Those whom they serve; with social feelings kind Each to the other, and with knees inclined In patriarchal worship, heart and tongue. List to the Saviour's words! Where two or three Meet in My name, there in the midst am I.' Believe, and welcome to thy family

The gracious Guest; and by His blessing try, How much domestic bliss and amity

Hang on domestic worship's hallowing tie!

Mant.

1219. FAMILY WORSHIP. Duty of
WHOM God hath made the heads of families,
He hath made priests to offer sacrifice.
Daily let part of Holy Writ be read,
Let, as the body, so the soul have bread;
For look, how many souls in thy house be,
With just as many souls God trusteth thee.

1220. FAMILY WORSHIP. Picture of

THE cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,

The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride;
His bonnet reverently is laid aside,

His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare:
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
He wales a portion with judicious care;

And 'Let us worship God!' he says with solemn air.

They chant their artless notes in simple guise; They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim: Perhaps 'Dundee's' wild-warbling measures rise, Or plaintive Martyrs,' worthy of the name; Or noble Elgin' beats the heavenward flame, The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : Compared with these, Italian trills are tame; The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise; Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise.

The priest-like father reads the sacred page-How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage

With Amalek's ungracious progeny, Or how the royal bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire; Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.

Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme,

How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He, who bore in heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay His head: How His first followers and servants sped;

The precepts sage they wrote to many a land ; How he, who lone in Patmos banished,

Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand,

And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounced by
Heaven's command.

Then, kneeling down, to heaven's eternal King,
The saint, the father, and the husband prays:
Hope springs exulting on triumphant wing,'
That thus they all shall meet in future days;
There ever bask in uncreated rays,

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,
Together hymning their Creator's praise,
In such society, yet still more dear;
While circling Time moves round in an eternal
sphere.

Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,

In all the pomp of method and of art, When men display to congregations wide,

Devotion's every grace, except the heart! The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; But, haply, in some cottage far apart,

May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul; And in His Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. Burns.

1221. FANATICISM. Definition of
WHAT is fanatic frenzy, scorn'd so much,
And dreaded more than a contagious touch?
I grant it dangerous, and approve your fear,
That fire is catching if you draw too near;
But sage observers oft mistake the flame,
And give true piety that odious name.
To tremble (as the creature of an hour
Ought at the view of an Almighty power)
Before whose presence, at whose awful throne
All tremble in all worlds, except our own,
To supplicate His mercy, love His ways,
And prize them above pleasure, wealth, or praise,
Though common sense, allow'd a casting voice,
And free from bias, must approve the choice,
Convicts a man fanatic in the extreme,
And wild as madness in the world's esteem.
But that disease, when soberly defined,
Is the false fire of an o'erheated mind;
It views the truth with a distorted eye,
And either warps or lays it useless by ;
'Tis narrow, selfish, arrogant, and draws
Its sordid nourishment from man's applause;
And while at sin unrelinquish'd lies,

Presumes itself chief favourite of the skies.-Cowper.

1222. FANCY.

IN the soul

Are many lesser faculties, that serve

Reason as chief: among these fancy next
Her office holds; of all external things,
Which the five watchful senses represent,
She forms imaginations, airy shapes,
Which reason joining, or disjoining, frames
All what we affirm, or what deny, and call
Our knowledge or opinion.- Milton.

Woe to the youth whom Fancy gains,
Winning from reason's hand the reins.-Scott.

1223. FAREWELL. Dread of

NAY, shrink not from the word 'farewell,'
As if 'twere friendship's final knell ;
Such fears may prove but vain :
So changeful is life's fleeting day,
Whene'er we sever hope may say,

'We part to meet again!'
Even the last parting earth can know
Brings not unutterable woe,

To souls that heavenward soar;
For humble faith, with steadfast eye,
Points to a brighter world on high,
Where hearts that here at parting sigh,
May meet to part no more.-Barton.

1225. FASHION. Ban of

FASHION, leader of a chattering train,
Whom man, for his own hurt, permits to reign,
Who shifts and changes all things but his shape,
And would degrade her votary to an ape,
The fruitful parent of abuse and wrong,
Holds a usurp'd dominion o'er his tongue;
There sits and prompts him with his own disgrace,
Prescribes the theme, the tone, and the grimace,
And, when accomplish'd in her wayward school,
Calls gentlemen whom she has made a fool.
'Tis an unalterable, fix'd decree,

That none could frame or ratify but she,

That heaven and hell, and righteousness and sin,
Snares in his path, and foes that lurk within,
God and His attributes (a field of day
Where 'tis an angel's happiness to stray),
Fruits of His love and wonders of His might,
Be never named in ears esteem'd polite.
That he who dares, when she forbids, be grave,
Shall stand proscribed, a madman or a knave,

1227. FASHION. Folly of

THE rout is Folly's circle, which she draws
With magic wand. So potent" is the spell,
That none, decoy'd into that fatal ring,
Unless by Heaven's peculiar grace, escape.
There we grow early grey, but never wise;
There form connections, but acquire no friend;
Solicit pleasure, hopeless of success ;
Waste youth in occupations only fit
For second childhood, and devote old age
To sports which only childhood could excuse.
There they are happiest who dissemble best
Their weariness; and they the most polite
Who squander time and treasure with a smile,
Though at their own destruction. She that asks
Her dear five hundred friends contemns them all,
And hates their coming. They (what can they less?)
Make just reprisals; and with cringe and shrug,
And bow obsequious, hide their hate of her.
Wives beggar husbands, husbands starve their wives,
On Fortune's velvet altar offering up

Their last poor pittance-Fortune, most severe
Of goddesses yet known, and costlier far

Than all that held their routs in heathen's heaven.
So fare we in this prison-house, the world;
And 'tis a fearful spectacle to see

So many maniacs dancing in their chains.
They gaze upon the links that hold them fast
With eyes of anguish, execrate their lot,
Then shake them in despair, and dance again.
Cowper.

