What racks can bind? or what research unveil
The soul, with flesh encompassed as a mail
Of proof, impervious, save to God alone,
Defies her labours, and resumes her own.
Whether she break communion with the tongue
And bid it mock you with the lie you wrung,
Or scorning such degenerate use of breath,
Escape with truth, and leave you dust and death.
Nicholas Thorning Moile.
Think'st thou to be concealed, thou little thought,
That in the curtained chamber of the soul
Dost wrap thyself so close, and dream to do
A secret work? Look to the hues that roll
O'er the changed brow-the moving lips behold—
Linking thee unto speech-the feet that run
Upon thy errands, and the deeds that stamp
Thy lineage plain before the noon-day sun;
Look to the pen that writes thy history down
In those tremendous books that ne'er unclose
Until the day of doom, and blush to see
How vain thy trust in darkness to repose, Where all things tend to judgment, So beware, O, erring human heart! what thought thou lodgest Mrs. Sigourney.
Methought I heard a reverend old man speak; Grey were his locks, his eyes were calmly bright, The rosiness of youth was on his check,
And, as he spoke, a heaven of truth and light
Open'd itself upon my inner sight;
While, banish'd by his accents soft and meek,
Dissolve itself in holy harmony.
Then to the old man, doubtfully, I said,
"Yet in the world these evils are not dead!"
But, confidently, thus he gave reply—
"As in my thoughts, so in the world they lie,"And with these words he rais'd his drooping head. J. Gostick.
Free from guile, and free from sin,
May the thoughts my breast within,
Gracious God, Thy favour win!
BLESSED is the man that feareth the Lord.
He shall not be afraid of evil tidings: his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord.--Psalm cxii. 1, 7.
And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night,
And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.--Luke, ii. 8, 10.
THE tidings which that infant brings,
Are not for conquerors, or for kings:
Not for the sceptre or the brand,
For crowned head, or red right hand.
But to the contrite and the meek,
The sinful, sorrowful, and weak:
Or those who, with a hope sublime,
Are waiting for the Lord's good time.
Only for those the angels sing,
"All glory to our new-born King,
And peace and good-will unto men,
Hosanna to our God! Amen!" Miss Landon.
Sent from the ark, the dove, with timid flight,
Strove through the storms, yet found not where to light;
Pursued by winds o'er restless ocean's roar,
Back to the flood-tossed crew no leaf she bore;
So through the past man's tempest-driven mind,
Sent fancy forth some resting-place to find;
O'er bush, tree, hill, she winged her trackless way,
Nor foothold found her weary flight to stay;
Back o'er the sea on terror-haunted air,
She flew, to tell the tidings of despair;
Again she flies for fairer forms to seek,
And lo! the olive borne upon her beak!
Hear her glad news,-she rested on the tomb,
Saw the dawn break, and flit the ancient gloom!
Through night she swept, and heard the gentle fall
Of angel footsteps in its silent hall;
Upborne from earth, in strong and joyous flight,
Fearless she sought the empyrean height,
Gazed on the source whence pours the living ray,
On earth's time-shadows, God's eternal day.
O LORD, Thou art my God: my times are in Thy hand.--Psalm xxxi. 14, 15.
It is time to seek the Lord.--Hosea, x. 12.
It shall come to pass that at evening time it shall be light.--Zechariah, xiv. 7.
But this I say, brethren, the time is short.--I. Corinthians, vii. 29. Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.--II. Corinthians, vi. 2.
And the angel which I saw stand upon the sea and upon the earth, lifted up his hand to heaven,
And sware by him that liveth for ever and ever, that there should be time no longer.--Revelation, x. 5, 6.
LIKE as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before,
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
Nativity once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
And time that gave, doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth, And delves the parallels in beauty's brow;
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
Misshapen time, copesmate of ugly night;
Swift subtle post, carrier of grisly care;
Eater of youth, false slave to false delight,
Base watch of woes, sin's pack-horse, virtue's snare:
Thou nursest all, and murderest all that are.
Time's glory is to calm contending kings,
To unmask falsehood, and bring truth to light;
To stamp the seal of time on aged things,
To wake the morn, and sentinel the night,
To wrong the wronger, till he render right.
Time is so swift that none can match his course,Time is so strong that none can match his force: Like to a thiefe Time stealingly doth haste;
No man can call Time backe when Time is past.
Time is as swift as thought-the swift'st-wing'd swallow
Cannot endure the flight of Time to follow:
Time is of the Ubiquitaries' race,—
Time's here, Time's there, Time is in every place;
Time is divided in a three-fold sum,
Time past, Time present, and the Time to come.
A present Time I presently intreat,
For therein lies the sum of my conceit,
For Time (once past) can never be recall'd,
And therefore Time is figured to be bald.
Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace,
And glut thyself with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more than what is false and vain,
And merely mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is our gain.
For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd,
And last of all thy greedy self consum'd,
Then long eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And joy shall overtake us as a flood,
And perfectly divine,
With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine,
About the supreme throne
Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone,
When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb,
Then all this earthly grossness quit,
Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever sit
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O
Throw empires, and be blameless. Moments seize Heavens on their wing: a moment we may wish,
When worlds want wealth to buy.
O Time! than gold more sacred; more a load
Than lead to fools, and fools reputed wise.
What moment granted man without account?
What years are squandered, wisdom's debt unpaid!
Our wealth in days all due to that discharge.
Time as he passes us, has a dove's wing,
Unsoil'd and swift, and of a silken sound;
But the World's Time, is Time in masquerade!
Their's, should I paint him, has his pinions fledged,
With motley plumes; and where the peacock shews
His azure eyes, is tinctured black and red
With spots quadrangular of diamond form,
Ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife,
And spades, the emblems of untimely graves.
"Why sits thou by that ruin'd hall,
Thou aged carle so stern and grey?
Dost thou its former pride recall,
Or ponder how it pass'd away?"
"Know'st thou not me?" the deep voice cried, So long enjoyed, so oft misused
Alternate, in thy fickle pride,
Desired, neglected, and accused?
Before my breath, like smoking flax,
Man and his marvels pass away,
And changing empires wane and wax,
Are founded, flourish, and decay.
Redeem mine hours-the space is brief
While in my glass the sand-grains shiver,
And measureless thy joy or grief,
When time and thou shalt part for ever!"
Time speeds away-away-away:
Another hour-another day-
Another month-another year-
Drop from us like the leaflets sear;
Drop like the life-blood from our hearts;
The rose-bloom from the cheek departs,
The tresses from the temples fall,
The eye grows dim and strange to all.
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