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And still the coffins came,
She clasped her fervent hands With their sorrowful trains and slow; And the tears began to stream, Coffin after coffin still,
Large and bitter and fast they fell,
Remorse was so extreme;
Would dream the Lady's Dream!
Thomas Hood. Of the hearts that daily break,
341. CHARITY, Description of. Of the tears that hourly fall,
Blest Charityl the grace long-suffering, kind, Of the many, many troubles of life,
Which envies not, has no self-vaunting mind, That grieve this earthly ball
Is not puffed up, makes no unseemly show, Disease and Hunger, and Pain and Want.
Seeks not her own, to provocation slow, But now I dreamt of them all!
No evil thinks, in no unrighteous choice For the blind and the cripple were there,
Takes pleasure, doth in truth rejoice, best, And the babe that pined for bread,
Hides all things, still believes, and hopes the And the houseless man, and the widow poor,
All things endures, averse to all contest. Who begged—to bury the dead;
Tongues, knowledge, prophecy, shall sink The naked, alas, that I might have clad,
At the first glance of beatific ray; away
Then charity its element shall gain, The famish'd I might have fed !
And with the God of love eternal reign. The sorrow I might have soothed,
Bp. Ken. And the unregarded tears;
342. CHARITY, Heathen. For many a thronging shape was there, My friend is shipwreck'd on the Bratian From long-forgotten years,
strand, Aye, even the poor, rejected Moor,
His riches in the Ionian main are lost; Who raised my childish fears !
And he himself stands shivering on the
coast, Each pleading look, that long ago
Where, destitute of help, forlorn, and bare, I scanned with a heedless eye,
He wearies the deaf gods with fruitless Each face was gazing as plainly there As when I passed it by:
Their images, the relics of the wrack, Woe, woe for me, if the past should be
Torn from the naked poop, are tided back Thus present when I die!
By the wild waves, and rudely thrown No need of sulphurons lake,
ashore, No need of fiery coal,
Lie impotent; nor can themselves restore. But only that crowd of human kind
The vessel sticks and shows her open side, Who wanted pity and dole
And on her shatter'd mast the mews in triIn cverlasting retrospect
[store, Will ring my sinful soul !
From thy new hope, and from thy growing
Now lend assistance, and relieve the poor. Alas! I have walk'd through life,
Come, do a noble act of charityToo heedless where I trod;
A pittance of thy land will set him free. Nay, helping to trample my fellow-worm, Let him not bear the badges of a wrack, And fill the burial sod;
Nor beg with a blue table on his back: Forgetting that even the sparrow falls Nor tell me that thy frowning heir will say, Not unmark'd of God.
«Tis mine that wealth thou squander'st thus
away." I drank the richest draughts;
| What is't to thee, if he neglects thy urn, And ate whatever is good
Or without spices lets thy body burn i Fish, and flesh, and fowl, and fruit,
Persius, tr. by John Dryden. Supplied my hungry mood; But I never remember'd the wretched ones 343. CHARITY, Law of. That starve for want of food I
A man once sat with his good wife to eat
A hen, of which she was for him the I dressed as the noble dress,
roaster. In cloth of silver and gold,
A beggar cried, “Some food I do entreat!” With silk and satin, and costly furs,
But drove him off the satiated boaster. In many an ample fold; But I never remember'd the naked liinbs He thought not of the old proverbial verse, That froze with winter's cold.
“The full should call the empty to their table."
[curse, The wounds I might have heal'd l.
Soon through his house came hunger as a The human sorrow and smart !
To get a single hen he was not able.
From direst poverty he left his wife,
But she, in order to preserve her life,
Lady, there's not a harp in heaven In marriage gave herself unto another.
But chants its lay to thee;
To thee the immortal crown is given, Again she with her husband sat to eat
For thou art Charity! À hen, which she for him had been a
346. CHARITY, Trifling A beggar cried, “I some of it entreat!”
The blessings which the poor and weak can “Give him the hen !” said he, too meek
scatter for boasting.
Have their own season. "Tis a little thing As to the beggar with the food she came,
To give a cup of water; yet its draught Behold ! 'twas he to whom she first was
ng Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, married.
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame She turned in tears, with thoughts that have
More exquisite than when nectarian juices po name :
Renew the life of joy in happiest hours. Her spouse in wonder asked why thus she
It is a little thing to speak a phrase tarried.
Of common comfort, which by daily use
Has almost lost its sense; yet on the ear She told him, then, in full and frank reply, Of him who thought to die unmourned,
All since the first beggar away was driven. 'twill fall He cried : “Ah God! that first beggar was I; Like choicest music; fill the glazing eye Praised be the mercies of an all-pitying With gentle tears ; relax the knotted hand Heaven!"
To know the bonds of fellowship again.
Thomas N. Talfourd. “There is a law which orders Fortune's play, And moves the rich and poor upon its 347. CHASTISEMENT, Benefit of. lever ;
I weep, but do not yield; I begged of him who begs of me to-day,
I mourn, yet still rebel; May God have mercy on us both for My inmost soul seems steeled,
· Cold and immovable. Oriental, tr. by W. R. Alger.
