Imagens da página

He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day;
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the mid-day sun :
Himself is his own dungeon. --Milton.

Knowledge or wealth to few are given ; But mark how just the ways of Heaven :

True joy to all is free ; Nor wealth nor knowledge grant the boon, 'Tis thine, O Conscience ! thine alone :

It all belongs to thee. - Mickle.

562. CONSCIENCE. A guilty

SUSPICION always haunts the guilty mind : The thief doth fear each bush an officer.


Not sharp revenge, nor hell itself, can find
A fiercer torment than a guilty mind,
Which day and night doth dreadfully accuse,
Condemns the wretch, and still the charge renews.


And I felt I should have to answer

The question it put to me,
And to face the answer and question

Throughout an eternity.
The ghosts of forgotten actions

Came floating before my sight;
And things that I thought were dead things,

Were alive with a terrible might.
And the vision of all my past life

Was an awful thing to face,
Alone with my conscience sitting

In that solemnly silent place.
And I thought of my former tremblings,

Of the judgment-day to be,
But sitting alone with my conscience

Seem'd judgment enough for me.
And I wonder'd if there was a future

To this land beyond the grave;
But no one gave me an answer,

And no one came to save.
Then I felt that the future was present,

And the present would never go by,
For it was but the thought of my past life

Grown into eternity.
Then I woke from my timely dreaming,

And the vision pass'd away,
And I knew the far-away warning

Was a warning of yesterday.
And I pray that I may not forget it,

In this land before the grave,
That I may not cry in the future,

And no one come to save.
So I sit alone with my conscience,

In the place where the years increase,
And I try to remember the future

In the land where time will cease.
And I know of the future judgment,

How dreadful soe'er it be,
That to sit alone with my conscience
Will be judgment enough for me.

W. Stubbs.
561. CONSCIENCE. A good
What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted ?
Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just ;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

Shakespeare. I know myself now, and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities ; A still and quiet conscience. --Shakespeare.

First guilty conscience doth the mirror bring,
Then sharp remorse shoots out her angry sting;
And anxious thoughts, within themselves at strife,
Upbraids the long misspent, luxurious life.-Dryden.

Here, here it lies; a lump of lead by day ;
And in my short, distracted nightly slumbers,
The hag that rides my dreams.—Dryden.
Now guilt once harbour'd in the conscious breast
Intimidates the brave, degrades the great.-Johnson.

Thus oft it haps, that when within,
They shrink at sense of secret sin,

A feather daunts the brave;
A fool's wild speech confounds the wise,
And proudest princes veil their eyes,

• Before their meanest slave. - Scott.
Not all the glory, all the praise,
That decks the prosperous hero's days,
The shout of men, the laurel crown,
The pealing echoes of renown,
May conscience' dreadful sentence drown.

Mrs Holford.

None have accused thee ; 'tis thy conscience cries,
The witness in the soul that never dies;
Its accusation, like the moaning wind
Of wintry midnight, moves thy startled mind;
Oh! may it melt thy harden'd heart, and bring
From out thy frozen soul the life of spring.

Mrs Hale.

563. CONSCIENCE: her restraining power.

A silent index, tracks the planets' march

In all their wanderings through the ethereal arch, For though the judge, Conscience, makes no show,

Tells through the mist where dazzled Mercury burns, But silently to her dark session comes,

And marks the spot where Uranus returns.
Not as red law does to arraignment go,
Or war to execution, with loud drums;

So, till by wrong or negligence effaced,

The living index which thy Maker traced Though she on hills sets not her gibbets high, Repeats the line each starry virtue draws

Where frightful law sets hers; nor bloody seems, Through the wide circuit of creation's laws;
Like war in colours spread, yet secretly

Still tracks unchanged the everlasting ray
She does her work, and many men condemns ; Where the dark shadows of temptation stray ;

But, once defaced, forgets the orbs of light,
Chokes in the seed what law, till ripe, ne'er sees;
What law would punish, Conscience can prevent ;

And leaves thee wandering o'er the expanse of night.

Holmes. And so the world from many mischiefs frees; Known by her cures, as law by punishment.

566. CONSCIENCE: must be obeyed. Davenant. TO CONSCIENCE! conscience ! Man's most faithful

friend, 564. CONSCIENCE: her testimony concerning | How canst thou comfort, ease, relieve, defend ! a future life.

