That there is purpose in our every pain;
That we are not a sport and mockery,
Whereon an evil host their skill may try
For base experiment; but children dear
Of a wise God, whose very frowns are gain.
"Who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died." Fomans, viii. 24.
PERCHANCE I whisper to my happy soul,
Thought of past sin should burthens on thee lay, And send thee weeping on a dreary way,
And self-abased." . . But then, beyond control
Of such mistrust, new pleasures still unroll
Their calm sweet glories to the visual ray
Of inward faith; and heavenly voices say
Unto my spirit," Joy is the great pole
Of thy existence. Not as mortals do
The Saviour doth: He raiseth from the ground
The crushed one, and restores from every wound
The self-respect of man. No friend untrue
Is He, with past offence to make thee sad.
Smiles He?
Thou canst not choose but to be glad."
"The poor shall never cease out of the land." Deuteronomy. xv. 11.
HAD all a joy within, what outward ill
Could touch? This, this alone, the cure
Of all the pangs that mortals must endure;
Not in the dreams of bliss impossible
To our condition. 'Tis the evil Will
That forms an inward hideous portraiture
Of God. And while our darkened breasts immure
This falsehood, all the riches, that could fill
The world with blessings equal as the day,
Were vain to clear one discontented brow,
Or dignify one sorrow.
Give away
Thy very cloak - 'tis well! but think not thou
Aught less than Christ acknowledged can absorb
The wants, the tears, of this distracted orb.
"God gave Solomon largeness of heart." 1 Kings. iv. 29.
LARGENESS of heart! Inestimable gift!
Sure all that trust in Christ Creation's Morn-
Must unto thee expand and be reborn,
However stinted by their nature's thrift.
For God's great Spirit doth exalt, and lift
The soul out of itself; far from forlorn
And personal narrowness, and all weak scorn
Of any who along life's current drift.
Thus much is sure. He, who conceived the thought,
-ay, even worms to die, That all Creation might be raised and brought Out of its own inherent frailty,
Dwells not in bosoms that would Heaven repress
Unto their own exclusive narrowness.
"What God hath cleansed, that call not thou common." Acts, x. 15.
BEHOLD men's judgments! Common and unclean
We call whatever with our pride doth jar,
Though from one God and Father all things are.
Behold men's judgments! The deep truth unseen,
Rash we decide what mere externals mean.
Know'st thou, while thy proud eye is closed afar,
In what mean worm God may illume a star?
Know'st thou where His great Spirit dwells serene?
Thou dost not. What thy pride may worthless deem,
Ay, tainted with pollution, may become,
Raised from the dust, the fairest, loveliest home
Where radiant Deity can shrine its beam;
May be redeemed from Nature's common blot,
Ay, though perhaps thy very self be not!
"His hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against him."
Genesis, xvi. 12.
OH, woe for those, and pity more than woe,
Who in the gulf of men's opinion sink!
Every man's hand against them, as they think,
What marvel their own hand, nor slack nor slow,
Should against every man remorseless go?
Oh, could one snatch them from the dreary brink
Of the true hell - to feel themselves no link
In God's great scheme - that were a joy to know.
Ye who can find no shelter, homeless poor!
Ye wicked, who were never taught to pray!
Ay, even ye who from the better way
Turn wilful (therefore to be pitied more)!
Sure ye are men, for you still Christ did die,
And Hope were your divinest remedy !
"But thou saidst, There is no hope." Jeremiah, ii. 25.
WITHOUT a hope is no activity,
No motive that exalts to bettering,
No life. There is no other breeze to fling
One ripple over Being's stagnant sea!
If life be precious, then should hope too be!
And if to make a soul with conscious wing
Of thought and will, a heart where love may cling
Be Heaven's first work, then Man's first villainy
Must be to murder hope! Yet 'tis a crime
Acted in awful silence every day
When we from sin or sorrow turn away,
Or tell our bosoms 'tis no longer time
For penitence. Yet hear this truth, o'erawed,
say there is no hope, expunges God!
"The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God." St. James's Epistle, i. 20.
MAN, though thou makest this world dark and rude,
By blotting out sweet hope, life's vital part,
Thou canst not reach the river's bounteous heart,
That pulses in the mountain solitude!
With life, hope, love, Heaven is not less imbued
Because thou play'st the churl with niggard art,
Hiding th' Almighty! He to view will start
When least thou deem'st His mercy will intrude.
No measure art thou of th' Eternal Mind!
Yet sad it is we should let any die
Despairing, or blaspheming !—Oh, be kind
As Christ! His new law bars that any lie
Death-doomed. Didst thou observe His generous rulc,
Then were each prison-house a noble school'
"And he taught daily in the temple." St. Luke, xix. 47.
THOUGH the free circuit of the silent air
Oft saw the worship of the Son of God,
Some rock His pulpit; yet His steps, too, trod
The temple's pavement. Daily His repair
Was to the shrine where dwelt God's honour fair,
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