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OF ANTICIPATION.

Thou hast seen many sorrows, travel-stained pilgrim of the world, But that which hath vexed thee most, hath been the looking for

evil; And though calamities have crossed thee, and misery been heaped

on thy head, Yet ills that never happened have chiefly made thee wretched. The sting of pain and the edge of pleasure are blunted by long ex

pectation, For the gall and the balm alike are diluted in the waters of pa

tience; And often thou sippest sweetness, ere the cup is dashed from thy

lip; Or drainest the gall of fear, while evil is passing by thy dwelling. A man too careful of danger liveth in continual torment, But a cheerful expecter of the best hath a fountain of joy within

him: Yea, though the breath of disappointment should chill the sanguine

heart, Speedily gloweth it again, warmed by the live embers of hope; Though the black and heavy surge close above the head for a mo

ment, Yet the happy buoyancy of Confidence riseth superior to Despair. Verily, evils may be courted, may be wooed and won by distrust; For the wise Physician of our weal loveth not an unbelieving spirit; And to those giveth he good, who rely on his hand for good; And those leaveth he to evil, who fear, but trust him not. Ask for good, and hope it; for the ocean of good is fathomless; Ask for good, and have it; for thy Friend would see thee happy; But to the timid heart, to the child of unbelief and dread, That leaneth on his own weak staff, and trusteth the sight of his

eyes,

The evil he feared shall come, for the soil is ready for the seed,
And suspicion hath coldly put aside the hand that was ready to

help him.

Therefore look up, sad spirit; be strong, thou coward heart,
Or fear will make thee wretched, though evil follow not behind;
Cease to anticipate misfortune, - there are still many chances of

escape; But if it come, be courageous; face it, and conquer thy calamity. There is not an enemy so stout as to storm and take the fortress of

the mind, Unless its infirmity turn traitor, and fear unbar the gates. The valiant standeth as a rock, and the billows break upon him; The timorous is a skiff unmoored, tost and mocked at by a ripple; The valiant holdeth fast to good, till evil wrench it from him ; The timorous casteth it aside, to meet the worst half way : Yet oftentimes is evil but a braggart, that provoketh and will not

fight; Or the feint of a subtle fencer, who measureth his thrust elsewhere; Or perchat a blessing in a masque, sent to try thy trust, The precious smiting of a friend, whose frowns are all in love; Often the storm threateneth, but is driven to other climes, And the weak hath quailed in fear, while the firm hath been glad in

his confidence.

OF HIDDEN USES.

THE sea-wort (3) floating on the waves, or rolled up high along the

shore, Ye counted useless and vile, heaping on it names of contempt; Yet hath it gloriously triumphed, and man been humbled in his

ignorance, For health is in the freshness of its savor, and it cumbereth the

beech with wealth; Comforting the tossings of pain with its violet-tinctured essence, And by its humbler ashes enriching many proud. Be this, then, a lesson to thy soul, that thou reckon nothing worth

less, Before thou heedest not its use, nor knowest the virtues thereof.

And herein, as thou walkest by the sea, shall weeds be a type and

an earnest Of the stored and uncounted riches lying hid in all creatures of

God: There be flowers making glad the desert, and roots fattening the

soil,

And jewels in the secret deep, scattered among groves of coral,
And comforts to crown all wishes, and aids unto every need,
Influences yet unthought, and virtues, and many inventions,
And uses above and around, which man hath not yet regarded.
Not long to charm away disease, hath the crocus (4) yielded up its

bulb, Nor the willow lent its bark, nor the nightshade its vanquished

poison; Not long hath the twisted leaf, the fragrant gift of China, Nor that nutritious root, the boon of far Peru, Nor the many-colored dahlia, nor the gorgeous, flaunting cactus, Nor the multitude of fruits and flowers ministered to life and

luxury; Even so, there be virtues yet unknown in the wasted foliage of the

elm, In the sun-dried harebell of the downs, and the hyacinth drinking

in the meadow, In the sycamore's winged fruit, and the facet-cut cones of the cedar; And the pansy and bright geranium live not alone for beauty, Nor the waxen flower of the arbute, though it dieth in a day, Nor the sculptured crest of the fir, unseen but by the stars ; And the meanest weed of the garden serveth unto many uses, The salt tamarisk, and juicy flag, the freckled orchis, and the daisy. The world may laugh at famine when forest-trees yield bread, When acorns give out fragrant drink, (5) and the sap of the linden

is as fatness; For every green herb, from the lotus to the darnel, Is rich with delicate aids to help incurious man.

