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Pride, where Wit fails, steps in to our defense,
While, from the bounded level of our mind,
THE SCALE OF BEING.
FROM THE “ ESSAY ON Man." AR as Creation's ample range extends, From poisonous herbs extracts the healing dew? The scale of sensual, mental powers as- How Instinct varies in the grovelling swine, cends :
Compared, half-reasoning elephant, with thine ! Mark how it mounts to man's imperial race, 'Twixt that, and Reason, what a nice barrier ! From the green myriads in the peopled grass; Forever separate, yet forever near ! What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, Remembrance and Reflection, how allied ; The mole's dim curtain and the lynx's beam : What thin partitions Sense from Thought diOf smell, the headlong lioness between,
vide! And hound sagacious on the tainted green ; And Middle natures, how they long to join, Of hearing, from the life that fills the food, Yet never pass the insuperable line ! To that which warbles through the vernal wood; Without this just gradation, could they be The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine !
Subjected, these to those, or all to thee? Feels at each thread, and lives along the line: The powers of all, subdued by thee alone, In the nice bee, what sense, so subtly true, Is not thy Reason all these powers in one?
SOUND AN ECHO TO THE SENSE.
FROM THE “ESSAY ON CRITICISM." IS not enough no harshness gives offense, When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to The sound must seem an Echo to the
The line too labors, and the words move slow : Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows; Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along But when loud surges lash the sounding shore,
the main. The hoarse,rough verse should like the torrent roar.
OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY.
FROM THE “ ESSAY ON Man."
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul ; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in vile Man that mourns, Great in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame, As the rapt Seraph that adores and burns ; Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
To Him, no high, no low, no great, no small; Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees; He fills, He bounds, connects, and equals all. Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
WRITER OF CHRISTIAN HYMNS.
HE “Hymns,” “ Psalms,” and “Songs for Children ” of Dr. Watts
have been more read and committed to memory, have exerted more holy influences, and made more lasting impressions for good upon the human heart than the productions of any other writer of verse. But Isaac Watts does not hold high rank as a poet, and during his lifetime was quite as much known as a philosopher and
theologian as for his poetical works. Indeed, his “Logic” and “Improvement of the Mind” may still be regarded as standard books. His poems are all of a religious character, many of them having been written for children. He versified the entire book of Psalms, and many of his “Hymns" find a place in the hymn-books of all Christian denominations. It is their ready adaptation to musical rendering, their broad Christian spirit, and their beautiful and tender simplicity, rather than their artistic merits as poems, which have endeared these hymns to so many and such widely different people.
Isaac Watts was a precocious child; he composed verses, as we are told, before he was three years old, began to study Latin at four, and could read easy authors at five. Being a Dissenter, he could not enter one of the Universities, but received a thorough education, and became tutor in a private family. In 1698 he was chosen assistant minister of the Independent congregation in Mark Lane, London, of which he became pastor in 1702. Owing to feeble health he resigned this charge, and in 1712 was invited by Sir Thomas Abney, of Abney Park, near London, to become an inmate of his family. Here he remained during the remaining thirty-six years of his life, preaching not infrequently and writing many books in prose and verse. He continued to receive from his congregation the salary which they insisted upon his accepting, and there were many and continuous evidences of the love and esteem in which he was held, not only by those of his immediate circle, but by the general public. He died in 1748, at the age of seventy-four.
“It is the plain promises of the Gospel,” said he, near his death, “ that are my support; and I bless God they are plain promises, and do not require much labor and pains to understand them, for I can do nothing now but look into my Bible for some promise to support me, and live upon that. .” “He is one of the few poets," says Dr. Johnson, “with whom youth and ignorance may be safely pleased ; and happy will be that reader whose mind is disposed, by his verses or his prose, to copy his benevolence to man and his reverence to God.”
THE ROSE. OW fair is the rose ! what a beautiful flower, So frail is the youth and the beauty of men, The glory of April and May !
Though they bloom and look gay like the But the leaves are beginning to fade in an rose ; hour,
But all our fond cares to preserve them is vain, And they wither and die in a day.
Time kills them as fast as he goes. Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast, Then I'll not be proud of my youth nor my Above all the flowers of the field;
beauty, When its leaves are all dead, and its fine colors Since both of them wither and fade ; lost,
But gain a good name by well doing my duty; Still how sweet a perfume it will yield !
This will scent like a rose when I'm dead.
THE EARNEST STUDENT.
Retire, my soul, within thyself retire,
Now let my thoughts to loftier themes
aspire; tires ;
My knowledge now on wheels of fire, But never tired of telling thee,
May mount and spread above, surveying all 'Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to see.
THERE IS A LAND OF PURE DELIGHT.
But timorous mortals start and shrink
To cross this narrow sea,
And linger shivering on the brink,
And fear to launch away.
Oh! could we make our doubts removeAnd never-withering flowers ;
Those gloomy doubts that rise-
And see the Canaan that we love
With unbeclouded eyes;
Could we but climb where Moses stood, Stand dressed in living green;
And view the landscape o'er, So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
Not Jordan's stream nor Death's cold flood While Jordan rolled between.
Should fright us from the shore.
They're but the porches to thy courts,
And paintings on thy walls.
Vain world, farewell to you;
Heaven is my native air :
I bid my friends a short adieu,
Impatient to be there.
I feel my powers released
From their old fleshy clod ;
Fair guardian, bear me up in haste,
And set me near my God.
MY DEAR REDEEMER. Y DEAR Redeemer, and my Lord !
Cold mountains, and the midnight air,
Witnessed the fervor of Thy prayer :
The desert Thy temptations knew-
Thy conflict, and Thy victory too.
Such was Thy truth, and such Thy zeal,
Be thou my pattern ; make me bear
COME, WE THAT LOVE THE LORD.
Celestial fruits on earthly ground
From faith and hope may grow.
The hill of Zion yields
A thousand sacred sweets,
Before we reach the heavenly fields,
Or walk the golden streets.
Then let our songs abourd,
And every tear be dry ; The men of grace have found
We're marching through Emmanuel's ground Glory begun below;
To fairer worlds on high.
WHEN I SURVEY THE WONDROUS CROSS. HEN I survey the wondrous cross
See from His head, His hands, His feet, On which the Prince of Glory died,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down !
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast
Save in the death of Christ, my God; All the vain things that charm me most
I sacrifice them to His blood.
Were the whole realm of Nature mine,
That were a present far too small; Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.