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Traveller, in the stranger's land,
Far from thine own household band;
Mourner, haunted by the tone
Of a voice from this world gone ;
Captive, in whose narrow cell
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell;
Sailor, on the darkening sea,
Lift the heart and bend the knee.

Warrior, that from battle won,
Breathest now at set of sun;
Woman, o'er the lowly slain,
Weeping on his burial plain!
Ye that triumph, ye that sigh,
Kindred by one holy tie:

Heaven's first star alike ye see-
Lift the heart and bend the knee.

MRS. HEMANS.

XLII. THE WORTH OF HOURS.

"A MAN that is young in years may be old in hours if he have lost no time; but that happeneth rarely.-Bacon.

"Let any man pass an evening in vacant idleness, or even in reading some silly tale, and compare the state of his mind when he goes to sleep, or gets up next morning with its state some other day when he has spent a few hours in going through the proofs, by facts and reasoning, of some of the great doctrines in natural science, learning truths wholly new to him, and satisfying himself by careful examination of the grounds on which known truths rest, so as to be not only acquainted with the doctrines of themselves, but able to show why he believes them, and to prove before others that they are true; he will find as great a difference as can exist in the same being,-the difference between looking back upon time unprofitably wasted, and time spent in self improvement: he will feel himself in one case listless and dissatisfied, in the other comfortable and happy: in the one case if he did not appear to himself humbled, at least he will not have earned any claim to his own respect; in the other case, he will enjoy a proud consciousness of having, by his own exertions, become a wiser and therefore a more exalted creature.”—Brougham.

BELIEVE not that your inner eye1
Can ever in just measure try
The worth of hours as they go by;

For every man's weak self, alas!
Makes him to see them while they pass
As through a dim or tinted glass:

ADVERSITY.

But if in earnest care you would
Mete out to each its part of good,
Trust rather to your after mood.

Those surely are not fairly spent,
That leave your spirit bowed and bent
In sad unrest, and ill content.

And more, though free from seeming harm,
You rest from toil of mind or arm,
Or slow retire from pleasure's charm-
If then a painful sense comes on,
Of something wholly lost and gone,
Vainly enjoyed or vainly done,-
Of something from your being's chain
Broke off, nor to be link'd again
By all mere Memory can retain,-

Upon your heart this truth may rise,—
Nothing that altogether dies
Suffices man's just destinies :

So should we live, that every hour
May die, as dies the natural flower,-
A self-reviving thing of power;

That every thought and every deed
May hold within itself the seed
Of future good, and future meed;

Esteeming sorrow, whose employ
Is to develope, not destroy,
Far better than a barren joy.

305

W. M. MILNES.

1. What is meant by the inner eye? | 2. Read Eccles. vii. 2-6.

XLIII. ADVERSITY.

"THE virtue of prosperity is temperance; the virtue of adversity is fortitude. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament; adversity is the blessing of the New, which carrieth the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God's favour. Yet, even in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hearse-like airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath laboured more in describing the afflictions of Job than the felicities of Solomon. Prosperity is not without fears and distastes; and ad

X

versity is not without comforts and hopes. We see in needle-works and embroideries, it is more pleasing to have lively work upon a sad and solemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy work upon a lightsome ground; judge, therefore, of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Certainly, virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant where they are incensed, or crushed; for prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue."-Bacon.

Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,

Hath not old custom made this life more sweet

Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam,
The season's difference; as the icy fang
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind;
Which when it bites and blows upon my body,
Even when I shrink with cold, I smile and say,
"This is no flattery; these are counsellors
That feelingly persuade me what I am."
Sweet are the uses of adversity,

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head:
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.

SHAKESPEARE.

XLIV. THE FIELD OF THE WORLD.

"TRUTH, considered in itself, and in the effects natural to it, may be conceived as a gentle spring or water-source, warm from the genial earth, and breathing up into the snow-drift that is piled over and around its outlet. It turns the obstacle into its own form and character, and, as it makes its way, increases its stream. And should it be arrested in its course by a chilling season, it suffers delay, not loss, and awaits only for a change in the wind to awaken and again roll onwards."-Coleridge.

Sow in the morn thy seed,

At eve hold not thy hand!

To doubt and fear give thou no heed,
Broad-cast it o'er the land.

Beside all waters sow;

The highway furrows stock;

Drop it where thorns and thistles grow;
Scatter it on the rock.

HYMN TO ADVERSITY.

The good, the fruitful ground,
Expect not here nor there;

O'er hill and dale, by plots, 'tis found;
Go forth, then, everywhere.

Thou know'st not which may thrive,
The late or early sown;

Grace keeps the precious germs alive,
When and wherever strown.

And duly shall appear,

In verdure, beauty, strength,
The tender blade, the stalk, the ear,
And the full corn at length.

Thou canst not toil in vain :
Cold, heat, and moist, and dry,
Shall foster and mature the grain,
For garners in the sky.

Thence, when the glorious end,
The day of God is come,

The angel-reapers shall descend,

And heaven cry-" Harvest home."

307

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

XLV. HYMN TO ADVERSITY.

"THE difficulties of our state are among its best blessings. The distance at which good objects are placed, and the obstacles which intervene, are the means by which Providence rouses, quickens, invigorates, expands, all our powers. These form the school in which our minds and hearts are trained. Difficulty and hardship bind us more closely to objects. We love more ardently what we have suffered to attain, and enjoy nothing so exquisitely as what we have pursued through calamity and danger. It is in such pursuits, when we endure and labour for ends which conscience and religion enjoin, that our whole nature is called forth and perfected."- Channing.

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DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour
The bad affright, afflict the best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple tyrants' vainly groan

With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone.

When first thy sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, designed,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern, rugged nurse, thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:

What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know,

And from her own she learned to melt at others' woe.

Scared at thy frown terrific fly

Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,

Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,

And leave us leisure to be good.

Light they disperse, and with them go

The summer friend, the flattering foe;

By vain prosperity received,

To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.

Wisdom, in sable garb arrayed,

Immersed in rapturous thought profound,

And Melancholy, silent maid,

With leaden eye, that loves the ground,

Still on thy solemn steps attend:

Warm Charity, the general friend,

With Justice, to herself severe,

And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.

Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head,

Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand!

Not in thy gorgon terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful band

(As by the impious thou art seen),

With thundering voice, and threatening mien,
With screaming Horror's funeral cry,

Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.

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