The wound is sharp and deep; 344. CHARITY, Public
My spirit bleeds within;
And yet I lie asleep,
And still I sin, I sin.
Of stripes without, within ; Who, all the summer long, stands hat in I feel these piercing painshand,
Yet still I sin, I sin.
Unmoved I passed along,
And still my sin is here.
Yon massive mountain-peak
The lightning rends at will;
The rock can melt or break-
My sky was once noon-bright,
My day was calm the while,
I loved the pleasant light, 345. CHARITY, Superiority of.
The sunshine's happy smile. Virtue distressed to Faith applied
I said, My God, oh, sure For strength her woes to bear;
This love will kindle mine; But Faith was weak, and turned aside
Let but this calm endure, With an half-uttered prayer.
Then all my heart is Thine. Hope o'er the sufferer bent awhile
Alas, I knew it not! With wan and doubtful look,
The summer flung its gold Shed the faint semblance of a smile,
Of sunshine o'er my lot, And her departure took.
And yet my heart was cold. Virtue despaired-but Charity
Trust me with prosperous days, In that dark hour appeared ;
I said; oh, spare the rod; " Rise, sister, rise! Come, dwell with me; Thee and Thy love I'll praise, Lol see my temples reared.”
My gracious, patient God..
Must I be smitten, Lord ?
| Yet Solomon said the wronged shall recure: Are gentler measures vain ?
But Wyatt said true, “The scar doth aye Must I be smitten, Lord ?
Earl of Surrey. Can nothing save but pain ?
849, CHASTISEMENT, Views ofe Thou trustedst me a while; Alas! I was deceived; .
Rabia, sick upon her bed, I revelled in the smile,
By two saints was visited,
Holy Malik, Hassan wise, -
Men of mark in Moslem eyes.
Hassan says, “Whose prayer is pure I knew from whom it came,
Will God's chastisements endure."
Malik from a deeper sense
Uttered his experience:
“He who loves his master's choice And yet I did Thee wrong;
Will in chastisement rejoice."
Rabia saw some selfish will
In their maxims lingering still,
And replied, “O men of grace!
He who sees his Master's face
Will not in his prayer recall
That he is chastised at all." I fretted at the rod,
Oriental. Against Thy power I strove.
350. CHASTITY, Appearance of I said, My God, at length, This stony heart remove;
In thy fair brow there's such a legend writ Deny all other strength,
Of chastity, as blinds the adult'rous eye; But give me strength to love.
Not the mountain ice,
Congealed to crystal, is so frosty chaste Come nearer, nearer still;
As thy victorious soul, which conquers man, Let not Thy light depart;
And man's proud tyrant, passion. Bend, break this stubborn will,
John Dryden. Dissolve this iron heart.
351, CHASTITY, Defense of. Less wayward let me be,
So dear to heaven is saintly chastity,
That when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liv'ried angels lacquey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt.
Milton. Less, less, of self each day, And more, my God, of thee;
352. CHASTITY, Maxim of. O keep me in the way,
While thirst of praise and vain desire of However rough it be.
fame Less of the flesh each day,
In ev'ry age is ev'ry woman's aim;
With courtship pleased, of silly trifles proud, More of Thy Son, I pray,
Fond of a train, and happy in a crowd;
On each proud for bestowing some kind
glance, Riper and riper now,
Each conquest owing to some loose advance; Each hour let me become,
While vain coquettes affect to be pursued, Less fit for scenes below,
And think they're virtuous, if not grossly More fit for such a home.
lewd: More moulded to Thy will,
Let this great maxim be my virtue's guide:
In part she is to blame who has been tried, Lord, let Thy servant be,
He comes too near who comes to be denied. Higher and higher still,
Lady Montagu. Liker and liker thee.
353, OHASTITY, Violation of Leave nought that is unmeet;
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charms can soothe her melancholy ? My training for the throne.
What art can wash her guilt away? Horatius Bonar. 348, CHASTISEMENT, Observation of.
The only art her guilt to cover,
And hide her shame from ev'ry eye, Receive thy scourge by others' chastisement; | And give repentance to her lover, For such calling, when it work none amends, And wring his bosom is—to die. Then plagues are sent without advertisement !
234. CHEERFULNESS Encouraged.
Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look
Through fringèd lids to leaven,
And the pale aster in the brook
Shall see its image given;
The woods shall wear their robes of praise, Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
The south winds softly sigh,
And sweet calm days in golden haze
Melt down the amber sky.
Not less shall manly deed and word
Rebuke an age of wrong:
The graven flowers that wreathe the sword
Make not the blade less strong. What though Death at times steps in, Enough that blessings undeserved And calls our best away?
