2632. PAST. The

THINGS without all remedy

Should be without regard: What's done is done.
Shakespeare.

Let us not burthen our remembrances
With a heaviness that's gone.-Shakespeare.

What's gone, and what's past help,
Should be past grief.—Shakespeare.

'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours
And ask them what report they bore to heaven,
And how they might have borne more welcome news.

Young.

Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears
Fever'd the progress of these years,
Yet now, days, weeks, and months but seem
The recollection of a dream.-Scott.

The past lives o'er again,

In its effects, and to the guilty spirit

The ever-frowning present is its image.-Coleridge.

2633. PAST. Progress in the

OH sometimes gleams upon our sight,
Through present wrong, the Eternal Right!
And step by step, since time began,
We see the steady gain of man;

That all of good the past hath had
Remains to make our own time glad,
Our common daily life divine,
And every land a Palestine.

We lack but open eye and ear
To find the Orient's marvels here-
The still small voice in autumn's hush,
Yon maple wood the burning bush.
For still the new transcends the old,
In signs and tokens manifold:
Slaves rise up men; the olive waves
With roots deep set in battle graves.

Through the harsh noises of our day
A low, sweet prelude finds its way;
Through clouds of doubt and creeds of fear
A light is breaking, calm and clear.

Henceforth my heart shall sigh no more
For olden time and holier shore;
God's love and blessing, then and there,
Are now, and here, and everywhere.- Whittier.

2634. PASTOR. Lot of the

A GENIAL hearth, a hospitable board, And a refined rusticity, belong

A TRUE good man there was of religion,
Pious and poor, the parson of a town.
But rich he was in holy thought and work,
And thereto a right learned man; a clerk
That Christ's pure gospel would sincerely preach,
And his parishioners devoutly teach.

This noble ensample to his flock he gave,
That first he wrought, and afterward he taught
The word of life he from the gospel caught;
And well this comment added he thereto,
If that gold rusteth what should iron do?
Not of reproach imperious or malign,
But in his teaching soothing and benign;
To draw them on to heaven, by reason fair
And good example, was his daily care.-Chaucer.

The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheer'd;
Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd.

His preaching much, but more his practice wrought
(A living sermon of the truths he taught):
For this by rules severe his life he squared,
That all might see the doctrine which they heard.

Dryden.

Wide was his parish, not contracted close
In streets, but here and there a straggling house;
Yet still he was at hand, without request,

To serve the sick, to succour the distress'd,
Tempting on foot, alone, without affright,
The dangers of a dark tempestuous night.-Dryden.

In his duty prompt at every call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt, for all :
And as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd,
The reverend champion stood. At his control
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;

Her ways are not the ways of pleasantness;

Her paths are not the lightsome paths of joy; She walks with wrongs that cannot find redress, And dwells in mansions Time and Death destroy.

She waits until her stern precursor, Care,

Has lodged on foreheads, open as the morn, To plough his deep, besieging trenches thereThe signs of struggles which the heart has borne.

But when the first cloud darkens in our sky,

And face to face with Life we stand alone,
Silent and swift, behold! she draweth nigh,
And mutely makes our sufferings her own.

Unto rebellious souls, that, mad with Fate,
To question God's eternal justice dare,
She points above with looks that whisper, 'Wait—
What seems confusion here is wisdom there.'
Daughter of God! who walkest with us here,
Who mak'st our every tribulation thine,
Such light hast thou in Earth's dim atmosphere,
How must thy seat in heaven exalted shine!
Bayard Taylor.

His peaceful smile invites them to love and to confide, Oh! follow in His footsteps, keep closely by His side!

To soft and tearful sadness, He changes dumb despair, And soothes to deep submission the storm of grief and care;

Where midnight shades are brooding, He pours the light of noon,

And every grievous wound He heals, most surely, if

not soon.

He will not always answer thy questions and thy fear, His watchword is, 'Be patient, the journey's end is

near !'

And even through the toilsome way, He tells of joys to come,

And points the pilgrim to his rest, the wanderer to his home.

2639. PATIENCE. Angel of

To weary hearts, to mourning homes,
God's meekest Angel gently comes
No power has he to banish pain,
Or give us back our lost again;
And yet in tenderest love our dear
And heavenly Father sends him here.
There's quiet in that Angel's glance!
There's rest in his still countenance !
He mocks no grief with idle cheer,

Nor wounds with words the mourner's ear;
But ills and woes he may not cure

He kindly trains us to endure.
Angel of Patience! sent to calm
Our feverish brows with cooling palm;
To lay the storms of hope and fear,
And reconcile life's smile and tear;
The throbs of wounded pride to still,
And make our own our Father's will!
O thou who mournest on thy way,
With longings for the close of day;
He walks with thee, that Angel kind,
And gently whispers, 'Be resign'd :
Bear up, bear on, the end shall tell
The dear Lord ordereth all things well !'
Whittier.

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;

But were we burden'd with like weight of pain,
As much, or more, we should ourselves complain.
Shakespeare.

