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His thoughts, the city of the immortal King: 1 511. CONTENTMENT, Growth of.

There, pictured in its solemn pomp, it lay, 10 years gone down into the past; A glorious country stretching round about, What pleasant memories come to me And through its golden gates pass'd in and out of your untroubled days of peace.

Men of all nations, on their heavenly way. And hours of almost ecstasy! On this he mused, and mused the whole day

Yet would I have no moon stand still, Feeding his feeble faith till it grew strong. Where life's most pleasant valleys lie;

George Croley. Nor wheel the planet of the day

Back on his pathway through the sky. 508. CONTENTMENT, Contrast of. Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw |

For though, when youthful pleasures died,

w My youth itself went with them, too; heap, as Saadi sings,

To-day, aye! even this very hour, But the immensest empire is too narrow for“

| Is the best hour I ever knew. two kings.

Oriental.

Not that my Father gives to me 509. CONTENTMENT, Cultivating.

More blessings than in days gone by, If we cannot have all we wish upon the earth, Dropping in my uplifted hands

Let us try to be happy with less if we can ; | | All things for which I blindly cry; If wealth be not always the guerdon of worth, But that His plans and purposes Worth, sooner than wealth, makes the hap

Depe Have grown to me less strange and dim; pier man.

And where I cannot understand,

I trust the issues unto Him.
Is it wise to be anxious for pleasures afar-
And the pleasures around us to slight or And spite of many broken dreams,
decry?

This have I truly learned to say Asking Night for the sun,--asking Day for Prayers which I thought unanswered once the star?

Were answered in God's own best way. Let us conquer such faults, or at least let us try.

And though some hopes I cherished once,

Perished untimely in their birth, If the soil of a garden be worthy our care, Yet have I been beloved and blest

Its culture delightful, though ever so small; Beyond the measure of my worth. Oh then let the heart the same diligence share,

Phoebe Carey. And the flowers of affection will rival them 512. CONTENTMENT, Profession of. all.

I weigh not fortune's frown or smile; There ne'er was delusion more constantly

I joy not much in earthly joys; shown,

I seek not state, I seek not style; Than that wealth every charm of existence

I am not fond of fancy's toys;

I rest so pleased with what I have, can buy; As long as love, friendship, and truth are

I wish no more, no more I crave. life's own,

I quake not at the thunder's crack ; All hearts may be happy, if all hearts will I tremble not at noise of war; try!

Charles Swain. I swound not at the news of wrack; 510. CONTENTMENT Gained.

I shrink not at a blazing star;

I fear not loss, I hope not gain, My conscience is my crown, contented I envy none, I none disdain.

thoughts my rest, My heart is happy in itself, my bliss is in my I see ambition never pleased ; breast.

I see some Tantals starved in store; Enough I reckon wealth : a mean the surest I see gold's dropsy seldom eased; lot,

I see e'en Midas gape for more: That lies too high for base contempt, too low I neither want, nor yet aboundfor envy's shot.

Enough's a feast, content is crowned. My wishes are but few, all easy to fulfil,

I feign not friendship, where I hate ; I make the limits of my power the bonds

I fawn not on the great in show; unto my will.

I prize, I praise a mean estateI have no hopes but one, which is of heavenly reign;

Neither too lofty nor too low:

This, this is all my choice, my cheerEffects attained,' or not desired, all lower hopes refrain.

A mind content, a conscience clcar.

Joshua Sylvester. I feel no care of coin, well-doing is my wealth,

513. CONTENTMENT, Nobility of. My mind to me an empire is, while grace af Even I-but I can laugh and sing,

fordeth health. Robert Southwell. I Though fetter'd and confined,

My mind I may to fortune bring, | My future path do Thou in mercy trace; Not fortune to my mind.

So cause my soul with pious zeal to burn,

That all the trust which in Thy name I place How seldom is our good enjoy'd,

Frail as I am, may not prove wholly vain. Our ill how hardly borne,

Pietro Bembo. When all our fancies are employ'd, To kick against the thorn!

517. CONTRITION, Power of.

All powerful is the penitential sigh But, sure, ourselves aright to see

Of true contrition; like the placid wreaths True wisdom well may bear:

Of incense, wafted from the righteous shrine 'Tis nobly great to dare to be

| Where Abel ministered, to the blest seat No greater than we are.

Of Mercy, an accepted sacrifice,
Samuel Wesley, Jr.

Humiliation's conscious plaint ascends. 514. CONTENTMENT, Nataral.

Samuel Hayes. Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or 518. CONTRITION, Prayer in. pelf,

Wretched, helpless, and distressed, Not one will change his neighbor with him Ah! whither shall I fly? self.

