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SPITTA, Carl J. P., Germany, b. 1801.
SPRAGUE, Charles, Boston, Mass., b. 1791.
STARKEY, D. P., America, w. 1840.
STEELE, Anne, England, 1716-1778.
STEPHEN OF ST. SABBAS, Greek.
STERLING, John, Scotland, 1806-1844.
STILLINGFLEET, Benjamin, English, 1702-1771.
STODDARD, Lavinia, America, 1787-1820.
STODDARD, Richard Henry, Hingham, Mass.,
b. 1825.

STOWE, Harriet Beecher, America, b. 1812.
STOWELL, Hugh, England, 1799-1865.
STRODE, William, England, 1600-1644.
STUDLEY, W. S., America, b. 1823.
STURM, Julius K. R., Germany, b. 1816.
SURREY, Lord, England, 1516-1547.
SWAIN, Charles, England, b. 1803.
SWAIN, Joseph.

SWIFT, Jonathan, England, 1667–1745.
SYLVESTER, Joshua, England, 1563-1618.

TALBOT, H. L., America, w. 1860.

TALFOURD, Thomas N., England, 1795-1854.
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TATHAM, Emma, England, w. 1860.
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TAYLOR, George Lansing, America, w. 1865.
TAYLOR, Henry, England, d. 1785.
TAYLOR, Jane, England, 1783-1823.
TAYLOR, Jeremy, Bp., England, 1613-1667.
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TENNYSON, Alfred, England, b. 1810.
TERESA, St., Spain, w. 1582.

TERSTEEGEN, Gerhard, Germany, 1697-1769.
THEOCLISTUS, Greek, 9th century.
THEOPHANES, Greece, w. 50 B.C.
THOMAS OF CELANO, 13th century.
THOMSON, James, England, 1700-1748.
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TOWNSEND, Eliza, America, 1789-1854.
TOZER, A. T., England, w. 1860.

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VERY, Jones, Salem, Mass., 1813.
VON LOGAU.

WALLER, Edmund, England, 1605-1687.
WARD, Thomas, America, b. 1807.
WARE, H., Jr., America, 1793-1843.
WARREN, Mercy, America, 1728-1814.
WARTON, Thomas, England, 1728-1790.
WASTELL, Simon, England, d. 1623.
WATTS, Isaac, England, 1674-1749.
WEBSTER, John, England, d. 1640.
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WELD, H. H., America, w. 1851.
WELTHEM, Van L.

WESLEY, Charles, England, 1708-1788.
WESLEY, John, England, 1703-1791.

WESLEY, Samuel, Jr., England, 1690-1739.
WHITEFIELD, Frederick, Ireland, 10. 1859.
WHITE, Henry Kirke, England, 1785-1806.
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WILLIS, Nathaniel Parker, Portland, Maine,
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WITHIUS, Holland.

WOLCOTT, John, England, 1738-1819.
WOLFE, Charles, Ireland, 1719-1823.

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WOODBRIDGE, Benjamin, America, d. 1710.

1740-WORDSWORTH, Christopher, England, w. 1865.
WORDSWORTH, William, England, 1770-1850.
WOTTON, Sir Henry, England, 1568-1639.
WULFFER, Germany, 1617-1685.

TRENCH, Richard Chenevix (Abp.), England, b. | WYATT, Sir Thomas, England, 1503–1542.

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NEW CYCLOPEDIA

OF

POETICAL ILLUSTRATIONS.

AARON.

1. AARON Atoning.

See Aaron, God's anointed priest,
Within the veil appear,

In robes of mystic meaning dressed,
Presenting Israel's prayer.

The plate of gold which crowns his brows
His holiness describes ;

His breast displays in shining rows
The names of all the tribes.

With the atoning blood he stands
Before the mercy-seat;

And clouds of incense from his hands
Arise with odor sweet.

Urim and Thummim near his heart,
In rich engravings worn,
The sacred light of truth impart,
To teach and to adorn.

Through him the eye of faith descries,
A greater priest than he―
Thus Jesus pleads above the skies
For you, my friends, and me.

