And the stag, that knows no master, seeks there his wild delights;
But we, for _Thy_ communion, have sought the mountain sod;
For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
5. The banner of the chieftain far, far below us waves;
The war-horse of the spearman cannot reach our lofty caves;
Thy dark clouds wrap the threshold of Freedom’s last abode;
For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
6. For the shadow of Thy presence, round our camp of rock outspread;
For the stern defiles of battle, bearing record of our dead;
For the snows and for the torrents, for the free heart’s burial sod;
For the strength of the hills, we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
[330] REFˊ-UGE, shelter, or protection from danger.
[331] BEAˊ-CON, a signal, or mark to give warning of danger.
[332] CAVˊ-ERN, a deep hollow place in the earth.
[333] PINˊ-IONS, wings.
[334] QUARˊ-RY, the game which a hawk or an eagle is pursuing, or has
killed.
XXXIX.—EXHORTATION TO PRAYER.
1. Not on a prayerless bed, not on a prayerless bed
Compose thy weary limbs to rest;
For they alone are blessed
With balmy sleep,
Whom angels keep;
Nor, though by care oppressed,
Or anxious sorrow,
Or thought in many a coil perplexed
For coming morrow,
Lay not thy head
On prayerless bed.
2. For who can tell, when sleep thine eyes shall close,
That earthly cares and woes
To thee may e’er return?
Arouse, my soul,
Slumber control,
And let thy lamp burn brightly;
So shall thine eyes discern
Things pure and sightly;
Taught by the Spirit, learn
Never on thoughtless bed
To lay thine unblessed head.
3. Hast thou no pining want, or wish, or care,
That calls for holy prayer?
Has thy day been so bright
That in its flight
There is no trace of sorrow?
And art thou sure to-morrow
Will be like this, and more
Abundant? Dost thou yet lay up thy store,
And still make plans for more?
Thou fool! this very night
Thy soul may wing its flight.
4. Hast thou no being than thyself more dear,
That plows the ocean deep?
And when storms sweep the wintry, lowering skies,
For whom thou wakest and weepest?
O, when thy pangs are deepest,
Seek then the covenant ark of prayer,
For He that slumbereth not, is there,
His ear is open to thy cry;
O, then, on prayerless bed
Lay not thy thoughtless head.
5. Arouse thee, weary soul, nor yield to slumber,
Till in communion blessed
With the elect thou rest,
Those souls in countless number;
And with them raise
The note of praise,
Reaching from earth to heaven;
Chosen, redeemed, forgiven;
So lay thy happy head,
Prayer-crowned, on blessed bed.
XL.—BEHIND TIME.
FREEMAN HUNT.
1. A railroad train was rushing along at almost lightning speed. A curve
was just ahead, beyond which was a station at which the cars usually
passed each other. The conductor was late, so late that the period during
which the down train was to wait had nearly elapsed; but he hoped yet
to pass the curve safely. Suddenly a locomotive dashed into sight right
ahead. In an instant there was a collision. A shriek, a shock, and fifty
souls were in eternity; and all because an engineer had been _behind
time_.
2. A great battle was going on. Column[335] after column had been
precipitated for eight mortal hours on the enemy posted along the ridge
of a hill. The summer sun was sinking to the west; rëenforcements[336]
for the obstinate defenders were already in sight; it was necessary to
carry the position with one final charge, or every thing would be lost.
3. A powerful corps had been summoned from across the country, and if it
came up in season all would yet be well. The great conqueror, confident
in its arrival, formed his reserve[337] into an attacking column, and
ordered them to charge the enemy. The whole world knows the result.
Grouchy[338] failed to appear; the imperial guard was beaten back;
Waterloo was lost. Napoleon died a prisoner at St. Helena because one of
his marshals was _behind time_.
4. A leading firm in commercial circles had long struggled against
bankruptcy. As it had enormous assets[339] in California, it expected
remittances by a certain day, and if the sums promised arrived, its
credit, honor, and its future prosperity would be preserved. But week
after week elapsed without bringing the gold. At last came the fatal
day on which the firm had bills maturing[340] to enormous amounts. The
steamer was telegraphed at daybreak; but it was found, on inquiry, that
she brought no funds, and the house failed. The next arrival brought
nearly half a million to the insolvents[341], but it was too late; they
were ruined because their agent, in remitting, had been _behind time_.