Ever panting after rest,
The learn'd is happy nature to explore,

I cannot find it nigh:
The fool is happy that he knows no more; Naked, sick, and poor, and blind,
The rich is happy in the plenty given,

Bound in sin and misery,
The poor contents him with the care of Friend of sinners, let me find
Heaven.

My help, my all in Thee !
See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing,
The sot a hero, lunatic a king,

In the wilderness I stray,
The starving chemist in his golden views

My foolish heart is blind;

Nothing do I know; the way
Supremely bless'd, the poet in his muse.
Alexander Pope.

Of peace I cannot find;

Jesus, Lord, restore my sight, 515, CONTENTMENT, Riches of.

Take, oh, take the veil away;
In vain do men

Turn my darkness into light,
The heavens of their fortunes' fault accuse,

My midnight into day.
Sith they knew best what is the best of them; Naked of Thine image, Lord,
For they to each such fortune do diffuse

Forsaken, and alone,
As they do know each can most aptly use. Unrenewed and unrestored,
For not that which men covet most is best,

I have not Thee put on; Nor that thing worst which men do most Over me Thy mantle spread, refuse;

Send Thy likeness from above; But fittest is, that all contented rest

Let thy goodness be displayed, With that they hold; each hath his fortune

And wrap me in Thy love. in his breast.

Poor, alas! Thou knowest. I am, It is the mind that maketh good or ill,

And would be poorer still; That maketh wretch or happy, rich or poor; See my nakedness and shame, For some that hath abundance at his will

And all my vileness feel; Hath not enough; but wants in greater

No good thing in me resides, store ;

All my soul an aching void, And other, that hath little, asks for more, Till Thy Spirit there abides, But in that little is both rich and wise; .

And I am filled with God. For wisdom is most riches: fools therefore

Jesus, full of truth and grace, They are which fortune do by vows devise, I

In Thee is all I want;
Sith each unto himself his life may fortunize.

Be the wanderer's resting-place,
Edmund Spenser.

A cordial to the faint; 516. CONTRITION, Late.

Make me rich, for I am poor; If, gracious God, in life's green, ardent year,

In Thee may I Eden find; A thousand times Thy patient love I tried;

To the dying health restore, With reckless heart, with conscience hard

And eyesight to the blind !
and sere,

Clothe me with Thy holiness,
Thy gifts perverted and Thy power defied: Thy meek humility;
O grant me, now that wintry snows appear Put on me Thy glorious dress,
Around my brow, and youth's bright prom-

Endue my soul with Thee;
ise hide-

Let Thine image be restored, Grant me with reverential awe to hear

Let me now Thy nature prove; Thy holy voice, and in Thy word confide! With Thy fulness fill me, Lord, Blot from my book of life its early stain!

And perfect me in love. Since days misspent will never more return, I

Charles Wesley.

519. CONTRITION, Response to. All night the lonely suppliant prayed, All night his earnest crying made; Till, standing by his side at morn, The tempter said, in bitter scorn, Oh! peace, what profit do you gain From empty words and babblings vain ? *Come, Lord-oh, come !' you cry alway; You pour your heart out night and day; Yet still no murmur of replyNo voice that answers, 'Here am I.'” Then sank that stricken heart in dust, That word had withered all its trust; No strength retained it now to pray, For faith and hope had fled away; And ill that mourner now had fared, Thus by the Tempter's art ensnared, But that at length beside his bed His sorrowing angel stood and said, Doth it repent thee of thy love, That never now is heard above Thy prayer, that now not any more It knocks at heaven's gate as before ?" I am cast out, I find no place, No hearing at the throne of grace; “Come, Lord, oh, come!' I cry alway; I pour my heart out night and day, Yet never until now have won The answer, 'Here am I, my son.'" Oh, dull of heart! enclosed doth lie In cach “Come, Lord,” a “Here am I." Thy love, thy longing are not thine, Reflections of a love divine. Thy very prayer to thee was given, Itself a messenger from heaven. Whom God rejects they are not so; Strong bands are round them in their woc; Their hearts are bound with bands of brass, That sighs or crying cannot pass. All treasures did the Lord impart To Pharaoh, såve a contrite heart; All other gifts unto His foes He freely gives, nor grudging knows; But love's sweet smart and costly pain A treasure for His friends remain.

Oriental, tr. by R. C. Trench. 320. CONTRITION, Tears of. Drop, drop, slov tears,

And bathe those beauteous feet
Which brought from heaven

The news and Prince of Peace!
Cease not, wet eyes,

His mercies to entreat!
To cry for vengeance

Sin doth never cease;
In your deep floods

Drown all my faults and fears;
· Nor let His eye
See sin, but through my tears.