1228. FASHION. Fool of

WITH Scrupulous care exact, he walk'd the rounds
Of fashionable duty; laugh'd when sad;
When merry, wept; deceiving, was deceived;
And flattering, flatter'd. Fashion was his god.
Obsequiously he fell before its shrine,
In slavish plight, and trembled to offend.
If graveness suited, he was grave; if else,
He travail'd sorely, and made brief repose,
To work the proper quantity of sin.

In all submissive to its changing shape,
Still changing, girded he his vexed frame,
And laughter made to men of sounder head.
Most circumspect he was of bows, and nods,
And salutations; and most seriously
And deeply meditated he of dress;
And in his dreams saw lace and ribands fly.
His soul was naught-he damn'd it every day
Unceremoniously. Oh! fool of fools!
Pleased with a painted smile, he flutter'd on,
Like fly of gaudy plume, by fashion driven,
As faded leaves by Autumn's wind, till Death
Put forth his hand and drew him out of sight.
Oh! fool of fools! polite to man; to God
Most rude: yet had he many rivals, who,
Age after age, great striving made to be
Ridiculous, and to forget they had
Immortal souls.-Pollok.

THE distaff, needle, all domestic cares,
Religion, children, husband, home, were things
She could not bear the thought of; bitter drugs
That sicken'd her soul. The house of wanton mirth
And revelry, the mask, the dance, she loved,
And in their service soul and body spent
Most cheerfully; a little admiration,

Or true, or false, no matter which, pleased her,
And o'er the wreck of fortune lost, and health,
And peace, and an eternity of bliss

Lost, made her sweetly smile. She was convinced
That God had made her greatly out of taste,
And took much pains to make herself anew.
Bedaub'd with paint, and hung with ornaments
Of curious selection-gaudy toy!

A show unpaid for, paying to be seen!

As beggar by the way, most humbly asking
The alms of public gaze-she went abroad;
Folly admired, and indication gave
Of envy; cold Civility made bows,

And smoothly flatter'd; Wisdom shook his head,
And Laughter shaped his lip into a smile;
Sobriety did stare; Forethought grew pale;
And Modesty hung down the head and blush'd;
And Pity wept, as on the frothy surge

Of fashion toss'd, she pass'd them by, like sail
Before some devilish blast, and got no time
To think, and never thought, till on the rock
She dash'd of ruin, anguish, and despair.-Pollok.

1231. FASTING. Acceptable

Is fasting then the thing that God requires?
Can fasting expiate, or slake those fires
That sin hath blown to such a mighty flame?
Can sackcloth clothe a fault, or hide a shame?
Can ashes cleanse thy blot, or purge thy offence?
Or do thy hands make Heaven a recompense
By strewing dust upon thy briny face?
Are these the tricks to purchase heavenly grace?—
No! though thou pine thyself with willing want,
Or face look thin, or carcass ne'er so gaunt;
Although thou worser weeds than sackcloth wear,
Or naked go, or sleep in shirts of hair;

Or though thou choose an ash-tub for thy bed,
Or make a daily dunghill on thy head,—
Thy labour is not poised with equal gains,
For thou hast naught but labour for thy pains.
Such holy madness God rejects and loathes,
That sinks no deeper than the skin or clothes.
'Tis not thine eyes, which, taught to weep by art,
Look red with tears (not guilty of thy heart);
'Tis not the holding of thy hands so high,
Nor yet the purer squinting of thine eye;
'Tis not your mimic mouths, your antic faces,
Your Scripture phrases, or affected graces,
Nor prodigal upbanding of thine eyes,
Whose gashful balls do seem to pelt the skies;
'Tis not the strict reforming of your hair,
So close that all the neighbour skull be bare;
'Tis not the drooping of thy head so low,
Nor yet the lowering of thy sullen brow;
Nor wolfish howling that disturbs the air,
Nor repetitions, or your tedious prayer:
No, no! 'tis none of this that God regards—
Such sort of fools their own applause rewards;
Such puppet-plays to heaven are strange and quaint;
Their service is unsweet, and foully taint;
Their words fall fruitless from their idle brain-
But true repentance runs in other strain :
Where sad contrition harbours, there the heart
Is truly acquainted with the secret smart
Of past offences-hates the bosom sin
The most which the soul took pleasure in.
No crime unsifted, no sin unpresented,

Can lurk unseen; and seen, none unlamented.
The troubled soul's amazed with dire aspects
Of lesser sins committed, and detects
The wounded conscience; it cries amain
For mercy, mercy-cries, and cries again;
It sadly grieves, and soberly laments;

It yearns for grace, reforms, returns, repents.
Aye, this is incense whose accepted savour
Mounts up the heavenly Throne, and findeth favour;
Aye, this is it whose valour never fails-
With God it stoutly wrestles and prevails;