Many are the sayings of the wise,

In ancient and in modern books enroll'd,
Extolling patience as the truest fortitude;
And to the bearing well of all calamities,
All chances incident to man's frail life,
Consolitaries writ,

With studied argument, and much persuasion sought,
Lenient of grief and anxious thought :

But with th' afflicted in his pangs their sound
Little prevails, or rather seems a tune

Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint;
Unless he feels within

Some source of consolation from above,
Secret refreshings, that repair his strength,
And fainting spirits uphold.-Milton.

2641. PATIENCE: enjoined.

WHAT God decrees, child of His love,
Take patiently, though it may prove
The storm that wrecks thy treasure here;
Be comforted! thou need'st not fear
What pleases God.

The wisest will is God's own will;
Rest on this anchor and be still;
For peace around thy path shall flow,
When only wishing here below

What pleases God.-Gerhardt.

2642. PATIENCE. Example of

O YE, whose hearts in secret bleed
O'er transient hope, like morning dew,
O'er friendship faithless in your need,
Or love to all its vows untrue,
Who shrink from persecution's rod,

Or slander's fang, or treachery's tone,
Look meekly to the Son of God,

And in His griefs forget your own. Forsaken are ye?—so was He;

Reviled ?-yet check the 'vengeful word; Rejected?-should the servant be

Exalted o'er his suffering Lord?
Nor deem that Heaven's omniscient eye
Is e'er regardless of your lot:
Deluded man from God may fly,
But when was man by God forgot?

Mrs Sigourney.

2646. PATIENCE. Reward of

'With patience sour grapes become sweetmeats, and mulberry leaves turn to satin.'-Oriental Proverb.

CALM daughter of the might of God,

Large-handed, firm, not prone to speak;
Delighting to make strong the weak,
To lift with those who bear the load.

I long for that I do not find;

It rests above, high out of reach.

Then comest thou, with skill to teach

The better habits of the mind.

I wait uneasily and strive,

Resentful at the motion slow

Of leaves which spread and worms which grow, And, unproducing, seem to thrive.

But, after all, the grape will round,

Ruddy and ripe, with perfect juice;
And, after all, the worm hath use,
When its cocoon is fully wound.

And then I drink, at length, the wine
Of long-enduring sun and rain,

And wear the robe which I was fain
In other days to seek for mine. -Duffield.

2647. PATIENCE. Reasons for

OH, my tried soul, be patient! Roughest rinds
Fold over sweetest fruitage; heaviest clouds
Rain the most ample harvests on the fields;
The grass grows greenest where the wintry snows
Have fallen deepest, and the fairest flowers
Spring from old dead decay; the darkest mine
Yields the most flashing jewels from its cell;
And stars are born of darkness-day of night.
Oh, my tried soul, be patient! Yet for thee
Goes on the secret alchemy of life;

God, the one giver, grants no boon to earth
That He withholds from thee; and from the depth
Of thy deep sorrow shall evolve new light,
New strength to do and suffer, new resolves;
Perchance, new gladness, and the freshest hopes.
Oh! there are times when I can no more weep
That I have suffer'd, for I know great strength
Is born of suffering; and I trust that still
Wrapt in the dry husks of my outer life
Lie warmer seeds than ever yet have burst
From its dull covering; stronger purposes
Stir consciously within, and make me great
With a new life-a life akin to God's-
Which I must nurture for the holy skies.
Help me, Thou Great All-Patient! for the flesh
Will sometimes falter, and the spirit fail :
Add to my human Thy Divine strength;

2652. PATIENT LOVE. Christ's example of

WHAT grace, O Lord, and beauty shone
Around Thy steps below!
What patient love was seen in all

Thy life and death of woe!
For ever on Thy burden'd heart

A weight of sorrow hung;
Yet no ungentle murmuring word
Escaped Thy silent tongue

Thy foes might hate, despise, revile,
Thy friends unfaithful prove;
Unwearied in forgiveness still,

Thy heart could only love.

Oh! give us hearts to love like Thee,—
Like Thee, O Lord, to grieve
Far more for others' sins, than all
The wrongs that we receive.

BUT where to find the happiest spot below, Who can direct, when all pretend to know? The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims the happiest spot his own; Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease: The naked negro, panting at the line, Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, His first, best country, ever is at home. And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, And estimate the blessings which they share, Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find An equal portion dealt to all mankind; As different good, by art or nature given, To different nations make their blessings even. Goldsmith.

2654. PATRIOTISM. Lack of

BREATHES there the man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said,

This is my own, my native land! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turn'd

From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down

To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.--Scott.

2655. PATRIOTISM. Maxim of

THAT grounded maxim, So rife and celebrated in the mouths Of wisest men, that to the public good Private respects must yield.-Milton.

2656. PATRIOTISM. Sacrifices of
Calendaro. BUT if we fail-
Bertuccio. They never fail who die

In a great cause: the block may soak their gore;

THERE is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside,
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons imparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth,
Time-tutor❜d age, and love-exalted youth:
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air.
In every clime, the magnet of his soul,
Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole;
For in this land of Heaven's peculiar race,
The heritage of nature's noblest grace,
There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest,
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride,
While in his soften'd looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend.
Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life;
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of love and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.
'Where shall that land, that spot of earth, be found?'
Art thou a man?—a patriot ?-look around;
Oh, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spot thy home!
Man, through all ages of revolving time,
Unchanging man, in every varying clime,