2056. ISOLATION. Human

THOUGHT is deeper than all speech,
Feeling deeper than all thought;
Souls to souls can never teach
What unto themselves was taught.

We are spirits clad in veils ;

Man by man was never seen; All our deep communing fails

To remove the shadowy screen.

Heart to heart was never known; Mind with mind did never meet; We are columns left alone

Of a temple once complete. Like the stars that gem the sky, Far apart though seeming near,

In our light we scatter'd lie;

All is thus but starlight here.

What is social company

But a babbling summer stream? What our wise philosophy

But the glancing of a dream?

Only when the sun of love

Melts the scatter'd stars of thought, Only when we live above

What the dim-eyed world hath taught,

Only when our souls are fed

By the fount which gave them birth, And by inspiration led

Which they never drew from earth,

We, like parted drops of rain,
Swelling till they meet and run,
Shall be all absorb'd again,

Melting, flowing into one. -Cranch.

2057. ITALY.

FAIR Italy !

Thou art the garden of the world, the home
Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree,
Even in thy desert, what is like to thee?
Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste
More rich than other climes' fertility;
Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced

With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.-Byron.

2058. JACOB'S LADDER.

WHEN Jacob slept in Bethel, and there dream'd Of angels ever climbing and descending

A ladder, whose height of splendour seem'd With glory of the Ineffable Presence blending,

The place grew sacred to his reverent thought; He said, 'Lo! God is here-I knew it not.'

The patriarch's vision-not for him alone
Lighted that golden mystery his slumber;
Beneath it slept a world of souls unknown.

When God sets up a sign, no man may number
Its meanings infinite. Who runneth reads,
And finds the interpretation that he needs.
Wherever upward, even the lowest round,

Man by a hand's help lifts his feeble brother, There is the house of God and holy ground.

The gate of heaven is love; there is none other. When generous act blooms from unselfish thought, The Lord is with us, though we know it not. This ladder is let down in every place

Where unto nobler virtues men aspire. Our human lineaments gain angel grace, Leaving behind low aim and base desire. Deserts of earth are changed to Bethel thus: The vision is for every one of us.

2059. JACOB'S VISION.

HE slept beneath the desert skies,
His pillar was the desert stone,
Yet heavenly visions bless'd his eyes,
And cheer'd his spirit sad and lone.
He saw the stair of light let down,

Whose shining steps the angels trod,
And call'd the desert where it shone
The gate of heaven-the house of God.
Thy sleepless eye, O God, still keeps

Its watch o'er every covenant heir;
And angels down that ladder's steps

From Thee to me a blessing bear. Through Christ to Thee ascends my prayer, Through Christ on me is grace bestow'd; Each place becomes, when Christ is there, The gate of heaven-the house of God. In dungeons dark, in dwellings mean, Where suffering saints have bent the knee, That mystic ladder has been seen,

And angels come with gifts from Thee. This night may I the vision see,

My spirit climb that radiant road; This night my quiet chamber be

The gate of heaven-the house of God.

2060. JEALOUSY.

FOUL Jealousy! that turnest love divine

To joyless dread, and mak'st the loving heart

Must still be strangled in its birth; or time
Will soon conspire to make it strong enough
To overcome the truth.-Davenant.

O Jealousy! thou merciless destroyer,
More cruel than the grave! what ravages
Does thy wild war make in the noblest bosoms!
Mallet.

Among the sons of men how few are known
Who dare be just to merit not their own!
Superior virtue and superior sense

To knaves and fools will always give offence.
Nay, men of real worth can scarcely bear,
So nice is jealousy, a rival there.-Churchill.

It is Jealousy's peculiar nature

To swell small things to great; nay, out of nought
To conjure much; and then to lose its reason
Amid the hideous phantoms it has form'd.-Young.

Jealousy, saidst thou? I disdain it :-no-
Distrust is poor, and a misplaced suspicion
Invites, and justifies the falsehood fear'd-Hill.

But through the heart

Should jealousy its venom once diffuse,
'Tis then delightful misery no more,
But agony unmix'd, incessant gall,
Corroding every thought, and blasting all
Love's paradise. Ye fairy prospects, then,
Ye beds of roses, and ye bowers of joy,
Farewell! ye gleamings of departed peace,
Shine out your last! the yellow-tinging plague
Internal vision taints, and in a night
Of livid gloom imagination wraps.-Thomson.