He bears the names of all the saints,
Deep on His heart engraved;
Attentive to the state and wants
Of all His love has saved.

In Him a holiness complete,
Light and perfection shine;
And wisdom, grace, and glory meet-
A Saviour all divine.

The blood which, as a priest, He bears,
For sinners, is His own;
The incense of His prayers and tears
Perfumes the holy throne.

In Him my weary soul has rest,
Though I am weak and vile;
I read my name upon His breast,
And see the Father smile.

John Newton.

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Almighty wisdom; Nature's happy cares The obedient heart far otherwise incline. Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknown

[power Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active To brisker measures: witness the neglect Of all familiar prospects, though beheld With transport once; the fond attentive gaze Of young astonishment; the sober zeal Of age, commenting on prodigious things, For such the bounteous providence of Heaven, In every breast implanting this desire Of objects new and strange, to urge us on With unremitted labor to pursue Those sacred stores that wait the ripening In Truth's exhaustless bosom.

5. ABILITIES, Difference of.

[soul,

Mark Akenside.

Alas! what differs more than man from man! And whence this difference ?-whence but from himself?

of

For, see the universal race endowed [fixed,
With the same upright form! The sun is
And the infinite magnificence of heaven,
Within the reach of every human eye:
The sleepless ocean murmurs in all ears;
The vernal field infuses fresh delight
Into all hearts. Throughout the world
Even as an object is sublime or fair,
That object is laid open to the view
Without reserve or veil; and as a power
Is salutary, or its influence sweet,
Are each and all enabled to perceive
That power, that influence, by impartial law.

[sense,

Gifts nobler are vouchsafed alike to all;— Reason, and, with that reason, smiles and Imagination, freedom of the will, [tears; Conscience to guide and check; and death To be foretasted-immortality presumed. Strange then, nor less than monstrous might be deemed

The failure, if the Almighty, to this point
Liberal and undistinguishing, should hide
The excellence of moral qualities
From common understanding; leaving truth
And virtue, difficult, abstruse, and dark;
Hard to be won, and only by a few:
Strange, should he deal herein with nice
respects,

And frustrate all the rest! Believe it not:
The primal duties shine aloft like stars;
The charities, that soothe, and heal, and bless,
Are scattered at the feet of man, like flowers.
The generous inclination, the just rule,
Kind wishes, and good actions, and pure
thoughts-

No mystery is here; no special boon
For high and not for low-for proudly
And not for meek in heart.
[graced

William Wordsworth.

6. ABILITIES, Mistaken.

It happen'd when a plague broke out,
(Which therefore made them more devout,)
The king of brutes (to make it plain,
Of quadrupeds I only mean)

By proclamation gave command,

That every subject in the land
Should to the priest confess their sins.
And thus the pious Wolf begins:
"Good father, I must own with shame,
That often I have been to blame,
I must confess, on Friday last,
Wretch that I was! I broke my fast:
But I defy the basest tongue
To prove I did my neighbor wrong;
Or ever went to seek my food,
By rapine, theft, or thirst of blood."

The Ass approaching next, confess'd,
That in his heart he loved a jest:
A wag he was, he needs must own,
And could not let a dunce alone:
Sometimes his friend he would not spare,
And might perhaps be too severe :
But yet the worst that could be said,
He was a wit both born and bred;
And, if it be a sin and shame,
Nature alone must bear the blame.
One fault he has, is sorry for 't,
His ears are half a foot too short;
Which could he to the standard bring,
He'd show his face before the king:
Then for his voice, there's none disputes
That he's the nightingale of brutes.

The swine with contrite heart allow'd
His shape and beauty made him proud:
In diet was perhaps too nice,
But gluttony was ne'er his vice:
In every turn of life content,
And meekly took what fortune sent:
Inquire through all the parish round,
A better neighbor ne'er was found;
His vigilance might some displease;
'Tis true he hated sloth like pease.
Apply the tale, and you shall find
How just it suits with human kind.
Jonathan Swift.

