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Christ is our place preparing,

To heaven we, too, shall rise, And, joys angelic sharing,

Be where our treasure lies : There may each heart be found ! Where Jesus Christ has enter'd,

There let our hopes be centred, Our course still heavenward bound !

G. F. Sacer, tr. by Miss Cox.

212. ASCENSION. Christ's

He is gone-we heard Him say,

Good that I should go away :'.
Gone is that dear form and face,
But not gone His present grace ;
Though Himself no more we see,
Comfortless we cannot be-
No! His Spirit still is ours,
Quickening, freshening all our powers.
He is gone-towards their goal,
World and church must onward roll ;
Far behind we leave the past;
Forward are our glances cast :
Still His words before us range
Through the ages, as they change :
Wheresoe'er the truth shall lead,
He will give whate'er we need.

And stand in freedom loosen'd from this world,
I deem not arduous; but must needs confess
That 'tis a thing impossible to frame
Conceptions equal to the soul's desire ;
And the most difficult of tasks to keep
Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
Man is of dust : ethereal hopes are his,
Which, when they should sustain themselves alost,
Want due consistence ; like a pillar of smoke,
That with majestic energy from earth
Rises ; but, having reach'd the thinner air,
Melts and dissolves, and is no longer seen.

Wordsworth. 214. ASPIRATION. Heavenward The bird, let loose in eastern skies,

When hastening fondly home,
Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies

Where idle warblers roam ;
But high she shoots through air and light,

Above all low delay,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,

Nor shadow dims her way.
So grant me, God, from every care

And stain of passion free,
Aloft, through Virtue's purer air,

To hold my course to Thee !
No sin to cloud, no lure to stay

My Soul, as home she springs ;-
Thy Sunshine on her joyful way,

Thy Freedom in her wings !--Moore.

He is gone—but we once more
Shall behold Him as before,
In the heaven of heavens the same
As on earth He went and came.
In the many mansions there,
Place for us He will prepare :
In that world, unseen, unknown,
He and we may yet be one.
He is gone—but, not in vain,
Wait until He comes again :
He is risen, He is not here ;
Far above this earthly sphere :
Evermore in heart and mind,
Where our peace in Him we find,
To our own Eternal Friend,
Thitherward let us ascend.-A. P. Stanley.

215. ASPIRATION. Sympathy in
Countless chords of heavenly music,

Struck ere earthly time began,
Vibrate in immortal concord

To the answering soul of man.
Countless rays of heavenly glory

Shine through spirit pent in clay,
On the wise men at their labours,

On the children at their play.
Man has gazed on heavenly secrets,

Sunn'd himself in heavenly glow,
Seen the glory, heard the music;
We are wiser than we know.

Charles Mackay. 216. ASPIRATION. Worth of Beauty and Truth, though never found, are worthy to be sought,

The singer, upward-springing,

Is grander than his singing, | And tranquil self-sufficing joy illumes the dark of

thought.- Robert Buchanan.

213. ASPIRATION : and Attainment. Yet cease I not to struggle, and aspire Heavenward ; and chide the part of me that flags, Through sinful choice ; or dread necessity On human nature from above imposed. 'Tis, by comparison, an easy task Earth to despise ; but to converse with heaven, This is not easy :-to relinquish all We have, or hope, of happiness and joy,

217. ASSOCIATION. Adjustment of

220. ASSOCIATION. Local WHO, think'st thou, in the courts of Heaven reside? | AND who, that walks where men of ancient days They, who with malice burn, with envy pine,

Have wrought with godlike arm the deeds of praise, Ply the full feast and quaff the midnight wine,

Feels not the spirit of the place control, Loose pleasure's daughters, and the sons of pride?

Or rouse and agitate his labouring soul ? They who from meek affliction turn aside,

Say, who, by thinking on Canadian hills, Its plaints unheard ; and bow at Mammon's shrine, Or wild Aosta lull’d by Alpine rills, Moloch's, or Bel's; and, blind to truth divine,

On Zutphen's plain, or on that highland dell Neglect God's mercy, and His power deride ?

Through which rough Garry cleaves his way, can If such Heaven's inmates, well thou runn'st thy race,

tell Man of the world! But ah ! let conscience tell, What high resolves rivet him to the spot, If holy hearts the holy city grace,

Where breathed the gale that caught Wolle's hapWhat part hast thou therein ; and ponder well, piest sigh, Yea, ponder well betimes that other place,

And the last sunbeam fell on Bayard's eye ;
And who its tenants, and with whom they dwell. Where bleeding Sidney from the cup retired,

And glad Dundee in ‘faint huzzas' expired.

