On wheels of light, on wings of flame, O Zion! lift thy raptured eye: See Mercy, from her golden urn, Pours a rich stream to them that mourn; He comes to cheer the trembling heart, Thomas Campbell. Peor and Baalim Forsake their temples dim With that twice-batter'd god of Palestine ; And mooned Ashtaroth, Heaven's queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers holy shine; The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn, In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn. And sullen Moloch fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue: In vain with cymbal's ring, They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue: The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste. Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green, [ings loud: The idle spear and shield were high up The hooked chariot stood [hung, Unstain'd with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the arm'd throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sov'reign Lord was by. But peaceful was the night, His reign of peace upon the earth began: Whisp'ring new joys to the mild ocean Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. John Milton. 260. BIRTH OF CHRIST, Welcoming the. All hail, Thou noble Guest, this morn, Were earth a thousand times as fair, Martin Luther, tr. by A. T. Tozer. 261. BLAME, Shifting the. How backward man himself to blame! 262. ELESSED, Who are the? Who are the bless'd? They who have kept their sympathies awake, And scattered joy for more than custom's sake cease Steadfast and tender in the hour of need, Gentle in thought, benevolent in deed; Whose looks have power to make dissensions [peace; Whose smile is pleasant and whose words are They who have lived as harmless as the dove, Teachers of truth and ministers of love; Love for all moral power-all mental graceLove for the humblest of the human racewor-Love for that tranquil joy that virtue brings-Love for the Giver of all goodly things; True followers of that soul-exalting plan Which Christ laid down to bless and govern man; [shroud; Naught but profoundest Hell can be his In vain with timbrel'd anthems dark The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his shipp'd ark. [eyne; He feels from Judah's land Longer dare abide. John Milton. They who can calmly linger to the last, Survey the future and recall the past; [pain, And with that hope which triumphs over Feel well assured they have not lived in vain; Then wait in peace their hour of final restThese are the only bless'd! P. Prince. 263. BLESSEDNESS, True. In the nine heavens are eight Paradises; 264. BLESSINGS, Certainty of. If what I wish is good, And suits the Will divine, By earth and hell in vain withstood They cannot keep a blessing back 265. BLINDNESS, Compensation of. And willingly obey'd secure from fear 266. BLINDNESS, Complaint of. Inferior to the vilest now become Milton's Samson Agonistes. 267, BLINDNESS, Cured. Blind, poor, and helpless, Bartimeus sat, Listening the foot of the wayfaring man, Still hoping that the next, and still the next, 66 268. BLINDNESS, Duty in. When I consider how my life 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 In a purer clime My being fills with rapture; waves of thought Roll in upon my spirit; strains sublime Break over me unsought. Give me now my lyre; I feel the stirrings of a gift divine; Elizabeth Lloyd. 270. BLINDNESS, Prayer in. With the year Of nature's works, to me expung'd and raz'd, 271. BLISS, Sublunary. Milton. Our waking dreams are fatal. How I dream'd Of things impossible! more?) (Could sleep do Of joys perpetual in perpetual change! On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze. O ye bless'd scenes of permanent delight! Full, above measure! lasting, beyond bound! A perpetuity of bliss is bliss. Could you, so rich in rapture, fear an end; That ghastly thought would drink up all your joy, And quite unparadise the realms of light. Safe are you lodged above these rolling spheres; The baleful influence of whose giddy dance His little weapon in the narrower sphere The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss. [vain; Bliss! sublunary bliss!-proud words and Implicit treason to divine decree! A bold invasion of the rights of Heaven! : 272. BODY, The Glorified. 'Tis night: behold, as if by death opprest, The sun his rays in gloom sepulchral hide! 'Tis day behold, with renovated pride, In the magnificence of morning drest, The sun, rejoicing, lifts his orient crest; A bridegroom issuing forth to meet his bride! Thus, like the sun, beneath the ocean tide, The Christian seeks the chamber of his rest; Thus, like the sun, to rise !-But not the same Shall rise, as when his mortal course was 273. BOLDNESS, Ministerial. When young, and full of sanguine hope, And warm in my first love, My spirit's loins I girded up, And sought the things above; As strong, and glorying in my might, The battles of the Lord. I scorned the multitude to dread, 274. BOOK, Dedication of a. Go, little Book! from this my solitude; The World will find thee after many days, The Wise (Minstrel or Sage), out of their books are clay; But in their books, as from their graves, they rise, Angels, that, side by side, upon our way, We call some books immortal! Do they live? Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. 278. BOOKS, Multiplicity of There is no Past, so long as Books shall live! And learn how worlds are bartered for a Rise up, ye walls, with gardens blooming o'er, Ope but that page-lo, Babylon once more! Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. 280. BOOKS, Pleasure of Give me Unto a strict account; and in my fancy John Fletcher. 281. BRAVERY, Field for. Dare in words your thoughts express; Dare from custom to depart; Dare the priceless pearl possess ; Dare to wear it next your heart; Dare, when others curse, to bless. Dare forsake what you deem wrong; Dare to walk in wisdom's way; Do what conscience says is right; 282, BRIBERY, Influence of. What is that which I should turn to, lighting upon days like these? Every door is barr'd with gold, and opens but to golden keys. Every gate is throng'd with suitors, all the markets overflow. I have but an angry fancy: what is that which I should do? I had been content to perish, falling on the foeman's ground, When the ranks are roll'd in vapor, and the winds are laid with sound. But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels, And the nations do but murmur snarling at each other's heels. Alfred Tennyson. 283. BRIBERY, Prevalence of Inaction now is crime. The old earth reels, Corruption's tide, and from the ruffian heels The advocate for him who offered most So managing the scale of justice still, Sweetly his pale arms folded Lodged in the tree-tops bright, That hang on Memory's wall, The one of the dim old forest Seemeth the best of all. Alice Carey. 286. BROTHERHOOD, Bond of. When a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad earth's aching breast Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east to west; And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within him climb To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy sublime Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of Time. Through the walls of hut and palace shoots the instantaneous throe, Where the travail of the Ages wrings earth's systems to and fro; At the birth of each new Era, with a recognizing start, Nation wildly looks at nation, standing with mute lips apart, And glad Truth's yet mightier man-child leaps beneath the Future's heart. That he was wanting found who poorest So the Evil's triumph sendeth, with a terror seemed. Robert Pollok. 285. BROTHER, Memory of a. That seemeth best of all; That sprinkle the vale below; Not for the milk-white lilies That lean from the fragrant ledge, Coquetting all day with the sunbeams, And stealing their golden edge: Not for the vines on the upland, Where the bright red berries rest, Nor the pinks, nor the pale sweet cowslip, It seemeth to me the best. I once had a little brother, With eyes that were dark and deep; And, one of the autumn eves, I made for my little brother and a chill, |