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DISCONTENT-DISEASE-DOUBT.

For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

WHITTIER.

[See also CONTENTMENT.]

DISEASE (See SICKNESS.)

DIVINE JUSTICE-(See JUSTICE.)
DIVINE LOVE-(See LOVE.)

DOUBT-UNBELIEF.

His name was Doubt, that had a double face,
Th' one forward looking, th' other backward
bent,

And evermore his eyes about him went,
As if some proved peril he did fear,

Or did misdoubt some ill whose cause did not
appear.

SPENSER.

And is there who the blessed cross wipes off
As a foul blot from his dishonored brow?
If angels tremble, 'tis at such a sight.

YOUNG.

O how this tyrant, Doubt, torments my breast! My thoughts, like birds, who, frightened from their nest,

A daring infidel (and such there are)
From pride, example, lucre, rage, revenge,
Or pure heroical defect of thought,

99

Of all earth's madmen, most deserve a chain.

YOUNG.

A fugitive from heaven and prayer,
He mocked at all religious fear,
Deep-scienced in the mazy lore
Of mad Philosophy.

From the Latin of HORACE.

Our infidels are Satan's hypocrites;
Pretend the worst, and at the bottom fail.
When visited by thought (thought will intrude)
Like him they serve, they tremble, and believe.
YOUNG.

O'erwhelmed with shame, the Lord of life I see,
Abhor myself, and give my soul to Thee.
Nor shall my weakness tempt thine anger

more;

Man was not made to question, but adore.
YOUNG.

Some wish they did; but no man disbelieves.
YOUNG.

But dreadful is their doom, whom doubt has driven

To censure fate, and pious hope forego; Around the place where all was hushed before, Perfection, beauty, life, they never know, Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven, Flutter and hardly nestle any more. But frown on all that pass, a monument of

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100

DOUBT-DRUNKENNESS-DUTY.

What sweeter pledge could God bestow
Of help in future scenes of woe,
Than grace already given?
But unbelief, that hateful thing,

Oft makes me sigh, when I should sing
Of confidence in Heaven!

ANONYMOUS.

Doubt is the eternal shade by evil cast!
"The vision and the faculty divine"
Fail when the spirit o'er its empire vast
Thrones appetite and crime.

Only the ear in chord with goodness grown
Hears the full tide of truth's immortal hymn;
The heart where living virtues bloom alone,
God's angels enter in!

Write the great law in alphabet of flame,
Sound it with prophecy and psalm abroad;
"Doubt's awful tempests vail the tents
shame;

The pure alone see God!"

T. L. HARRIS.

For all thy rankling doubts so sore,
Love thou thy Saviour still,
Him for thy Lord and God adore,

And ever do his will.

Though vexing thoughts may seem to last,

Let not thy soul be quite o'ercast ;

of

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Stern daughter of the voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou who art victory and law
When empty terrors overawe;

From vain temptations dost set free,

And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!

Soon will he show thee all his wounds, and Stern lawgiver! yet thou dost wear say,

The Godhead's most benignant grace;

"Long have I known thy name, know thou Nor know we anything so fair

my face alway."

KEBLE.

The clear, cold question chills to frozen doubt;
Tired of beliefs, we dread to live without;
O then, if reason waver at thy side,
Let humbler Memory be thy gentle guide;
Go to thy birthplace, and, if faith was there,
Repeat thy father's creed, thy mother's prayer!
O. W. HOLMES.

Me, me, who still in darkness sit,
Shut up in sin and unbelief,
Deliver from this gloomy pit,

This dungeon of despairing grief.
Open my eyes the Lamb to know,

Who bears the general sin away; And to my ransomed spirit show The glories of eternal day.

C. WESLEY.

As is the smile upon thy face;
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds;
And fragrance in thy footing treads;
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong;
And the most ancient heavens, through thee,
are fresh and strong.

WORDSWORTH.

To hallowed duty,
Here, with a loyal and heroic heart,
Bind we our lives.
MRS. OSGOOD.

It may not be our lot to wield
The sickle in the ripened field;
Nor ours to hear, on summer eves,
The reaper's song among the sheaves;
Yet where our duty's task is wrought
In unison with God's great thought,
The near and future blend in one,
And whatsoe'er is willed is done!

WHITTIER.

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Savage and tame, and full of dead men's Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,

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When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing We feel it touch and thrill us through the body;

heart be still?

H. K. WHITE.

And we are fools, and there's an end of us. BAILEY.

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