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168. ATHEISM, Contradiction of.

"No God! no God!" the simplest flower

That on the wild is found, Shrinks as it drinks its cup of dew, And trembles at the sound.

No God astonished Echo cries

From out her cavern hoar:
And every wandering bird that flies
Reproves the Atheist lore.

The solemn forest lifts his head,
The Almighty to proclaim;
The brooklet on its crystal urn,
Doth leap to grave his name.

High swells the deep and vengeful sea
Along its billowy track,
And red Vesuvius opes his mouth
To hurl the falsehood back.

Lydia H. Sigourney.

169. ATHEISM, Desolation of.

O! lives there, heaven! beneath thy dread

expanse,

One hopeless, dark idolater of Chance,
Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined,
The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind;
Who, mouldering earthward, 'reft of every
In joyless union wedded to the dust, [trust,
Could all his parting energy dismiss,
And call this barren world sufficient bliss ?-
There live, alas! of heaven-directed mien,
Of cultured soul, and sapient eye serene,
Who hail thee, man! the pilgrim of a day,
Spouse of the worm, and brother of the
clay!

Frail as the leaf in Autumn's yellow bower,
Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower!
A friendless slave, a child without a sire,
Whose mortal life, and momentary fire,
Lights to the grave his chance-created form,
As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm;
And, when the gun's tremendous flash is o'er,
To night and silence sink for ever more !-
Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim,
Lights of the world, and demi-gods of fame?
Is this your triumph-this your proud ap-
plause,
[cause?
Children of Truth, and champions of her
For this hath Science search'd, on weary wing,
By shore and sea-each mute and living
thing?
[there,
Oh! star-eyed Science, hast thou wandered
To waft us home the message of despair?
Then bind the palm, thy sage's brow to suit,
Of blasted leaf, and death-distilling fruit!
Ah me! the laurelled wreath that murder
rears,
[tears,
Blood-nursed, and watered by the widow's
Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread,
As waves the night-shade round the sceptic's
head.

What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain? I smile on death, if heavenward hope remain !

But, if the warring winds of Nature's strife
Be all the faithless charter of my life,
If Chance awaked, inexorable power!
This frail and feverish being of an hour,
Doomed o'er the world's precarious scene to
sweep,

Swift as the tempest travels on the deep,
To know Delight but by her parting smile,
And toil, and wish, and weep, a little while;
Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain
This troubled pulse, and visionary brain!
Fade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my
doom!

And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb!
Truth, ever lovely, since the world began,
The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man,-
How can thy words from balmy slumber

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The unbeliever
Despising reason, revelation, God, [rushed
And kicking 'gainst the pricks of conscience,
Deliriously upon the bossy shield
Of the Omnipotent; and in his heart
Purposed to deify the idol Chance. [nought!
And labored hard-oh, labor worse than
And toiled with dark and crooked reasoning,
To make the fair and lovely Earth, which
dwelt

In sight of Heaven, a cold and fatherless,
Forsaken thing, that wandered on, forlorn,
Undestined, uncompassioned, unupheld;
A vapor eddying in the whirl of chance,
And soon to vanish everlastingly.
He travailed sorely, and made many a tack,
His sails oft shifting, to arrive-dread
thought:

Arrive at utter nothingness; and have
Being no more-no feeling, memory,
No lingering consciousness that ere he was.
Guilt's midnight wish! last, most abhorred
thought.

Most desperate effort of extremest sin.
Others, preoccupied, ne'er saw true hope;
He, seeing, aimed to stab her to the heart,
And with infernal chemistry to wring
The last sweet drop from sorrow's cup of gall;
To quench the only ray that cheered the earth,
And leave mankind in night which had no star.
Others the streams of pleasure troubled; he
Toiled much to dry her very fountain head.
Unpardonable man! sold under sin!
He was the Devil's pioneer, who cut
The fences down of virtue, sapped her walls,
And opened a smooth and easy way to death.
Traitor to all existence! to all life!
Soul-suicide! determined foe of being!
Intended murderer of God, Most High!
Strange road, most strange! to seek for hap-
piness!

Hell's mad-houses are full of such; too fierce,
Too furiously insane, and desperate,
To rage unbound 'mong evil spirits damned!
Robert Pollok.

173. ATONEMENT, Confidence in the.

My dear Redeemer and my God,

I stake my soul on Thy Free Grace: Take back my interest in Thy Blood, Unless it streamed for all the race. I stake my soul on this alone, THY BLOOD DID ONCE FOR ALL ATONE. Charles Wesley.

