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642. CROSS. The: the source of comfort. Is it not strange, the darkest hour

That ever dawn'd on sinful earth Should touch the heart with softer power

For comfort, than an angel's mirth? That to the cross the mourner's eye should turn Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn?

My heart dissolves to see Thee bleed,

This heart so hard before ;
I hear Thee for the guilty plead,

And grief o'erflows the more.
'Twas for the sinful Thou didst die,

And I a sinner stand :
What love speaks from Thy dying eye,

And from each pierced hand !
I know this cleansing blood of Thine

Was shed, dear Lord, for me ;
For me, for all - O Grace Dwine !-

Who look by faith on Thee.
O Christ of God! O spotless Lamb!

By love my soul is drawn;
Henceforth, for ever, Thine I am ;

Here life and peace are born.
In patient hope the cross I'll bear,

Thine arm shall be my stay;
And Thou, enthroned, my soul shalt spare,

On Thy great judgment-day !-Ray Palmer.

Sooner than where the Easter sun

Shines glorious on yon open grave,
And to and fro the tidings run,

Who died to heal, is risen to save'? Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends The very Comforter in light and love descends?

Keble. 643. CROSS : to be borne willingly. The cross is always ready, and waits for thee in every place.

.... Why hopest then to avoid that from which no human being has been exempt? ... Thou art deceived, wretchedly deceived, if thou expect anything but tribulation; for this whole mortal life is full of care, and signed on every side with the cross..... If thou bearest the cross willingly it will soon bear thee beyond

the reach of suffering, where God shall take away all sorrow from thy heart.- Thomas à Kimpis.'

641. CROSS. My

It is not heavy, agonizing woe,

Bearing me down with hopeless, crushing weight; No ray of comfort in the gathering gloom,

A heart bereaved-a household desolate. It is not sickness, with her withering hand,

Keeping me low upon a couch of pain; Longing each morning for the weary night ;

At night, for weary day to come again. It is not slander, with her evil tongue;

'Tis no presumptuous sin against my God; Not reputation lost, or friends betray'd :

That such is not my cross I thank my God. Mine is a daily cross of petty cares,

Of little duties pressing on my heart, Of little troubles hard to reconcile,

Of inward struggles-overcome in part.

On every side, dear Lord, on every side,

Waits there an 'always ready' cross for me? May not I find, through all this world so wide,

Some restful place from all cross-bearing free? The way is dark, thorn-lined and sharp with flints,

Whose jagged edges bruise and pierce my feet; Thou knowest, Lord, they mark with bloody prints

The toilsome path. Ah, rest would seem so sweet !

So sweet to lay aside this heavy cross

So sweet to find some quiet resting-place-
So sweet to cease from care and pain and loss,

And breathe all fulness of life's joy and grace. O wretched heart, why seekest thou to find

Exemption from the common mortal lot? Deceitful heart, and discontented mind,

Thy Master's Sad Way hast thou then forgot ? Was there on earth for Him a place of rest ?

Was there an hour wherein He might not feel The weight of Calvary's cross upon Him prest?

The pang of mocking thorn and piercing steel? With prescient sorrow did He not endure

Through all the way the dolour of that hour, When, thy eternal freedom to secure,

He met alone the last foe's cruel power?

My feet are weary in their daily round,

My heart is weary of its daily care, My sinful nature often doth rebel :

I pray for grace my daily cross to bear.
It is not heavy, Lord, yet oft I pine ;

It is not heavy, but 'tis everywhere;
By day and night each hour my cross I bear :

I dare not lay it down-Thou keep'st it there.

I dare not lay it down. I only ask

That, taking up my daily cross, I may Follow my Master humbly, step by step,

Through clouds and darkness, unto perfect day.

And wilt thou basely shun that blessed sign,

His mark and seal, inscribing thee His own? Nay, rather shout, “Thou blessed cross ! be mine;

I'll bear thee gladly-by thy sign be known.'

URIOSITY.

So shall I, heedless all of earthly loss,

In glad cross-bearing find my spirit's rest; Soon shall I be, while bearing yet my cross, Lifted upon its arms, to Jesus' breast.

Mary E. C. W'yeth.