7. ABRAHAM, The Sacrifice of

It was noonAnd Abraham on Moriah bowed himself

And buried up his face and prayed for strength.

He could not look upon his son, and pray; But with his hand upon the clustering curls Of the fair, kneeling boy, he prayed that God Would nerve him for that hour.

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All was done.

He rose up and laid The wood upon the altar. He stood a moment-and a deep, quick flash Passed o'er his countenance; and then he nerved

His spirit with a bitter strength and spoke: "Isaac! my only son!"-The boy looked up: "Where is the lamb, my father?" Oh the tones,

The sweet, familiar voice of a loved child!
What would its music scem at such an hour!
It was the last deep struggle. Abraham held
His loved, his beautiful, his only son,
And lifted up his arms and call'd on God-
And lo! God's angel stay'd him—and he fell
Upon his face and wept.

Nathaniel Parker Willis.

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Sunk to the still proportions, they betray'd
The matchless symmetry of Absalom.
His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls
Were floating round the tassels as they sway'd
To the admitted air, as glossy now
As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing
The snowy fingers of Judea's daughters.
His helm was at his feet: his banner, soil'd
With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid,.
Reversed, beside him: and the jewell'd hilt,
Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade,
Rested, like mockery, on his cover'd brow.
The soldiers of the king trod to and fro,
Clad in the armor of battle; and their chief,
The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier,
And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly,
As if he fear'd the slumberer might stir.
A slow step startled him. He grasped his
blade

[still

As if a trumpet rang; but the bent form
Of David enter'd, and he gave command,
In a low tone, to his few followers,
And left him with his dead. The king stood
Till the last echo died; then throwing off
The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back
The pall from the still features of his child,
He bow'd his head upon him, and broke forth
In the resistless eloquence of woe:
"Alas! my noble boy! that thou shouldst die!
Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair!
That death should settle in thy glorious eye,
And leave his stillness in this clustering hair!

How could he mark thee for the silent tomb!
My proud boy, Absalom!

Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill,
As to my bosom I have tried to press thee!
How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill,
Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress
thee,
[dumb
And hear thy sweet my father!' from these
And cold lips, Absalom!

But death is on thee, I shall hear the gush
Of music, and the voices of the young:
And life will pass me in the mantling blush,
And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung;
But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shall
To meet me, Absalom!
[come
And oh when I am stricken, and my heart,
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken,
How will its love for thee, as I depart,
Yearn for thine car to drink its last deep
token.

A moment on his child: then, giving him
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer;
And, as if strength were given him from God,
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall
Firmly and decently-and left him there-
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep.
Nathaniel Parker Willis.

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10. ABSENCE, Improvement of.

What shall I do with all the days and hours
That must be counted ere I see thy face?
How shall I charm the interval that lowers
Between this time and that sweet time of
grace?

Shall I in slumber steep each weary sense,
Weary with longing? Shall I flee away
Into past days, and with some fond pretence
Cheat myself to forget the present day?
Shall love for thee lay on my soul the sin

Of casting from me God's great gift of
time?

Shall I, these mists of memory locked within,
Leave and forget life's purposes sublime?

O, how or by what means may I contrive
To bring the hour that brings thee back
more near?

How may I teach my drooping hope to live
Until that blessed time, and thou art here?
I'll tell thee; for thy sake I will lay hold

Of all good aims, and consecrate to thee,
In worthy deeds, each moment that is told
While thou, beloved one! art far from me.
For thee I will arouse my thoughts to try
All heavenward flights, all high and holy
strains;

For thy dear sake I will walk patiently
Through these long hours, nor call their
minutes pains.
[gloom, I will this dreary blank of absence make

It were so sweet, amid death's gathering
To see thee, Absalom!

And now, farewell! 'tis hard to give thee up,
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee;
And thy dark sin!-Oh! I could drink the
cup,

If from this woe its bitterness had won thee.
May God have call'd thee, like a wanderer,
My lost boy, Absalom!"
[home

He covered up his face, and bowed himself

A noble task-time; and will therein strive
To follow excellence, and to o'ertake

More good than I have won since yet I live.
So may this doomèd time build up in me
A thousand graces, which shall thus be
thine;

So may my love and longing hallowed be,
And thy dear thought an influence divine.
Frances Anne Kemble.