174. ATONEMENT, Completeness of the.

Lord, I believe Thy precious blood,
Which at the mercy-seat of God
Forever doth for sinners plead,
For me-e'en for my soul-was shed.

Lord, I believe were sinners more Than sands upon the ocean shore, Thou hast for all a ransom paid, For all a full atonement made.

John Wesley.

175. ATONEMENT, Demand for.

With blood-but not his own-the awful sign At once of sin's desert and guilt's remission, The Jew besought the clemency divine,

The hope of mercy blending with contrition. Sin must have death! Its holy requisition The law may not relax. The opening tomb Expects its prey; mere respite, life's condition;

Nor can the body shun its penal doom. Yet, there is mercy; wherefore else delay

To punish? Why the victim and the rite? But can the type and symbol take away

The guilt, and for a broken law requite? The cross unfolds the mystery,-Jesus died: The sinner lives: the Law is satisfied.

near

With blood-but not his own-the Jew drew [prayer. The mercy-seat, and heaven received his Yet still his hope was dimmed with doubt [might dare "If thou shouldst mark transgression who To stand before thee?" Mercy loves to spare And pardon: but stern Justice has a voice, And cries-Our God is holy, nor can bear

and fear:

Uncleanness in the people of his choice. But now One Offering ne'er to be renewed, Hath made our peace forever. This now gives

Free access to the Throne of Heavenly Grace,-
No more base fear and dark disquietude.
He who was slain-the Accepted Victim!—
lives,

And intercedes before the Father's face.
Josiah Conder.

176. ATONEMENT, Marvel of the. What laws, my blessed Saviour, hast thou broken,

How hast Thou 'gainst Thy Father's will That so severe a sentence should be spoken? [contended,

In what offended?

With scourges, blows, and spitting, they reviled Thee:

They crowned Thy brow with thorns, while King they styled Thee;

When, faint with pains, Thy tortured body Then gall they offered. [suffered,

Say! wherefore thus by woes wast Thou surrounded? Ah! Lord, for my transgressions Thou wast [wounded: God took the guilt from me, who should have On Thee He laid it. [paid it;

How strange and marvellous was this correction! [tection; Falls the good Shepherd in His sheep's proThe servants' debt behold the Master paying, For them obeying.

The righteous dies, who walked with God true-hearted:

The sinner lives, who has from God departed;
By man came death, yet man its fetters
God it o'ertaketh.
[breaketh;

Shame and iniquity had whelmed me over:
From head to foot no good couldst Thou dis-
For this in hell should I, with deep lamenting,
Be aye repenting.

But oh That

cover;

the depth of love beyond comparing, brought Thee down from heaven, our burden bearing!

I taste all peace and joy that life can offer, Whilst Thou must suffer!

Eternal King! in power and love excelling, Fain would my heart and mouth Thy praise be telling; [nigh Thee, But how can man's weak powers at all come How magnify Thee?

Such wondrous love would baffle my endeavor, Must canker in its coffer-if the links
To find its equal, should I strive forever: Falsehood hath broken will unite no more-
How should my works, could I in all obey If the deep-yearning love, that hath not
Ever repay Thee!

[Thee, Yet this shall please Thee, if devoutly trying To keep Thy laws, mine own wrong will denying,

I watch my heart, lest sin again ensnare it
And from Thee tear it.

Johann Heermann, tr. by F. E. Cox.
177. ATONEMENT, Substitution of the.
Look humbly upward, see His will disclose
The forfeit first, and then the fine impose;
A mulct thy poverty could never pay,
Had not eternal wisdom found the way
And with celestial wealth supplied thy store;
His justice makes the fine, His mercy quits

the score.

See God descending in the human frame,
The offended suffering in the offender's name:
All thy misdeeds to Him imputed see,
And all His righteousness devolved on thee.
John Dryden.

178. ATTAINMENT, Failure of

If this mute earth

found

Its like in the cold world, must waste in tears-
If truth, and fervor, must return
And die of their own fulness-if beyond
The grave there is no heaven in whose wide
air

The spirit may find room, and in the love
Of whose bright habitants the lavish heart
May spend itself—what thrice-mocked fools are
we!
N. P. Willis.

