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WE live not in our moments or our years —
The Present we fling from us like the rind
Of some sweet Future, which we after find Bitter to taste, or bind that in with fears, And water it beforehand with our tears
Vain tears for that which never may arrive: Meanwhile, the joy whereby we ought to live, Neglected or unheeded, disappears. Wiser it were to welcome and make ours Whate'er of good, though small, the present
brings; Kind greetings, sunshine, song of birds, and
1 “ Though sometimes small evils, like invisible insects, inflict great pain, yet the chief secret of comfort lies in not suffering trifles to vex one, and in prudently cultivating an under-growth of small pleasures.” — Sharp's Letters and Essays.
“ Thrice happy is he who acquires the habit of looking every where for excellences and not for faults — whether in art or in nature - whether in a picture, a poem, or a character. Like the bee in its flight, he extracts the sweet and not the bitter wherever he goes; till his mind becomes a dwellingplace for all that is beautiful, receiving, as it were by instinct, what is congenial to itself, and rejecting every thing else almost as unconsciously as if it was not there.” -- Rogers.
HYMN BEFORE SUNRISE IN THE VALE OF
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star
Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise
Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale! O struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink : Companion of the morning-star at dawn,
Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn
And you, ye five wild torrents? fiercely glad !
Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopp'd at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! Silent cataracts ! Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven Beneath the keen, full moon ?
Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living
flowers Of loveliest blue?, spread garlands at your feet ! God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God; God! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice! Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds ! And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God !
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest !
i Besides the rivers Arve and Arveiron, which have their sources at the foot of Mont Blanc, five conspicuous torrents rush down its sides.
3 Within a few paces of the glaciers, the gentian grows in immeuse numbers.
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storm!
Thou too, hoar mount, with thy sky-pointing peaks,
THE REIGN OF CHRIST.
Yes, Salem, thou shalt rise : thy Father's aid
| Psalm ii. 3. and cvii. 16.
E'en now, perhaps, wide waving o'er the land,
And who is he? the vast, the awful form 3,
Lo! cherub hands the golden courts prepare, Lo! thrones are set, and every saint is there 4 ; Earth's utmost bounds confess their awful sway, The mountains worship, and the isles obey; Nor sun, nor moon they need,- nor day, nor night;God is their temple, and the Lamb their lights; And shall not Israel's sons exulting come, Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home? On David's throne shall David's offspring reign, And the dry bones be warm with life again.“ Hark! white-robd crowds their deep hosannas raise, And the hoarse flood repeats the sound of praise; Ten thousand harps attune their mystic song, Ten thousand thousand saints the strain prolong; “ Worthy the Lamb! omnipotent to save, Who died, who lives, triumphant o'er the grave!”
1 Rev. xxi. 10.