BLESSED is the man whom Thou chastenest, O Lord, and teachest him out of Thy law.-Psalm xciv. 12.
There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus:
The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto Him, Rabbi, we know that Thou art a teacher come from God.-John, iii. 1, 2.
Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another.-Colossians, iii. 16.
THE azure vault, the crystal circles bright,
The gleaming, fiery torches powdered there,
The changing round, the shining, beamy light,
The sad and bearded fires, the monsters fair,
And prodigies appearing in the air;
The rending thunders, and the blust'ring winds,
The birds in hue, and shape, and nature rare;
The pretty notes of winged musicians fine;
Of earth the saucy flowers, the metalled mine,
The wholesome herbs, the healthful, pleasant trees,
The silver streams, the beasts of sundry kinds;
The bounding waves and fishes of the seas:
All these for teaching man the Lord did frame,
To do His will whose glory shines in flame.
King James I.
If man sleeps on, untaught by what he sees,
Can he prove infidel to what he feels? Young.
Father of light and life! Thou good Supreme!
O teach me what is good! Teach me Thyself!
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
From every low pursuit.
Spirit of Light! do Thou impart
Majestic truths, and teach my heart;
Teach me to know how weak I am,
How vain my powers, how poor my frame;
Teach me celestial paths untrod,
The ways of glory and of God.
Lord, grant our hearts be so inclined,
Thy work to seek, Thy will to do;
And while we teach the youthful mind,
Our own be taught Thy lessons too.
Chief of the household Gods
Which hallow Scotland's lowly Scottish homes!
While looking at thy signs
[comes-
Which speak, though dumb, deep thought upon me
With sad yet solemn dreams my heart is stirred,
Like childhood when it hears the carol of a bird!
The mountains old and hoar
The chainless winds-the_streams so pure and free— The God-enamelled flowers
The waving forest-the eternal sea—
The eagle floating o'er the mountain's brow—
Are teachers all; but, oh! they are not such as thou!
And in its place to cherish love unfeigned,
Forgiveness and forgetfulness of wrongs,
No precepts but the perfect law of Christ,
No teacher but the blessed Son of God,
Could e'er instruct mankind.
Here the lamented dead in dust shall lie,
Life's lingering languors o'er, its labours done;
Where waving boughs, between the earth and sky,
Admit the farewell radiance of the sun.
And here the impressive stone, engraved with words
Which grief sententious gives to marble pale,
Shall teach the heart; while waters, leaves, and birds
Make cheerful music in the passing gale.
Your voiceless lips, O flowers, are living preachers,
Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book,
Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers,
Were I, O God, in churchless lands remaining,
Far from the voice of teachers and divines,
My soul would find in flowers of thy ordaining,
Priests, sermons, shrines.
My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?--Psalm xlii. 3.
The Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces.- Isaiah, XXV. 8.
They shail hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat.
For the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.--Revelation, vii. 16, 17.
Nor when the earth revives with genial heat,
To fresh and blooming flowers, the bee applies
With such delight, and bears on loaded thighs
The fragrant treasure to her loaded seat;
Not young and timorous hind with course so fleet,
Escaped to trackless forest from the cries
Of fell pursuit, now unsuspected flies,
Panting to reach the cooling waters sweet,
As I in those hot tears exult, which shower
From my relenting eyes, when up to God,
With love or kindling zeal my heart ascends.
"How great," in transport thus my soul I pour,
"Must be their glory in the blest abode,
Whose joy the pleasure of my grief transcends!"
From the Italian of Gabriel Fiamma.
No sigh, no murmur the wide world shall hear;
From every face He wipes off every tear.
To hurry at thy mandate, matchless King!
The orbs of night have cars of sapphire dyes;
To reach Thee th' eagle hath at least his wing,
And nought have we except our sighs!
May thy saints' voice ascend and calm thy wrath,
Terrestrial incense is the just man's prayer;
But pass we sinners, nought the sinner hath,
Unto thy shrine, but tears to bear. Lamartine.
Raise it to Heaven when thine eye fills with tears,
For only in a watery sky appears
The bow of light; and from th' invisible skies Hope's glory shines not, save through weeping_eyes. Frances Ann Kemble.
Thou hast wept mournfully, O, human love!
E'en on this greensward; night hath heard thy cry,
Heart-stricken one! thy precious dust above,
Night, and the hills, which sent forth no reply
Unto thine agony!
But He who wept like thee, thy Lord, thy guide,
Christ, hath arisen, O love! thy tears shall all be dried.
Mrs. Hemans.
Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not
More grief than ye can weep for. That is well-
That is light grieving! lighter none befel,
Since Adam forfeited the primal lot.
Tears! what are tears? The babe weeps in its cot,
The mother singing: at her marriage bell
The bride weeps: and before the oracle
Of high-faned hills, the poet hath forgot
That moisture on his cheeks. Commend the grace,
Mourners who weep! Albeit, as some have done,
Ye grope, tear-blinded, in a desert place,
And touch but tombs,-look up! Those tears will run, Soon, in long rivers, down the lifted face,
And leave the vision clear, for stars and sun.
Miss Barrett.
O, turn, and be thou turned! The selfish tear,
In bitter thoughts of low-born care begun,
Let it flow on, but flow refined and clear,
The turbid waters brightening as they run.
Let it flow on, till all thine earthly heart
In penitential drops have ebbed away;
Then fearless, turn where Heaven hath set thy part,
Nor shudder at the eye that saw thee stray.
O, lost and found! All gentle souls below
Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and prove Such joy o'er thee as raptured seraphs know,
Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love.
What sadder scene can angels view
Than self-deceiving tears,
Poured idly over some dark page
Of earlier life, though pride or rage
A record of to-day engage,
For Spring, and flowers of Spring,
Blossoms and what they bring,
Be our thanks given;
Thanks for the maiden's bloom,
For the sad prison's gloom;
And for the sadder tomb,
E'en as for heaven!
Great God thy will be done,
When the soul's rivers run
Down the worn cheeks,
Done when the righteous bleed,
When the wrong'd vainly plead,
Done in the mended deed,
When the heart breaks.
Lo! how the dutiful
Snows clothe in beautiful
Life, the dead earth!
Lo! how the clouds distil
Riches o'er vale and hill,
While the storm's evil will
Dies in its birth!
Bless'd is the unpeopled down,
Bless'd is the crowded town,
Where the tir'd
Gems on Thy throne.
And tears once filled His eye
Beside a mortal's grave,
Who left His throne on high
The lost to seek and save.
And fresh, from age to age,
Their memory shall be kept,
While man shall bless the page
Which tells that Jesus wept!
Alas! who hath not tears on earth,
Perchance though often wept unseen?
On every soil they have their birth,
In hearts where blithest smiles have been.
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