Ah, yes, Philosopher, thy creed is true!

'Tis our own eyes that give the rainbow's hue;
What we call MATTER in this outer earth,

Takes from our senses, those warm dupes, its birth.
How fair, to sinless Adam, Eden smiled!
But sin brought tears, and Eden was a wild!
Man's soul is as an everlasting dream,
Glassing life's fictions on a phantom stream:
To-day, in glory all the world is clad-
Wherefore, O Man ?-because thy heart is glad!
To-morrow, and the self-same scene survey-
The same! Oh! no-the pomp hath pass'd away!
Wherefore the change? Within, go ask reply-
Thy heart hath given its winter to the sky!
Vainly the world revolves upon its pole ;
Light-Darkness-Seasons-these are in the soul!

1704. HAPPINESS.

Bulwer Lytton.

Theories of

O HAPPINESS! our being's end and aim !
Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name;
That something still which prompts the eternal sigh
For which we bear to live or dare to die,
Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies,
O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool, and wise.

Plant of celestial seed! if dropp'd below,
Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow?
Fair opening to some court's propitious shrine,
Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine?
Twined with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield,
Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field?
Where grows?-where grows it not? If vain our
toil,

We ought to blame the culture, not the soil:
Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere,
'Tis nowhere to be found, or everywhere:
'Tis never to be bought, but always free.

Ask of the learn'd the way? The learn'd are blind;

This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind;
Some place the bliss in action, some in ease,
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these:
Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain;
Some, swell'd to gods, confess even virtue vain!
Or, indolent, to each extreme they fall-
To trust in everything, or doubt of all.

Who thus define it, say they more or less
Than this, that happiness is happiness?

Take nature's path, and mad opinion's leave; All states can reach it, and all heads conceive; Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell; There needs but thinking right and meaning well; And mourn our various portions as we please, Equal is common sense and common ease.

1705. HAPPINESS. Trustful

THROUGH the love of God our Saviour
All will be well;

Free and changeless is His favour;

All, all is well!

Precious is the blood that heal'd us,

Perfect is the grace that seal'd us,

-Pope.

Strong the Hand stretch'd forth to shield us;
All must be well!

Though we pass through tribulation,
All will be well;

Ours is such a full salvation,

All, all is well!

Happy, still in God abiding,

Holy, through the Spirit's guiding;
All must be well!

We expect a bright to-morrow,

All will be well;

Faith can sing through days of sorrow,
All, all is well!

On our Father's love relying,
Jesus every need supplying,
Or in living, or in dying,

All must be well!-Mary Bowly.

KNOW then this truth (enough for man to know), 'Virtue alone is happiness below;'

The only point where human bliss stands still,
And tastes the good without the fall to ill;
Where only merit constant pay receives;

Is bless'd in what it takes and what it gives;'

The joy unequall'd if its end it gain,
And, if it lose, attended with no pain;
Without satiety, though e'er so bless'd,

And but more relish'd as the more distress'd :

The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears,
Less pleasing far than virtue's very tears:
Good from each object, from each place acquired,
For ever exercised, yet never tired:

Never elated while one man's oppress'd;
Never dejected while another's bless'd :

And where no wants, no wishes can remain,
Since but to wish more virtue is to gain.

See the sole bliss Heaven could on all bestow !
Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know:
Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,
The bad must miss, the good untaught will find:

For him alone hope leads from goal to goal, And opens still and opens on his soul, Till lengthen'd on to faith, and unconfined, It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind. He sees why nature plants in man alone Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown : (Nature, whose dictates to no other kind Are given in vain, but what they seek they find.) Wise is her present; she connects in this His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss ; At once his own bright prospect to be blest, And strongest motive to assist the rest. Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine, Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine. Is this too little for the boundless heart? Extend it, let thy enemies have part : Grasp the whole world of reason, life, and sense, In one close system of benevolence : Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, And height of bliss but height of charity.-Pope.

1709. HARVEST. Spiritual

THE harvest dawn is near,

The year delays not long ;
And he who sows with many a tear
Shall reap with many a song.

Sad to his toil he goes,

His seed with weeping leaves;
But he shall come at twilight's close,

And bring his golden sheaves.-Burgess.

1710. HARVEST: Thanksgiving Hymn.

LORD of the harvest! Thee we hail;
Thine ancient promise doth not fail;
The varying seasons haste their round,
With goodness all our years are crown'd:
Our thanks we pay

This holy day;

Oh let our hearts in tune be found!

If Spring doth wake the song of mirth, If Summer warms the fruitful earth;

The valleys laugh and sing,
Forests and mountains ring,
The plains their tribute bring,
The streams rejoice.
Garden and orchard ground
Autumnal fruits have crown'd,
The vintage glows;
Here plenty pours her horn,
There the full tide of corn,
Sway'd by the breath of morn,

The land o'erflows.

The wind, the rain, the sun,
Their genial work have done ;-

Would'st thou be fed?

Man to thy labour bow,
Thrust in the sickle now,
Reap where thou once didst plough—
God sends thee bread.

Thy few seeds scatter'd wide,
His hand hath multiplied;

Here thou may'st find
Christ's miracle renew'd,
With self-producing food
He feeds a multitude-

He feeds mankind.
The God of harvest praise;
Hands, hearts, and voices raise
With one accord.
From field to garner throng,
Bearing your sheaves along ;
And in your harvest song,

Bless ye the Lord.