P. Fletcher. 521. CONTRITION, True. My sins, my sins, my SAVIOUR)

They take such hold on me,
I am not able to look up,

Save only, CHRIST, to Thee ;

In Thee is all forgiveness,

In Thee abundant grace,
My shadow and my sunshine

The brightness of Thy face.
My sins, my sins, my SAVIOUR !

How sad on Thee they fall,
Seen through thy gentle patience,

I tenfold feel them all;
I know they are forgiven;

But still their pain to me
Is all the grief and anguish

They laid, my Lord, on Thee !
My sins, my sins, my SAVIOUR !

Their guilt I never knew
Till, with Thee in the desert

I near Thy Passion drew;
Till, with Thee, in the garden

I heard Thy pleading prayer,
And saw the sweat-drops bloody,

That told Thy sorrow there.
Therefore my songs, my SAVIOUR,

E'en in this time of woe,
Shall tell of all Thy goodness,

To suffering man below;
Thy goodness and Thy favor,

Whose presence from above
Rejoice those hearts, my SAVIOUR,
That live in Thee and love.

John S. B. Monsell. 522. CONVERSATION, Charm of. And we talk'd-oh, how we talk'd! her voice

so cadenc'd in the talking Made another singing of the soul! a music

without barsWhile the leafy sounds of woodlands, hum

ming round where we were walking, Brought interposition worthy, sweet, -as skies

about the stars. And she spake such good thoughts natural,

as if she always thought them, And had sympathies so rapid, open, free as

bird on branch, Just as ready to fly east as west, which ever

way besought them, In the birchen-wood a chirrup, or a cock-crow

in the grange. In her utmost rightness there is truth—and

often she speaks lightly, Has a grace in being gay, which even mourn

ful souls approve, For the root of some grave, earnest thought

is under-struck so rightly, As to justify the foliage and the waving

flowers above. And she talked on—we talked, rather! upon

all t'.ings—substance-shadowOf the sheep that browsed the grasses—of the

reapers in the corn; Of the little children from the schools, seen

winding through the meadow, Of the poor rich world beyond them, still

kept poorer by its scorn.

side

So of men, and so of letters books are men And lead us by Thy grace divine of higher stature,

From the forbidden paths of sin; And the only men that speak aloud for future And may that voice which bade the earth times to hear;

From chaos and the realms of night, So, of mankind in the abstract, which grows From doubt and darkness call us forth, slowly into nature,

To God's own liberty and light!
Yet will lift the cry of "progress," as it trod
from sphere to sphere.

Thus made partakers of Thy love,
Elizabeth Barrett Browning. The baptism of the Spirit ours,

Our grateful hearts shall rise above, 523. CONVERSATION, Rules for.

Renewed in purposes and powers; In thy discourse, if thou desire to please;

And songs of joy again shall ring All such is courteous, useful, new, or

Triumphant through the arch of heaven, witty:

The glorious songs which angels sing, Usefulness comes by labor, wit by ease;

Exulting over souls forgiven! Courtesy grows in court; news in the city.

W. H. Burleigh. Get a good stock of these, then draw the card; 526. CONVERSION, Figaro of. That suits him best, of whom thy speech is

A Lord I had; heard.

To Him I brought a dish of fruit one day, Entice all neatly to what they know best;

And in the middle placed my heart. But For so thou dost thyself and him a pleasure;

He (I sigh to say)

leasure ; | Look'd on a servant, who did know His eye (But a proud ignorance will lose his rest,

Better than you know me, or (which is one) Rather than show his cards ;) steal from

Than I myself. The servant instantly, his treasure

Quitting the fruit, seized on my heart alone, What to ask farther. Doubts well raised do

And threw it in a font, wherein did-fall lock

A stream of blood, which issued from the The speaker to thee, and preserve thy stock. If thou be master-gunner, spend not all Of a great rock. I well remember all, That thou canst speak, at once : but hus- | And have good cause. There it was dipt band it,

and dyed, And give men turns of speech; do not fore- And wash'd, and wrung: the very wringing stall

yet By lavishness, thine own and others' wit,

Enforceth tears. “Your heart was foul, I As if thou madest thy will. A civil guest

fear." Will no more talk all than eat all the feast.

Indeed 'tis true. I did and do commit George Herbert. Many a fault more than my lease will bear;

Yet still ask'd pardon, and was not denied. 524. CONVERSION, Corruption after.

George Herbert. When first, to make my heart His own, 527. CONVERSION, Gate of. The Lord revealed His mighty grace,

I stood outside the gate, Self reigned, like Dagon, on the throne,

A poor, wayfaring child; But could not long maintain its place.