Wordsworth. 218. ASSOCIATION. Influence of

221. ASSOCIATION. Ties of A FRAGRANT piece of earth salutes Each passenger, and perfume shoots,

Two faithful needles, from the informing touch Unlike the common earth or sod,

Of the same parent-stone, together drew Around through all the air abroad.

Its mystic virtue, and at first conspired A pilgrim near it once did rest,

With fatal impulse quivering to the pole : And took it up, and thus address'd:

Then, though disjoin'd by kingdoms, though the “Art thou a lump of musk? or art

main A ball of spice, this smell t' impart

Roll'd its broad surge betwixt, and different stars To all who chance to travel by

Beheld their wakeful motions, yet preserved
The spot where thou, like earth, dost lie?

The former friendship, and remember'd still
Humbly the clod replied: 'I must

The alliance of their birth : whate'er the line Confess that I am only dust.

Which one possess'd, nor pause nor quiet knew But once a rose within me grew :

The sure associate, ere with trembling speed Its rootlets shot, its flowerets blew,

He found his path, and fix'd unerring there. And all the rose's sweetness roll'd

Such is the secret union where we feel Throughout the texture of my mould ;

A song, a flower, a name, at once restore And so it is that I impart

Those long-connected scenes where first they moved Perfume to thee, whoe'er thou art!'

The attention.- Aken side.
Oriental, tr. by W. R. Alger.

222. ASSOCIATION. Wise 219. ASSOCIATION. Lesson of

As the rose doth its fragrance impart

To the basket in which it is laid, THOSE evening bells ! those evening bells !

Whether wrought of pure gold or of braid ; How many a tale their music tells

So, receiving wise men in thy heart, Of youth, and home, and that sweet time

Thou shalt find, when their persons depart, When last I heard their soothing chime !

That their wisdom behind them hath stay'd. Those joyous hours have pass'd away,

Oriental, tr. by W. R. Alger. And many a heart that then was gay

223. ASTROLOGY. Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells.

MEN at some time are masters of their fates ;

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, And so 'twill be when I am gone,

But in ourselves, that we are underlings. That tuneful peal will still ring on;

While other bards shall walk these dells
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells.

Man is his own star, and the soul that can
Moore. Render an honest and a perfect man,

Commands all light, all influence, all fate-
Nothing to him falls early or too late.
Our acts our angels are, or good or ill,
Our fatal shadows, that walk by us still.

Beaumont and Fletcher.

226. ATHEISM. Causes of

Virtue in distress, and vice in triumph, Make atheists of mankind.-Dryden.

224. ASTRONOMY. Devotional

227. ATHEISM. Contradiction of
‘No God ! no God!' the simplest flower

That on the wild is found,
Shrinks as it drinks its cup of dew,

And trembles at the sound.

*No God!' astonish'd Echo cries

From out her cavern hoar : And every wand'ring bird that flies

Reproves the Atheist lore. The solemn forest lifts his head,

The Almighty to proclaim ; The brooklet, on its crystal urn,

Doth leap to grave His name.

ONE sun by day, by night ten thousand shine,
And light us deep into the Deity. ....
How boundless in magnificence and might !
O, what a confluence of ethereal fires,
From urns unnumber'd, down the steep of heaven,
Streams to a point, and centres in my sight!
Nor tarries there. ... I feel it at my heart,
My heart at once it humbles and exalts-
Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies.
Who sees it unexalted ? or unawed ?
Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen?
Material offspring of Omnipotence !
Inanimate, all animating birth!
Work worthy Him who made it! worthy praise !
All praise ! praise more than human ! nor denied
Thy praise divine! But though man, drown'd in

Withholds his homage, not alone I wake :
Bright legions swarm unseen, and sing (unheard
By mortal ear) the glorious Architect,
In this his universal temple, hung
With lustres, with innumerable lights,
That shed religion on the soul-at once,
The temple, and the preacher ! O, how loud
It calls devotion! genuine growth of night.

Devotion ! daughter of astronomy !
An undevout astronomer is mad...
True, all things speak a God; but in the small,
Men trace out Him-in great, He seizes man ;
Seizes, and elevates, and wraps, and Glls
With new inquiries, 'mid associates new.--Young.

High swells the deep and vengeful sea

Along its billowy track,
And red Vesuvius opes his mouth

To hurl the falsehood back.-Sigourney.

