SPIRITUAL POPULATION OF THE UNIVERSE.
NOR think, though men were none,
That Heaven would want spectators, God want praise.
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.
All these with ceaseless praise His works behold,
Both day and night. How often from the steep
Of echoing hill or thickets have we heard
Celestial voices to the midnight air,
Sole, or responsive to each other's note,
Singing their great Creator! Oft in bands,
While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk,
With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds
In full harmonic numbers joined, their songs
Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to Heaven.
WHEN I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent, which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent,
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask but Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, - "God doth not need
Either man's work, or His own gifts; who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve him best: His state
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean, without rest:
They also serve, who only stand and wait."
VIRTUE A LIGHT TO HERSELF.
VIRTUE Could see to do what Virtue would
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
Were in the flat sea sunk. . . .
He, that has light within his own clear breast,
May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright days:
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts,
Benighted walks under the midday sun;
Himself is his own dungeon!
John Sterling.
1806-1844.
STILL prayers are strong, and God is good;
Man is not made for endless ill;
Dear sprite! my soul's tormented mood
Has yet a hope thou canst not kill.
Repentance clothes in grass and flowers
The grave in which the past is laid;
And close to Faith's old minster towers,
The Cross lights up the ghostly shade.
Around its foot the shapes of fear,
Whose eyes my weaker heart appal,
As sister suppliants thrill the ear
With cries that loud for mercy call.
Thou, God, wilt hear! Thy pangs are meant
To heal the spirit, not destroy ;
And what may seem for vengeance sent,
When thou commandest, works for joy.
DIVINE DISCIPLINE TOWARDS MAN.
ETERNAL Mind! creation's Light and Lord!
Thou trainest man to love Thy perfect will,
By love to know Thy truth's obscurest word,
And so his years with hallowed life to fill ;
To own in all things round Thy law's accord,
Which bids all hope be strong to vanquish ill;
Illumined thus by Thy diffusive ray,
The darkened soul and world are bright with day.
In storm, and flood, and all decays of time,
In hunger, plagues, and man-devouring war ;
In all the boundless tracts of inward crime-
In selfish hates, and lusts that deepliest mar,
In lazy dreams that clog each task sublime,
In loveless doubts of truth's unsetting star;
In all Thy Spirit will not cease to brood
With vital strength, unfolding all to good.
The headlong cataract and tempest's roar,
The rage of seas, and earthquake's hoarse dismay,
The crush of Empire, sapped by tears and gore,
And shrieks of hearts their own corruption's prey;
All sounds of death enforce Thy righteous lore,
In smoothest flow Thy being's truth obey,
And, heard in ears from passion's witchery free,
One endless music make a hymn to Thee!
But most, O God! the inward eyes of thought
Discern Thy laws in all that works within;
The conscious will, by hard experience taught,
Divines Thy mercy shown by hate of sin;
And hearts whose peace by shame and grief was
bought,
Thy blessings praise that first in wo begin,
For still on earthly pain's tormented ground,
Thy love's immortal flowers and fruits abound.
Fair sight it is, and med'cinal for man,
To see Thy guidance lead the human breast;
In life's unopened germ behold Thy plan,
Till 'mid the ripened soul it stands confest;
From impulse too minute for us to scan,
Awakening sense with love and purpose blest;
And through confusion, error, trial, grief,
Maturing reason, conscience, calm belief.
This to have known, my soul, be thankful thou!
This clear, ideal form of endless good,
Which casts around the adoring learner's brow
that marks man's holiest brotherhood;
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