I see the right, and I approve it too,
Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue.

Ovid.

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!
For some too fast, for some too slow;
Time never stops to sleep or dine,
But on and on with steady flight
He keeps, untired, by day—by night,
And boys and girls, ere yet aware,
Find threads of silver in their hair,

Their love of quiet growing stronger ;,
And, haply, by these tokens know,
What kind friends told them long ago,

That they are boys and girls no longer.

NoR are we ignorant how noble minds
Suffer too much through those indignities
Which times and vicious persons cast on them.
Ourself have ever vowed to esteem
As virtue for itself, so fortune base :
Who's first in worth, the same be first in place.

Ben Jonson. Firm and resolved by sterling worth to gain Love and respect, thou shalt not strive in vain.

Brydgrs.

Oh! wouldst thou set thy rank before thyself?
Wouldst thou be honour'd for thyself or that?
Rank that excels the wearer doth degrade,
Riches impoverish that divide respect :
Oh, to be cherish'd for one's self alone!
To owe the love which cleaves to us to nought
Which fortune's summer-winter-gives or takes !

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 here we stand to say "Good-bye !'
Brief words--and yet, we scarce know why,
They bring a moisture to the eye,

And to the heart some quakes and aches;
We speak them very tenderly,
With half a sob and half a sigh-
Old Year, good-bye! Old Year, good-bye!'
For what it brought, for what it takes,
We love it, and for loved ones' sakes;

And with a heart that may not wait, Toward yonder, distant, golden gate,

I journey gladly on.

Prized for its hours of happiness,
Nor for its sacred sorrows less ;
For all it gave through toil and strife
Of new significance to life-
New breadths, new depths, new heights sublime,
And, haply, kingship over Time !
Accept our thanks, Old Year ! for these,
And for all precious memories
Of love, of grief, of joy, of pain,
Whose ministry was not in vain.

Jesus! all my soul hath flown

Already up to Thee,
For Thou, in whom is love alone,

Hast wholly conquer'd me.
Farewell, ye phantoms, day and year,
Eternity is round me here,

Since, Lord, I live in Thee !-A. H. Francke.

3609. YESTERDAY. Lessons of

And so we sadly lay, Old Year!
Our love-wreath on thy snowy bier,
Our love-wreath, moisten'd by a tear;
And, turning from our brief adieu,
With kindly welcome hail the New:
True to the Ruling Power, we sing,
• The King is dead!' Long live the King!'

Burleigh.

3608. YEAR. Thanksgiving for a New

THANK God, that towards eternity

Another step is won !
Oh, longing turns my heart to Thee,

As time flows slowly on,
Thou Fountain whence my life is born,
Whence those rich streams of grace are drawn,

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

careless,

So glows Thy love within this frame,

That, touch'd with keenest fire,
My whole soul kindles in the flame

Of one intense desire,
To be in Thee, and Thou in me,
And e'en while yet on earth, to be

Still pressing closer, nigher!
I joy that from Thy love divine

No power can part me now; That I may dare to call Thee mine,

My Friend, my Lord avow;
That I, O Prince of life, shall be
Made wholly one in Heaven with Thee;

My portion, Lord, art Thou !
And therefore do my thanks o’erflow,

That one more year is gone,
And of this time, so poor, so slow,

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 ;
And weeping fathers build their children's tomb:
Me thine, Narcissa! What though short thy date?
Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures.
That life is long which answers life's great end.
The time that bears no fruit deserves no name.
The man of wisdom is the man of years.
In hoary youth, Methuselahs may die ;
0, how misdated on their flattering tombs!

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 take our proper station ;
We, the rising generation,

Let us stamp the age as ours !
We shall be what you will make us :

Make us wise, and make us good!
Make us strong for time of trial ;
Teach us temperance, self-denial,

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?
Only love us, only lead us;
Only let us know you need us,

And we all will do our parts.
We are thousands, many thousands!

Every day our ranks increase ;
Let us march beneath your banner,
We, the legion of true honour,
Combating for love and peace !

Mary Howitt. 3611. YOUNG. Counsel for the LIVE, that thy young and glowing breast

Can think of death without a sigh,
And be assured that life is best
Which finds us least afraid to die.

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 ;
And let the seed of sacred truth

Fall in a fruitful place.
Grace is a plant, where'er it grows,

Of pure and heavenly root ;
But fairest in the youngest shows,

And yields the sweetest fruit.
Ye careless ones, O hear betimes

The voice of sovereign love!
Your youth is stain’d with many crimes,

But mercy reigns above.---Cowper.

LIKE other tyrants, Death delights to smite
What, smitten, most proclaims the pride of power
And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme,
To bid the wretch survive the fortunate;

3614. YOUNG. Prayer of the
My Father, the guide of my youth,

To Thee for direction I fly;
O grant me Thy light and Thy truth,

Nor ever Thy presence deny.