Pleased Vaga echoes through her winding bounds,

And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds. Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow?

From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in useless columns tost,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost,

But clear and artless, pouring through the plain

Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows?

Whose seats the weary traveller repose? Who taught that heaven-directed spire to [replies.

rise?

"The Man of Ross!" each lisping babe Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread! The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread; He feeds yon almhouse, neat, but void of state,

Where age and want sit smiling at the gate: Him portioned maids, apprenticed orphans blest,

The young who labor, and the old who rest. Is any sick? the Man of Ross relieves, Prescribes, attends, the medicine makes and gives.

Is there a variance? enter but his door, Balked are the courts, and contest is no

more.

Despairing quacks with curses fled the place, And vile attorneys, now a useless race.

B. Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue What all so wish, but want the power to do! O say, what sums that generous hand supply? What mines to swell that boundless charity? P. Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear, [year. This man possessed-five hundred pounds a Blush, grandeur, blush; proud courts, withdraw your blaze!

Ye little stars, hide your diminished rays!
B. And what? no monument, inscription,

stone?

Then the beggar, "See your sins!
Of old, unless I err,

Ye had brothers for inmates, twins,
Date and Dabitur.
"While Date was in good case
Dabitur flourished too:
For Dabitur's lenten face,
No wonder if Date rue.

"Would ye retrieve the one?

Try and make plump the other!
When Date's penance is done,
Dabitur helps his brother.
"Only, beware relapse!"

The Abbot hung his head.
"This beggar might be, perhaps,
An angel," Luther said.
Robert Browning.

225. BEREAVEMENT, Benefit of. And first, of dying friends—what fruit from

these?

Of terror and abhorrence nature throws

Cross our obstructed way; and thus to make Welcome, as safe, our port from every storm. Each friend by fate snatched from us is a plume

Plucked from the wing of human vanity. Which makes us stoop from our aërial heights,

And, damp'd with omen of our own decease, Just skim earth's surface ere we break it up; On drooping pinions of ambition lower'd, O'er putrid earth to scratch a little dust,

known?

P. Who builds a church to God, and not

to fame,

Will never mark the marble with his name: Go, search it there, where to be born and die, Of rich and poor makes all the history; Enough that virtue filled the space between, Proved by the ends of being to have been. Alexander Pope.

224. BENEFICENCE, Repayment of

A beggar asked an alms

One day at an abbey-door,

Said Luther; but seized with qualms
The Abbot replied, "We're poor!

"Poor who had plenty once

When gifts fell thick as rain:
But they give us nought for nonce,
And how should we give again?"

I suffer on my threescore years,
Till my deliverer come,

And wipe away his servant's tears,

And take his exile home.

O, what hath Jesus bought for me!
Before my ravish'd eyes
Rivers of life, divine, I see,
And trees of Paradise:
I see a world of spirits bright,

Who taste the pleasure there;
They all are robed in spotless white,
And conq'ring palms they bear.

O what are all my suff'rings here,

If, Lord, thou count me meet
With that enraptured host t' appear,
And worship at thy feet!
Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
Take life or friends away,
But let me find them all again
In that eternal day.

Charles Wesley.
227. BEREAVEMENT, Lessons of
There is no flock, however watched and
But one dead lamb is there! [tended,
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair!

The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;

The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,
Will not be comforted!

Let us be patient! These severe afflictions
Not from the ground arise,

But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.

We see but dimly through the mists and
Amid these earthly damps [vapors;
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers
May be heaven's distant lamps.

There is no Death! What seems so is transiThis life of mortal breath,

[tion:

Is but a suburb of the life elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.
She is not dead-the child of our affection-
But gone unto that school
[tion,
Where she no longer needs our poor protec-
And Christ himself doth rule.

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,

Safe from temptation, safe from sin's polluShe lives whom we call dead.

[tion,

Day after day we think what she is doing
In those bright realms of air;
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing,
Behold her grown more fair.