644. CROSS. Yesterday's

ONE cross the less remains for me to bear;

Already borne is that of yesterday; That of to-day shall no to-morrow share ;

To-morrow's, with itself, shall pass away.

SEE its power expand When first the coral fills the infant's hand ; Throned in its mother's lap, it dries each tear, As her sweet legend falls upon the ear; Next it assails him in his top's strange hum, Breathes in his whistle, echoes in his drum. Each gilded toy that doting love bestows He longs to break, and every spring expose. Placed by your hearth, with what delight he pores O'er the bright pages of the pictured stores; How oft he steals upon your graver task, Of this to tell you, and of that to ask And when the warning hour to bedward bids, Though gentle sleep sits waiting on his lids, How winningly he bends to gain you o'er, That he may read one little story more.

That which is added to the troubled past

Is taken from the future, whose sad store Grows less and less each day, till soon the last

Dull wave of woe shall break upon our shore.

The storm that yesterday plough'd up the sea

Is buried now beneath its level blue; One storm the fewer now remains for me,

Ere sky and earth are made for ever new.-Bonar.

645. CRUCIFIXION. Mystery of the

WONDER of wonders ! On the cross He dies !
Man of the ages, David's mighty Son,

The Eternal Word, who spake and it was done, What time, of old, He form’d the earth and skies.

Nor yet alone to toys and tales confined,
It sits dark-brooding o'er his embryo mind.
Take him between your knees, peruse his face,
While all you know, or think you know, you trace ;
Tell him who spoke creation into birth,
Arch'd the broad heavens and spread the rolling

earth;
Who form'd a pathway for the obedient sun,
And bade the seasons in their circles run;
Who fill'd the air, the forest, and the flood,
And gave man all for comfort or for food;
Tell him he sprang at God's creating nod-
He stops you short with, 'Father, who made God?'

Abash'd be all the wisdom of the wise !

Let the wide earth through all her kingdoms know The promised Lamb of God, whose blood should

flow,For human guilt the grand, sole sacrifice.

No more need altar smoke, nor victim bleed :

'Tis finish'd !—the great mystery of love. Ye sin-condemn'd, by this blood 'tis decreed

Ye stand absolved : behold the curse remove ! O Christ! Thy deadly wounds, Thy mortal strife Crush death and hell, and give immortal life!

Ray Palmer. 646. CRUELTY.

Turn to the world-its curious dwellers view,
Like Paul's Athenians, seeking Something New.
Be it a bonfire's or a city's blaze,
The gibbet's victim, or the nation's gaze,
A female atheist, or a learned dog,
A monstrous pumpkin, or a mammoth hog,
A murder, or a muster,—'tis the same,
Life's follies, glories, griefs, all feed the flame.
Hark, where the martial trumpet fills the air,
How the roused multitude come round to stare ;
Sport drops his ball, toil throws his hammer by,
Thrift breaks a bargain off, to please his eye;
Up fly the windows, even fair mistress cook,
Though dinner burn, must run to take a look.

Sprague.

I would not enter on my list of friends
(Though graced with polish'd manners and fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility) the man
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertent step may crush the snail
That crawls at evening in the public path,
But he that has humanity, forewarn'd,
Will tread aside and let the reptile live.-Cowper.

Faith we may boast, undarken'd by a doubt. We thirst to find each awful secret out.

Sprague.

Man's inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn.-Burns.

The inquiring spirit will not be controllid, We would make certain all, and all behold.

Sprague.

648. CURSES.

653. CUSTOM. Precedent of BUT curses are like arrows shot upright,

Away with custom ! 'tis the plea of fools, That oftentimes on our own heads do light.

Where crimes enormous, that debase the man,

Rise in their own defence: the long-drawn roll 649. CUSTOM. Breach of

Where the ascent and fall of states or men

Stand variously portrayed ; what is it else BUT to my mind-though I am native here,

Than a sad series of collective guilt, And to the manner born,-it is a custom

Whence custom for each wantonness of ill More honour'd in the breach than the observance.

May draw the shameful precedent ?--Layard.