But if he will thy friendly checks forego, SCEPTIC, whoe'er thou art, tell, if thou knowest,

Thou art, oh, woe for me! his deadliest foe. Why every nation, every clime, though all

Crabbe. In laws, in rights, in manners disagree,

567. CONSCIENCE: operates most powerfully With one consent expect another world

in the noblest minds. Where wickedness shall weep? Why in each breast

'Tis ever thus Is placed a friendly monitor, that prompts,

With noble minds, if chance they slide to folly ; Informs, directs, encourages, forbids?

Remorse stings deeper, and relentless conscience Tell, why on unknown evil grief attends,

Pours more of gall into the bitter cup
Or joy on secret good? Why Conscience acts

Of their severe repentance. - Mason.
With tenfold force, when sickness, age, or pain
Stands tottering on the precipice of death?

568. CONSCIENCE. Power of Or why such horrors gnaw the guilty soul

CONSCIENCE, what art thou? thou tremendous power! Of dying sinners, while the good man sleeps Peaceful and calm, and with a smile expires ?

Who dost•inhabit us without our leave;

And art within ourselves another self,

A master-self, that loves to domineer,
565. CONSCIENCE: may be perverted. And treat the monarch frankly as the slave :

How dost thou light a torch to distant deeds! A QUIET conscience makes one so serene !

Make the past present, and the future frown! Christians have burnt each other quite persuaded

How, ever and anon, awake the soul,
That all the apostles would have done as they did.

As with a peal of thunder, to strange horrors,

In this long, restless dream, which idiots hug,
Nature has placed thee on a changeful tide,

Nay, wise men flatter with the name of life! To breast its waves, but not without a guide ;

Young Yet, as the needle will forget its aim,

569. CONSCIENCE. Remorse of Jarr'd by the fury of the electric flame,

THE mind that broods o'er guilty woes As the true current it will falsely feel

Is like the scorpion girt by fire ; Warp'd from its axis by a freight of steel ;

In circle narrowing as it glows, So will thy CONSCIENCE lose its balanced truth,

The flames around their captive close, If passion's lightning fall upon thy youth;

Till, inly search'd by thousand throes, So the pure effluence quit its sacred hold,

And maddening in her ire, Girt round too deeply with magnetic gold.

One and a sole relief she knows: Go to yon tower, where busy science plies

The sting she nourish'd for her foes, Her vast antennæ, feeling through the skies;

Whose venom never yet was vain, That little vernier on whose slender lines

Gives but one pang, and cures all pain, The midnight taper trembles as it shines,

She darts into her desperate brain.

So do the dark in soul expire,

Arm’d at all points, bids scorpion vengeance pass,
Or live like scorpion girt with fire ;

And to the mind holds up reflection's glass-
So writhes the mind remorse has riven, The mind, which starting, heaves the heart-felt groan,
Unfit for earth, undoom'd for heaven. And hates that form she knows to be her own.
Darkness above, despair beneath,

Around it flame, within it death.—Byron.

Trust me, no tortures which the poets feign

Can match the fierce, the unutterable pain 570. CONSCIENCE : a supreme authority.

He feels, who, night and day devoid of rest, ACCOUNTABLE to none

Carries his own accuser in his breast. But to my conscience and my God alone.

Gifford. Oldham.

But conscience, in some awful, silent hour, 571. CONSCIENCE: sweetness of her com | When captivating lusts have lost their power, mendations in the final hour.

Perhaps when sickness, or some fearful dream,

Reminds him of religion, hated theme !
WHEN tyrannizing pain shall stop

Starts from the down on which she lately slept,
The passage of thy breath,

And tells of laws despised, at least not kept ;
And thee compel to swear thyself

Shows with a pointing finger, but no noise,
True servant unto death;

A pale procession of past sinful joys,
Then shall one virtuous deed impart

All witnesses of blessings foully scorn'd,
More pleasure to thy mind,

And life abused, are not to be suborn'd. -Cowper.
Than all the treasures that on earth
Ambitious thoughts can find.

There is no future pang
The well-spent time of one short day,

Can deal that justice on the self-condemn'd

He deals on his own soul.- Byron.
One hour, one moment, then,
Shall be more sweet than all the joys

There is no power in holy men,
Amongst us mortal men.