5. A condemned man was led out for execution. He had taken human
life, but under circumstances of the greatest provocation, and public
sympathy was active in his behalf. Thousands had signed petitions for a
reprieve[342], a favorable answer had been expected the night before, and
though it had not come, even the sheriff felt confident that it would
yet arrive in season. Thus the morning passed without the appearance of
the messenger. The last moment was up. The prisoner took his place on
the drop, the cap was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a
lifeless body swung revolving in the wind. Just at that moment a horseman
came into sight, galloping down hill, his steed covered with foam. He
carried a packet in his right hand, which he waved rapidly to the crowd.
He was the express rider with a reprieve. But he had come too late. A
comparatively innocent man had died an ignominious death, because a watch
had been five minutes too slow, making its bearer arrive _behind time_.
6. It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the most important
affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the weal of nations, honor,
happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed because somebody is “behind
time.” There are men who always fail in whatever they undertake, simply
because they are “behind time.” There are others who put off reformation
year by year, till death seizes them, and they perish unrepentant,
because forever “behind time.” Five minutes in a crisis is worth years.
It is but a little period, yet it has often saved a fortune or redeemed
a people. If there is one virtue that should be cultivated more than
another by him who would succeed in life, it is punctuality; if there is
one error that should be avoided it is being _behind time_.
[335] COLˊ-UMN, a body of troops in deep files, with narrow front.
[336] RE-EN-FORCEˊ-MENTS, supplies of additional troops.
[337] RE-SERVEˊ, a select body of troops kept in the rear of an army in
action, to give support when required.
[338] Napoleon Bonaparte, emperor of France, was defeated by the Allies
under the Duke of Wellington, at Waterloo, June 18, 1815. Marshal Grouchy
was expected to aid the emperor with a body of troops, but failed to
appear.
[339] ASˊ-SETS, property or effects.
[340] MA-TURˊ-ING, ripening, coming to a perfected state. Bills or notes
mature when they become due.
[341] IN-SOLˊ-VENT, one who cannot pay his debts.
[342] RE-PRIEVEˊ, a suspension of a entence of death.
XLI.—EVIL INFLUENCE OF SKEPTICISM.
CAMPBELL.
Thomas Campbell was born in Scotland in 1777, and died in 1844.
Some of his shorter poems are remarkable for pathos and beauty,
such as “O’Connor’s Child,” “The Exile of Erin,” etc.
1. O, lives there, Heaven! beneath thy dread expanse,
One hopeless, dark idolater of Chance,
Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined,
The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind;
Who, mouldering earthward, reft[343] of every trust,
In joyless union wedded to the dust,
Could all his parting energy dismiss,
And call this barren world sufficient bliss?
2. There live, alas! of heaven-directed mien,
Of cultured soul, and sapient[344] eye serene,
Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of a day,
Spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay!
Frail as the leaf in Autumn’s yellow bower,
Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower!
A friendless slave, a child without a sire,
Whose mortal life, and momentary fire,
Lights to the grave his chance-created form,
As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm;
And, when the gun’s tremendous flash is o’er,
To night and silence sink for evermore!
3. Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim,
Lights of the world, and demigods[345] of Fame?
Is this your triumph, this your proud applause,
Children of Truth, and champions of her cause?
For this hath Science searched, on weary wing,
By shore and sea, each mute and living thing?
Launched with Iberia’s[346] pilot from the steep,
To world’s unknown, and isles beyond the deep?
Or round the cope[347] her living chariot driven,
And wheeled in triumph through the signs of heaven?
O, star-eyed Science, hast thou wandered there,
To waft us home the message of despair?
Then bind the palm, thy sage’s brow to suit,
Of blasted leaf, and death distilling fruit!
4. Ah me! the laureled wreath that Murder rears,
Blood-nursed, and watered by the widow’s tears,
Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread,
As waves the night-shade[348] round the sceptic head.
What is the bigot’s torch, the tyrant’s chain?
I smile on death, if heavenward Hope remain!
But, if the warring winds of Nature’s strife
Be all the faithless charter of my life,
If chance awaked, inexorable power!
This frail and feverish being of an hour,
Doomed o’er the world’s precarious scene to sweep,
Swift as the tempest travels on the deep,
To know Delight but by her parting smile,
And toil, and wish, and weep, a little while;
Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain
This troubled pulse, and visionary[349] brain!
Fade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my doom!
And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb!