Shakespeare. 650. CUSTOM. Dupes of

654. DAILY SERVICE: the Christian's desire. Such dupes are men to custom, and so prone

SOMETHING, my God, for Thee, To rev'rence what is ancient, and can plead

Something for Thee; A course of long observance for its use,

That each day's setting sun may bring That even servitude, the worst of ills,

Some penitential offering; Because deliver'd down from sire to son,

In Thy dear name some kindness done; Is kept and guarded as a sacred thing. - Cowper. To Thy dear love some wanderer won;

Some trial meekly borne for Thee, 651. CUSTOM : its influence on habit.

Dear Lord, for Thee. THAT monster, custom, who all sense doth eat Something, my God, for Thee, Of habits evil, is angel yet in this;

Something for Thee; That to the use of actions fair and good,

That to Thy gracious throne may rise He likewise gives a frock, or livery,

Sweet incense from some sacrifice,That aptly is put on : refrain to-night;

Uplifted eyes undimm'd by tears,
And that shall lend a kind of easiness

Uplifted faith unstain'd by fears,
To the next abstinence; the next, more easy; Hailing each joy as light from Thee,
For use can almost change the stamp of nature,

Dear Lord, from Thee.
And master ev'n the devil, or throw him out,

Something, my God, for Thee, With wondrous potency.-Shakespeare.

Something for Thee; All habits gather by unseen degrees ;

For the great love that Thou hast given,
As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.

For the great hope of Thee and heaven,
Dryden.

My soul her first allegiance brings, 652. CUSTOM. Power of

And upward plumes her heavenward wings,

*Nearer, my God, to Thee MAN yields to custom as he bows to fate,

Nearer to Thee!'
In all things ruled-mind, body, and estate;
In pain, in sickness, we for cure apply

655. DANGER. To them we know not, and we know not why.

The absent danger greater still appears ;
Habit with him has all the test of truth,
It must be right: I've done it from my youth.

Less fears he, who is near the thing he fears.

Daniel. Crabbe. Custom, 'tis true, a venerable tyrant,

Speak, speak, let terror strike slaves mute, O'er servile man extends her blind dominion.

Much danger makes great hearts most resolute. Thomson.

Marston.

What is danger
As custom arbitrates, whose shifting sway
Our life and manners must alike obey.-Byron.

More than the weakness of our apprehensions ?

A poor cold part o'th' blood ; who takes it hold of ?
Custom does often reason overrule,

Cowards and wicked livers : valiant minds
And only serves for reason to the fool. | Were made the masters of it.
Earl of Rochester.

Beaumont and Fletcher.
Custom forms us all ;

Our dangers and delights are near allies ; Our thoughts, our morals, our most fix'd belief

From the same stem the rose and prickle rise. Are consequences of our place of birth.-Hill.

Alyen.

656. DARKNESS. Spiritual IF in thy heart no golden sunlight lingers

To brighten life within, And to thy ears earth's sweet and joyous singers

Make only doleful din ;

If, while the world is robed in peerless beauty,

Around thy spirit coil
Serpents of doubt and fear, and sacred duty

Is heavy, joyless toil ;
If when thy knees are bow'd in supplication,

Struggling to cast thy care
On Heaven, there comes no strength or consolation

In answer to thy prayer-
Seek not to find a reason for thy sadness

In Him who changeth not,
As if His hand withheld the light and gladness

Which thou hast vainly sought.
His loving-kindness is a fount unfailing,

For ever full and free;
If life is dark and prayer is unavailing,

The hindrance is in thee.

Hear the sweet accents of his tuneful voice ;
Hear him, o'erwhelm'd with sorrows, yet rejoice;
No womanish or wailing grief has part,
No, not a moment, in his royal heart;
'Tis manly music, such as martyrs make,
Suffering with gladness for a Saviour's sake:
His soul exults ; hope animates his lays ;
The sense of mercy kindles into praise ;
And wilds, familiar with the lion's roar,
Ring with ecstatic sounds unheard before.

Cowper. 658. DAY. Beginning the

Begin the day with God!

He is thy sun and day;
His is the radiance of thy dawn,

To Him address thy lay.
Sing a new song at morn!

Join the glad woods and hills ;
Join the fresh winds and seas and plains,

Join the bright flowers and rills.
Awake, cold lips, and sing !

