Save as our atoms feel tyrannic chance, Conscience,—Freewill,-absurd! And if you ask 'Good, my dear sir !-but we must wait, I doubt, Let this experiment be fairly made, Nor Science mourn, by her high-priests betray'd; And send the boys and girls rejoicing on their course!' 633. CREED. The first UNCURSED by doubt, our earliest creed we take ; Too oft the light that led our earlier hours 634. CRISIS. A Nation's Holmes. ONCE to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side; Some great cause, God's new Messiah, offering each the bloom or blight, Parts the goats upon the left hand, and the sheep upon the right, And the choice goes by for ever 'twixt that darkness and that light. Hast thou chosen, O my people, on whose party thou shalt stand, Ere the Doom from its worn sandals shakes the dust against our land? Though the cause of Evil prosper, yet 'tis Truth alone is strong, THERE is a time, we know not when, A point, we know not where, That marks the destiny of men To glory or despair. There is a line, by us unseen, To pass that limit is to die To die as if by stealth; The conscience may be still at ease, The spirit light and gay, That which is pleasing still may please, Oh, where is this mysterious bourne How far may we go on in sin? How long will God forbear? An answer from the skies is sent: 636. CRISIS. The important 7. A. Alexander. AT every motion of our breath A moment usher'd us to birth, 'Twixt that, long fled, which gave us light, This is that moment,-who can tell Time past and time to come are not; O God! henceforth our hearts incline WHOEVER thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be. In every work regard the writer's end, Since none can compass more than they intend : A perfect judge will read each work of wit Pope. Learn then what morals critics ought to show : Shun their fault, who, scandalously nice, Will needs mistake an author into vice. Pope. Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, Ah! ne'er so dire a thirst of glory boast, Prune the luxuriant, the uncouth refine, Pope. Pope. Some beauties yet no precepts can declare; For there's a happiness as well as care : Music resembles poetry; in each Are nameless graces, which no methods teach, And which a master-hand alone can reach. Pope. 640. CROSS. Kneeling at the A CRITIC was of old a glorious name, O JESUS! Sweet the tears I shed, My heart dissolves to see Thee bleed, This heart so hard before; I hear Thee for the guilty plead, And grief o'erflows the more. 'Twas for the sinful Thou didst die, And I a sinner stand: What love speaks from Thy dying eye, I know this cleansing blood of Thine O Christ of God! O spotless Lamb! In patient hope the cross I'll bear, Thine arm shall be my stay ; And Thou, enthroned, my soul shalt spare, 641. CROSS. My It is not heavy, agonizing woe, Bearing me down with hopeless, crushing weight; No ray of comfort in the gathering gloom, A heart bereaved-a household desolate. It is not sickness, with her withering hand, Mine is a daily cross of petty cares, Of little duties pressing on my heart, Of little troubles hard to reconcile, Of inward struggles-overcome in part. My feet are weary in their daily round, It is not heavy, Lord, yet oft I pine; It is not heavy, but 'tis everywhere; I dare not lay it down. I only ask 642. CROSS. The: the source of comfort. Is it not strange, the darkest hour That ever dawn'd on sinful earth Should touch the heart with softer power For comfort, than an angel's mirth? That to the cross the mourner's eye should turn Sooner than where the stars of. Christmas burn? Sooner than where the Easter sun Shines glorious on yon open grave, And to and fro the tidings run, 'Who died to heal, is risen to save'? Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends The very Comforter in light and love descends? Keble. 643. CROSS: to be borne willingly. The cross is always ready, and waits for thee in every place. . Why hopest then to avoid that from which no human being has been exempt? . . . Thou art deceived, wretchedly deceived, if thou expect anything but tribulation; for this whole mortal life is full of care, and signed on every side with the cross. . . . . If thou bearest the cross willingly it will soon bear thee beyond the reach of suffering, where God shall take away all sorrow from thy heart.—Thomas à Kompis. ON every side, dear Lord, on every side, Waits there an 'always ready' cross for me? May not I find, through all this world so wide, Some restful place from all cross-bearing free? The way is dark, thorn-lined and sharp with flints, Whose jagged edges bruise and pierce my feet; Thou knowest, Lord, they mark with bloody prints The toilsome path. Ah, rest would seem so sweet! So sweet to lay aside this heavy cross So sweet to find some quiet resting-placeSo sweet to cease from care and pain and loss, And breathe all fulness of life's joy and grace. O wretched heart, why seekest thou to find Exemption from the common mortal lot? Deceitful heart, and discontented mind, Thy Master's Sad Way hast thou then forgot? Was there on earth for Him a place of rest? Was there an hour wherein He might not feel The weight of Calvary's cross upon Him prest? The pang of mocking thorn and piercing steel? With prescient sorrow did He not endure Through all the way the dolour of that hour, When, thy eternal freedom to secure, He met alone the last foe's cruel power? And wilt thou basely shun that blessed sign, His mark and seal, inscribing thee His own? Nay, rather shout, 'Thou blessed cross! be mine; I'll bear thee gladly-by thy sign be known.' ONE cross the less remains for me to bear; That which is added to the troubled past Is taken from the future, whose sad store The storm that yesterday plough'd up the sea 647. CURIOSITY. SEE its power expand When first the coral fills the infant's hand; Nor yet alone to toys and tales confined, Who form'd a pathway for the obedient sun, Turn to the world-its curious dwellers view, The gibbet's victim, or the nation's gaze, Sprague. Faith we may boast, undarken'd by a doubt, We thirst to find each awful secret out. Sprague. The inquiring spirit will not be controll'd, We would make certain all, and all behold. Sprague. 651. CUSTOM: its influence on habit. THAT monster, custom, who all sense doth eat That to the use of actions fair and good, To the next abstinence; the next, more easy; All habits gather by unseen degrees; As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas. 652. CUSTOM. Power of Dryden. MAN yields to custom as he bows to fate, To them we know not, and we know not why. Custom, 'tis true, a venerable tyrant, Thomson. As custom arbitrates, whose shifting sway Custom does often reason overrule, 653. CUSTOM. Precedent of AWAY with custom! 'tis the plea of fools, 654. DAILY SERVICE: the Christian's desire. SOMETHING, my God, for Thee, Something for Thee; That each day's setting sun may bring In Thy dear name some kindness done; Dear Lord, for Thee. Something for Thee; That to Thy gracious throne may rise Something for Thee; For the great love that Thou hast given, And upward plumes her heavenward wings, 'Nearer, my God, to Thee |