5. Truth, ever lovely, since the world began,
The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man,
How can thy words from balmy slumber start
Reposing Virtue, pillowed on the heart!
Yet, if thy voice the note of thunder rolled,
And that were true which Nature never told,
Let Wisdom smile not on her conquered field
No rapture dawns, no treasure is revealed!
O, let her read, nor loudly, nor elate,
The doom that bars us from a better fate!
But, sad as angels for the good mans sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in!
[343] REFT, bereft; deprived.
[344] SAˊ-PI-ENT, wise.
[345] DEMˊ-I-GOD, a deified hero.
[346] I-BEˊ-RI-A’S PIˊ-LOT, Columbus. Iberia is an ancient name of Spain.
[347] COPE, the concave of the sky, an arch or vault over head.
[348] NIGHTˊ-SHADE, a noxious plant.
[349] VIˊ-SION-A-RY, prone to see or capable of seeing visions;
imaginative.
XLII.—DAVID’S LAMENT FOR ABSALOM.
WILLIS.
1. Alas, my noble boy! that thou shouldst die!
Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair!
That death should settle in thy glorious eye,
And leave his stillness in this clustering hair!
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb,
My proud boy, Absalom!
2. Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill
As to my bosom I have tried to press thee.
How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill,
Like a rich harpstring, yearning[350] to caress thee,
And hear thy sweet “_My father!_” from these dumb
And cold lips, Absalom!
3. But death is on thee. I shall hear the gush
Of music, and the voices of the young;
And life will pass me in the mantling[351] blush,
And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung;—
But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come
To meet me, Absalom!
4. And, O, when I am stricken, and my heart,
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken,
How will its love for thee, as I depart,
Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token!
It were so sweet, amid death’s gathering gloom,
To see thee, Absalom!
5. And now, farewell! ’Tis hard to give thee up,
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee:—
And thy dark sin!—O, I could drink the cup,
If from this woe its bitterness had won thee.
May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home,
My lost boy, Absalom!
[350] YEARNˊING, strongly desiring.
[351] MANˊTLING, suffusing the face.
XLIII.—A STORM AT SEA.
ARCHBISHOP HUGHES.
Archbishop Hughes, was born in the north of Ireland in 1798. He
came to the United States in 1817, with his father, and died
January 3, 1864. He was educated at Mount St. Mary’s, Emmetsburg,
Maryland, ordained priest in 1825, became bishop in 1842, and
archbishop of New York in 1850. He devoted his great energies in
an especial manner to the encouragement and spread of Catholic
education. His controversies with Breckenridge, and the debate
on the Public School question, proved him to be a man of great
controversial ability.
1. This day I was gratified with what I had often desired to witness—the
condition of the sea in a tempest. I had contemplated the ocean in all
its other phases, and they are almost innumerable. At one time it is
seen reposing in perfect stillness under the blue sky and bright sun.
At another, slightly ruffled, and then its motion causes his rays to
tremble and dance in broken fragments of silvery or golden light,—and
the sight is dazzled by following the track from whence his beams are
reflected,—while all besides seems to frown in the darkness of its ripple.
2. Again it may be seen somewhat more agitated and of a darker hue,
under a clouded sky and a stronger and increasing wind. Then you see an
occasional wave, rising a little above the rest, and crowning its summit
with that crest of white, breaking from its top and tumbling over like
liquid alabaster[352]. I had seen the ocean, too, by moonlight, and as
much of it as may be seen in the darkness, when the moon and stars are
veiled. But until to-day I had never seen it in correspondence with the
TEMPEST.
3. After a breeze of some sixty hours from the north and north-west, the
wind died away about four o’clock yesterday afternoon. The calm continued
till about nine in the evening. The mercury in the barometer[353] fell,
in the mean time, at an extraordinary rate; and the captain predicted
that we should encounter a “gale” from the south-east. The “gale” came
on, at about eleven o’clock; not violent at first, but increasing every
moment. I awoke with a confused recollection of a good deal of rolling
and thumping through the night, which was occasioned by the dashing of
the waves against the ship.
4. Hurrying on my clothes, I found such of the passengers as could stand,
at the doors of the hurricane-house[354], “holding on,” and looking out
in the utmost consternation. It was still quite dark. Four of the sails
were already in ribbons; the winds whistling through the cordage; the
rain dashing furiously and in torrents; the noise and spray scarcely less
than I found them under the great sheet at Niagara. And in the midst of
all this, the captain with his speaking trumpet, the officers, and the
sailors, screaming to each other in efforts to be heard,—this, all this,
in the darkness which precedes the dawning of day, and with the fury of
the hurricane, combined to form as much of the _terribly_ sublime as I
ever wish to witness concentrated in one scene.