Nor charms in prayer, nor purifying form
Then shalt thou find but one refuge

Of penitence, nor outward look, nor fast,
Which comfort can retain :

Nor agony, nor, greater than all these,
A guiltless conscience, pure and clear

The innate tortures of that deep despair,
From touch of sinful stain.-Brandon.

Which is remorse without the fear of hell,
The sweetest cordial we receive at last

But all in all sufficient to itself,
Is conscience of our virtuous actions past.

Would make a hell of heaven-can exorcise,

From out the unbounded spirit, the quick sense Denham.

Of its own sins, wrongs, sufferance, and revenge 572. CONSCIENCE. Terrors of an awakened Upon itself.-Byron. OH-I have pass'd a miserable night,

No ear can hear, no tongue can tell, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,

The tortures of that inward hell!-Byron. That, as I am a Christian faithful man,

| How awful is that hour, when conscience stings I would not spend another such a night,

The hoary wretch who on his death-bed hears, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days : So full of dismal terror was the time.

Deep in his soul, the thundering voice that rings, Shakespeare.

In one dark, damning moment, crimes of years,

And screaming like a vulture in his ears,
Oh, it is monstrous ! monstrous !

Tells, one by one, his thoughts and deeds of shame; Methought the billows spoke and told me of it;

How wild the fury of his soul careers ! The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,

His swart eye flashes with intensest flame, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced

And like the torture's rack the wrestling of his frame. The name of Prosper. --Shakespeare.

7. G. Percival. No; 'tis the tale which angry conscience tells, When she with more than tragic horror swells

573. CONSCIENCE: the oracle of God. Each circumstance of guilt; when stern, but true, Yet still there whispers the small voice within, She brings bad actions forth into review,

Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din : And, like the dread handwriting on the wall, Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, Bids late remorse awake at reason's call;

| Man's conscience is the oracle of God !-Byron.

574. CONSCIENCE : a trouble to bad men.

It is a dangerous thing; It makes a man a coward; a man Cannot steal but it accuseth him ; a man Cannot swear, but it checks him. 'Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit, that Mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills One full of obstacles. It made me once Restore a purse of gold, that by chance I Found. It beggars any man that keeps it. It is turn'd out of towns and cities for A dangerous thing; and every man that means To live well, endeavours to trust himself, And live without it. - Shakespeare.

It needs the overflow of heart

To give the lips full speech. Think truly, and thy thoughts

Shall the world's famine feed ; Speak truly, and each word of thine

Shall be a fruitful seed ;
Live truly, and thy life shall be

A great and noble creed.

578. CONSOLATION. Compensatory

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn away,
And lose the name of action.-Shakespeare.

So, Christian ! though gloomy and sad be thy days,

And the tempest of sorrow encompass thee black; Though no sunshine of promise or hope sheds its

rays To illumine and cheer thy life's desolate track Though thy soul writhes in anguish, and bitter tears

flow O'er the wreck of fond joys from thy bleeding

heart riven, Check thy murmuring sorrows, thou lorn one, and

know That the chastenid on earth are the purest for

heaven : And remember, though gloomy the present may be, That 'the Master is coming,' and coming to thee.


575. CONSCIENCE: a witness.

579. CONSOLATION : in Christ.

Thou may'st conceal thy sin by cunning art,
But conscience sits a witness in thy heart;
Which will disturb thy peace, thy rest undo,
For that is witness, judge, and prison too.

Watkyns. 576. CONSECRATION. Entire

IF so poor a worm as I

May to Thy great glory live,
All my actions sanctify,

All my words and thoughts receive;
Claim me for Thy service, claim
All I have, and all I am.
Take my soul and body's powers ;

Take my mem'ry, mind, and will ;
All my goods, and all my hours;

All I know, and all I feel ;
All I think, or speak, or do;
Take my heart, but make it new.
Now, O God, Thine own I am ;

Now I give Thee back Thine own;
Freedom, friends, and health, and fame,

Consecrate to Thee alone :
Thine I live, thrice happy I !
Happier still if Thine I die. -Charles Wesley.