In gentle love the sweetest joys we find—
Yet even those joys, dire jealousy molests,
And blackens each fair image in our breasts.

Lyttleton.

All other passions have their hour of thinking,
And hear the voice of reason. This alone
Breaks at the first suspicion into phrenzy,
And sweeps the soul in tempests.-Francis.

2061. JERUSALEM. Desolate

Is this thy place, sad city, this thy throne?
Where the lone desert rears the craggy stone,
Where suns unblest their angry lustre fling,
And wayworn pilgrims seek the scanty spring?
Where now thy pomp, which kings with envy
view'd?

Where now thy power, which all those kings subdued?

No martial myriads muster in thy gates
No suppliant nation at thy temple waits,

No prophet bard, thy glittering courts among,
Wakes the full lyre, and swells the tide of song;
But lawless force and meagre want is there,
And the quick-darting eye of restless fear;
While cold Oblivion, 'mid the ruins laid,
Hides his dark wing beneath the ivy shade.-Heber.

2062. JERUSALEM. Modern

THY strength, Jerusalem, is o'er,
And broken are thy walls;

The harp of Israel sounds no more
In thy deserted halls :

But where thy Kings and Prophets trod,
Triumphant over death

Behold the living Soul of God-
The Christ of Nazareth!

The halo of His presence fills

Thy courts, thy ways of men; His footsteps on the holy hills

Are beautiful as then ;

The prayer, whose bloody sweat betray'd

His human agony,

Still haunts the awful olive shade

Of old Gethsemane.

Woe unto thee, Jerusalem !

Slayer of Prophets, thou That in thy fury stonest them

God sent and sends thee now:
Where Thou, O Christ! with anguish spent,
Forgave Thy foes, and died,

Thy garments yet are daily rent,
Thy soul is crucified !

They darken with the Christian name

The light that from Thee beam'd,

And by the hatred they proclaim

Thy Spirit is blasphemed;

Unto Thine ear the prayers they send
Were fit for Belial's reign,
And Moslem cimeters defend
The temple they profane.

Who shall rebuild Jerusalem ?

Her scatter'd children bring

From earth's far ends, and gather them
Beneath her sheltering wing?

For Judah's sceptre broken lies,
And from his kingly stem
No new Messiah shall arise
For lost Jerusalem !

But let the wild ass on her hills

Its foal unfrighted lead,

And by the source of Kedron's rills

The desert adder breed:

For where the love of Christ has made
Its mansion in the heart,

He builds in pomp that will not fade
Her heavenly counterpart.-Bayard Taylor.

2063. JERUSALEM: rebellious and ruined.

THE signs are full, and never shall the sun
Shine on the cedar roofs of Salem more;
Her tale of splendour now is done;
Her wine-cup of festivity is spilt,
And all is o'er-her grandeur and her guilt.
Oh, fair and favour'd city, where of old,
The balmy airs were rich with melody,
That led her pomp beneath the cloudless sky
In vestments flaming with the orient gold;
Her gold is dim, and mute her music's voice,
The heathen o'er her perish'd pomp rejoice!

How stately then was every palm-deck'd street Down which the maidens danced with tinkling feet! How proud the elders in the lofty gate!

How crowded all her nation's solemn feasts With white-robed Levites, and high-mitred priests! How gorgeous her temple's sacred state! Her streets are razed, her maidens sold for slaves, Her gates thrown down, her elders in their graves; Her feasts are holden 'mid the Gentiles' scoin, By stealth her priesthood's holy garments worn.

Milman.

Jerusalem! alas! alas! of old,
Deaf to whate'er prophetic seers foretold,
Assailing all whom Heaven in mercy sent,
And murdering those that warn'd thee to repent!
Thou, the world's Saviour who suspendedst high,
His works reviled, and mock'd His agony,
How oft hath God, still gracious, striven to bring
Thy devious brood beneath His sheltering wing,

LAUGH not too much; the witty man laughs least:
For wit is news only to ignorance:

Less at thine own things laugh; lest in the jest
Thy person share, and the conceit advance.
Make not thy sport abuses: for the fly
That feeds on dung, is coloured thereby.