5. The passengers, though silent, were filled with apprehension. What the
extent of the danger, and how all this would terminate, were questions
which rose in my own mind, although I was unconscious of fear or
trepidation.[355] But to such questions there are no answers, for this
knowledge resides only with Him who “guides the storm and directs the
whirlwind.” We had encountered, however, as yet, only the commencement
of a gale, whose terrors had been heightened by its suddenness, by
the darkness, and by the confusion. It continued to blow furiously for
twenty-four hours; so that during the whole day I enjoyed a view, which,
apart from its dangers, would be worth a voyage across the Atlantic.
6. The ship was driven madly through the raging waters, and when it was
impossible to walk the decks without imminent risk of being lifted up and
carried away by the winds, the poor sailors were kept aloft, tossing and
swinging about the yards and in the tops, clinging by their bodies, feet,
and arms, with mysterious tenacity, to the spars, while their hands were
employed in taking in and securing sail.
7. On deck the officers and men made themselves safe by ropes; but how
the gallant fellows aloft kept from being blown out of the rigging, was
equally a matter of wonder and admiration. However, about seven o’clock
they had taken in what canvas had not been blown away, except the
sails, by means of which the vessel is kept steady. At nine o’clock the
hurricane had acquired its full force. There was no more work to be done.
The ship lay to[356], and those who had her in charge only remained on
deck to be prepared for whatever of disaster might occur. The breakfast
hour came, and passed, unheeded by most of the passengers.
8. By this time the sea was rolling up its hurricane waves; and that I
might not lose the grandeur of such a view, I fortified myself against
the rain and spray, and, in spite of the fierceness of the gale, planted
myself in a position favorable for a survey of all around me, and in
safety, so long as the ship’s strong works might hold together. I had
often seen paintings of a storm at sea, but here was the original. These
imitations are oftentimes graphic[357] and faithful, as far as they go,
but they are necessarily deficient in accompaniments which paintings
cannot supply, and are therefore feeble and ineffective.
9. You have, upon canvas, the ship and the sea, but, as they come from
the hands of the artist, so they remain. The universal _motion_ of both
is thus arrested and made stationary. There is no subject in which
the pencil of the painter acknowledges more its indebtedness to the
imagination than in its attempts to delineate[358] the sea storm.
10. It was not the least remarkable, and by far the most comfortable
circumstance in this combination of all that is grand and terrible, that,
furious as were the winds, towering and threatening as were the billows,
our glorious bark preserved her equilibrium[359] against the fury of the
one, and her buoyancy in despite of the alternate precipice and avalanche
of the other. True it is, she was made to whistle through her cordage, to
creak and moan through all her timbers, even to her masts. True it is,
she was made to plunge and rear, to tremble and reel and stagger. Still,
she continued to scale the watery mountain, and ride on its very summit,
until, as it rolled onward from beneath her, she descended gently on her
pathway, ready to triumph again and again over each succeeding wave.
11. At such a moment it was a matter of profound deliberation which most
to admire, the majesty of God in the winds and waves or His goodness
and wisdom in enabling His creatures to contend with and overcome the
elements even in the fierceness of their anger! To cast one’s eye abroad
on the scene that surrounded me at this moment, and to think man should
have said to himself, “I will build myself an ark in the midst of you,
and ye shall not prevent my passage; nay, ye indomitable waves shall bear
me up, and ye winds shall waft me onward!” And yet there we were in the
fullness of this fearful experiment.
12. I had never believed it possible for a vessel to encounter such a
hurricane without being dashed or torn to pieces, at least in all her
masts and rigging; for I am persuaded that had the same tempest passed as
furiously over your town, during the same length of time, it would have
left scarcely a house standing. The yielding character of the element
in which the vessel is launched is the great secret of safety on such
occasions. Hence, when gales occur upon the wide ocean, there is little
danger; but when they drive you upon breakers on a lee shore[360], where
the keel[361] comes in contact with “the too solid earth,” then it is
impossible to escape shipwreck.
