To teach and live thus is the only use
And end of learning. Skill that doth produce
But terms and tongues, and parroting of art,
Without that power to rule the errant part,
Is that which some call learned ignorance,
A serious trifle, error in a trance;
And let a scholar all earthly volumes carry,
He will be but a walking dictionary,-
A mere articulate clock that doth but speak
By other's arts.
WHY should we not with joy resound and sing
The blessed natals of our heavenly King?
Why should not we with mirth salute the morn
Of His birthday by whom we are new born?
See how each creature in his kind rejoices,
And shall not we lift up melodious voices?
Hear how the angels sing!—shall we be sad?
The greatest good is ours-be we most glad.
Hear how the star-enamelled heavens rebound
With echoes of angelic anthems' sound!
It is for us that they those joys express,
And shall not we shew forth some thankfulness?
Join we in concert these sweet choirs among,
In sundry voices sing we all one song,
Glory to God on high, on earth be peace,
And let good-will towards Christians never cease.
I DO love these ancient ruins,
We never tread upon them, but we set
Our foot upon some reverend history;
And questionless, here in this open court,
Which now lies naked to the injuries
Of stormy weather, some lie interred,
Who loved the Church well, and gave largely to't;
They thought it should have canopy'd their bones
Till doomsday-but all things have their end.
PATIENCE! why, 'tis the soul of peace :
Of all the virtues, 'tis nearest kin to heaven:
It makes men look like gods. The best of men
That ever wore earth about him was a sufferer;
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit;
The first true gentle-man that ever breathed.
ART thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
O sweet content!
Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed?
O punishment!
Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexèd
To add to golden numbers, golden numbers?
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face.
Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring?
O sweet content!
Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears?
Then he that patiently want's burden bears,
No burden bears, but is a king, a king!
O sweet content, O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face.
SUPREME Essence, Beginning unbegun,
Aye trinal One, one undivided Three,-
Eternal Word, that victory has won
O'er death, o'er hell, triumphing on the Tree,
Foreknowledge, Wisdom, and all-seeing Eye,
Jehovah, Alpha and Omega, All,—
Like unto none, and none like unto Thee, Unmoved who moves the rounds about the ball, Container uncontained; is, was, and shall
Be sempiternal, merciful, and just,—
Creator uncreated, now I call,
Teach me Thy truth since unto Thee I trust,
Increase, confirm, and kindle from above,
My faith, my hope, but more than all, my love.
RETIRED thoughts enjoy their own delights,
As beauty doth in self-beholding eye:
Man's mind a mirror is of heavenly sights,
A brief wherein all miracles summed lie,—
Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store,
Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more.
The mind a creature is, yet can create;
To nature's patterns adding higher skill
Of finest works; wit better could the state,
If force of wit had equal power of will.
Devise of man in working hath no end ;
What thought can think another thought can mend.
Man's soul of endless beauties image is,
Drawn by the work of endless skill and might.
This skilful might gave many sparks of bliss,
And, to discern this bliss, a native light;
To frame God's image as his worth required,
His might, His skill, His word, and will conspired.
THE lopped tree in time may grow again,
Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower;
The sorriest wight may find release of pain,
The driest soil suck in some moistening shower: Time goes by turns, and chances change by course, From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.
The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow;
She draws her favours to the lowest ebb: Her tides have equal times to come and go;
Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web:
No joy so great but runneth to an end,
No hap so hard but may in fine amend.
Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring,
Not endless night, yet not eternal day;
The saddest birds a season find to sing,
The roughest storm a calm may soon allay. Thus with succeeding turns, God tempereth all, The man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall.
A chance may win that by mischance was lost;
That net that holds no great, takes little fish; In some things all, in all things none are cross'd; Few all they need, but none have all they wish. Unmingled joys here to no man befall;
Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all.
O LORD, Thou art our home, to whom we fly,
And so hast always been from age to age:
Before the hills did intercept the eye,
Or that the frame was up of earthly stage,
One God Thou wert, and art, and still shalt be,
The line of time it doth not measure Thee.
Both death and life obey Thy holy love,
And visit in their turns as they are sent :
A thousand years with Thee they are no more
Than yesterday, which ere it is, is spent ;
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