Have marked my erring track, What though sorrow seems to win,
That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved,
His chastening turned me back;
That more and more a Providence
Of love is understood,
Making the springs of time and sense
Sweet with eternal good;
That death seems but a covered way,
Which opens into light,
Wherein no blinded child can stray
Beyond the Father's sight; 355. CHEERFULNESS, Power of. The stoutest armor of defence is that which That care and trial seem at last, is within the bosom,
Through memory's sunset air, And the weapon that no enemy can parry is
Like mountain ranges overpast a bold and cheerful spirit:
In purple distance fair ; Catapults in old war worked like Titans,
That all the jarring notes of life crushing foes with rocks;
Seem blending in a psalm,
And all the angles of its strife
Slow rounding into calm. 356. CHEERFULNESS, Psalm of.
And so the shadows fall apart,
And so the west winds play:
And all the windows of my heart
I open to this day.
John Greenleaf Whittier.
357. CHILD, Barying a The west winds blow, and singing low
Dear little Amy! when you talk of her,
Say, she is gone to heaven. Wide open to the sun.
2d Child. They planted her
Will she come up next year ? No longer forward, nor behind,
1st Child. No, not so soon; I look in hope and fear :
But some day God will call her to come up, But grateful, take the good I find,
And then she will. Papa knows everything; The best of now, and here.
He said she would before they planted her. I plough no more a desert land
Jean Ingeloro. For harvest, weed and tare;
358. CHILD, Lesson for en The manna dropping from God's hand My fairest child, I have no song to give you; Rebukes my painful care.
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you, I break my pilgrim staff, I lay
For every day.
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be
Do noble things, not dream them, all day The airs of spring may never play
sever Among the ripening corn,
And so make life, death, and that vast forNor freshness of the flowers of May
One grand, sweet song!
359. CHILD, Importance of an
Not there! Where, then, is he? Thy mother's joy, thy father's hope—thou
The form I used to see bright,
[their gladness : | Was but the raiment that he used to wear. Pure dwelling, where two fond hearts keep | The grave, that now doth press Thou little potentate of love, who comest
Upon that cast-off dress, With solemn sweet dominion to the old, Is but his wardrobe locked ;-he is not there! Who see thee in thy inerry fancies charged With the grave embassage of that dear past,
He lives! In all the past When they were young like thee, thou vin- |
He lives; nor, to the last, dication
Of seeing him again will I despair; Of God, thou living witness against all men
In dreams I see him now; Who have been babes, thou everlasting
And, on his angel brow, promise
I see it written, “Thou shalt see me there!"
see Which no man keeps, thou portrait of our
no man keeps, thou portrait of our Yes, we all live to God!
Father, thy chastening rod
That, in the spirit land,
Sydney Dobell. Meeting at Thy right hand, 360. CHILD, My Losto
| 'Twill be our heaven to find that he is there! I cannot make him dead!
John Pierpont. His fair sunshiny head
361. CHILDHOOD, Beauty of. Is ever bounding round my study chair; Beautiful, beautiful childhood! with a joy Yet when my eyes, now dim
That like a robe is palpable, and flung With tears, I turn to him,
Out by your ev'ry motion! delicate bud The vision vanishes,—he is not there ! Of the immortal flower that will unfold I walk my parlor floor,
And come to its maturity in heaven! And, through the open door,
I weep your earthly glory. 'Tis a light I hear a footfall on the chamber stair!
Lent to the new-born spirit, that goes out I'm stepping toward the hall
With the first idle wind. It is the leaf
Fresh flung upon the river, that will dance And then bethink me that he is not there!
Upon the wave that stealeth out its life,
Then sink of its own heaviness. The face
Of the delightful earth will to your eye
Grow dim; the fragrance of the many flowers
Of nature in her gentleness will be Follow him with my eye,
To manhood's senseless ear inaudible. Scarcely believing that—he is not there!
Nathaniel Parker Willis. I know his face is hid
362. OHILDHOOD, Crown of. Under the coffin lid;
The cows are lowing along the lane, Closed are his eyes; cold is his forehead fair;
The sheep to the fold have come, My hand that marble felt;
And the mother looks from the cottage door, O'er it in prayer I knelt;
To see how the night comes over the moor, Yet my heart whispers that-he is not there! || And calls the children home. I cannot make him dead!
Their feet are bare in the dusty road, When passing by the bed, 8o long watched over with parental care,
Their cheeks are tawny and red; My spirit and my eye
They have waded the shallows below the mill, Seek him inquiringly,
They have gathered wild roses up the hill, Before the thought comes that-he is not |
A crown for each tangled head. there!
The days will come, and the days will go, When at the cool gray break
And life hath many & crown, Of day, from sleep I wake,
But none that will press upon manhood's brow With my first breathing of the morning air As light as the roses resting now My soul goes up, with joy,
On the children's foreheads brown. To Him who gave my boy;
363. CHILDHOOD, Eternal. Then comes the sad thought that-he is not
Little children, young and aged, there!
Bear the blessing up! When at the day's calm close,
Pour around the life elixir Before we seek repose,
From your golden cup ! I'm with his mother, offering up our prayer;
Love is the divine restorer Whate'er I may be saying,
Of the souls of men; I am in spirit praying
This the new perpetual Eden For our boy's spirit, though-he is not there !! We must seek again.