Within my heart there beat It fell, and owned the power divine

A tempest, loud and wild.

A fcar oppressed my soul, (Grace can with case the victory gain);

That I might be too late ; But soon this wretched heart of mine

And oh! I trembled sore, Contrived to set it up ugain.

“And prayed outside the gate. Again the Lord His name proclaimed,

“Mercy!” I loudly cried : And brought the hateful idol low; Then Self, like Dagon, broken, maimed,

“Oh! give me rest from sin !"

I will," a voice replied: Seemed to receive a mortal blow.

And Mercy let me in. Yet Self is not of life bereft,

She bound my bleeding wounds: Nor ceases to oppose His will :

She soothed my aching head; Though but a maimèd stump be left,

She cased my burdened soul, 'Tis Dagon—'tis an idol still.

And bore the load instead. Lord, must I always guilty prove,

In Mercy's guise, I knew And idols in my heart haye room?

The Saviour long abused; O let the fire of heavenly love

Who often sought my heart,
The very stump of self consume!

And wept when I refused.
John Newton.

Oh! what a blest return

For ignorance and sin! 525. CONVERSION, Effect of.

I stood outside the gate, Creator! let thy Spirit shine

And Jesus let me in ! The darkness of our souls within,

Josephine Pollard.

528. CONVERSION Nooded.
I need a cleansing change within :
My life must once again begin;
New hope I need, and youth renewed,
And more than human fortitude;
New faith, new love, and strength to cast
Away the fetters of the past.

Hartley Coleridge. 529. CONVERT, An Aged. Faint, and worn, and aged,

One stands knocking at the gate;
Though no light shines in the casement,

Knocking though so late.
It has struck eleven
In the courts of heaven,

Yet he still doth knock and wait.
While no answer cometh

From the heavenly hill,
Blessed angels wonder

At his earnest will.
Hope and fear but quicken,
While the shadows thicken;

He is knocking, knocking still.
Grim the gate unopened

Stands with bar and lock;
Yet within the unseen porter

Hearkens to the knock,
Doing and undoing,
Faint and yet pursuing,

This man's feet are on the Rock.
With a cry unceasing, .

Knocketh, prayeth be: “Lord, have mercy on me,

When I cry to Thee !" With a knock unceasing, And a cry increasing,

O my Lord, remember me!” Still the porter standeth,

Love-constrained he standeth near, While the cry increaseth

Of that love and fear: “Jesus, look upon meChrist, hast thou foregone me?

If I perish, I perish here ! ” Faint the knocking ceaseth,

Faint the cry and call; Is he lost, indeed, forever,

Shut without the wall ? Mighty arms uphold himTender arms surround him,

Held, withheld, and borne through all. O celestial mansion,

Open wide the door ; Crown and robe of whiteness,

Stone-inscribed before, Flocking angels bear them, Stretch thy hand and wear them;

Sit thou down forevermore. 530. CONVERT, Happiness of the. O how happy are they,

Who the Saviour obey,

And have laid up their treasure above!

Tongue can never express

The sweet comfort and peace
Of a soul in its earliest love.
That sweet comfort was mine,

When the favor divine
I received through the blood of the Lamb;
When my heart first believed,

What a joy I received
What a heaven in Jesus's name!
'Twas a heaven below,

My Redeemer to know,
And the angels could do nothing more,

Than to fall at His feet,
And the story repeat,
And the Lover of sinners adore.
Jesus all the day long

Was my joy and my song:
Oh that all His salvation might see!

He hath loved me, I cried,
He hath suffer'd and died,
To redeem even rebels like me.
On the wings of His love

I was carried above
All sin and temptation and pain;

I could not believe

That I ever should grieve,
That I ever should suffer again.
I rode on the sky,

Freely justified I!
Nor envied Elijah his seat:

My soul mounted higher,

In a chariot of fire,
And the moon it was under my feet.
Oh, the rapturous height

Of that holy delight
Which I felt in the life-giving blood !

Of my Saviour possessid,

I was perfectly blest,
As if fill'd with the fulness of God.

C. Wesley.
531, CONVIOTION Resisted.
In the silent midnight watches,

List,-thy bosom door!
How it knocketh, knocketh, knocketh,

Knocketh evermore!
Say not 'tis thy pulse is beating :

Tis thy heart of sin:
'Tis thy Saviour knocks, and crieth,

Rise, and let Me in!
Death comes down, with reckless footstep,

To the hall and hut:
Think you Death will stand a-knocking

Where the door is shut?
Jesus waiteth, waiteth, waiteth;

But thy door is fast!
Grieved, away thy Saviour goeth:

Death breaks in at last.
Then 'tis thine to stand entreating

Christ to let thee in;

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