace;
But self contends for names and forms,
Its party to increase.
_Zeal_ has attained its highest aim,
Its end is satisfied,
If sinners love the Saviour’s name,
Nor seeks it ought beside.
_Newton._
If, gracious God, in life’s green, ardent year,
A thousand times thy patient love I tried;
With reckless heart, with conscience hard and sere,
Thy gifts perverted, and thy power defied:
O grant me, now that wintry snows appear
Around my brow, and youth’s bright promise hide.
Grant me with reverential awe to hear
Thy holy voice, and in thy word confide!
Blot from my book of life its early stain!
Since days misspent will never more return,
My future path do thou in mercy trace;
So cause my soul with pious _zeal_ to burn,
That all the trust which in thy name I place,
Frail as I am, may not prove wholly vain.
_From the Italian of Pietro Bembo._
With _zeal_ we watch,
And weigh the doctrine, while the spirit ’scapes;
And in the carving of our cummin-seeds,
Our metaphysical hair-splitting, fail
To note the orbit of that star of love
Which never sets.
_Mrs. Sigourney._
It is well to be _zealous_ for the truth,
God loveth not those who are lukewarm;
Fear not the reproach of the world;
Hide not thy light under a bushel;
Tell thy neighbour, or those in high places,
Of the sin which thou see’st them committing,
Yet not roughly, nor rudely, though firmly,
But temper thy _zeal_ with discretion.
It is well to be _zealous_, for so were
Of old those who bore God’s commission;
Their hearts burned like coals from the altar,
And they pressed towards the mark of their calling.
So do thou, in thy sphere and station,
Spread the truth as it dwelleth in Jesus;
In season and out be thou instant;
Let thy _zeal_ be according to knowledge.
_Egone._
ZION.
Out of _Zion_, the perfection of beauty, God hath shined.--Psalm l. 2.
For the Lord hath chosen _Zion_; He hath desired it for His
habitation.--Psalm cxxxii. 13.
Behold I lay in _Zion_ a stumbling-stone and rock of offence; and
whosoever believeth on Him shall not be ashamed.--Romans, ix. 33.
Glorious things of thee are spoken,
_Zion_, city of our God!
He, whose word cannot be broken,
Formed thee for His own abode.
On the rock of ages founded,
What can shake Thy sure repose?
With salvation’s walls surrounded,
Thou may’st smile at all Thy foes.
Saviour, if of _Zion’s_ city
I through grace a member am,
Let the world deride or pity,
I will glory in the name.
Fading is the worldling’s pleasure,
All his boasted pomp and show;
Solid joys, and lasting treasure,
None but _Zion’s_ children know.
_Newton._
Keep thou _Zion_-ward thy face,
Ask in faith the aid of grace,
Use the strength which grace shall give,
Die to self, in Christ to live.
_Bernard Barton._
Go, walk about _Zion_ and measure the length,
Her walls and her bulwarks mark well;
Contemplate her palaces, glorious in strength,
Her towers and their pinnacles tell.
Then say to your children:--“Our stronghold is tried,
This God is our God to the end;
His people for ever his counsels shall guide,
His arm shall for ever defend.”
_James Montgomery._
By Babylon’s proud stream we sate,
And tears gushed quick from every eye,
When our own _Zion’s_ fallen state
Came rushing to our memory;
And there, the willow-groves among,
Sorrowing, our silent harps we hung.
For there our tyrants in their pride,
Bade Judah raise the exulting strain,
And our remorseless spoilers cried,
“Come breathe your native hymns again.”
Oh, how in stranger climes can we
Pour forth Jehovah’s melody?
When thou, loved _Zion_, art forgot,
Let this unworthy hand decay;
When Salem is remembered not,
Mute be these guilty lips for aye!
Yea, if in transport’s livelier thrill,
Thou, _Zion_, art not dearer still!
_Thomas Dale._
He who slumbereth not, nor sleepeth,
His ancient watch around us keepeth;
Still sent from His creating hand,
New witnesses for truth shall stand--
New instruments to sound abroad
The Gospel of a risen Lord;
To gather to the fold once more
The desolate and gone astray,
The scattered of a cloudy day,
And _Zion’s_ broken walls restore.
_J. G. Whittier._