“If any consolation be

In Christ!' Oh words of mild reproof To all who sit in misery,

Holding their griefs and cares aloof
From that dear Helper--bowing low
Beneath the heavy weights of woe,
Yet seeking not the sweet relief
To purchase which He bore our grief.

If there no consolation be

In Christ, or comfort in His love, Ah ! where for succour can we flee?

Too heavy must our burden prove If we must bear its weight aloneSo deathly faint as we have grown ; Beneath this long suspense and fear What if there were no comfort near ?


THOU must be true thyself,

If thou the truth wouldst teach ; Thy soul must overflow, if thou

Another's soul wouldst reach.

Alone, and all-forsaken by

The hearts that we have served in need, While keen reproaches multiply,

And gaping wounds afresh do bleed,
If in the spirit we can see
No fellowship of sympathy,
No tender pity of our need,
Then are we desolate indeed !

Comfort the hearts that ache and bleed,

O blessed Jesus! Soothe the woe Of trembling lips that vainly plead ;

How rough these earthly paths can grow, Thy pierced, wounded feet attest; Give to the heavy laden rest, Draw all the weary unto Thee, Till they Thy consolation see.- Hildreth.

And sad exclusion through decay of sense :
But leave me unabated trust in Thee,
And let Thy favour to the end of life
Inspire me with ability to seek
Repose and hope among eternal things, -
Father of heaven and earth! and I am rich,
And will possess my portion in content !

Wordsworth. 582. CONSTANCY. Emblem of

580. CONSOLATION. Time's

And when Time, sweet opiate, flings
From his swift, invisible wings,
Bearing from the heart away
Some slight anguish day by day ;
Grief, through Memory's medium scann'd,

Mellow, sweet, and soft appears ;
Though no smile the Past demand,

Still it does not ask for tears.

And when better still than this,
Comes Religion's soothing kiss,
Breathing on the wounded heart
Balm no other can impart,
Grief thenceforth is grief no more ;

All its power on earth shall cease,
But shall give, when life is o'er,

Birth to deathless joy and peace.-Clinch.

I AM constant as the northern star;
Of whose true, fix'd, and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.

Shakespeare. 583. CONSTANCY. Friendly

In bower and garden rich and rare

There's many a cherish'd flower,
Whose beauty fades, whose fragrance flits

Within the flitting hour.
Not so the simple forest leaf,

Unprized, unnoticed, lying-
The same through all its little life-

It changes but in dying.
Be such, and only such, my friends;

Once mine and mine for ever ;
And here's a hand to clasp in theirs,

That shall desert them never.
And thou be such, my gentle love,

Time, chance, the world defying ;
And take, 'tis all I have, a heart

That changes but in dying.-G. W. Doani.


ONE adequate support
For the calamities of mortal life
Exists, one only ;-an assured belief
That the procession of our fate, howe'er
Sad or disturb’d, is order'd by a Being
Of infinite benevolence and power,
Whose everlasting purposes embrace
All accidents, converting them to good.

The darts of anguish fix not, where the seat
Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified
By acquiescence in the will supreme,
For time and for eternity ;-by faith,
Faith absolute in God, including hope,
And the defence that lies in boundless love
Of His perfections; with habitual dread
Of aught unworthily conceived, endured
Impatiently, ill-done, or left undone,
To the dishonour of His holy name.
Soul of our souls, and Safeguard of the world,
Sustain-Thou only canst--the sick of heart;
Restore their languid spirits, and recall
Their lost affections unto Thee and Thine !

584. CONSTANCY. Virtuous

Who is the honest man? He that doth still and strongly good pursue, To God, his neighbour, and himself most true;

Whom neither force nor fawning can
Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due.

Whose honesty is not
So loose or easy, that a ruffling wind
Can blow away, or glittering look it blind :

Who rides his sure and even trot,
While the world now rides by, now lags behind.

Who, when great trials come,
Nor seeks, nor shuns them, but doth calmly stay,
Till he the thing and the example weigh :

All being brought into a sum,
What place or person calls for, he doth pay.

Whom none can work or woo,
To use in anything a trick or sleight;
For above all things he abhors deceit :

His words and works and fashion too | All of a piece, and all are clear and straight.

Come labour, when the worn-out frame requires Perpetual sabbath ; come disease, and want,

« AnteriorContinuar »