Yes, bless His holy Name,
And your soul's thanks proclaim
Through all the earth.
To glory in your lot
Is comely; but be not
His benefits forgot,

Amidst your mirth.-Montgomery.

1713. HARVEST. Thoughts for the
WITH throbbing heart and tearful eye
I watch'd the spring-time fleeting by.
I saw the snow-drop at its birth
Felled, by spears of rain, to earth;
The iris burst her emerald sheath,
And show the amethyst beneath;
The painted tulip fade and close
Before the glory of the rose;

And now, down fields of sunburnt grass

I see the withering rose-leaves pass;

And night by night, and day by day,
The life of summer ebbs away.
I see the granaries overflow,
The mellowing orchards bending low.
O God! my heart in awe and fear
Looks back upon thy perfect year.
Thy bounty covers all the lands;
I lift in prayer my empty hands.

Of all the summer of my life
The harvest is but sin and strife.

Oh! could these tears, like April rain,
Make moist my heart's hard soil again,

And stir the seeds which Thou didst sow,
Oh! never should they cease to flow.
Could prayer but melt this ice away,
Oh! never would I cease to pray,
Till thou in mercy, Lord, didst bring
Into my soul a second spring.

Oh! then what rich reward and sweet
To lay its harvest at thy feet.

Katherine Saunders.

By the same star that guides thee? Why should'st thou hate, then, thy brother?

Hateth he thee? Forgive! For 'tis sweet to stam

mer one letter

Of the Eternal's language; on earth it is call'd forgiveness.-Tegner.

1716. HEALTH: essential to happiness.

HEALTH, brightest visitant from heaven,
Grant me with thee to rest!

For the short term by nature given,
Be thou my constant guest!
For all the pride that wealth bestows,
The pleasure that from children flows,
Whate'er we court in regal state
That makes men covet to be great;

Whatever sweets we hope to find
In Love's delightful snare;
Whatever good by Heaven assign'd,
Whatever pause from care:
All flourish at thy smile divine;
The spring of loveliness is thine,
And every joy that warms our hearts,
With thee approaches and departs.

Bland, from Alciphron.

Slow wandering on the margin of the deep,

I breathe the cheering gale of health once more; And see the billows gently dash the steep,

That rears its bold head on the sandy shore.

never stirreth,

But that which hatred swelleth, is keen to carve out evil.

Anger is a noble infirmity, the generous failing of the just,

The one degree that riseth above zeal, asserting the prerogatives of virtue ;

But hatred is a slow continuing crime, a fire in the bad man's breast,

A dull and hungry flame, for ever craving insatiate. Hatred would harm another; anger would indulge itself:

A bluish mist swims o'er the soften'd grove; The wanton deer bound lightly o'er the lawn, And every copse resounds with notes of love. The village-clocks proclaim the passing hour; The tall spires glitter to the early sun; The ploughman, whistling, quits his low-roof'd bower,

And now his peaceful labour is begun.

Yet not this ocean, cheer'd with many a sail,
Nor all these rural sounds, and pastures fair,

the valve :

Hatred destroyeth as the upas-tree; anger smiteth as a staff:

Hatred is the atmosphere of hell, but anger is known in heaven.-Tupper.

1715. HATRED. Cure of

Is he not sailing,

Lost like thyself on an ocean unknown, and is he not guided

Or from his bosom chase the clouds of care.

The merry morn no rapture could impart,
Nor converse sweet of friends his hours beguile;
In vain could beauty warm his aching heart,
Or on his cold wan cheek awake a smile.

Yet oft we slight thy worth, O blessed Health!
Poor mortals as we are, till thou art flown;
And thy sweet joys, more dear than fame or wealth,
Touch not our hearts, but pass unfelt, unknown.

The joys, without whose aid whate'er of blest,
Or great, or fair, the heavens to man ordain,
Is dull and tasteless to the unthankful breast,
Love loveless, youth old age, and pleasure pain.
Hamley.

1717. HEALTH. Ingredients of

THE common ingredients of health and long life are Great temperance, open air,

Easy labour, little care.-Sidney.

The surest road to health, say what they will,
Is never to suppose we shall be ill.

Most of those evils we poor mortals know
From doctors and imagination flow.

Churchill.

My body is from all diseases free;
My temperate pulse does regularly beat.
Dryden.

1718. HEALTH: rarely enjoyed.

THERE is no health physicians say that we At best enjoy but a neutrality.-Donne.

1719. HEALTH: uncertain.

WHAT is life?-like a flower, with the bane in its bosom,

To-day, full of promise, to-morrow it dies! And health, like the dew-drop that hung on its blossom,

Survives but a night, and exhales to the skies; How oft 'neath the bud that is brightest and fairest, The seeds of the canker in embryo lurk ! How oft at the root of the flower that is rarest, Secure in its ambush the worm is at work!

Beattie. 1720. HEARERS: how they invert the truth.

WHAT use the preacher's truth and earnest exhortation?

The hearer makes thereof inverted application.
A miser listen'd once to a discourse most moving,
The habit of unstinted charity approving.
He said: 'I never was before so much affected:
How beautiful is charity when well directed!
So clear and noble is the duty of almsgiving,
At once I'll go and beg, as sure as I am living.'

1721. HEARING. Mystery of

THY functions are ethereal,

Oriental.

As if within thee dwelt a glancing mind, Organ of vision! And a spirit aërial Informs the cell of Hearing, dark and blind; Intricate labyrinth, more dread for thought To enter than oracular cave;