Object of my implacable disgust. What! will a man play tricks, will he indulge Who handles things divine; and all besides, Though learn'd with labour, and though much admired By curious eyes and judgments ill-inform'd, My sweet wee nursling! thou art sweet to me My morning star, my crown of gladness now! Mrs Richardson. I hear in the chamber above me And voices soft and sweet From my study I see in the lamplight, A whisper and then a silence; Yet I know by their merry eyes A sudden rush from the stairway, They climb up into my turret, O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me: They seem to be everywhere. They almost devour me with kisses, Their arms about me intwine, Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine. Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti, I have you fast in my fortress, In the round tower of my heart. And there will I keep you for ever, Yes, for ever and a day, Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, And moulder in dust away. H. W. Longfellow. 82. AFFECTION. Sacrifices of Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead, I am thine- me! As brighter ladies do not count it strange, For love, to give up acres and degree, I yield the grave for thy sake, and exchange My near, sweet view of Heaven, for earth with thee! Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 83. AFFECTION. Sudden THE first time that the sun rose on thine oath To love me, I look'd forward to the moon To slacken all those bonds which seem'd too soon And quickly tied to make a lasting troth. I did not wrong myself so, but I placed 'Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced, — And great souls, at one stroke, may do and dote. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 84. AFFECTION. Tenacious IN my boy's loud laughter ringing, Of my baby-girl that nestles up into this mortal breast, And every voice most dear Comes a whisper-Rest not here.' And the rest Thou art preparing, is it best, Lord, is it best? 'Lord, a little, little longer!' Sobs the earth-love, growing stronger: He will miss me, and go mourning through his solitary days. And heaven were scarcely heaven If these lambs which Thou hast given Were to slip out of our keeping and be lost in the world's ways. Lord, it is not fear of dying Nor an impious denying Of Thy will, which for evermore on earth, in heaven, be done: But the love that desperate clings Unto these my precious things In the beauty of the daylight, and the glory of the sun. Ah, Thou still art calling, calling, With a soft voice unappalling; And it vibrates in far circles through the everlasting years; When Thou knockest, even so! I will arise and go.-D. M. Muloch Craik. 85. AFFECTIONS. Strong WHAT war so cruel, or what siege so sore, 86. AFFLICTION. Comfort in Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe; 'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall find For such man's love!-more like an out of tune And looking on myself, I seem'd not one Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth Comfort and joy!' Though flesh and blood rebel 'Gainst heavenward thoughts, and the vex'd spirit swell To spoil his song with, and which, snatch'd in haste, With anxious tossings, still, the veil behind Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note. Of earth-born mists, the faith-directed mind Sees throned in cloudless light the Invisible, A gleam shall cheer thee, till, safe-harbour'd there, Thou feel how faintly earth's severest ill May with the weight of heavenly joys compare! Mant. 87. AFFLICTION. Compensation for DEEM not that they are blest alone The lids that overflow with tears, Are promises of happier years. Oh, there are days of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night, And Grief may bide an evening guest, But Joy shall come with early light. And thou, who, o'er thy friend's low bier, Nor let the good man's trust depart, Though life its common gifts deny; Though with a pierced and bleeding heart, And spurn'd of men, he goes to die. For God hath mark'd each sorrowing day, And number'd every secret tear, And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay For all His children suffer here.—Bryant. Now let us thank th' Eternal Power; convinced That Heaven but tries our virtue by affliction : That oft the cloud which wraps the present hour, Serves but to brighten all our future days. Brown. 88. AFFLICTION: develops excellencies. WITHIN this leaf, to every eye Wouldst thou its secret strength unbind? In this dull stone, so poor, and bare But first must skilful hands essay This leaf? this stone? It is thy heart : Affliction is the wholesome soil of virtue; 89. AFFLICTION. Enduring PAIN'S furnace-heat within me quivers— He comes and lays my heart, all heated, With His great hammer, blow on blow; He takes my soften'd heart and beats it- And lets it cool, and makes it glow; Why should I murmur? for the sorrow He kindles for my profit purely Affliction's glowing, fiery brand; So I say, praying, 'As God will!' 90. AFFLICTION. Eucharist of ABOVE the seas of gold and glass The Christ, transfigured, stands to-day; Below, in troubled currents, pass The tidal fates of man away. Yet mindful from His banquet sends And shares a morsel with His friends, Who, wondering, wait without the shrine. Julia Ward Howe. 91. AFFLICTION. Furnace of HE that from dross would win the precious ore, Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by, Thus in God's furnace are His children tried; Who from the crucible come forth so pure, That He, whose eyes of flame look through the whole, May see His image perfect in the soul? Not with an evanescent glimpse alone, As in that mirror the refiner's face, But, stampt with heaven's broad signet, there be shown Immanuel's features, full of truth and grace,And round that seal of love this motto be, 'Not for a moment, but eternity!' James Montgomery. 92. AFFLICTION: God's messenger. No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow, Of mortal tumult to obliterate Thy soul's marmoreal calmness. Grief should be Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate, Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free, According to the force with which 'twas thrown, Afflictions may press me, they cannot destroy, 94. AFFLICTION : its results. THE more the cross, the nearer heaven ;— Where is no cross there God is not; The world's turmoil doth hide His face, The more the cross, the better Christian ;- The more the cross, the more believing ;— The more the cross, the more the praying ;- In quiet seas and steady calms; And how should we have David's psalms Had he not had a troubled soul? The more the cross, the more the longing ;— Out of the vale man upward goes ; |