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Two lips still breathing love,
Not wrath, nor fears :'-

So pray we afterwards, low on our knees
Pardon those erring prayers! Father, hear
these!--D. Muloch Craik.

886. DISCRETION. Importance of UNTO fair conclusions argueth generous youth, And quickly he starteth on his course, knight-errant to do good.

His sword is edged with arguments, his vizor terrible with censures;

He goeth full-mailed in faith, and zeal is flaming at his heart.

Yet one thing he lacketh, the Mentor of the mind, The quiet whisper of Discretion,—Thy time is not yet come.

For he smiteth an oppressor; and vengeance for that smiting

Is dealt in double stripes on the faint body of the victim;

He is glad to give and to distribute; and clamorous pauperism feasteth,

While honest labour, pining, hideth his shark ribs : He challengeth to a fair field that subtle giant, Infidelity,

And, worsted in the unequal fight, strengtheneth the hands of error;

He hasteth to teach and preach, as the war-horse rusheth to the battle,

And, to pave a way for truth, would break up the Apennines of prejudice:

He wearieth by stale proofs, where none looked for

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The snows of Hecla lie around its troubled, smoking Geysers;

Let the cool streams of prudence temper the hot spring of zeal;

So shalt thou gain thine honourable end, nor lose the midway prize,

So shall thy life be useful, and thy young heart happy.-Tupper.

887. DISEASES: reminders of death.

WISE in his day the heathen emperor,

To whom, each morrow, came a slave, and cried,
Philip, remember thou must die:' no more.
To me such daily voice were misapplied,—
Disease guests with me; and each cough, or cramp,
Or aching, like the Macedonian slave,
Is my memento mori.-David Gray.

888. DISEASES: spiritually profitable.

OFT have I sat in secret sighs
To feel my flesh decay,

Then mourn'd aloud with weeping eyes,
To view the tott'ring clay.

But I forbid my sorrows now,

Nor dares the flesh complain; Diseases bring their profit too,

The joy o'ercomes the pain.

My cheerful soul now all the day

Sits waiting here and sings, Looks through the ruins of her clay, And practises her wings.

Faith almost changes into sight,

While from afar she spies Her fair inheritance in light

Above created skies.

Had but the prison walls been strong,
Without a flaw therein,

In darkness she had dwelt too long,
And less of glory seen.

But now the everlasting hills

Through ev'ry chink appear,
And something of the joy she feels,
While she's a prisoner here.

Oh! may these walls stand tott'ring still,
The breaches never close,

If I must here in darkness dwell,

And all this glory lose.

Oh! rather let this flesh decay,

The ruins wider grow,

Till glad to see th' enlarged way,

I stretch my pinions through.-Watts.

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O SAVIOUR! whose mercy, severe in its kindness, Hath chasten'd my wanderings and guided my way, Adored be the power that illumined my blindness, And wean'd me from phantoms that smiled to betray.

Enchanted with all that was dazzling and fair,

I follow'd the rainbow, I caught at the toy; And still in displeasure Thy goodness was there, Disappointing the hope, and defeating the joy.

The blossom blush'd bright, but a worm was below; The moonlight shone fair, there was blight in the beam;

Sweet whisper'd the breeze-but it whisper'd of woe;
And bitterness flow'd in the soft-flowing stream.

So cured of my folly, yet cured but in part,
I turn'd to the refuge Thy pity display'd;
And still did this eager and credulous heart
Weave visions of promise that bloom'd but to fade.
I thought that the course of the pilgrim to heaven
Would be bright as the summer, and glad as the

morn:

Thou show'dst me the path; it was dark and uneven, All rugged with rock, and all tangled with thorn.

I dream'd of celestial rewards and renown,

I grasp'd at the triumph that blesses the brave; I ask'd for the palm-branch, the robe, and the crown, I ask'd-and Thou show'dst me a cross and a grave!

Subdued and instructed at length to Thy will,

My hopes and my wishes I freely resign; Oh, give me a heart that can wait and be still, Nor know of a wish or a pleasure but Thine. There are mansions exempted from sin and from woe, But they stand in a region by mortals untrod; There are rivers of joy, but they roll not below; There is rest, but 'tis found in the bosom of God. Grant.

890. DISHONESTY. Excuse for

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'You speak very fine, and you look very grave,
But apples we want, and apples we'll have;
If you will go with us, you shall have a share,
If not, you shall have neither apple nor pear.'