228. ATHEISM. Desolation of O! LIVES there, heaven! beneath thy dread

expanse, One hopeless, dark idolater of Chance, Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined, The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind; Who, mouldering earthward, 'reft of every trust, In joyless union wedded to the dust, Could all his parting energy dismiss, And call this barren world sufficient bliss ? There live, alas ! of heaven-directed mien, Of cultured soul, and sapient eye serene, Who hail thee, man! the pilgrim of a day, Spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay! Frail as the leaf in Autumn's yellow bower, Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower! A friendless slave, a child without a sire, Whose mortal life, and momentary fire, Lights to the grave his chance-created form, As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm ; And, when th. gun's tremendous flash is o'er, To night and silence sink for evermore !

225. ATHEISM. Blight of

THEY eat Their daily bread and draw the breath of Heaven Without or thought or thanks. Heaven's roof, to

them, Is but a painted ceiling hung with lamps, No more, that lights them to their purposes. • They wander loose about; they nothing see, Themselves except, and creatures like themselves, Short-lived, short-sighted, impotent to save. To their dissolute spirits, soon or late, Destruction cometh, like an armed man, Or like a dream of murder in the night, Withering their mortal faculties, and breaking The bones of all their pride.-Charles Lamb.

Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, Lights of the world, and demi-gods of fame? Is this your triumph—this your proud applause, Children of Truth, and champions of her cause ? For this hath Science search'd, on weary wing, By shore and sea-each mute and living thing? Oh! star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair ?—

Then bind the palm, thy sage's brow to suit, Of blasted leaf, and death-distilling fruit ! Ah me! the laurell'd wreath that murder rears, Blood-nursed, and water'd by the widow's tears, Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dreadh As waves the nightshade round the sceptic's head. What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain ? I smile on death, if heavenward hope remain ! But, if the warring winds of Nature's strife Be all the faithless charter of my life, If Chance awaked, inexorable power! This frail and feverish being of an hour, Doom'd o'er the world's precarious scene to sweep, Swift as the tempest travels on the deep, To know Delight but by her parting smile, And toil, and wish, and weep, a little while ; Then melt, ye elements, that form'd in vain This troubled pulse, and visionary brain ! Fade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my doom ! And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb! Truth, ever lovely, since the world began, The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man,How can thy words from balmy slumber start Reposing Virtue, pillow'd on the heart ! Yet, if thy voice the note of thunder rollid, And that were true which Nature never told, Let Wisdom smile not on her conquer'd field : No rapture dawns, no treasure is reveal'd ! Oh ! let her read, nor loudly, nor elate, The doom that bars us from a better fate ! Bat, sad as angels for the good man's sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in !


231. ATHEIST. Labour of the

THE unbeliever, Despising reason, revelation, God, And kicking 'gainst the pricks of conscience, rush'd Deliriously upon the bossy shield Of the Omnipotent; and in his heart Purposed to deify the idol Chance. And labour'd hard-oh, labour worse than nought ! And toil'd with dark and crooked reasoning, To make the fair and lovely Earth, which dwelt In sight of Heaven, a cold and fatherless, Forsaken thing, that wander'd on, forlorn, Undestined, uncompassion'd, unupheld; A vapour eddying in the whirl of chance, And soon to vanish everlastingly. He travail'd sorely, and made many a tack, His sails oft shifting, to arrive-dread thoughtArrive at utter nothingness; and have Being no more-no feeling, memory, No lingering consciousness that e'er he was. Guilt's midnight wish ! last, most abhorred thought, Most desperate effort of extremest sin. Others, preoccupied, ne'er saw true hope ; He, seeing, aim'd to stab her to the heart, And with infernal chemistry to wring The last sweet drop from sorrow's cup of gall; To quench the only ray that cheer'd the earth, And leave mankind in night which had no star. Others the streams of pleasure troubled ; he Toil'd much to dry her very fountain-head. Unpardonable man! sold under sin ! He was the Devil's pioneer, who cut The fences down of Virtue, sapp'd her walls, And open'd a smooth and easy way to death. Traitor to all existence! to all life! Soul-suicide! determined foe of being ! Intended murderer of God, Most High ! Strange road, most strange! to seek for happiness!


229. ATHEISM : often falsely imputed.

WHEN prejudice and strong aversion work,
All whose opinions we dislike are atheists.
Now 'tis a term of art, a bugbear word,
The villain's engine, and the vulgar's terror.
The man who thinks and judges for himself,
Unsway'd by aged follies, reverend errors,
Grown holy by traditionary dulness
Of school authority, he is an atheist.
The man who, hating idle noise, preserves
A pure religion seated in his soul,
He is a silent dumb dissembling atheist !

