Nor for itself it stands alone ; The seaman's friend, it shines from far, As though an angel from the throne Came down to be his leading star. It warns to shun the breakers near, Smooth into port the vessel guides, Points where a wider course to steer, Shows how to 'scape conflicting tides. Thus built upon eternal truth, High in mid-heaven, o'er land and sea, Christ's Church holds forth to age and youth A beacon and a sanctuary.- James Montgomery. 513. CHURCH: neglected. SELDOM at church, 'twas such a busy life : But duly sent his family and wife.- Pope. 514. CHURCH. Peril of the Hard, rugged, shapeless at the first, yet destined each to shine, Moulded beneath His patient hand in purity Divine. Oh, glorious process ! see the proud grow lowly, gentle, meek; See floods of unaccustom'd tears gush down the harden'd cheek: Perchance the hammer's heavy stroke o'erthrew some idol fond; Perchance the chisel rent in twain some precious, tender bond. Behold he prays whose lips were seal'd in silent scorn before; Sighs for the closet's holy calm, and hails the wel. come door ; Behold he works for Jesus now, whose days went idly past : Oh! for more mouldings of the hand that works a change so vast! Ye look'd on one, a well-wrought stone, a saint of God matured, What chisellings that heart had felt, what chasten ing strokes endured! But mark'd ye not that last soft touch, what perfect grace it gave, Ere Jesus bore His servant home, across the dark some wave? Home to the place His grace design'd that chosen soul to fill, In the bright temple of the saved, “upon His holy hill ;' Home to the noiselessness, the peace of those sweet shrines above, Whose stones shall never be displaced —set in re• deeming love. Lord, chisel, chasten, polish us, each blemish work away, Cleanse us with purifying blood, in spotless robes array; And thus, Thine image on us stamp'd, transport us to the shore, Where not a stroke was ever felt, for none is needed more. WATCH! watch ! the subtle peril threats The freedom of the bride ; The foe, unweary, ne'er forgets His spirit-snares to hide. The watchman on the walls can guard While marshall'd armies wait; But vain are sleepless watch and ward, If treason opes the gate. To arms! the martial shout prolong, Unfurl the flag again ; W. Morley Punshon. 515. CHURCH. Pride at SOME go to church, proud humbly to repent, Young. 516. CHURCH. Redemption of the A LITTLE flock! Yes, even so; A handful among men : So willeth He; Amen! 512. CHURCH. The: a Lighthouse. The light-house founded on a rock, Casts o'er the food its radiant eye, Firm amidst ocean's heaviest shock, Serene beneath the stormiest sky. Though winds and waters rage and foam, Though darkness lowers like Egypt's night, Here peace and safety find a home; In this small Goshen there is light. Not many rich or noble callid, Not many great or wise ; They whom God makes His kings and priests Are poor in human eyes. A little flock! 'Tis well, 'tis well ; Such be her lot and name; Through ages past it has been so, And now 'tis still the same. Her feeble days are o'er ; A little flock no more. Weary, and faint, and few, Or as the early dew. In robes of victory, The joyous jubilee. Unfaltering songs they sing ; In presence of the King !-Bonar. We mark her goodly battlements, And her foundations strong ; Of her unending song. Thy holy Church, O God! And tempests are abroad; Immovable she stands, A house not made with hands.-A. C. Coxe. 519. CHURCH OF ROME: her claims. THEY would assume, with wondrous art, , Themselves to be the whole who are but part Of that vast frame the Church ; yet grant they were The banders down, can they from thence infer A right t'interpret? Or would they alone, Who brought the present, claim it for their own ? Dryden. 520. CHURCH-YARD: the place where all men are equal. The solitary, silent, solemn scene, Where Cæsars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie Blended in dust together ; where the slave Rests from his labours; where th' insulting proud Resigns his power, the miser drops his hoard; Where human folly sleeps.--Dyer. 517. CHURCH. Spread of the THE Banyan of the Indian isle Strikes deeply down its massive root, And spreads its branching life abroad, And bends to earth with scarlet fruit ; But when the branches reach the ground, They firmly plant themselves again : They rise and spread and droop and root, An ever-green and endless chain. And so the Church of Jesus Christ, The blessed Banyan of our God, Fast-rooted upon Zion's mount, Has sent its sheltering arms abroad; And every branch that from it springs, In sacred beauty spreading wide, As low it bends to bless the earth, Still plants another by its side. Long as the world itself shall last, The sacred Banyan still shall spread ; From clime to clime, from age to age, Its sheltering shadow shall be shed. Its leaves shall for their healing be: The blood that crimson'd Calvary. 521. CHURCH-YARD. The village BENEATH those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield ! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys and destiny obscure ; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. 518. CHURCH. Stability of the Oh where are kings and empires now, Of old that went and came? But, Lord, Thy Church is praying yet, A thousand years the same. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, Their name, their years, spelt by the unletter'd muse, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, The place of fame and elegy supply ; Await alike the inevitable hour ; | And many a holy text around she strews, The paths of glory lead but to the grave. That teach the rustic moralist to die. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, ! This pleasing, anxious being e'er resign'd, Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted | Left the warm precints of the cheerful day, vault, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Can storied urn, or animated bust, Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. -Gray. Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death? 522. CIRCUMVENTION. Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid They must sweep my way, Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; And marshal me to knavery: let it workHands that the rod of empire might have sway'd, For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre ; Hoist with his own petard ; and 't shall go hard, But knowledge to their eyes her ample page, But I will delve one yard below their mines, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; And blow them at the moon.