Thus do we walk with her, and keep un-
The bond which nature gives, [broken
Thinking that our remembrance, though un-
May reach her where she lives. [spoken,

comes by

At hours when we expect not, and with eye
Mournful yet sweet, compassionate though
Takes them.
[stern,

Then in a moment we discern By loss, what was possession, and half-wild With misery, cry out like an angry child: "O cruel! thus to snatch my posy fine!" He answers tenderly, "Not thine, but mine," And points to those stained fingers which do prove

Our fatal cherishing, our dangerous love;
At which we, chidden, a pale silence keep;
Yet evermore must weep, and weep, and
[brakes,

weep.

So on through gloomy ways and thorny Quiet and slow, our shrinking feet he takes, Led by the soiled hand, which, laved in tears, More and more clean beneath his sight appears.

At length the heavy eyes with patience shine:

"I am content. Thou took'st but what was thine."

And when he us his beauteous garden shows,
Where bountiful the Rose of Sharon grows:
Where in the breezes opening spice-buds
swell:

And the pomegranate yields a pleasant smell :
While to and fro peace-sandalled angels move
In the pure air that they-not we-call Love:
An air so rare and fine, our grosser breath
Cannot inhale till purified by death.
And thus we, struck with longing joy, adore,
And, satisfied, wait mute without the door,
Until the gracious Gardener maketh sign,
"Enter in peace.
All this is mine-and
thine."
D. M. Muloch Craik,

229. BEREAVEMENT, Parental.

Child, by God's sweet mercy given to thy mother and to me,

Entering this world of sorrows, by His grace, -so fair to see:

Fair as some sweet flower in summer, till Death's hand on thee was laid, Scorched the beauty from my flower, made the tender petals fade.

Yet I dare not weep nor murmur, for I know the King of kings

Leads thee to His marriage-chamber,—to the glorious bridal brings.

Nature fain would leave me weeping, love asserts her mournful right;

But I answer, they have brought thee to the happy world of light!

And I fear that my lamentings, as I speak thy cherished name,

Desecrate the Royal dwelling,-fear to meet deserved blame,

If I press with tears of anguish into the abode of joy;

Therefore will I, meekly bowing, offer thee to God, my boy!

Yet thy voice, thy childish singing, soundeth ever in my ears;

And I listen, and remember, till mine eyes will gather tears,

Thinking of thy pretty prattlings, and thy childish words of love;

But when I begin to murmur, then my spirit looks above,

Listens to the songs of spirits; listens, longing, wondering,

To the ceaseless glad hosannas angels at thy bridal sing.

Ephram Syrus, tr. by Mrs. Charles.

230. BEREAVEMENT, Revelations of. Lift up thine eyes, afflicted soul!

From earth lift up thine eyes!

Though dark the evening shadows roll,
And daylight beauty dies,
One sun is set,- -a thousand more
Their rounds of glory run,

Where science leads thee to explore
In every star a sun.

Thus, when some long-loved comfort ends,
And nature would despair,

Faith to the heaven of heaven ascends,
And meets ten thousand there;

First faint and small, then clear and bright,
They gladden all the gloom,

As stars that seem but points of light

The rank of suns assume.

James Montgomery.

231. BEREAVEMENT, Trial of.

I cannot, cannot say,

Out of my bruised and breaking heart, Storm-driven along a thorn-set way,

While blood-drops start

From every pore, as I drag on,

"Thy will, O God, be done!"

Now, faint and sore afraid, Under my cross, heavy and rude, My idols in the ashes laid,

Like ashes strewed,

The holy words my pale lips shun, "O God, thy will be done!"

Pity my woes, O God,

And touch my will with thy warm breath;
Put in my trembling hand thy rod,
That quickens death;

That my dead faith may feel thy sun,
And say, "Thy will be done!"

232. BESETTING SIN, Power of.

Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round,

Parents first season us; then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws; they send us bound To rules of reason, holy messengers, Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in, Bibles laid open, millions of surprises, Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness, The sound of glory ringing in our ears; Without, our shame; within, our consciences;

Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears, Yet all these fences and their whole array One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away. George Herbert.