Sewell. 230. ATHEISM. Wilful

232. ATONEMENT. Completeness of the

LORD, I believe Thy precious blood,
Which at the mercy-seat of God
For ever doth for sinners plead,
For me-e'en for my soul-was shed.

The owlet Atheism, Sailing on obscene wings across the moon, Drops his blue-fringed lids and shuts them close, And, hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven, Cries out, Where is it?'-S. T. Coleridge.

Lord, I believe were sinners more
Than sands upon the ocean shore,
Thou hast for all a ransom paid,
For all a full atonement made.

John Wesley. 233. ATONEMENT. Demand for With blood--but not his own—the awful sign | At once of sin's desert and guilt's remission.

Shame and iniquity hath whelm'd me over :
From head to foot no good couldst thou discover;
For this in hell should I, with deep lamenting,

Be aye repenting.

The Jew besought the clemency divine,

The hope of mercy blending with contrition. Sin must have death! Its holy requisition

The law may not relax. The opening tomb Expects its prey ; mere respite, life's condition ;

Nor can the body shun its penal doom. Yet, there is mercy; wherefore else delay

To punish? Why the victim and the rite? But can the type and symbol take away

The guilt, and for a broken, law requite ? The cross unfolds the mystery,- Jesus died : The sinner lives : the Law is satisfied.

But oh! the depth of love beyond comparing,
That brought Thee down from heaven, our burden

I taste all peace and joy that life can offer,

Whilst Thou must suffer!

With blood—but not his own—the Jew drew near

The mercy-seat, and Heaven received his prayer. Yet still his hope was dimm'd with doubt and fear : * If Thou shouldst mark transgression who might

dare To stand before Thee?' Mercy loves to spare

And pardon : but stern Justice has a voice, And cries-Our God is holy, nor can bear

Uncleanness in the people of His choice. But now One Offering, ne'er to be renew'd,

Hath made our peace for ever. This now gives
Free access to the Throne of Heavenly Grace,

No more base fear and dark disquietude.
He who was sla :0—the Accepted Victim-lives,
And intercedes before the Father's face.

Fosiah Conder.

Eternal King ! in power and love excelling,
Fain would my heart and mouth Thy praise be

telling ;
But how can man's weak powers at all come nigh

How magnify Thee ?
Such wondrous love would baffle my endeavour
To find its equal, should I strive for ever:
How should my works, could I in all obey Thee,

Ever repay Thee?
Yet this shall please Thee, if devoutly trying
To keep Thy laws, mine own wrong will denying,
I watch my heart, lest sin again ensnare it

And from Thee tear it.

Johann Heermann, tr. by F. E. Cox.

235. ATONEMENT. Substitution of the

234. ATONEMENT. Marvel of the

What laws, my blessed Saviour, hast Thou broken,
That so severe a sentence should be spoken?
How hast Thou 'gainst Thy Father's will contended,

In what offended ?
With scourges, blows, and spitting, they reviled Thee;
They crown's Thy brow with thorns, while King they

styled Thee;
When, faint with pains, Thy tortured body suffer'd,

Then gall they offer'd.

Look humbly upward, see His will disclose
The forfeit first, and then the fine impose;
A mulct thy poverty could never pay,
Had not Eternal Wisdom found the way
And with celestial wealth supplied thy store ;
His justice makes the fine, His mercy quits the score.
See God descending in the human frame,
The offended suffering in th' offender's name :
All thy misdeeds to Him imputed see,
And all His righteousness devolved on thee.


Say! wherefore thus by woes wast Thou surrounded ? | 236. ATTAINMENT. Failure of
Ah! Lord, for my transgressions Thou wast wounded :
God took the guilt from me, who should have paid it;

If this mute earth
On Thee He laid it.

Of what it holds could speak, and every grave

Were as a volume, shut, yet capable How strange and marvellous was this correction!

Of yielding its contents to eye and ear, Falls the good Shepherd in His sheep's protection ;

We should recoil, stricken with sorrow and shame, The servants' debt behold the Master paying,

To see disclosed, by such dread proof, how ill
For them obeying.

That which is done accords with what is known The righteous dies, who walk'd with God true To reason, and by conscience is enjoin'd; hearted;

How idly, how perversely, life's whole course,
The sinner lives, who has from God departed : To this conclusion, deviates from the line,
By man came death, yet man its fetters breaketh; | Or of the end stops short, proposed to all
God it o'ertaketh.

| At her aspiring outset. — Wordsworth.

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