Whose flowers are hope, its fruits are bliss, Beneficence its harvest is.
There are some bosoms dark and drear, Which an unwater'd desert are; Yet there a curious eye may trace Some smiling spot, some verdant place, Where little flowers, the weeds between, Spend their soft fragrance all unseen.
Despise them not-for wisdom's toil Has ne'er disturb'd that stubborn soil: Yet care and culture might have brought The ore of truth from mines of thought; And fancy's fairest flowers had bloom'd Where truth and fancy lie entomb'd.
Insult him not-his blackest crime May, in his Maker's eye sublime, In spite of all thy pride, be less Than e'en thy daily waywardness; Than many a sin and many a stain Forgotten-and impress'd again.
There is in every human heart
Some not completely barren part,
Where seeds of truth and love might grow And flowers of generous virtue blow: To plant, to watch, to water there- This, as our duty, be our care!
And sweet it is, the growth to trace, Of worth, of intellect, of grace, In bosoms where our labours first Bid the young seed of spring-time burst, And lead it on from hour to hour, To ripen into perfect flower.-Bowring.
1003. EDUCATION. Duty of
As wrapt and hidden in the stone's embrace The future statue lies yet undefined; Till the nice chisel clears the form design'd, The trunk, the moving limbs, the speaking face Develops so instruction's hand must trace The intellectual form, which lies enshrined 'Mid nature's rude materials; and the mind Invest with due proportion, strength, and grace.
God to thy teaching delegates the art
To form the future man: the care be thine, No shape unworthy from the marble start, Reptile or monster; but with just design Copy the heavenly model, and impart,
As best thou canst, similitude divine.-Mant.
1004. EDUCATION. Early
INDUCE not precocity of intellect, for so shouldst thou nourish vanity;
Neither can a plant, forced in the hotbed, stand against the frozen breath of winter.
The mind is made wealthy by ideas, but the multitude of words is a clogging weight: Therefore be understood in thy teaching, and instruct to the measure of capacity.
Analogy is milk for babes, but abstract truths are strong meat;
Precepts and rules are repulsive to a child, but happy
illustration winneth him;
In vain shalt thou preach of industry and prudence, till he learn of the bee and the ant;
Dimly will he think of his soul, till the acorn and chrysalis have taught him;
He will fear God in thunder, and worship His loveliness in flowers;
And parables shall charm his heart, while doctrines seem dead mystery;
Faith shall he learn of the husbandman casting good corn into the soil.-Tupper.
'Tis Education forms the common mind; Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined.
Children, like tender osiers, take the bow, And as they first are fashion'd, always grow. Dryden.
1005. EDUCATION. Neglected
LAWS hitherto are framed to punish crime. All legislators have been slow to deal With vice in its first elements; and here Lie the pernicious root and seeds of sin. That children are permitted to grow up, From infancy to youth, without instruction, Is a grave wrong, and ne'er to be redeem'd By penal statutes and the prisoner's cell.
1006. EFFORT. Duty of
SCORN not the slightest word or deed, Nor deem it void of power; There's fruit in each wind-wafted seed, That waits its natal hour.
A whisper'd word may touch the heart,
And call it back to life;
A look of love bid sin depart,
And still unholy strife.
No act falls fruitless; none can tell
How vast its powers may be, Nor what results infolded dwell Within it silently.
Work on, despair not; bring thy mite, Nor care how small it be ; God is with all that serve the right, The holy, true, and free.
1007. EFFORT. Encouragement to
WHAT if the little rain should say, 'So small a drop as I
Can ne'er refresh those thirsty fields; I'll tarry in the sky?'
What if a shining beam of noon
Should in its fountain stay, Because its feeble light alone Cannot create a day?
Doth not each rain-drop help to form The cool refreshing shower? And every ray of light to warm And beautify the flower?
Go then and strive to do thy share: One talent-less than thine- Improved with steady zeal and care, Would gain rewards divine.-Cutter.
OR shall I say, Vain word, false thought, Since Prudence hath her martyrs too, And Wisdom dictates not to do, Till doing shall be not for nought? Not ours to give or lose is life:
Will Nature, when her brave ones fall, Remake her work? or songs recall Death's victim slain in useless strife?
That rivers flow into the sea
Is loss and waste, the foolish say, Nor know that back they find their way, Unseen, to where they wont to be.
Showers fall upon the hills, springs flow, The river runneth still at hand, Brave men are born into the land, And whence, the foolish do not know.
No! no vain voice did on me fall,
Peschiera, when thy bridge I crost: "Tis better to have fought and lost, Than never to have fought at all.'-Clough. 1009. ELECT. Fewness of the
FEW are the clear, strong spirits, who can bear To look on Truth in her unclouded blaze; Few are the high, heroic souls, who dare, Above the low pursuit of gain, to raise Their firm, unbending purpose; few can gaze
- At Virtue, on her pure and awful throne
Ah! few can love the ethereal coin she paysBut they must love it, for the souls alone
Who master self can claim our birthright as their own.-Percival.
1010. ELIJAH. Voice to
ON Horeb's rock the Prophet stood;
The Lord before him past.
A hurricane in angry mood
Swept by him strong and fast. The forests fell before its force, The rocks were shiver'd in its course; God was not in the blast.