-Shakespeare, Chill penury repress'd their noble rage, Bear your wrongs conceal'd, And froze the genial current of the soul. And patient as the tortoise ; let this camel Full many a gem of purest ray serene Stalk o'er your back unbruised : sleep with the lion, The dark, unfathom'd caves of ocean bear; And let this brood of secure foolish mice Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, Play with your nostrils, till the time be ripe And waste its fragrance on the desert air. For the bloody audit, and the fatal gripe : Aim like a cunning fowler, close one eye, Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, That you the better may your game espy.-Webster. The little tyrant of his fields withstood; Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest ; 523. CITIZENS. Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. These base mechanics never keep their words The applause of listening senates to command, In anything they promise. 'Tis their trade The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To swear and break; they all grow rich by breaking To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, More than their words; their honesties and credits And read their history in a nation's eyes. Are still the first commodities they put off. - Fonson, Their lot forbade ; nor circumscribed alone The fawning citizen, whose love's bought dearest, Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; Deceives his brother when the sun shines clearest, Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, Gets, borrows, breaks, lets in and stops out light, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind; And lives a knave, to leave his son a knight. The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, Brown. To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, The cit--a common councilman by place, Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride Ten thousand mighty nothings in his face, With incense kindled at the muse's flame. By situation as by nature great, With nice precision parcels out the state; Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Proves and disproves, affirms and then denies, Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray ; Objects himself, and to himself replies: Along the cool, sequester'd vale of life Wielding aloft the politician's rod, They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. Makes Pitt by turns a devil and a god : Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect, Maintains ev'n to the very teeth of power, Some frail memorial still erected nigh, The same thing right and wrong in half an hour; With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Now all is well, now he suspects a plot, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. | And plainly proves whatever is-is not : Smallest helps, if rightly given, Make the impulse stronger ; 'Twill be strong enough one day ; Wait a little longer.--Mackay. 525. CLERGYMEN. Is not the care of souls a load sufficient ? Fearfully wise, he shakes his empty head, Churchill. Cowper. A good time coming ; Of the good time coming. But thought's a weapon stronger ; Wait a little longer. A good time coming ; In the good time coming. And be acknowledged stronger ; Wait a little longer. A good time coming ; In the good time coming. To prove which is the stronger ; Wait a little longer. A good time coming ; In the good time coming. And flourish all the stronger ; Wait a little longer. A good time coming ; The good time coming. Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, Goldsmith. At church with meek and unaffected grace, Goldsmith. 526. CLOSET. Waiting in the LORD, I have shut my door,- Speak Thou, and heavenly joys A holy psalm. Fill'd with spring's bloom and mirth: To Thee I speak. And I have shut my door On earthly passion, -all its yearning love, Its tender friendships, all the priceless store Of human ties. Above All these my heart aspires, O Heart Divine ! Stoop Thou to mine. Lord, I have shut my door ! And visitedst Thine own. For Thou art here !- Mary E. Atkinson. My Saviour ! Thee possessing, I have the joy, the balm, The healing and the blessing, The sunshine and the psalm! The promise for the fearful, The Elim for the faint, The rainbow for the tearful, The glory for the saint.- Jane Crewrison. 530. COMFORT : how it is to be obtained. 527. COMET. What may thy presence here portend? As friend greets friend? Some lessons to the humble soul; Yet still thy goal From whence thy golden beams are won : So should we turn from earth's dark night, To God our sun.-Mrs Hale. 528. COMFORT. Common There is a heaven yet to rest my soul on In the midst of all unhappiness, which I look on With the same comfort as a distressed seaman Afar off views the coast he would enjoy, When yet the seas do toss his reeling bark 'Twixt hope and danger.-Shirley. Is thy cruse of comfort failing? rise and share it with another, And through all the years of famine it shall serve thee and thy brother. Love Divine will fill the storehouse, or thy handful still renew; Scanty fare for one will often make a royal feast for two. For the heart grows rich in giving ; all its wealth is living gain ; Seeds, which mildew in the garner, scatter'd, fill with gold the plain. Is thy burden hard and heavy ? do thy steps drag wearily? Help to bear thy brother's burden ; God will bear both it and thee. Numb and weary on the mountains, wouldst thou sleep amidst the snow ? Chafe that frozen form beside thee, and together both shall glow. Art thou stricken in life's battle? many wounded round thee moan ; Lavish on their wounds thy balsams, and that balm shall heal thine own. Is the heart a well left empty? None but God its void can fill; Nothing but a ceaseless Fountain can its ceaseless longings fill; Is the heart a living power? Self-entwined, its strength sinks low; It can only live in loving, and by serving love will grow.-Mrs Charles. 529. COMFORT. Experience of I've found a joy in sorrow, A secret balm for pain, Of sunshine after rain. Near every bitter spring ; O'er every broken string. For every woe and wail, When grapes from Eshcol fail. When desert wells were dry; I've found an Elim nigh, - Its fountains, and its shade! When buds of promise fade ! I've seen a rainbow light; So near !-yet out of sight. 531. COMFORT. Prayer for SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet, |