They spoke and Tom ponder'd, 'I see they will go :
Poor man! what a pity to injure him so!
Poor man! I would save him his fruit if I could,
But staying behind will do him no good.

'If the matter depended alone upon me,

His apples might hang till they dropp'd from the tree;

But since they will take them, I think I'll go too,
He will lose none by me, though I get a few.'

His scruples thus silenced, Tom felt more at ease,
And went with his comrades the apples to seize :
He blamed and protested, but join'd in the plan :
He shared in the plunder, but pitied the man.

891. DISHONOUR.

Cowper.

LOVE's common unto all the mass of creatures,
As life and breath; honour, to man alone:
Honour being then above life, dishonour must
Be worse than death; for fate can strike but one;
Reproach doth reach whole families.— Cartwright.

Where shall we bury our shame?

Where, in what desolate place,

Hide the last wreck of a name

Broken and stain'd by disgrace? Death may dissever the chain,

Oppression will cease when we're gone; But the dishonour, the stain,

Die as we may, will live on.-Moore.

892. DISQUIET. Emblem of

BEHOLD an emblem of our human mind,
Crowded with thoughts that need a settled home,
Yet like to eddying balls of foam

Within this whirlpool, they each other chase
Round and round, and neither find

An outlet nor a resting-place!

Stranger, if such disquietude be thine,
Fall on thy knees and sue for help Divine.
Wordsworth.

893. DISQUIET. General

ETERNAL troubles haunt thy anxious mind,
Whose cause and cure thou never hop'st to find;
But still uncertain, with thyself at strife,
Thou wanderest in the labyrinth of life.
... Uneasy both in country and in town,
They search a place to lay their burden down.

One, restless in his palace, walks abroad,
And vainly thinks to leave behind the load:
But straight returns; for he's as restless there,
And finds there's no relief in open air.
Another to his villa would retire,

And spurs as hard as if it were on fire;
No sooner enter'd at his country door,

But he begins to stretch, and yawn, and snore,
Or seek the city which he left before.
Thus ev'ry man o'erworks his weary will,

To shun himself, and to shake off his ill;
The shaking fit returns, and hangs upon him still
Lucretius, tr. by John Dryden.

894. DISSATISFACTION: troubles rich and

poor alike.

A MAN in his carriage was riding along,
A gaily-dress'd wife by his side,

In satin and laces; she look'd like a queen,
And he like a king in his pride.

A wood-sawyer stood in the street as they pass'd;
The carriage and couple he eyed,

And said, as he work'd with a saw on a log,

'I wish I was rich and could ride.'

The man in the carriage remark'd to his wife:
One thing I would give if I could—

I'd give all my wealth for the strength and the health
Of the man that saweth the wood.'

A pretty young maid with a bundle of work,
Whose face as the morning was fair,
Went tripping along with a smile of delight,
While humming a love-breathing air.

She look'd on the carriage-the lady she saw,
Array'd in apparel so fine,

And said, in a whisper, 'I wish from my heart
Those satins and laces were mine.'

The lady look'd out on the maid with her work,
So fair in her calico dress,

And said, 'I'd relinquish possession and wealth
Her beauty and youth to possess.'

Thus, in this world, whatever our lot,

Our minds and our time we employ
In longing and sighing for what we have not,
Ungrateful for what we enjoy.

We welcome the pleasure for which we have sigh'd,
The heart has a void in it still,

Growing deeper and wider the longer we live,
That nothing but Heaven can fill.

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Hearts that the world in vain had tried,
And sorrow but more closely tied ;

That stood the storm when waves were rough,
Yet in the sunny hour fall off

Like ships that have gone down at sea,
When heaven was all tranquillity!
A something, light as air-a look,

A word unkind or wrongly taken-
Oh! love, that tempests never shook,

A breath, a touch like this hath shaken.
And ruder words will soon rush in
To spread the breach that words begin ;
And eyes forget the gentle ray
They wore in courtship's smiling day;
And voices lose the tone that shed
A tenderness round all they said;
Till fast declining, one by one,
The sweetnesses of love are gone,
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem
Like broken clouds,-or like the stream,
That smiling left the mountain's brow

As though its waters ne'er could sever,
Yet, ere it reach'd the plain below,
Breaks into floods, that part for ever.

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AT summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow
Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below,
Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye,
Whose sun-bright summit mingles with the sky?
Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear
More sweet than all the landscape smiling near?-
'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Thus, with delight, we linger to survey
The promised joys of life's unmeasured way;
Thus, from afar, each dim-discover'd scene
More pleasing seems than all the past hath been,
And every form, that Fancy can repair
From dark oblivion, grows divinely there.

