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Think, too, that now thou dost in peril fall.
Of doing a yet meaner thing than all,
If, being what thou art in thine own sight,
Thou canst this praise appropriate as thy right.

COUPLETS. - Trench.

To halls of heavenly truth admission wouldst thou win? Oft Knowledge stands without, while Love may enter

in.

Lovingly to each other sun and moon give place, Else were the mighty heaven for them too narrow

space.

Despise not little sins; for mountain-high may stand The pilèd heap made up of smallest grains of sand. Despise not little sins; the gallant ship may sink, Though only drop by drop the watery tide it drink.

God many a spiritual house has reared, but never one Where lowliness was not laid first, the corner-stone.

Rear highly as thou wilt thy branches in the air,
But that thy roots shall strike as deep in earth have

care.

Sin, not till it is left, will duly sinful seem;
A man must waken first, ere he can tell his dream.

When thou art fain to trace a map of thine own heart, As undiscovered land set down the largest part.

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Wouldst thou do harm, and yet unharmed thyself abide? None ever struck another, save through his own side.

God's dealings still are love,- his chastenings are alone Love now compelled to take an altered, louder tone.

From our ill-ordered hearts we oft are fain to roam, As men go forth who find unquietness at home.

Why furnish with such care thy lodging of a night, And leave the while thy home in such a naked plight?

When thou hast thanked thy God for every blessing

sent, What time will then remain for murmurs or lament?

Envy detects the spots in the clear orb of light,
And Love the little stars in the gloomiest, saddest night.

Thou canst not choose but serve,

man's lot is servitude, But thou hast this much choice, a bad lord or a good.

Before the eyes of men let duly shine thy light,
But ever let thy life's best part be out of sight.
Wouldst thou go forth to bless, be sure of thine own

ground, Fix well thy centre first, then draw thy circles round.

Sin may be clasped so close we cannot see its face, Nor seen nor loathed until held from us a small space.

If humble, next of thy humility beware,
And lest thou shouldst grow proud of such a grace

have care.

How fearful is his case whom now God does not

chide When sinning worst, to whom even chastening is de

nied ! God often would enrich, but finds not where to place His treasure, nor in hand nor heart a vacant space.

O, leave to God at sight of sin incensed to be! Sinner, if thou art grieved, that is enough for thee.

Set not thy heart on things given only with intent
To be alleviations of thy banishment.

Ill fares the child of heaven, who will not entertain On earth the stranger's grief, the exile's sense of

pain.

Mark how there still has run, enwoven from above, Through thy life's darkest woof, the golden thread of

love.

Things earthly we must know ere love them: 't is alone Things heavenly that must be first loved and after

known.

The sinews of Love's arm use makes more firm and

strong, Which, being left unused, will disappear ere long. Wouldst thou abolish quite strongholds of self and

sin ? Fear can but make the breach for Love to enter in.

When God afflicts thee, think he hews a rugged stone, Which must be shaped, or else aside as useless thrown.

INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY

69

Evil, like a rolling stone upon a mountain-top,
A child may first set off, a giant cannot stop.
He knew, who healed our wounds, we quickly should

be fain
Our old hurts to forget,- so let the scars remain.
When will the din of earth grate harshly on our ears?
When we have once heard plain the music of the

spheres. Why win we not at once what we in prayer require ? That we may learn great things as greatly to desire.

The tasks, the joys of earth, the same in heaven will

be ;

Only the little brook has widened to a sea.
Who hunt this world's delight too late their hunting

rue,
When it a lion proves, the hunter to pursue.

INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD. - Wordsworth.

I.

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore ;

Turn wheresoe'er I may,

By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

II.

The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose ;

The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare ;

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair ;
The sunshine is a glorious birth ;

But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath passed away a glory from the earth.

III.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the

young

lambs bound,
As to the tabour's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,

And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,

And all the earth is gay ;

Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,

And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday ;-

Thou child of joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy

Shepherd boy !

IV.

Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call

Ye to each other make ; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ;

My heart is at your festival,

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