Here to Steel's humour makes a bold pretence;
There, bolder, aims at Pultney's eloquence.
It aids the dancer's heel, the writer's head,
And heaps the plain with mountains of the dead;
Nor ends with life; but nods in sable plumes,
Adorns our hearse, and flatters on our tombs.

Young.

2793. PRAISE: not all of equal value.
THAT praise contents me more which one imparts
Of judgment sound, though of a mean degree,
Than praise from princes void of princely parts,
Who have more wealth, but not more wit, than he.
Earl of Stirling.

The gaudy glass of fortune only strikes
The vulgar eye; the suffrage of the wise,
The praise that's worth ambition, is attain'd
By sense alone, and dignity of mind.

Armstrong.
My soul,
Like yours, is open to the charms of praise :
There is no joy beyond it, when the mind
Of him who hears it can with honest pride
Confess it just, and listen to its music.

If none should yield him his deserved meed,—
Due praise, —that is the spur of doing well?
For if good were not praised more than ill,
None would choose goodness of his own free will.
Spenser.

One good deed, dying tongueless,
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that:
Our praises are our wages.-Shakespeare.
Praise of great acts he scatters, as a seed
Which may the like in coming ages breed.

Roscommon.

Praise

Is the reflection doth from virtue rise; These fair encomiums do virtue raise

To higher acts: to praise is to advise. Telling men what they are, we let them see, And represent to them what they should be. Aleyn

Desire of praise first broke the patriot's rest, And made a bulwark of the warrior's breast. Young.

2798. PRAISE: to be offered at all times.

'PRAISE God! Praise God!'
We smiling say,

With peace within our dwelling,
When love-light beams along our way,
And joy the heart is swelling.

'Praise God! Praise God!'

We murmur low,

When wealth and friends forsaking,

Make dearer still the hearts we know Still true to us, though breaking. 'Praise God! Praise God!' With faltering tone We breathe o'er loved ones, lying Beneath His rod, whose touch alone Changed living into dying.

'Praise God! Praise God!'

If from our grasp

He forced a long-sought treasure, 'Tis but to grant with loving clasp Some safer, purer pleasure.

'Praise God! Praise God!'

Of all bereft

That makes life sweet and pleasant;

Seeking the only refuge left, We find our Helper present.

'Praise God! Praise God!' With sobbing breath, Low on our knees we pray it,

And ask for grace, defying Death, Triumphantly to say it.-Kate V. Carpenter.

2799. PRAISE: to Christ.

OH could I speak the matchless worth Oh could I sound the glories forth, Which in my Saviour shine!

I'd soar, and touch the heavenly strings, And vie with Gabriel, while he sings

In notes almost Divine.

I'd sing the precious blood He spilt,
My ransom from the dreadful guilt
Of sin and wrath Divine :
I'd sing His glorious righteousness,
In which all-perfect, heavenly dress
My soul shall ever shine.

I'd sing the characters He bears,
And all the forms of love He wears,
Exalted on His throne:

In loftiest songs of sweetest praise,
I would to everlasting days

Make all His glories known.

Well, the delightful day will come,
When my dear Lord will bring me home,

And I shall see His face :
Then with my Saviour, Brother, Friend,
A blest eternity I'll spend,

Triumphant in His grace.-Medley.

O THOU, that holdest in Thy spacious hands
The destinies of men! whose eye surveys
Their various actions! Thou, whose temple stands
Above all temples! Thou, whom all men praise!
Of good the author! Thou, whose wisdom sways
The universe! all bounteous! grant to me
Tranquillity, and health, and length of days;
Good-will towards all, and reverence unto Thee;
Allowance for man's failings, and of my own
The knowledge and the power to conquer all
Those evil things to which we are too prone-
Malice, hate, envy-all that ill we call.

To me a blameless life, Great Spirit, grant,
Nor burden'd with much care, nor narrow'd by
much want.

ALL night the lonely suppliant pray'd,
All night his earnest crying made;
Till, standing by his side at morn,
The Tempter said, in bitter scorn,
'Oh! peace, what profit do you gain
From empty words and babblings vain?
"Come, Lord-oh, come!" you cry alway;
You pour your heart out night and day;
Yet still no murmur of reply-
No voice that answers, "Here am I."
Then sank that stricken heart in dust,
That word had wither'd all its trust;
No strength retain'd it now to pray,
For faith and hope had fled away;
And ill that mourner now had fared,
Thus by the Tempter's art ensnared,

But that at length beside his bed
His sorrowing angel stood and said,
'Doth it repent thee of thy love,
That never now is heard above

Thy prayer, that now not any more
It knocks at heaven's gate as before?'
'I am cast out, I find no place,
No hearing at the throne of grace;
"Come, Lord, oh, come!" I cry alway,
I pour my heart out night and day,
Yet never until now have won
The answer, "Here am I, my son.

