Through all the earth:
For they that taste it do rehearse,
That virtue lies therein;
A secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth
By flight of sin.
"Take of this grain, which in my garden grows,
And grows for you;
Make bread of it:--and that repose
And peace, which everywhere
With so much earnestness you do pursue,
Is only there."
_--G. Herbert_
A SONG OF PRAISE
To God, ye choir above, begin
A hymn so loud and strong
That all the universe may hear
And join the grateful song.
Praise Him, thou sun, Who dwells unseen
Amidst transcendent light,
Where thy refulgent orb would seem
A spot, as dark as night.
Thou silver moon, 'ye host of stars,
The universal song
Through the serene and silent night
To listening worlds prolong.
Sing Him, ye distant worlds and suns,
From whence no travelling ray
Hath yet to us, through ages past,
Had time to make its way.
Assist, ye raging storms, and bear
On rapid wings His praise,
From north to south, from east to west,
Through heaven, and earth, and seas.
Exert your voice, ye furious fires
That rend the watery cloud,
And thunder to this nether world
Your Maker's words aloud.
Ye works of God, that dwell unknown
Beneath the rolling main;
Ye birds, that sing among the groves,
And sweep the azure plain;
Ye stately hills, that rear your heads,
And towering pierce the sky;
Ye clouds, that with an awful pace
Majestic roll on high;
Ye insects small, to which one leaf
Within its narrow sides
A vast extended world displays,
And spacious realms provides;
Ye race, still less than these, with which
The stagnant water teems,
To which one drop, however small,
A boundless ocean seems;
Whate'er ye are, where'er ye dwell,
Ye creatures great or small,
Adore the wisdom, praise the power,
That made and governs all.
_--P. Skelton_
THE TRAVELLER
How are thy servants blest, O Lord!
How sure is their defence!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,
Their help, Omnipotence.
In foreign realms, and lands remote,
Supported by Thy care,
Through burning climes I pass'd unhurt,
And breathed in tainted air.
Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil,
Made every region please;
The hoary Alpine hills it warm'd,
And smoothed the Tyrrhene seas.
Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
How, with affrighted eyes,
Thou saw'st the wide-extended deep
In all its horrors rise.
Confusion dwelt in every face,
And fear in every heart;
When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs,
O'ercame the pilot's art.
Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
Thy mercy set me free;
Whilst, in the confidence of prayer,
My soul took hold on Thee.
For though in dreadful whirls we hung
High on the broken wave,
I knew Thou wert not slow to hear,
Nor impotent to save.
--The storm was laid; the winds retired,
Obedient to Thy will;
The sea that roar'd at Thy command,
At Thy command was still.
_--J. Addison_
TRUE GREATNESS
The fairest action of our human life
Is scorning to revenge an injury:
For who forgives without a further strife
His adversary's heart to him doth tie:
And 'tis a firmer conquest truly said
To win the heart, than overthrow the head.
If we a worthy enemy do find,
To yield to worth, it must be nobly done:--
But if of baser metal be his mind,
In base revenge there is no honor won.
Who would a worthy courage overthrow?
And who would wrestle with a worthless foe?
We say our hearts are great, and cannot yield;
Because they cannot yield, it proves them poor:
Great hearts are task'd beyond their power but seld:
The weakest lion will the loudest roar.
Truth's school for certain does this same allow,
High-heartedness doth sometimes teach to bow.
_--Lady E. Carew_
CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE
How happy is he born and taught
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill!
Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Not tied unto the world with care
Of public fame, or private breath;
Who envies none that chance doth raise
Or vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
Nor rules of state, but rules of good;
Who hath his life from rumors freed;
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make accusers great;
Who God doth late and early pray
More of His grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a well-chosen book or friend;
--This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.
_--Sir H. Wotton_
A THANKSGIVING TO GOD, FOR HIS HOUSE
Lord, thou hast given me a cell,
Wherein to dwell;
A little house, whose humble roof
Is weather-proof;
Under the spars of which I lie
Both soft and dry;
Where thou, my chamber for to ward,
Hast set a guard
Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
Me, while I sleep.
Low is my porch, as is my fate:
Both void of state;
And yet the threshold of my door
Is worn by th' poor,
Who thither come, and freely get
Good words, or meat.
Like as my parlor, so my hall
And kitchen's small;
A little buttery, and therein
A little bin,
Which keeps my little loaf of bread
Unchipt, unflead;
Some brittle sticks of thorn or briar
Make me a fire,
Close by whose living coal I sit,
And glow like it.
Lord, I confess too, when I dine,
The pulse is thine,
And all those other bits that be
There placed by thee;
The worts, the purslain, and the mess
Of water-cress,
Which of thy kindness thou hast sent;
And my content
Makes those, and my beloved beet,
To be more sweet.
'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth
With guiltless mirth,
And giv'st me wassail-bowls to drink,
Spiced to the brink.
Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand
That soils my land,
And giv'st me, for my bushel sown,
Twice ten for one;
Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay
Her egg each day;
Besides my healthful ewes to bear
Me twins each year;
The while the conduits of my kine
Run cream, for wine:
All these, and better, thou dost send
Me--to this end,
That I should render, for my part,
A thankful heart.
_--R. Herrick_
FRIENDS DEPARTED
They are all gone into the world of light!
And I alone sit lingering here!
Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast
Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest
After the Sun's remove.
I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days;
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmerings and decays.
O holy hope! and high humility!
High as the Heavens above!
These are your walks, and you have show'd them me,
To kindle my cold love.
Dear, beauteous Death; the jewel of the just!
Shining nowhere but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark!
He that hath found some fledged birdes nest may know
At first sight if the bird be flown;
But what fair dell or grove he sings in now,
That is to him unknown.
And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
And into glory peep.
_--H. Vaughan_
THE LAND OF DREAMS
"Awake, awake, my little boy!
Thou wast thy mother's only joy;
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
O wake! thy father does thee keep."
--"O what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O father! I saw my mother there
Among the lilies by waters fair.
"Among the lambs, clothed in white,
She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight:
I wept for joy; like a dove I mourn:--
O when shall I again return!"
--"Dear child! I also by pleasant streams
Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams:--
But, though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side."
--"Father, O father! what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?--
The Land of Dreams is better far,
Above the light of the morning star."
_--W. Blake_
ADORATION
Sweet is the dew that falls betimes,
And drops upon the leafy limes;
Sweet Hermon's fragrant air:
Sweet is the lily's silver bell,
And sweet the wakeful tapers smell
That watch for early prayer.
Sweet the young nurse, with love intense,
Which smiles o'er sleeping innocence;
Sweet when the lost arrive;
Sweet the musician's ardor beats,
While his vague mind's in quest of sweets,
The choicest flowers to hive.
Strong is the horse upon his speed;
Strong in pursuit the rapid glede,
Which makes at once his game:
Strong the tall ostrich on the ground;
Strong through the turbulent profound
Shoots xiphias to his aim.
Strong is the lion--like a coal
His eyeball--like a bastion's mole
His chest against the foes:
Strong the gier-eagle on his sail;
Strong against tide the enormous whale
Emerges as he goes.
But stronger still, in earth and air,
And in sea, the man of prayer,
And far beneath the tide:
And in the seat to Faith assign'd,
Where ask is, have; where seek is, find;
Where knock is, open wide.
_--C. Smart_