Ah, world unknown! how charming is thy view, Talk who will of the world as a desert of thrall, We murmur and droop should a sorrow-cloud stay, Those who look on mortality's ocean aright, Cease, oh, cease thy vain desirings, Only seek thy Father's will. Leave behind thy faithless sorrow And thine every anxious care: He who only knows the morrow Can for thee its burden bear. Frances Ridley Havergal. 3579. WORLD: full of peril. ALAS! the world is full of peril! The path that runs through the fairest meads, On the sunniest side of the valley, leads Into a region bleak and sterile !-Longfellow. 3580. WORLD: hollow. THE world is just as hollow as an egg-shell; 3581. WORLD: illusory. BLINDED in youth by Satan's arts, So in the desert's dreary waste, (As ancient fables say), Castles, and groves, and music sweet, And stop him in his way. But while he listens with surprise, At first we start, and feel distress'd, But He whose mercy breaks the charm And bids us seek His face. Then we begin to live indeed, When, from our sin and bondage freed By this beloved Friend, We follow Him from day to day, Assured of grace through all the way, And glory at the end.-Cowper. 3582. WORLD: neither to be feared nor loved. A PILGRIM through this lonely world, A mourner all His life was He, A dying Lamb at last. That tender heart that felt for all, It found on earth no resting-place Such was our Lord,-and shall we fear Or love a faithless, evil world, That wreath'd His brow with thorn? No! facing all its frowns or smiles, Like Him obedient still, We homeward press through storm or calm, To Zion's blessed hill.-Denny. 3583. WORLD. Power of the WHENCE has this world her magic power? The cause is Conscience? Conscience oft Her tale of guilt renews; Then, anxious to be longer spared, The judgment shakes him! there's the fear His death your peace ensures; 3584. WORLD. Question about the WHAT is the world? tell, worldling, if thou know it. If it be good, why do all ills o'erflow it? If it be friend, why kills it, as a foe, Sylvester. 3585. WORLD. Quitting the I HAVE not loved the world, nor the world me,— But let us part fair foes: I do believe, Though I have found them not, that there may be Words which are things, hopes which will not deceive, And virtues which are merciful, nor weave Snares for the failing: I would also deem O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve; Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home: Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face; I'm going to my own hearth-stone, Oh, when I am safe in my sylvan home, I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, 3586. WORLD. Sale of the THE world for sale! Hang out the sign; And set this weary spirit free? 'Tis going! yes, I mean to fling The bauble from my soul away, I'll sell it, whatsoe'er it bring; The world at auction here, to-day! It is a glorious sight to see But, ah! it has deceived me sore, It is not what it seems to be. For sale! it shall be mine no more. Come, turn it o'er and view it well, I would not have you purchase dear. 'Tis going! going! I must sell! Who bids? who'll buy the splendid tear? Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care? A goodly landscape all may trace, That Beauty flings around the heart; I know its power, alas! too well; 'Tis going! Love and I must part! A breath of bliss, a storm of pain? Who e'er hath found the jewel his? Frail, fickle, false, and little worth, Who bids for Friendship-as it is? 'Tis going! going! hear the call; Once, twice, and thrice, 'tis very low! How much for Fame? how much for Fame? Ambition, fashion, show, and pride, Has taught my haughty heart to bow. My faith, my Bible, and my God!—Hoyt. 3587. WORLD. The enticing By day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair : But all night as the moon so changeth she; Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy, And subtle serpents gliding in her hair. By day she woos me to the outer air, Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety : With pushing horns and claw'd and clutching hands. 3587a. WORLD: transient. THE flower that smiles to-day, All that we wish to stay, Tempts, and then flies: 3588. WORLD: treacherous. THE world's esteem is but a bribe: Who hate you while they make you known. The joy that vain amusements give, Oh! sad conclusion that it brings! Defended by a thousand stings. 'Tis thus the world rewards the fools That live upon her treacherous smiles: And ruins all whom she beguiles.—Cowper. 3589. WORLD. Vanity of the OH! the world is but a word; 3590. WORLD. Youth of the WHO will say the world is dying? Who will say our prime is past? Flash, and will flash to the last. Still the race of hero spirits Pass the lamp from hand to hand; Age from age the words inherits,— Wife and child and fatherland. Still the youthful hunter gathers While a slave bewails his fetters; Heir of all the ages' gain; While a moan from man is wrung ; That the world is young.-C. Kingsley, 3591. WORLDLINESS. Influence of THE world is too much with us; late and soon, This sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowersFor this, for everything, we're out of tune; It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. Wordsworth. 3592. WORLDLING. Lament of the Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone which fades so fast, That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest, 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreathe, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. O could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept o'er many a vanish'd scene,— As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be, So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me!-Byron. 3593. WORLDLINGS. Ways of Lo! here spread out the plains of heavenly light, He strives in vain; the globe, though in the track, 3594. WORLDS. W. Holmes. But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth it- OTHER worlds. Those planets evermore self be past. Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt or oceans of ex cess: On their golden orbits swiftly glide on— Are they like this earth? The glory shed The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in Does it fall on regions tenanted vain By a race of mortals? The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never Are there merry maidens, wicked-eyed, comes down ; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its Have they silent shady forest realms, own; Odorous violets that in grassy nooks hide, Aged oaks and great ancestral elms Does a mighty ocean roar and break On dark rocks and sandy shores fantastic? Have they landscapes that would set a flat alight Does their weather change? November fog- Come to them in August? Nineteenth-century science should unravel All these queries, but has somehow miss'd 'em. Through the solar system? 3595. WORSHIP. Acceptable No sacred lore, howe'er profound, Even he his all in alms who spends Has value--all on it depends. Vayu Purana, viii. 190. Two altars are uprear'd in yonder plain; A lamb-a sinless victim-there is slain; Like incense, are in rich profusion piled, Heaven takes the former, but the latter spurns ; One lifts his head to heaven to thank the Giver, Nor thinks to mourn his lost condition ever; With Pharisaic pride his spirit burns, But in deep penitence the other turns His downcast eyes to earth, in sorrow bent: He offers bleeding innocence, and yearns Vicarious release from punishment. The promised Christ to bruise the serpent's head, The substitute for man, is shadow'd here; And Heaven approves the gift-accepts the deed, The principle of future trust is there. Abel, by faith, Heaven's favour thus obtains For a more excellent sacrifice by far than Cain's. Churchill. 3596. WORSHIP: in what spirit it is to be offered. I. 'I WOULD my gift were worthier,' sigh'd the Greek, As on he goaded to the temple door His spotted bullock: 'Ever of our store Doth Zeus require the best. And fat and sleek The ox I vow'd to him (no brindle streak, No fleck of dun), when through the breakers' roar He bore me safe, that day, to Naxos' shore: And now-my gratitude-how seeming weak! 'But here be chalk-pits: What if I should white The blotches, hiding all unfitness so? The victim in the people's eyes would show Better therefor, the sacrificial rite Be quicklier granted at so fair a sight, And the great Zeus himself might never know!' II. We have a God who knows: And yet we dare, Nay, rather let us bring the victim-heart, Defiled, unworthy, blemish'd though it be, And fling it on the flame, entreating : 'See! I blush to know how vile in every part Is this, my gift, through sin's delusive art, Yet 'tis the best that I can offer Thee!' Margaret J. Preston. 3597. WORSHIP. Places of SPIRIT! whose life-sustaining presence fills Air, ocean, central depths, by man untried, Thou for Thy worshippers hast sanctified All place, all time! The silence of the hills Breathes veneration; founts and choral rills Of these are murmuring: to its inmost glade |