Pick from thy mirth, like stones out of the ground,
Profaneness, filthiness, abusiveness:

These are the scum with which coarse wits abound: The fine may spare this well, yet not go less.

All things are big with jest: nothing that's plain, But may be witty, if thou hast the vein.-Herbert,

A jest's prosperity lies in the ear

Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.—Shakespeare.

Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Would leave a sting within a brother's heart?

Young.

As in smooth oil the razor best is whet,
So wit is by politeness sharpest set;
Their want of edge from their offence is seen,
Both pain us least when exquisitely keen;
The fame men give is for the joy they find;
Dull is the jester when the joke's unkind.

Young

Of all the griefs that harass the distrest,
Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.—Johnson,

2065. JESUS. Charity of

THE Master came one evening to the gate
Of a far city; it was growing late,
And, sending His disciples to buy food,
He wander'd forth, intent on doing good,
As was His wont. And in the market-place
He saw a crowd, close gather'd in one space,
Gazing with eager eyes upon the ground.
Jesus drew nearer, and thereon He found
A noisome creature, a bedraggled wreck,
A dead dog with a halter round his neck.
And those who stood by mock'd the object there,
And one said, scoffing, 'It pollutes the air!'
Another, jeering, ask'd, 'How long to-night
Shall such a miscreant cur offend our sight?'
'Look at his torn hide,' sneer'd a Jewish wit;
You could not cut even a shoe from it,'

And turn'd away.

'Behold his ears that bleed,'

A fourth chimed in. 'An unclean wretch indeed!'
'He hath been hang'd for thieving,' they all cried,
And spurn'd the loathsome beast from side to side.
Then Jesus, standing by them in the street,
Look'd on the poor spent creature at His feet,
And, bending o'er him, spake unto the men,
'Pearls are not whiter than his teeth. And then
The people at each other gazed, asking,
'Who is this stranger pitying the vile thing?'
Then one exclaim'd, with awe-abated breath,
'This surely is the Man of Nazareth;
This must be Jesus, for none else but He
Something to praise in a dead dog could see!'
And, being ashamed, each scoffer bow'd his head,
And from the sight of Jesus turn'd and fled.
An Oriental Legend.

2066. JESUS. Cling to

CLING to the Crucified !

His death is life to thee,-
Life for eternity.

His pains thy pardon seal;
His stripes thy bruises heal;

His cross proclaims thy peace,
Bids every sorrow cease.
His blood is all to thee,
It purges thee from sin;
It sets thy spirit free,

It keeps thy conscience clean.

Cling to the Crucified!

Cling to the Crucified !

His is a heart of love,
Full as the hearts above;
Its depths of sympathy
Are all awake for thee:
His countenance is light,
Even to the darkest night.
That love shall never change-

That light shall ne'er grow dim;
Charge thou thy faithless heart
To find its all in Him.
Cling to the Crucified !-Bonar.

2067. JESUS: God and Man.

SPRING-TIDE and leaf-fall, eve and morn,
Earth saw the slow-paced centuries go;
She wore her verdure, wore her snow,
The long night went, the day was born.
Then glow'd the heavens with angel eyes ;
On Night's dark brow the starry Sign-
Red flared the Dawn; from tongues divine
Down slid the golden symphonies

To shepherd ears; all earth around,
A ghastly dread, a horror fell,

A blight on shrine and oracle;
The gods bow'd crumbling to the ground.

A child He came, to man He grew,

He breathed earth's tainted, common air; He loathed its foul, He loved its fair, Cool on His brow the evening blew.

Soft dropp'd His eye on wayside flowers, He heard the whispers of the palms Creep o'er the noontide's golden calms, He took the burden of the Hours.

With shadow'd brow and aching ear

He heard the wail, the hunger-cry, Smite up against the deaf, cold sky, The sob above the dead and dear.

Like man's His lips could smile or groan,
Like man He ate, like man He slept,
Rejoiced, was weary, thirsted, wept,
And evermore He walk'd alone.