Oh, dull of heart! enclosed doth lie
In each 'Come, Lord,' a 'Here am I.'
Thy love, thy longing are not thine,
Reflections of a love Divine.
Thy very prayer to thee was given,
Itself a messenger from heaven.
Whom God rejects they are not so;

Strong bands are round them in their woe;
Their hearts are bound with bands of brass,
That sighs or crying cannot pass.
All treasures did the Lord impart
To Pharaoh, save a contrite heart;
All other gifts unto His foes
He freely gives, nor grudging knows;
But love's sweet smart and costly pain
A treasure for his friends remain.

Oriental, tr. by R. C. Trench.

Then the grave Elias answer'd, 'God said, "Rise, Elias; go

Speak to him the sorely tempted; lift him from his gulf of woe.

"Tell him that his very longing is itself an answer

ing cry;

That his prayer, 'Come, gracious Allah!' is my answer, 'Here am I.'"

Every inmost aspiration is God's angel undefiled; And in every 'O my Father' slumbers deep a 'Here, my child!'

Dscheladeddin, Tholuck's Version.

2808. PRAYER.

Answer to a mother's

A MOTHER'S holy arms caress'd
A babe that laugh'd upon her breast.
Then thus to heaven she cried in prayer ·
'Now, even as his face is fair,

O Lord! keep Thou his soul within
As free from any spot of sin.'

From heaven the Lord an answer made,
'Behold! I grant as thou hast pray'd.'
Within her door the darkness crept,
And babe and mother sweetly slept.

The belfry rang the midnight bell;
The watchman answer'd, 'All is well.'
Awaking at the cradle side,

The mother knew the babe had died.

With grief to set a woman wild,
She caught and clasp'd the marble child-
Until her heart against his own
Was broken, beating on a stone.
'O God!' she cried in her despair,

'Why hast Thou mock'd a mother's prayer?'

Then answer'd He, 'As I have will'd,
Thy prayer, O woman! is fulfill'd :
'If on the earth thy child remain,
His soul shall gather many a stain :
'At thy behest, I reach my hand
To lift him to the heavenly land!'
The mother heard and bow'd her head,
And laid her cheek against the dead.
And cried, O God! I dare not pray-
Thou answerest in so strange a way!'
In shadow of a taper's light,

She sat and mourn'd the live-long night;
But when the morning brought the sun,
She pray'd, 'Thy will, O God, be done.'

2809. PRAYER. Best

HE prayeth well who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best who loveth best

All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,

He made and loveth all.-Coleridge.

2810. PRAYER. Distractions in

AH! dearest Lord, I cannot pray,
My fancy is not free;
Unmannerly distractions come,

And force my thoughts from Thee.

The world that looks so dull all day,

Grows bright on me at prayer; And plans that ask no thought but then, Wake up and meet me there.

All nature one full fountain seems

Of dreamy sight and sound,

Which, when I kneel, breaks up its deeps,

And makes a deluge round.

Old voices murmur in my ear,
New hopes start into life,
And past and future gaily blend
In one bewitching strife.

Yet Thou art oft most present, Lord,

In weak, distracted prayer :

A sinner out of heart with self

Most often finds Thee there.

II.

The mother's hands the child's surround,
Knowledge and love combine,

That unskill'd fingers may give sound
To thoughts or hopes divine.

And those who hear the notes expand
Along the evening's calm,
Cannot divide the baby's hand

From mother's circling palm.

Oh! Love Divine, that reachest down
To choose the keys for me-
Amid each wild, discordant tone
Discerning melody-

Lay Thou the hand of grace along
My heart, and softly wreathe
Amid my failures the sweet song

Of. hope I cannot breathe.

When 'round me evening's shadows flow,
And the lesson is all done,

Only my heart and God will know
His hand and mine were one.