233. BIBLE, A Living.

A living, breathing Bible; tables where
Both covenants, at large, engraven were;
Gospel and law in heart had each its col-

umn,

His head an index to the sacred volume;
His very name a title-page; and next,
His life a commentary on the text.
O, what a monument of glorious worth,
When in a new edition he comes forth,
Without erratas, may we think he'd be
In leaves and covers of Eternity!

Benjamin Woodbridge.

234. BIBLE, Blessed.

Blessed Bible! how I love it!

How it doth my bosom cheer! What hath earth like this to covet?

O, what stores of wealth are here! Man was lost and doomed to sorrow; Not one ray of light or bliss Could he from earth's treasures borrow, 'Till his way was cheered by this? Yes, I'll to my bosom press thee,

PRECIOUS WORD, I'll hide thee here; Sure my very heart will bless thee,

For thou ever sayest "good cheer: " Speak, my heart, and tell thy ponderings, Tell how far thy rovings led,

[ings,

When THIS BOOK brought back thy wanderSpeaking life as from the dead.

Yes, sweet Bible! I will hide thee

Deep, yes, deeper in this heart;
Thou, through all my life will guide me,
And in death we will not part.
Part in death? No! never! never!
Through death's vale I'll lean on thee;
Then, in worlds above, for ever,
Sweeter still thy truths shall be!
Phabe Palmer.

235. BIBLE, Contents of the.
If thou art merry, here are airs;
If melancholy, here are prayers;

If studious, here are those things writ
Which may deserve thy ablest wit;
If hungry, here is food divine;
If thirsty, nectar, heavenly wine.

Read, then; but, first, thyself prepare
To read with zeal and mark with care;
And when thou read'st what here is writ,
Let thy best practice second it:
So twice each precept read shall be,-
First in the book, and next in thee.
Peter Heylyn.

236. BIBLE, Esteeming the.
This holy book I'd rather own
Than all the gold and gems
That e'er in monarchs' coffers shone,
Than all their diadems.

Nay, were the seas one chrysolite,
The earth one golden ball,
And diadems all the stars of night,
This book outweighs them all.
Ah, no, the soul ne'er found relief
In glittering hoards of wealth;
Gems dazzle not the eye of grief,
Gold cannot purchase health.
But here a blessed balm appears
To heal the deepest woe,

And those who read this book in tears,
Their tears shall cease to flow.

237. BIBLE, Excellence of the.

Thy thoughts are here, my God,
Expressed in words divine,

The utterance of heavenly lips
In every sacred line.

Across the ages they

Have reached us from afar,

Than the bright gold more golden they, Purer than purest star.

More durable they stand

Than the eternal hills;
Far sweeter and more musical
Than music of earth's rills.

Fairer in their fair hues

Than the fresh flowers of earth, More fragrant than the fragrant climes Where odors have their birth.

Each word of Thine a gem

From the celestial mines,
A sunbeam from that holy heaven
Where holy sunlight shines.

Thine, Thine, this book, though given
In man's poor human speech,
Telling of things unseen, unheard,
Beyond all human reach,

No strength it craves or needs

From this world's wisdom vain; No filling up from human wells, Or sublunary rain.

No light from sons of time,

Nor brilliance from its gold,
It sparkles with its own glad light,
As in the ages old.

A thousand hammers keen

With fiery force and strain, Brought down on it in rage and hate, Have struck this gem in vain.

Against this sea-swept rock

Ten thousand storms their will
Of foam and rage have wildly spent ;
It lifts its calm face still.

It standeth and will stand,
Without or change or age,
The word of majesty and light,
The church's heritage.

238. BIBLE, Family.

Horatius Bonar

What household thoughts around thee, as their shrine, [guiled, Cling reverently!-Of anxious looks beMy mother's eyes upon thy page divine Were daily bent; her accents, gravely mild, Breathed out thy love;-whilst I, a dreamy

child,

On breeze-like fancies wandered oft away, To some lone tuft of gleaming spring-flowers wild, [play, Some fresh-discovered nook for woodland Some secret nest; yet would the solemn word, At times, with kindlings of young wonder

heard,

Fall on my wakened spirit, there to be