11. ABSENCE, Similes of.

A boat at midnight sent alone
To drift upon the moonless sea,
A lute, whose leading chord is gone,
A wounded bird, that hath but one
Imperfect wing to soar upon,
Are like what I am, without thee!
Thomas Moore.

12. ABSTINENCE, Battle of Stand up for the cold-water fight

'Gainst doctor and lawyer and priest; Stand and do battle for right up

'Gainst foes from the West or the East; 'Gainst foes from the North and the South; 'Gainst foes from above or beneath; Speak out every man with a mouth

The watchword of "FREEDOM OR DEATH!"

Away with your "moderate" drink!

Your infamous pleading for wine!
The tempter that lures to the brink
Of perdition! The demon malign!
The treacherous, venomous thing

That blushes and laughs in the bowl!
The mocker! The adder whose sting
Strikes mortal through body and soul!
George Lansing Taylor.

13. ABSTINENCE, Habit of.

And every joy He sends me comes as a sweet and glad surprise.

I see not a step before me as I tread the days of the year,

But the past is still in God's keeping, the future His mercy shall clear, And what looks dark in the distance, may brighten as I draw near.

For perhaps the dreaded future has less bit terness than I think,

The Lord may sweeten the water before I stoop to drink.

Or, if Marah must be Marah, He will stan 1 beside its brink.

It may be there is waiting for the coming of my feet,

Some gift of such rare blessedness, some joy so strangely sweet

That my lips can only tremble with the thanks I cannot speak.

O restful, blissful ignorance! 'Tis blessed not to know,

It keeps me quiet in those arms which will not let me go,

And hushes my soul to rest on the bosom which loves me so.

That monster, Custom, who all sense doth So I go on not knowing. I would not if I

Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this :
That to the use of actions fair and good
He likewise gives a frock, or livery
That aptly is put on. Refrain to-night;
And that shall lend a kind of easiness

[eat

To the next abstinence: the next more easy: For use can almost change the stamp of nature,

And either curb the devil, or throw him out With wondrous potency.

Wm. Shakespeare.

14. ABSTINENCE, Labor for.
Wait, abstainers, every year
Vindicates the glorious plan,
Time rewards each pioneer

Who clears a higher path for man.

Faster, faster, true men gather

Round the standard all unfurled, Youthful son and hoary father

Haste to bear it round the world.

15. ABSTINENCE, Resolution of. Thou sparkling bowl! thou sparkling bowl! Though lips of bards thy brim may press, And eyes of beauty o'er thee roll,

And songs and dance thy power confessI will not touch thee; for there clings A scorpion to thy side that stings.

John Pierpont.

16. ACQUIESCENCE, Confiding,

I know not what will befall me! God hangs a mist o'er my eyes,

And o'er cach step of my onward path He makes new scenes to rise,

might;

I would rather walk on in the dark with God, than go alone in the light;

I would rather walk with Him by faith than walk alone by sight.

My heart shrinks back from trials which the future may disclose,

Yet I never had a sorrow but what the dear Lord chose;

So I send the coming tears back, with the whispered word "He knows."

17. ACQUIESCENCE, Entire,

To do, or not to do; to have,
Or not to have, I leave to Thee;
To be, or not to be; I leave,
Thy only will be done in me!
All my requests are lost in one,
"Father, Thy only will be done! "

Welcome alike the crown or cross,
Trouble I cannot ask nor peace,
Nor toil, nor rest; nor gain, nor loss;
Nor joy, nor grief; nor pain, nor case;
Nor life, nor death; but ever groan,
"Father, Thy only will be done!
Charles Wesley.

18. ACTION, Appointment of. What are we set on earth for? Say, to toilNor seek to leave thy tending of the vines, For all the heat o' day, till it declines, And Death's mild curfew shall from work assoil.

God did anoint thee with His odorous oil,
To wrestle, not to reign; and He assigns

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