Still, Mind is up and stirring, and pryeth in the corners of con

trivance, Often from the dark recesses picking out bright seeds of truth: Knowledge hath clipped the lightning's wings, and mewed it up for

a purpose, Training to some domestic task the fiery bird of heaven;

Tamed is the spirit of the storm, to slave in all peaceful arts,
To walk with husbandry and science; to stand in the vanguard

against death : And the chemist balanceth his elements with more than magic

skill, Commanding stones that they be bread, and draining sweetness out

of wormwood. Yet man, heedless of a God, counteth up vain reckonings, Fearing to be jostled and starved out, by the too prolific increase of

his kind; And asketh, in unbelieving dread, for how few years to come Will the black cellars of the world yield unto him fuel for his

winter. Might not the wide, waste sea be pent within narrower bounds ? Might not the arm of diligence make the tangled wilderness a

garden? And for aught thou canst tell, there may be a thousand methods Of comforting thy limbs in warmth, though thou kindle not a spark. Fear not, son of man, for thyself nor thy seed :— with a multitude

is plenty; God's blessing giveth increase, and with it larger than enough.

Search out the wisdom of Nature; there is depth in all her doings; She seemeth prodigal of power, yet her rules are the maxims of

frugality: The plant refresheth the air, and the earth filtereth the water, And dews are sucked into the cloud, dropping fatness on the world ; She hath, on a mighty scale, the general use of all things; Yet hath she specially for each its microscopic purpose: There is use in the prisoned air, that swelleth the pods of the labur

num; Design in the venomed thorns, that sentinel the leaves of the nettle; A final cause for the aromatic gum, that congealeth the moss around

a rose; A reason for each blade of grass, that reareth its small spire. How knoweth discontented man what a train of ills might follow, If the lowest menial of nature knew not her secret office? If the thistle never sprang up, to mock the loose husbandry of

indolence, Or the pestilence never swept away an unknown curse from among

men?

Would ye crush the buzzing myriads that float on the breath of the

evening? Would ye trample the creatures of God that people the rotting fruit? Would ye suffer no mildew forest to stain the unhealthy wall, Nor a noisome savor to exhale from the pool that breedeth disease ? Pain is useful unto man, for it teacheth him to guard his life, And the fetid vapors of the fen warn him to fly from danger; And the meditative mind, looking on, winneth good food for its

hunger, Seeing the wholesome root bring forth a poisonous berry; For otherwhile falleth it out that truth, driven to extremities, Yieldeth bitter folly as the spoilt fruit of wisdom. O, blinded is thine eye, if it see not just aptitude in all things ; 0, frozen is thy heart, if it glow not with gratitude for all things; In the perfect circle of creation not an atom could be spared, From earth's magnetic zone to the bindweed round a hawthorn.

THE sage, and the beetle at his feet, hath each a ministration to

perform; The brier and the palm have the wages of life, rendering scriret

service. Neither is it thus alone with the definite existences of matter; But motion and sound, circumstance and quality, yea, all things

have their office. The zephyr playing with an aspen leaf, - the earthquake that rend

eth a continent; The moonbeam silvering a ruined arch, - the desert wave dashing

up a pyramid ; The thunder of jarring icebergs, – the stops of a shepherd's pipe; The howl of the tiger in the glen, - and the wood-dove calling to

her mate; The vulture's cruel rage, -the grace of the stately swan; The fierceness looking from the lynx's eye, and the dull stupor of

the sloth: To these, and to all, is there added each its USE, though man

considereth it lightly; For Power hath ordained nothing which Economy saw not needful.

ALL things being are essential to the vast ubiquity of God;
Neither is there one thing overmuch, nor freed from honorable

servitude.

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