Both God and man, to man He came,
He made a sunrise round the grave,
Smitten, the smiter He forgave,

He fed the hungry, cured the lame.

They pierced His hands, His feet, His side, All Nature own'd the Holy One,

A shadow trail'd across the sun,

The mountains trembled when He died.

He rules the World Invisible-
The countless, the undying hosts
That line those unseen, mystic coasts,
All give Him praise, in Him they dwell.

He gently leads the friends that we
Behold no more, by waters still,
Beyond the flesh, the evil will;
To Him they lift their eyes and see

That smile more bland than when on earth
It cheer'd the hearts on which it shone,
And dried the tear and still'd the moan,
And beam'd upon the nuptial mirth.

But He is more; I may rejoice

To know this world above, around, Cloud, mountain, river, storm, and sound, The stars, the seasons, hear His voice. In Him the breeze of Summer blows

O'er grass and many-murmuring corn; In Him the dews and leaves are born, He paints the lily and the rose.

Before the things that are He was;
Before the pyramids arose,

Or Andes glitter'd in their snows,
He saw the dateless Centuries pass.

He was when earths and suns were not-
When space was but a starless pall,
And Night and Chaos old were all,
The worlds were sculptured in His thought

The universe, in Him conceal'd,

Lay waiting the appointed Hour-
Seed rising into perfect flower,
The flower to fruit by bank and field.

This fair, frail violet that blows

Beside the rock, this gentian fringe
Thrice dipp'd in heaven's glorious tinge,
This little brook that by me goes
Singing a low and quiet song,

No less than yonder glittering domes
That shine above ten thousand homes,
And streets that thicken with the throng,

All lived in Him, all stood and shone

Parts of that wise, stupendous plan,
Whose glory, crown, and end is Man,
Man saved through the Eternal Son-

The Love that neither depth nor height
Could hold, nor angel's tongue express,
The Man Divine, than God no less,
Immortal Life, Eternal Light.

He in our souls His kingdom lays

In power to fight, endure, withstand,
In seeing eye and willing hand,
God-likeness, patience, love, and praise.

Even in the flesh, conjoin'd to Him,
Earthly united with Divine,

On heavenly thrones we sit and shine;
We walk and talk with Seraphim.

Death smites our brain, the walls grow dim;
The Resurrection and the Life

He stands within the dying strife;

Death is the door that leads to Him.-Hempstead.

2068. JESUS: last and first.

JESUS! when my soul is parting
From this body frail and weak,
And the deathly dew is starting
Down this pale and wasted cheek,—
Thine, my Saviour,

Be the Name I last shall speak.

Jesus! when my memory wanders

Far from loved ones at my side,

And in fitful dreaming ponders
Who are they that near me glide,-
Last, my Saviour,

Let my thoughts on Thee abide.

When the morn in all its glory Charms no more mine ear nor eye, And the shadows closing o'er me Warn me of the time to die,—

Last, my Saviour,

Let me see Thee standing by.

When my feet shall pass the river,
And upon the farther shore
I shall walk, redeem'd for ever-
Ne'er to sin-to die no more,-

First, Lord Jesus!

Let me see Thee, and adore.-Mackellar.

2069. JESUS. Mementos of

I'LL carve our passion on the bark,

And every wounded tree

Shall drop and bear some mystic mark That Jesus died for me.

The swains shall wonder when they read, Inscribed on all the grove,

That Heaven itself came down, and bled, To win a mortal's love.- Watts.

2070. JESUS. Name of

JESUS, Immanuel, Saviour!
Words holy and sublime;
How shall their wondrous cadence
Re-echo through all time!
Jesus, the sweetest music

That mortals e'er can know,
It soothes the child of sorrow,
And lightens every woe.
As breezes in the desert,
As dew on sterile ground,
So to the sad and weary

Comes the reviving sound.
As flowers without the sunbeam
Must lose their bloom and die;
So hearts can only flourish,
Dear Lord, beneath Thine eye.
Jesus, Thy love unbounded,

Our dearest theme shall be;
Forbid that we should wander,
In heart or life, from Thee:
Keep, keep us then enfolded
Within Thine arm of might-
Be Thou our guiding pillar,
We ask no better light.—Mrs Parker.