The sails we see on the ocean Are as white as white can be ;

But never one in the harbour

As white as the sails at sea.

Campbell.

And the clouds that crown the mountain
With purple and gold delight,
Turn to cold, grey mist and vapour
Ere ever we reach the height.

The mountains wear crowns of glory
Only when seen from afar ;
And the sails lose all their whiteness
Inside of the harbour bar.

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My room is still, and bright, and warm;
The little thing is safe from harm.

If I had left it where it lay
Fluttering in the wintry day,
No mate remaining by its side,
Before nightfall it must have died.
It sips the drink, it eats the food;
Plenty of both, all sweet and good.
But all the while my hand it flies,
Looks up at me with piteous eyes;
From morn till night, restless and swift,
Runs to and fro, and tries to lift
Itself upon its broken wing,

And through the window-pane to spring.

Poor little bird! Myself I see
From morn till night in watching thee.
A Power I cannot understand
Is sheltering me with loving hand:
It calls me by the dearest name,
My love to win, my fear to tame;
Each day my daily food provides,
And night and day from danger hides
Me safe: the food, the warmth I take,
Yet all the while ungrateful make
Restles and piteous complaints,
And strive to break the kind restraints.
Helen Hunt.

899. DIVINE UNION. Satisfaction of To me remains nor place nor time; My country is in every clime;

I can be calm and free from care
On any shore, since God is there.

While place we seek, or place we shun,
The soul finds happiness in none;
But with a God to guide our way,
'Tis equal joy to go or stay.

Could I be cast where Thou art not,
That were indeed a dreadful lot;
But regions none remote I call,
Secure of finding God in all.

My country, Lord, art Thou alone;
No other can I claim to own;
The point where all my wishes meet,
My law, my love; life's only sweet.

Madame Guyon.

900. DIVINE UNION. Simile of

THE brooks rush downward to the sea,
Arising far in cliffs and mountains;

But mingle soon rejoicingly,

And make great streams from little fountains.

And then the streams, without delay,

Still to the sea's great bosom tending,

Roll proudly on their winding way,

At last with ocean's billows blending.

And so, O God, our souls to Thee,

Onward and onward, ever going, (We are the fountains, Thou the sea,)

To Thy great sea of life are flowing. Yes! One with God, as Christ is One, No longer tost by earth's commotion, Our little streams, their journey done,

Shall rest, at last, in God's great ocean. Upham.

901. DIVINITY OF CHRIST. Faith in the

JESUS is God! the solid earth,

The ocean broad and bright,

The countless stars, like golden dust,
That strew the skies at night,
The wheeling storm, the dreadful fire,
The pleasant, wholesome air,
The summer's sun, the winter's frost,
His own creations were.

Jesus is God! the glorious bands
Of golden angels sing
Songs of adoring praise to Him,

Their Maker and their King.

He was true God in Bethlehem's crib;

On Calvary's cross true God:

He who in heaven eternal reign'd,
In time on earth abode.

Jesus is God! there never was
A time when He was not;
Boundless, eternal, merciful,

The Word the Sire begot.
Backward our thoughts through ages stretch,
Onward through endless bliss ;
For there are two eternities,

And both alike are His!-Faber.

902. DOING GOOD. Need of

ALONE, amid life's griefs and perils,
The stoutest soul may quail:
Left to its own unaided efforts,
The strongest arm may fail.

Then let us learn to help each other,
Hoping unto the end:

Who sees in every man a brother,
Shall find in each a friend.

903. DOING GOOD. Payment for

AH! child the stream that brings
To thirsty lips their drink,
Is seldom drain'd; for springs
Pour water to its brink.

The well-springs that supply

The streams are seldom spent,
For clouds of rain come by

To pay them what they lent.
The clouds that cast their rain

On lands that yield our food,
Have water from the main,
To make their losses good.

The sea is paid by lands,

With streams from ev'ry shore;

So give with kindly hands,
For God can give you more.
He would that in a ring

His blessings should be sent,
From living thing to thing,
But nowhere stay'd or spent.
And ev'ry soul that takes,

But yields not on again,

Is so a link that breaks

In Heaven's love-made chain. -Barnes.

904. DOING GOOD: rewarded.

'UPHOLD my feeble branches With thy strong arms, I pray ;' Thus to the Elm, her neighbour, The Vine was heard to say;

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