'Twas but the whirlwind of His breath, Announcing danger, wreck, and death.
It ceased. The air grew mute-a cloud Came muffling up the sun;
When through the mountains deep and loud An earthquake thunder'd on. The frighted eagle sprang in air, The wolf ran howling from his lair: God was not in the stun. 'Twas but the rolling of His car, The trampling of His steeds from far. 'Twas still again, and Nature stood And calm'd her ruffled frame ! When swift from heaven a fiery flood To earth devouring came. Down to his depths the ocean fled, The sick'ning sun look'd wan and dead: Yet God fill'd not the flame. 'Twas but the terrors of His eye That lighten'd through the troubled sky. At last a voice all still and small, Rose sweetly on the car, Yet rose so clear and shrill, that all
In heaven and earth might hear: It spoke of peace, it spoke of love, It spoke as angels speak above,
And God Himself was here. For, oh, it was a Father's voice That bade His trembling world rejoice.
That pierced their bosoms; and each man would The o'ermast'ring strength of mind, which sways
The haughty and the free,
Whose might earth's mightiest ones obey, This charm was given to thee.—Mrs Embury.
POWER above powers! O heavenly Eloquence, That with the strong rein of commanding words, Dost manage, guide, and master th' eminence Of men's affections, more than all their swords! Shall we not offer to thy excellence The richest treasures that our wit affords? Thou that canst do so much more with one pen Than all the powers of princes can effect; 'And draw, divert, dispose, and fashion men, Better than force or rigour can direct! Should we this ornament of glory, then, As th' immaterial fruit of shades, neglect?
1020. ELOQUENCE. Secret of
THE spell is thine that reaches
The heart, and makes the wisest head its sport; And there's one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches, The secret of their mastery-they are short.
And smote the Persian from his throne? Where is the self-exalted god? The hero of immortal birth- The lord of Macedon-and earth- Is now a vile and nameless clod. A few short hours, and they who bow'd, The meanest of the servile crowd, Had spurn'd the mass of lifeless clay, As on its kindred earth it lay, In loathsomeness of foul decay. Great Cæsar rued the hour that gave The free-born Roman for his slave; And who-for all his sated pride- Would wish to die as Marius died? Know-heroes were by Heaven design'd, (If heroes, men like these we call,) To rise upon their country's fall, To glut the grave, and scourge mankind. And what their guilty toil repays? That falsehood of dissembled praise Which Flattery's glozing tongue adorns, And Vice extols-while Virtue mourns. Yes, e'en the fame, for which was given The love of man, the bliss of Heaven- The tale of after-times-nay, worse- Becomes a proverb and a curse.
Oh, spurn, my son, the hero's name,
And shun the infamy of fame;
To thee let nobler praise be given,— The friend of man! the loved of Heaven!
EXTENDED empire, like expanded gold, Exchanges solid strength for feeble splendour. Johnson.
1025. EMPLOYMENT: demanded.
MAN is no star, but a quick coal Of mortal fire:
Who blows it not, nor doth control A faint desire,
Lets his own ashes choke his soul.
Life is a business, not good cheer; Ever in wars.
The sun still shineth there or here, Whereas the stars Watch an advantage to appear.
Oh that I were an orange-tree, That busy plant!
Then should I ever laden be,
And never want
Some fruit for Him that dresseth me.
Only a little longer, thinking gladly
Of the uprising of the brighter Sun; Only a little longer, waiting sadly
In the fast-falling twilight 'till He come.'
Only a few more billows wildly tossing, Beating us backward from the long'd-for shore; Only a few more snares our pathway crossing- Then all the trials of the way 'll be o'er.
So let our eyes be on Him in His absence, Seeking to serve Him in this day of grace; While the thought cheers us in our constant sadness, Soon He will come and meet us face to face. A. S. Ormsby.
1029. ENCOURAGEMENT. Strong
OH for the peace which floweth as a river, Making life's desert places bloom and smile! Oh for the faith to grasp heaven's bright for ever,' Amid the shadows of earth's 'little while!'
A little while for patient vigil-keeping,
To face the stern, to battle with the strong; A little while to sow the seed with weeping, Then bind the sheaves and sing the harvest-song.
A little while to wear the weeds of sadness, To pace with weary steps through noisy ways; Then to pour forth the fragrant oil of gladness, And clasp the girdle round the robe of praise.
A little while, 'midst shadow and illusion,
To strive by faith love's mysteries to spell; Then read each dark enigma's bright solution, Then hail sight's verdict, 'He doth all things well.'
A little while the earthen pitcher taking
To wayside brooks from far-off fountains fed; Then the cool lip its thirst for ever slaking
Beside the fulness of the fountain-head.
A little while to keep the oil from failing,
A little while faith's flickering lamp to trim; And then, the Bridegroom's coming footsteps hailing, To haste to meet Him with the bridal-hymn. And He who is Himself the Gift and GiverThe future glory and the present smile, With the bright promise of the glad for ever Will light the shadows of the 'little while.' Jane Crewdson.
1030. END. Ignorance of the
WHEN another life is added To the heaving, turbid mass; When another breath of being Stains creation's tarnish'd glass;
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