180. ATTRACTIONS, Earthly. Farewell, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles; Farewell, ye honored rags, ye glorious bubbles;

Fame's but a hollow echo; gold, pure clay;
Honor, the darling but of one short day;
Beauty, the idol, but a damasked skin;
State, but a golden prison to live in,
And torture free-born minds; embroidered
trains,

Merely but pageants for proud-swelling veins;
And blood applied to greatness, is alone
Inherited, not purchased, nor our own:

Of what it holds could speak, and every Fame, honor, beauty, state, train, blood, and

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179. ATTAINMENT, Mockery of.

There are hopes Promising well; and love-touch'd dreams for some; [schemes And passions, many a wild one; and fair For gold and pleasure yet will only this Balk not the soul—Ambition only gives, Even of bitterness, a beaker full! Friendship is but a slow-awaking dream, Troubled at best-Love is a lamp unseen, Burning to waste, or, if its light is found, Nursed for an idle hour, then idly brokenGain is a grovelling care, and Folly tires, And Quiet is a hunger never fed— And from Love's very bosom, and from Gain, Or folly, or a Friend, or from Repose,— From all but keen Ambition-will the soul Snatch the first moment of forgetfulness To wander like a restless child away. Oh, if there were not better hopes than these Were there no palm beyond a feverish fameIf the proud wealth flung back upon the heart

birth

Are but the fading blossoms of the earth. Francis Quarles.

181. ATTRACTION, Reversed. Chains of my heart, avaunt, I say;

I will arise, and in the strength of love Pursue the bright track, ere it fade away,

My Saviour's pathway to His home above. Sure, when I reach the point where earth

Melts into nothing from th' uncumbered sight, [birth, Heaven will o'ercome th' attraction of my And I shall sink in yonder sea of light. John Keble.

182. AUTHOR, Fame of the.

He hath built up, glorious architect, a monument more durable than brass; His children's children shall talk of him in love, and teach their sons his honor; His dignity hath set him among princes; the universe is debtor to his worth;

His privilege is blessing forever, his happiness shineth now,

For he standeth of that grand Election, each man one among a thousand, Whose sound is gone out unto all the lands, and their words to the end of the world. M. F. Tupper.

183. AUTHORSHIP, Benefit of It addeth immortality to dying facts, that are ready to vanish away, Embalming as in amber the poor insects of an hour;

Shedding upon stocks and stones the tender light of interest,

And illuming dark places of the earth with radiance of classic lustre.

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185. AUTHORITY, Intoxication of.

Authority intoxicates,

And makes mere sots of magistrates;
The fumes of it invade the brain,

And make men giddy, proud, and vain;
By this the fool commands the wise,
The noble with the base complies,
The sot assumes the rule of wit,
And cowards make the base submit.
Samuel Butler.

186. AUTUMN, Beauty of.
Mild as the glances of angel eyes,

Soft as the kisses of first-born love, [skies Down through the blaze of these Autumn Comes the glad sunshine from realms above.

Beautiful pictures it sketcheth now,

Touched with the glowing hues of old, Painting the valley and mountain's brow Over with purple and red and gold.

Whispers of beauty the spirit fills,

Tales of a land that fadeth never,
Sunshine that gildeth the beautiful hills,
Just over the banks of a crystal river.

Beautiful rest for the weary soul,
Earth had no beauty akin to this;
Anthems of gladness forever roll

Over those halcyon days of bliss.
Down the steeps of life's western hill,
Beautiful sunshine of hope and light,
Every shadow and hope dispel,

Lift my spirit from realms of night.

Soft as the beam of Autumn sun,
Sweet as the death of the summer flowers,
Gather thy jewels one by one,

Take my soul to those fadeless bowers.

187. AUTUMN, Lesson of.
The Autumn is old;

The sere leaves are flying;
He hath gathered up gold,
And now he is dying:
Old age, begin sighing!

The vintage is ripe;

The harvest is heaping;
But some that have sowed
Have no riches for reaping :-
Poor wretch, fall a-weeping!

The year's in the wane;

There is nothing adorning;
The night has no eve,

And the day has no morning;
Cold winter gives warning.

The rivers run chill;

The red sun is sinking;

And I am growing old,

And life is fast shrinking;

Here's enough for sad thinking!

Thomas Hood.

