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At once he rose and left his gold;
His treasure and his heart
Transferred, where he shall safe behold
Earth and her idols part;

While he beside his endless store

Shall sit, and floods unceasing pour

Of Christ's true riches, o'er all time and space,

Tell me not in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream !"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
LONGFELLOW.

The deepest ice that ever froze
Can only o'er the surface close:
The living stream lies quick below,
And flows, and cannot cease to flow.
BYRON.

"Tis not the fairest form that holds The mildest, purest soul within; 'Tis not the richest plant that folds The sweetest breath of fragrance in. DAWES.

First angel of his Church, first steward of his A man may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

grace.

KEBLE.

Look in, and see Christ's chosen saint
In triumph wear his Christlike chain;
No fear lest he should swerve or faint;
"His life is Christ, his death is gain."
KEBLE.

These, O Lord,

Were all thy scanty followers; by thee

SHAKSPEARE.

All that glitters is not gold,
Gilded tombs do worms enfold.
SHAKSPEARE.

How little do they see what is, who frame Their hasty judgments upon that which seems. SOUTHEY.

Not always actions show the man: we find First called, first rescued from a world of woe, Who does a kindness is not therefore kind;

To spread salvation into distant climes; And tell the meanest habitant of earth

Glad tidings of great joy."

MADAN.

A Cesar's title less my envy moves,
Than to be styled the man whom Jesus loves;
What charms, what beauties in his face did
shine,

Reflected ever from the face divine!

WESLEY.

Who combats bravely is not therefore brave-
He dreads a death-bed, like the meanest slave;
Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise-
His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies.

POPE.

As a beam o'er the face of the water may glow, While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below,

So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile,

Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the

while.

T. MOORE.

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32

ASPIRATIONS - ATHEISM.

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I pant for purer air and fresher springs; O Father, take me home! there is a taint,

A shadow, on earth's purest, brightest things; This world is but a wilderness to me;

"No God! no God!" The simplest flower
That on the wild is found,
Shrinks as it drinks its cup of dew,

And trembles at the sound.
"No God," astonished Echo cries
From out her cavern hoar:
And every wandering bird that flies
Reproves the Atheist lore.
The solemn forest lifts its head
The Almighty to proclaim;
The brooklet on its crystal urn
Doth leap to grave his name;
High swells the deep and vengeful sea
Along its billowy track,

And red Vesuvius opes his mouth
To hurl the falsehood back.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

He travailed sorely, and made many a tack,
His sails oft shifting, to arrive, dread thought!
Arrive at utter nothingness; and have
Being no more-no feeling, memory-
No lingering consciousness that e'er he was;
Guilt's midnight wish! last, most abhorred
thought!

Most desperate effort of extremest sin!

POLLOK.

Who can look on the earth,
And view the varied beauty, and the bloom
That lingers still, with Eden loveliness,
Upon the mountain top and on the plain,

There is no rest, my God! no peace apart And say, "There is no God?"
from thee.

DAVID BATES.

ANONYMOUS.

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