LET me ask Thee, ere I sleep,

To remember those who weep,—

Those who moan with some wild sorrow, That shall dread to meet the morrow;

Let me ask Thee to abide

At the fainting sick one's side,
Where the plaints of anguish rise

In smother'd groans and weary sighs:
Give them strength to brook and bear
Trial pain and trial care ;

Let them see Thy saving light;
Be Thou watchman of their night.'
Eliza Cook.

2813. PRAYER. Evening
CANST thou thy body on thy bed compose,
The resting-place whence it no more may rise,
Till the Archangel's trump unseal thine eyes,
And call thee hence to judgment; canst thou close
Those eyes with comfort, and in peace repose,
Before thou lift thy voice, and to the skies
Send up devotion's Evening Sacrifice,
Sweet as the fumes which from the censer rose?
Ere on thy thoughts oblivious slumber creep,

Ere the still sleep can lull thy pillow'd head, To Him, whose eyelids slumber not, nor sleep, Commend thy spirit: that about thy bed His wing may shield thee, and His feathers keep,

Sustain thee living, or receive thee dead!—Mant.

2814. PRAYER. Fervent

INQUIRER, cease! petitions yet remain

Which Heaven may hear; nor deem religion vain. Still raise for good the supplicating voice,

But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice

Safe in His power, whose eyes discern afar
The secret ambush of a specious prayer :
Implore His aid, in His decisions rest,
Secure, whate'er He gives, He gives the best.
Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires,
And strong devotion to the skies aspires,
Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind,
Obedient passions, and a will resign'd:
For love, which scarce collective man can fill;
For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill;
For faith, that, panting for a happier seat,
Counts death kind Nature's signal for retreat :
These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain ;
These goods He grants who grants the power to gain :
With these, celestial wisdom calms the mind,
And makes the happiness she does not find.

2815. PRAYER. Formal

I OFTEN say my prayers;
But do I ever pray?

And do the wishes of my heart
Go with the words I say?
I may as well kneel down
And worship gods of stone,

As offer to the living God

A prayer of words alone. For words without the heart The Lord will never hear; Nor will He to those lips attend

Johnson.

Whose prayers are not sincere.-Burton.

2816. PRAYER. Hour of

My God! is any hour so sweet,
From blush of morn to evening star,
As that which calls me to Thy feet-
The hour of prayer?

Words cannot tell what blest relief.

Here from my every want I find,
What strength for warfare, balm for grief;
What peace of mind.

Hush'd is each doubt; gone every fear;
My spirit seems in heaven to stay:
And e'en the penitential tear

Is wiped away.-Charlotte Elliott.

2817. PRAYER. Humble

In reverence will we speak of those who woo The ear Divine with clear and ready prayer;

And while their voices cleave the Sabbath air,' Know their bright thoughts are winging heavenward

too.

Yet many a one,—'the latchet of whose shoe'
These might not loose-will often only dare
Lay some poor words between him and despair—
'Father, forgive! we know not what we do.'
R. M. Milnes.

2818. PRAYER. Hymn of FROM the recesses of a lowly spirit

Our humble prayer ascends; O Father, hear it!
Upsoaring on the wings of awe and meekness,
Forgive its weakness!

I know, I feel, how mean and how unworthy
The trembling sacrifice I pour before Thee;
What can I offer in Thy presence holy,
But sin and folly?

For in Thy sight-who every bosom viewest-
Cold are our warmest vows, and vain our truest;
Thoughts of a hurrying hour; our lips repeat them,
Our hearts forget them.

We see Thy hand-it leads us, it supports us;
We hear Thy voice-it counsels and it courts us;
And then we turn away; and still Thy kindness
Forgives our blindness.

And still Thy rain descends, Thy sun is glowing,
Fruits ripen round, flowers are beneath us blowing,
And, as if man were some deserving creature,
Joys cover nature.

Oh, how long-suffering, Lord! but Thou delightest
To win with love the wandering: Thou invitest,
By smiles of mercy, not by frowns or terrors,
Man from his errors.

Who can resist Thy gentle call, appealing
To every generous thought and grateful feeling?
That voice paternal-whispering, watching ever,
My bosom ?-never.

Father and Saviour! plant within each bosom
The seeds of holiness, and bid them blossom
In fragrance and in beauty bright and vernal,
And spring eternal.

Then place them in those everlasting gardens,
Where angels walk, and seraphs are the wardens ;
Where every flower that creeps through death's dark
portal

Becomes immortal.-Bowring.

2819. PRAYER: in active life.

BUSINESS might shorten, not disturb, her prayer: Heaven had the best, if not the greater, share: