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I see the right, and I approve it too,
To persist In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong, But makes it much more heavy.-Shakespeare.
3603. WORTH. Men of God gives us men. A time like this demands Strong minds, great hearts, true faith, and ready
hands : Men whom the lust of office does not kill;
Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy; Men who possess opinions and a will;
Men who have honour-men who will not lie ; Men who can stand before a demagogue And scorn his treacherous flatteries without wink
ing; Tall men, sun-crown'd, who live above the fog
In public duty, and in private thinkingFor while the rabble, with their thumb-worn creeds, Their large professions and their little deeds, Mingle in selfish strife, lo ! Freedom weeps, Wrong rules the land, and waiting Justice sleeps.
When people once are in the wrong, Each line they add is much too long ;' Who farthest walks, but walks astray, Is only farthest from his way.- Prior.
3604. WORTH: wins esteem.
They ever do pretend To have received a wrong, who wrong intend.
Daniel. Wrongs do not leave off there where they begin, But still beget new mischiefs in their course.
Daniel. 3607. YEAR. Old and New No pause, no rest, no visual line
Between the years that come and go!
Their love of quiet growing stronger ;,
That they are boys and girls no longer.
NoR are we ignorant how noble minds
Ben Jonson. Firm and resolved by sterling worth to gain Love and respect, thou shalt not strive in vain.
Oh! wouldst thou set thy rank before thyself?
Sheridan Knowles. 3605. WRATH. Victims of 'Tis not the want of time, nor means, nor good in
tent, That has these millions to perdition sent;
Still on-as silent as a ghost!
Seems but a score of days, all told, Or but a month or two at most,
Since our last New Year's song we trollid,
And lo! that New Year now is Old.
And to the heart some quakes and aches;
And with a heart that may not wait, Toward yonder, distant, golden gate,
I journey gladly on.
Prized for its hours of happiness,
Jesus! all my soul hath flown
Already up to Thee,
Hast wholly conquer'd me.
Since, Lord, I live in Thee !-A. H. Francke.
3609. YESTERDAY. Lessons of
And so we sadly lay, Old Year!
3608. YEAR. Thanksgiving for a New
THANK God, that towards eternity
Another step is won !
As time flows slowly on,
That through my being run !
I count the hours, the days, the years,
That stretch in tedious line, Until, O Life, that hour appears,
When, at Thy touch divine, Whate'er is mortal now in me Shall be consumed for aye in Thee,
And deathless life be mine!
Now shall the mangled stump teach proud man a
lesson; | Now can we from that elm-tree's sap distil the wine
of Truth. Heed ye those hundred rings, concentric from the
core, Eddying in various waves to the red bark's shore
like rim? These be the gathering of yesterdays, present all to
day; This is the tree's judgment, self-history that cannot
be gainsaid: Seven years agone there was a drought-and the
seventh ring is narrow'd ; 'The fifth from hence was half a deluge-the fifth is
cellular and broad, Thus, Man, thou art a result, the growth of many
yesterdays, That stamp thy secret soul with marks of weal ar
woe : Thou art an almanac of self, the living record of thy
deeds : Spirit hath its scars as well as body, sore and aching
in their season : Here is a knot-it was a crime; there is a canker
selfishness; Lo! here, the heart-wood rotten ; lo, there, per
chance, the sap-wood sound. Nature teacheth not in vain; thy works are in thee,
of thee; Some present evil bent hath grown of older errors : And what if thou be walking now uprightly? Salve
not thy wounds with poison, As if a petty goodness of to-day hath blotted out
the sin of yesterday : It is well thou hast life and light; and the Hewer
showeth mercy, Dressing the root, pruning the branch, and looking
for thy tardy fruits ; But, even here, as thou standest, cheerful belike, and
So glows Thy love within this frame,
That, touch'd with keenest fire,
Of one intense desire,
Still pressing closer, nigher!
No power can part me now; That I may dare to call Thee mine,
My Friend, my Lord avow;
My portion, Lord, art Thou !
That one more year is gone,
Another step is won ;
The stains of ancient evil are upon thee, the record
of thy wrong is in thee; For a curse of many yesterdays is thine, many yes
terdays of sin, That, haply, little heeded now, shall blast thy many
morrows. — Tupper.
3610. YOUNG. Claims of the
The feeble wrap the athletic in his shroud ;
Young Grieve not that I die young.-Is it not well
To pass away ere life hath lost its brightness? Bind me no longer, sisters, with the spell Of love and your kind words. List ye to me Here I am bless'd-but I would be more free; I would go forth in all my spirit's lightness.
Let me depart!
Give us light amid our darkness ;
Let us know the good from ill ; Hate us not for all our blindness; Love us, lead us, show us kindness,
You can make us what you will.
We are willing ; we are ready;
We would learn, if you would teach ; We have hearts that yearn towards duty; We have minds alive to beauty ;
Souls that any heights can reach ! Raise us by your Christian knowledge :
Consecrate to man our powers ;
Let us stamp the age as ours !
Make us wise, and make us good!
Patience, kindness, fortitude !
Ah ! who would linger till bright eyes grow dim,
Kind voices mute, and faithful bosoms cold? Till carking care, and coil, and anguish grim, Cast their dark shadows o'er this faëry world; Till fancy's many-colour'd wings are furl'd, And all, save the proud spirit, waxeth old ?
I would depart!
Look into our childish faces;
See ye not our willing hearts?
And we all will do our parts.
Every day our ranks increase ;
Mary Howitt. 3611. YOUNG. Counsel for the LIVE, that thy young and glowing breast
Can think of death without a sigh,
Elisa Cook. 3612. YOUNG.“ Death of the
Thus would I pass away-yielding my soul
A joyous thank-offering to Him who gave That soul to be, those starry orbs to roll. Thus-thus exultingly would I depart, Song on my lips, ecstasy in my heart : Sisters-sweet sisters, bear me to my grave
Let me depart!
Lady Flora Hastings. 3613. YOUNG. Prayer for the
BESTOW, dear Lord, upon our youth
The gift of saving grace ;
Fall in a fruitful place.
Of pure and heavenly root ;
And yields the sweetest fruit.
The voice of sovereign love!
But mercy reigns above.---Cowper.
LIKE other tyrants, Death delights to smite
3614. YOUNG. Prayer of the
To Thee for direction I fly;
Nor ever Thy presence deny.
My pillar of cloud and of fire,
And if the mists of night close round,
They fill his soul with fear;
He dreads some unseen precipice,
Some hidden danger near.
So cheerfully does youth begin 3615. YOUNG. Warning for the
Life's pleasant morning stage;
Alas! the evening traveller feels
The fears of wary age. --Southey.
I'd say we suffer and we strive
Not less nor more as men than boys ; Read, ye that run, the awful truth
With grizzled beards at forty-five,
As erst at twelve in corduroys.-Thackeray.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and spring,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparell'd in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore :
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The rainbow comes and goes, . 3616. YOUTH : and age.
And lovely is the rose; And to say truth, though in its early prime,
The moon doth with delight And when unstain'd with any grosser crime,
Look round her when the heavens are bare : Youth has a sprightliness and fire to boast,
Waters on a starry night That in the valley of decline are lost,
Are beautiful and fair ; And Virtue with peculiar charms appears,
The sunshine is a glorious birth :Crown'd with the garland of life's blooming years ; |
But yet I know, where'er I go, Yet age, by long experience well inform’d,
That there hath pass’d away a glory from the Well read, well temper'd, with religion warm'd
earth.-Wordsworth. That fire abated which impels hot youth, Proud of his speed, to overshoot the truth,
3617. YOUTH. Aspirations of As time improves the grape's authentic juice, Mellows and makes the speech more fit for use,
Higher, higher will we climb And claims a reverence in its shortening day
Up the mount of glory, That 'tis an honour and a joy to pay.- Corvper.
That our names may live through time
In our country's story:
Happy, when her welfare calls,
He who conquers, he who falls.
Deeper, deeper let us toil
In the mines of knowledge ;
Nature's wealth and learning's spoil
Win from school and college :
Delve we there for richer gems
Than the stars of diadems.
Onward, onward may we press
Through the path of duty;
Virtue is true happiness,
Excellence true beauty.
Minds are of celestial birth;
3618. YOUTH : described.
What is youth ?-A dancing billow,
3619. YOUTH. Desires of
Youth hath a strong and strange desire to try And see how soon they fade.
All feelings on the heart : 'tis very wrong,
And dangerous, and deadly : strive against it. Here, while still waiting, dreaming,
3620. YOUTH : dissipated.
Youth lost in dissipation,—we deplore
Through life's sad remnant, what no sighs restore :
Our years, a fruitless loss without a prize,
Too many-yet too few to make us wise. -Cowper.
3621. YOUTH. Dreams of
For, ah ! my heart, how very soon
The glittering dreams of youth are past !
And long before it reach its noon,
The sun of life is overcast.–Moore.
3622. YOUTH. Griefs of
And is not youth, as fancy tells,
Life's summer prime of joy?
Ah, no! for hopes too long delay'd
And feelings blasted or betray'd
Its fabled bliss destroy ;
And youth remembers with a sigh
The careless days of infancy.-Southey.
Look back upon your hours of youth :
What were your early years,
But scenes of childish cares and griefs ?
And say not childish tears
Were nothing; at that time they were
More than the young heart well could bear. Pause and luxuriate in thy sunny plain ;
L. E. Landon. Loiter,-enjoy :
3623. YOUTH. Happiness of Once past, thou never wilt come back again A second boy.
In the sweet morn of life, when health and joy
Laugh in the eye, and o'er each sunny plain
A mild celestial softness seems to reign,
Ah! who could dream what woes the heart annoy? The mist of light from which they take their grace
No saddening sighs disturb the vernal gale
Which fans the wild-wood music on the ear; The dark and weary path those cliffs between
Unbathed the sparkling eye with pity's tear,
Save listening to the aged soldier's tale.
The heart's slow grief which wastes the child of woe,
And lovely injured woman's cruel wrong,
We hear not in the skylark's morning song, Pause while thou mayst, nor deem that fate thy gain, We hear not in the gales that o'er us blow :Which, all too fast,
Visions devoid of woe which childhood drew, Will drive thee forth from this delicious plain,
How oft shall my sad heart your soothing scenes A man at last.—Monckton Milnes.
renew !- Leyden.