13. I never experienced a sensation of fear on the ocean; but this
tempest has increased my confidence tenfold, not only in the sea but in
the ship. It no longer surprises me that few vessels are lost at sea,
for they and their element are made for each other. And the practical
conclusion from this experience of a gale is encouraging for all my
future navigation. I shall have confidence in my ship now, as I have
ever had in the sea. Ever since my eyes first rested on the ocean, I
have cherished an instinctive affection for it, as if it were something
capable of sympathy and benevolence. When calm, it is to me a slumbering
infant. How tranquilly it sleeps!
[352] ALˊ-A-BAS-TER, a white stone used for ornamental purposes.
[353] BA-ROMˊ-E-TER, an instrument used for measuring the weight or
pressure of the atmosphere, and which gives warning of the approach of a
storm by the falling of the mercury; a weather-glass.
[354] HURˊ-RI-CANE HOUSE, a house on the upper deck.
[355] TREP-I-DAˊ-TION, involuntary trembling; agitation of mind; alarm.
[356] LAY TO, had the progress stopped, as a vessel by bringing her head
to the wind.
[357] GRAPHˊ-IC, well described; vivid.
[358] DE-LIN’ˊE-ATE, represent by drawing or by describing, so as to
present a picture to the mind.
[359] E-QUI-LIBˊ-RI-UM, balance of power or weight; just poise or balance.
[360] LEE SHORE, a shore against which the wind blows.
[361] KEEL, the principal timber in a vessel, extending from stem to
stern, at the bottom.
XLIV.—THE ATMOSPHERE.
1. The atmosphere rises above us, with its cathedral[362]-dome, arching
towards the heavens, of which it is the most familiar synonym[363] and
symbol. It floats around us like that grand object which the apostle
John saw in his vision—“a sea of glass like unto crystal.” So massive
is it, that, when it begins to stir, it tosses about great ships like
playthings, and sweeps cities and forests to destruction before it. And
yet it is so mobile[364], that we live years in it before we can be
persuaded that it exists at all; and the great bulk of mankind never
realize the truth that they are bathed in an ocean of air. Its weight is
so enormous that iron shivers before it like glass; yet a soap bubble
sails through it with impunity, and the tiniest insect waves it aside
with its wing.
2. It ministers lavishly to all the senses. We touch it not; but it
touches us. Its warm south wind brings back color to the pale face of the
invalid; its cool west winds refresh the fevered brow, and make the blood
mantle in our cheeks; even its northern blasts brace into new vigor the
hardy children of our rugged clime.
3. The eye is indebted to it for all the magnificence of sunrise,
the full brightness of midday, the chastened[365] radiance of the
“gloaming[366],” and the “clouds that cradle near the setting sun.” But
for it the rainbow would want its “triumphal arch,” and the winds would
not send their fleecy messengers on errands round the heavens. The cold
weather would not shed its snow feathers on the earth, nor would drops
of dew gather on the flowers. The kindly rain would never fall, nor
hailstorm, nor fog diversify[367] the face of the sky. Our naked globe
would turn its tanned and unshadowed forehead to the sun, and one dreary,
monotonous blaze of light and heat dazzle and burn up all things.
4. Were there no atmosphere, the evening sun would in a moment set, and
without warning plunge the earth in darkness. But the air keeps in her
hand a sheaf of his rays, and lets them slip slowly through her fingers;
so that the shadows of evening gather by degrees, and the flowers have
time to bow their heads, and each creature space to find a place of rest,
and nestle to repose. In the morning, the gairish[368] sun would at once
burst from the bosom of night, and blaze above the horizon; but the air
watches for his coming, and sends at first one little ray to announce his
approach, and then another, and by and by a handful; and so gently draws
aside the curtain of night, and slowly lets the light fall on the face
of the sleeping earth, till her eyelids open, and, like man, she “goeth
forth again to her labor till the evening.”
[362] CA-THEˊ-DRAL, a large church, the term is properly applied to the
church in which the bishop of the diocese usually officiates.
[363] SYNˊ-O-NYM, one of two or more words having the same or a similar
meaning.
[364] MOBˊ-ILE, movable, light.
[365] CHASTˊ-ENED (chaˊ-snd), pure.
[366] GLOAMˊ-ING, twilight.
[367] DI-VERˊ-SI-FY, give variety to.
[368] GAIR-ISH, gaudy, brightly shining.
XLV.—THE CHERWELL WATER-LILY.
FABER.