THE PASSIONS-PASTORS. Thou must chain thy passions down; Strong passions, like to storms, Soon rage themselves to rest, Or leave a desolated calm, A worn and wasted breast. BAILEY. The blossoms of passion, Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller of fragrance, 233 He bore his great commission in his look; But sweetly tempered awe, and softened all he spoke. He preached the joys of heaven and pains of hell, And warned the sinner with becoming zeal, DRYDEN. Not of reproach imperious or malign, Him would he sharply with reproof astound. The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheered, Nor to rebuke the rich offender feared. But they beguile us and lead us astray, and His preaching much, but more his practice 234 But in his duty prompt at every call, PASTORS. He that negotiates between God and man, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt As God's ambassador, the great concerns Than moonlight dews, or morning's rosy beam; For what shall heal, when holy water banes? Sweeter the voice than spell, or hymning sphere, Or who may guide O'er desert plains, Thy loved yet sinful people wandering wide, KEBLE. And listening angels hush their harps to hear. C. H. JOHNSON. How beautiful it is for man to die PATIENCE. Patience! why, 'tis the soul of peace; Of all the virtues, 'tis the nearest kin to heaven: It makes men look like gods. The best of men That e'er wore earth about him, was a sufferer, A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit. DEKKER. Wisdom, the antidote of sad despair, Not as they seeming are, but as they end. Give me care, By thankful patience, to prevent despair. QUARLES. Christians by patience win a better crown Than all the bloody conquerors' renown. BAXTER. Like some well-fashioned arch thy patience stood, All my life I still have found, and I will forget it never, Every sorrow hath its bound, and no cross endures forever. After all the winter's snows, comes sweet summer back again; Patient souls ne'er wait in vain, joy is given for all their woes. All things else have but their day, From the German of GERHARDT. And purchased strength from each increasing On thee, O my God, I rest, letting life float load. He is one to whom GOLDSMITH. Long patience hath such mild composure given, calmly on, For I know the last is best when the crown of joy is won. In thy might all things I bear, in thy love find bitters sweet, That patience now doth seem a thing of which And with all my grief and care sit in patience And though at times impetuous with emotion O Peace! thou source and soul of social life: The swelling heart heaves, moaning like the Science his views enlarges, art refines, And swelling commerce opens all her ports; Blest be the Man divine who gives us thee! |