OH! what is man, great Maker of mankind !
That Thou to him so great respect dost bear -
That Thou adorn'st him with so bright a mind,
Mak'st him a king, and even an angel's peer?
Oh what a lively life, what heavenly power,
What spreading virtue, what a sparkling fire!
How great, how plentiful, how rich a dower
Dost Thou within this dying flesh inspire!
Thon leav'st Thy print in other works of Thine,
But Thy whole image Thou in man hast writ;.
There cannot be a creature more divine,
Except, like Thee, it should be infinite.
But it exceeds man's thought, to think how high
God hath raised man, since God a man became ;
The angels do admire this mystery,
And are astonished when they view the same.
Nor hath he given these blessings for a day,
Nor made them on the body's life depend:
The soul, though made in time, survives for aye,
And though it hath beginning, sees no end.
Darkness is Thinning.
DARKNESS is thinning; shadows are retreating:
Morning and light are coming in their beauty.
Suppliant seek we, with an earnest outcry,
God the Almighty!
So that our Master, having mercy on us,
May repel languor, may bestow salvation,
Granting us, Father, of Thy loving kindness
Glory hereafter!
This of His mercy, ever blessed Godhead,
Father, and Son, and Holy Spirit, give us-
Whom through the wide world celebrate for ever
Blessing and glory!
ST. GREGORY THE GREAT. (Latin.)
Translation of JOHN MASON NEALE.
Walk with thy fellow-creatures; note the hush
And whispers amongst them. There's not a spring
Or leafe but hath his morning hymn. Each bush
And oak doth know I AM. Canst thou not
O leave thy cares and follies! go this way,
And thou art sure to prosper all the day.
Serve God before the world; let Him not go,
Until thou hast a blessing; then resigne
The whole unto Him; and remember who
Prevail'd by wrestling ere the sun did shine.
Poure oyle upon the stones; weep for thy sin;
Then journey on, and have an eie to heav'n.
Mornings are mysteries: the first world's youth,
Man's resurrection, and the future's bud
Shroud in their births; the crown of life, light,
truth
Is stil'd their starre, the stone, and hidden food.
Three blessings wait upon them, two of which
Should move: they make us holy, happy, rich.
WHEN first thy eies unveil, give thy soul leave
To do the like; our bodies but forerun
The spirit's duty. True hearts spread and heave
Unto their God, as flow'rs do to the sun.
Give Him thy first thoughts then; so shalt thou keep Dispatch necessities; life hath a load
Him company all day, and in Him sleep.
When the world's up, and ev'ry swarm abroad,
Keep thou thy temper; mix not with each clay;
Yet never sleep the sun up. Prayer shou'd
Dawn with the day. There are set, awful hours
"Twixt heaven and us. The manna was not good
After sun-rising; far-day sullies flowres.
Rise to prevent the sun; sleep doth sins glut,
And heaven's gate opens when this world's is shut.
Which must be carri'd on, and safely may.
Yet keep those cares without thee, let the heart
Be God's alone, and choose the better part.
Through all thy actions, counsels, and discourse,
Let mildness and religion guide thee out;
If truth be thine, what needs a brutish force?
But what's not good and just ne'er go about.
Wrong not thy conscience for a rotten stick;
That gain is dreadful which makes spirits sick.
To God, thy countrie, and thy friend be true;
If priest and people change, keep thou thy ground.
Who sels religion is a Judas Jew;
And, oathes once broke, the soul cannot be sound.
The perjury's a devil let loose: what can
Tie up his hands, that dares mock God and man?
Yet fly no friend, if he be such indeed;
But meet to quench his longings and thy thirst;
Allow your joyes religion; that done, speed,
And bring the same man back thou wert at first.
Whoso returns not, cannot pray aright,
But shuts his door, and leaves God out all night.
To heighten thy devotions, and keep low
All mutinous thoughts, what business e'er thou
hast,
Seek not the same steps with the crowd; stick Observe God in His works; here fountains flow, thou
To thy sure trot; a constant, humble mind
Is both his own joy, and his Maker's too;
Let folly dust it on, or lag behind.
A sweet self-privacy in a right soul
Out-runs the earth, and lines the utmost pole.
To all that seek thee bear an open heart;
Make not thy breast a labyrinth or trap;
If tryals come, this wil make good thy part,
For honesty is safe, come what can hap;
It is the good man's feast, the prince of flowres
Which thrives in storms, and smels best after
showres.
Seal not thy eyes up from the poor; but give
Proportion to their merits, and thy purse:
Thou may'st in rags a mighty prince relieve,
Who when thy sins call for 't, can fence à curse.
Thou shalt not lose one mite. Though waters
stray,
The bread we cast returns in fraughts one day.
Spend not an hour so as to weep another,
For tears are not thine own; if thou giv'st words,
Dash not with them thy friend, nor heav'n; O
A viperous thought; some syllables are swords.
Unbitted tongues are in their penance double;
They shame their owners, and their hearers trouble.
Injure not modest bloud, while spirits rise
In judgement against lewdness; that's base wit,
That voyds but filth and stench. Hast thou no
prize
But sickness or infection? stifle it.
Who so makes his jest of sins, must be at least,
If not a very devill, worse than beast.
Birds sing, beasts feed, fish leap, and th' earth
Above are restles motions, running lights,
Vast circling azure, giddy clouds, days, nights.
When seasons change, then lay before thine eys
His wondrous method; mark the various scenes
In heav'n; hail, thunder, rainbows, snow, and
ice,
Calmes, tempests, light, and darknes by His means.
Thou canst not misse His praise: each tree, herb,
flowre,
Are shadows of His wisedome and His pow'r.
To meales when thou doest come, give Him the
praise
Whose arm supply'd thee; take what may suffice.
And then be thankful; O admire His ways
Who fils the world's unempty'd granaries!
A thankless feeder is a theif, his feast
A very robbery, and himself no guest.
High-noon thus past, thy time decays: provide
Thee other thoughts; away with friends and
mirth;
The sun now stoops, and hastes his beams to hide
Under the dark and melancholy earth.
All but preludes thy end. Thou art the man
Whose rise, height, and descent is but a span.
Yet, set as he doth, and 'tis well. Have all
Thy beams home with thee; trim thy lamp, buy
oyl,
And then set forth, who is thus drest, the fall
Furthers his glory, and gives death the foyl.
Man is a summer's day; whose youth and fire
Cool to a glorious evening, and expire.
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