[be;

188. AVARICE of the Aged.
Of age's avarice I cannot see
What color, ground, or reason there should
Is it not folly, when the way we ride

Is short, for a long voyage to provide?
To avarice some title youth may own,
To reap in autumn, what a spring had sown ;
And with the providence of bees or ants,
Prevent with summer's plenty winter's wants.
But age scarce sows, till death stands by to
reap,

And to a stranger's hand transfers the heap;
Afraid to be so once, she's always poor,
And to avoid a mischief, makes it sure,
Such madness, as for fear of death to die,
As to be poor for fear of poverty.

Sir John Denham.

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spare,

To fill his bags, and richesse to compare:
Yet child nor kinsman living had he none,
To leave them to; but thorough daily care
To get, and nightly feare to lose his own.
He led a wretched life unto himselfe un-
known,

[suffice, Most wretched wight whom nothing might Whose greedy lust did lack in greatest store,

Whose need had end, but no end covetise. Whose wealth was want, whose plenty made him poor,

Who had enough, yet wished evermore.
Edmund Spenser.

192. AVARICE, Offerings of. Thou hop'st with sacrifice of oxen slain To compass wealth, and bribe the god of gain, To give thee flocks and herds, with large increase;

Fool! to expect them from a bullock's grease! And think'st that when the fatten'd flames aspire,

Thou seest the accomplishment of thy desire! Now, now, my bearded harvest gilds the plain! The scanty folds can scarce my sheep contain, And showers of gold come pouring in amain! Thus dreams the wretch, and vainly thus dreams on,

Till his lank purse declares his money gone. O souls in whom no heavenly fire is found, Fat minds, and ever grovelling on the ground! We bring our manners to the blest abodes, And think what pleases us must please the gods. Persius, tr. by John Dryden.

193. AVARICE, Peril of.

Yet in thy thriving still misdoubt some evil, Lest gaining gain on thee, and make thee dim [devil, To all things else. Wealth is the conjuror's Whom when he thinks he hath, the devil hath him. [sticks Gold thou mayst safely touch; but if it Unto thy hands, it woundeth to the quick.

What skills it if a bag of stones or gold About thy neck do drown thee? raise thy head;

Take stars for money; stars not to be told
By any art, yet to be purchased.

None is so wasteful as the scraping dame:
She loseth three for one: her soul, rest,
fame.
George Herbert.

194. AVARICE, Slavery of.

When thou wouldst take a lazy morning's nap Up, up, says Avarice; thou snor'st again, Stretchest thy limbs, and yawn'st but all in

vain:

At his command the unwilling sluggard
The tyrant Lucre no denial takes; [wakes:
What must I do? he cries: What? says his
lord:
[aboard:
Why rise, make ready, and
With fish, from Euxine seas, thy vessel
go straight
freight;

Flax, castor, Coan wines, the precious weight
Of pepper, and Sabæan incense take [back:
With thy own hands from the tir'd camel's
And with poste-haste thy running markets
make.
Be sure to turn the penny: lie and swear;
Tis wholesome sin: but Jove, thou say'st,
will hear;

Swear, fool, or starve; for the dilemma's even:
A tradesman thou! and hope to go to heaven?
Persius, tr. by John Dryden.

195. AVERSION, Isolation of.

It needs not guards in front and rear to keep the crowd away;

Aversion to the vulgar throng will hold them all at bay. Oriental.

196. BABE, Coming of a.
Have you not heard the poets tell
How came the dainty Babie Bell
Into this world of ours?

The gates of heaven were left ajar:
With folded hands and dreamy eyes,
Wandering out of Paradise,
She saw this planet, like a star,

Hung on the glistening depths of even,—
Its bridges, running to and fro,
O'er which the white-winged angels go,

Bearing the holy Dead to heaven, [feet, She touched a bridge of flowers,-those So light they did not bend the bells Of the celestial asphodels! They fell like dew upon the flowers, Then all the air grew strangely sweet! And thus came dainty Babie Bell.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich.

197. BABE, Death of a.

She had seen
All of earth's year except the winter's snows,
Spring, summer, autumn, like sweet dreams,
had smiled

On her. Eva-or living-was her name;
A bud of life folded in leaves and love;
The dewy morning star of summer days;
The golden lamps of happy fire-side hours;
The little ewe-lamb nestling by our side;
The dove whose cooing echoed in our hearts;
The sweetest chord upon our harp of praise:
The quiet spring, the rivulet of joy;
The pearl among His gifts who gave us all;
On whom not we alone, but all who look'd,
Gazing would breathe the involuntary words,

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