Arise, dull knees, and pray;
Lift up, O man, thy heart and eyes;

Brush slothfulness away.
Take thy first meal with God!
He is thy heavenly food;
Feed with and on Him ; He with thee

Will feast in brotherhood.
Take thy first walk with God!
Let Him go forth with thee ;
By stream or sea or mountain-path,

Seek still His company.
Thy first transaction be

With God Himself above ;
So shall thy business prosper well,

And all the day be love.Bonar.

Arise and search thy heart—let nothing stay thee;

The fatal cause is there;
This traitor in thy soul may else betray thee

To ruin and despair.

Nor doubt, when thou with heart contrite and lowly

Hast all thy sins confess'd,
Thy night shall pass away, and God the holy

Shall hear and give thee rest.- Dewart.

Not Thou from us, O Lord ! but we
Withdraw ourselves from Thee.

When we are dark and dead,
And Thou art cover'd with a cloud,
Hanging before Thee like a shroud,
So that our prayer can find no way,
Oh teach us that we do not say,

• Where is Thy brightness fled ?'

But that we search and try What in ourselves has wrought this blame, For Thou remainest still the same; But earth's own vapours earth may fill With darkness and thick clouds, while still

The sun is in the sky.- Trench.

659. DAY. Dawn of

A WIND came up out of the sea,
And said, 'O mists, make room for me!'
It hail'd the ships, and cried, “Sail on,
Ye mariners, the night is gone.'
And hurried landward far away,
Crying, “Awake ! it is the day.'
It said unto the forest, 'Shout !
Ilang all your leafy banners out!'
It touch'd the wood-bird's folded wing,
And said, “O bird, awake and sing !'
And o'er the farms, 'O chanticleer,
Your clarion blow; the day is near!'

657. DAVID). Psalms of

SEE Judah's promised king, bereft of all, Driven out an exile from the face of Saul. To distant caves the lonely wanderer flies, To seek that peace a tyrant's frown denies.

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660. DAY. Lost

Lost! lost! lost !

A gem of countless price,
Cut from the living rock,

And graved in Paradise :
Set round with three times eight

Large diamonds, clear and bright,
And each with sixty smaller ones,

All changeful as the light.
Lost where the thoughtless throng

In fashion's mazes wind,
Where trilleth folly's song,

Leaving a sting behind.
Yet to my hand 'twas given,

A golden harp to buy,
Such as the white-robed choir attune

To deathless minstrelsy.
Lost ! lost ! lost !

I feel all search in vain;
That gem of countless cost

Can ne'er be mine again :
I offer no reward, -

For till these heart-strings sever
I know that Heaven's intrusted gift

Is reft away for ever.
But when the sea and land,

Like burning scroll, have fled,
I'll see it in His hand,

Who judgeth quick and dead;
And when of scathe and loss

That man can ne'er repair,
The dread inquiry meets the soul,
What shall it answer there?

Mrs Sigourney. 661. DAY. Question for each

AT evening to myself I say,
Soul, where hast thou glean'd to-day,

Thy labours how bestow'd ?
What hast thou rightly said, or done?
What grace attain'd, or knowledge won,

In following after God ?--Charles Wesley.

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary ;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Longfellow. 663. DAY OF JUDGMENT : a day of joy.

Lo, the Day !—the Day of Life,

Day of unimagined light,
Day when Death itself shall die,

And there shall be no more night!
Steadily that Day approacheth,

When the just shall find their rest,
When the wicked cease from troubling,

And the patient reign most blest.
See the King desired for ages,

By the just expected long,
Long implored, at length He hasteth,

Cometh with salvation strong.
Oh, how past all utterance happy,

Sweet, and joyful it will be
When they who, unseen, have loved Him,

Jesus face to face shall see !
In that Day, how good and pleasant

This poor world to have despised !
And how mournful, and how bitter,

Dear that lost world to have prized!
Blessed, then, earth's patient mourners,

Who for Christ have toild and died,
Driven by the world's rough pressure

In those mansions to abide !
There shall be no sighs or weeping,

Not a shade of doubt or fear ;
No old age, no want, or sorrow,

Nothing sick or lacking there.

There the peace will be unbroken,

Deep and solemn joy be shed,
Youth in fadeless flower and freshness,

And salvation perfected.
What will be the bliss and rapture

None can dream and none can tell, There to reign among the angels,

In that heavenly home to dwell.

662. DAY. Rainy

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ;

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