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Lend, once again, that holy song a tongue,
Which the glad angels of the Advent sung,
Their cradle-anthem for the Saviour's birth,
"Glory to God, and peace unto the earth!"
Through the mad discord send that calming word

Which wind and wave on wild Gennesareth
heard,

Look at him

Who reads aright the image on his soul,
And gives it nurture like a child of light.
His life is calm and blessed, for his peace,
Like a rich pearl beyond the diver's ken,
Lies deep in his own bosom.

WILLIS.

O learn that Peace, sweet Peace, is ever found
In her eternal home, on holy ground.

MRS. EMBURY.

Down the dark future, through long genera

tions,

The echoing sounds grow fainter and then

cease;

And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations,
I hear once more the voice of Christ say

"Peace!"

Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals
The blast of war's great organ shakes the
skies!

Lift in Christ's name his cross against the But beautiful as songs of the immortals,
The holy melodies of love arise.

sword!

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PERSEVERANCE-PERSONAL EFFORT-PHILOSOPHY. 241

Breast the wave, Christian, when it is How charming is divine philosophy!

strongest ;

Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,

Watch for day, Christian, when the night's But musical as is Apollo's lute,

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PERSONAL EFFORT-(See IN- Whether the space between the stars and us;

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Philosophy and reason! O how vain
Their lessons to the feelings! They but teach
To hide them deeper, and to show a calm,
Unruffled surface to the idle gaze.

MISS BOGART.

And when I am stretched beneath the pines,
Where the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan;
For what are they all, in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet?
R. W. EMERSON.

Sublime Philosophy!

Thou art the patriarch's ladder, reaching heaven,

And bright with beckoning angels; but, alas! We see thee, like the patriarch, but in dreams, By the first step, dull slumbering on the earth. BULWER.

[See also KNOWLEDGE-WISDOM.]

PIETY (See RELIGION.)

PILGRIM —PILGRIMAGE.

Here is no home, here is but wilderness; Forth, pilgrim! forth, O beast out of thy stall, Look up on high, and thank thy God of all; Waiveth thy lust and let thy ghost thee lead, And truth thee shall deliver 'tis no drede. CHAUCER.

Give me my scollop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon;
My scrip of joy, immortal diet;
My bottle of salvation;

My gown of glory (hope's true gage,)
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.

SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

Heaven is a great way off, and I shall be
Ten thousand years in travel; yet 'twere
happy

If I may find a lodging there at last,
Though my poor soul get thither upon crutches.

SHIRLEY.

Give me my staff, then, as it stood
When green and growing in the wood.
With this poor stick I'll pass the ford
As Jacob did; and Thy dear word
As thou hast dressed it, not as wit
And depraved tastes have poisoned it,
Shall in the passage be my meat,
And none else shall thy servant eat.
Thus, thus, and in no other sort,
Will I set forth, though laughed at for't;
And, leaving the wise world their way,
Go through, though judged to go astray.
VAUGHAN.

Gray wanderer in a homeless world,
Poor pilgrim to a dusty bier;
On time's great cycle darkly hurled
From year to year,
See in the sky these words unfurled:
"Thy home is here!"

T. B. READ.

Here will I rest until the day declines,
A voiceless pilgrim toward the land of song;
And, like a sentinel, catch the herald signs
Of Him whose coming hath been stayed too
long.

T. B. READ.

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