The broad arrow of the Great King, carved on all the stores of his

arsenal.

But beware, O worshipper of God, thou forget not him in his dealings,
Though the bright emanations of his power hide him in created glory;
For if, on the sea of knowledge, thou regardest not the pole-star of reli-
gion,

Thy bark will miss her port, and run upon the sand-bar of folly:

And if, enamoured of the means, thou considerest not the scope to which they tend,

Wherein art thou wiser than the child, that is pleased with toys and bau

bles?

Verily, a trifling scholar, thou heedest but the letter of instruction:

For as motive is spirit unto action, as memory endeareth place,
As the sun doth fertilize the earth, as affection quickeneth the heart,
So is the remembrance of God in the varied wonders of creation.

MAN hath found out inventions, to cheat him of the weariness of life,
To help him to forget realities, and hide the misery of guilt.
For love of praise, and hope of gain, for passion and delusive happiness,
He joineth the circle of folly, and heapeth on the fire of excitement;
Oftentimes sadly out of heart at the tiresome insipidity of pleasure,
Oftentimes labouring in vain, convinced of the palpable deceit:

Yet a man speaketh to his brother, in the voice of glad congratulation,
And thinketh others happy, though he himself be wretched:

And hand joineth hand to help in the toil of amusement,

While the secret aching heart is vacant of all but disappointment.

The cheapest pleasures are the best; and nothing is more costly than

sin;

Yet we mortgage futurity, counting it but little loss:

Neither can a man delight in that which breedeth sorrow,

Yet do we hunt for joy even in the fires that consume it.

Whoso would find gladness may meet her in the hovel of poverty,

Where benevolence hath scattered around the gleanings of the horn of

plenty;

Whoso would sun himself in peace, may be seen of her in deeds of

mercy,

When the pale lean cheek of the destitute is wet with grateful tears

If the mind is wearied by study, or the body worn with sickness,
It is well to lie fallow for a while, in the vacancy of sheer amusement;
But when thou prosperest in health, and thine intellect can soar untired,
To seek uninstructive pleasure is to slumber on the couch of indolence.

THE TRAIN OF RELIGION.

STAY awhile, thou blessed band, be entreated, daughters of heaven!
While the chance-met scholar of Wisdom learneth your sacred names:
He is resting a little from his toil, yet a little on the borders of earth,
And fain would he have you his friends, to bid him glad welcome
hereafter.

Who among the glorious art thou, that walkest a Goddess and a Queen,
Thy crown of living stars, and a golden cross thy sceptre?

Who among flowers of loveliness is she, thy seeming herald,

Yet she boasteth not thee nor herself, and her garments are plain in their

neatness?

Wherefore is there one among the train, whose eyes are red with

weeping,

Yet is her open forehead beaming with the sun of ecstacy?

And who is that blood-stained warrior, with glory sitting on his crest?

And who, that solemn sage, calm in majestic dignity?

Also, in the lengthening troop see I some clad in robes of triumph,
Whose fair and sunny faces I have known and loved on earth:
Welcome, ye glorified Loves, Graces, and Sciences, and Muses,
That, like sisters of charity, tended in this world's hospital;

Welcome, for verily I knew, ye could not but be children of the light,
Though earth hath soiled your robes, and robbed you of half your glory;
Welcome, chiefly welcome, for I find I have friends in heaven,
And some I might scarce have looked for, as thou, light-hearted Mirth;
Thou also, star-robed Urania; and thou, with the curious glass,

That rejoicedst in tracking wisdom where the eye was too dull to note its:
And art thou too among the blessed, mild, much injured Poetry'

Who quickenest with light and beauty the leaden face of matter,
Who not unheard, though silent, fillest earth's gardens with music,
And not unseen, though a spirit, dost look down upon us from

stars,

That hast been to me for oil and for wine, to cheer and uphold my soul,
When wearied, battling with the surge, the stunning surge of life:
Of thee, for well have I loved thee, of thee may I ask in hope,
Who among the glorious is she, that walketh a Goddess and a Queen?
And who that fair-haired herald, and who that weeping saint?
And who that mighty warrior, and who that solemn sage?

SON, happy art thou that Wisdom hath led thee hitherward:

he

For otherwise never hadst thou known the joy-giving name of our Queen Behold her, the life of men, the anchor of their shipwrecked hopes : Behold her, the shepherdess of souls, who bringeth back the wanderers to God.

And for that modest herald, she is named on earth, Humility:

And hast thou not known, my son, the tearful face of Repentance?
Faith is yon time-scarred hero, walking in the shade of his laurels;
And Reason, the serious sage, who followeth the footsteps of Faith:
And we, all we, are but handmaids, ministers of minor bliss,
Who rejoice to be counted servants in the train of a Queen so glorious.
But for her name, son of man, it is strange to the language of heaven,
For those who have never fallen need not and may not learn it:

Ligeance we sware to our God, and ligeance well have we kept;

It is only the band of the redeemed who can tell thee the fulness of that name: (18)

Yet will I comfort thee, my son, for the love wherewith thou hast loved

me,

And thou shalt touch for thyself the golden sceptre of Religion.

So that blessed train passed by me; but the vision was sealed upon my

soul;

And its memory is shrined in fragrance, for the promise of the Spirit was

true:

I learn from the silent poem of all creation round me,

How beautiful their feet, who follow in that train

DESPISE not, shrewd reckoner, the God of a good man's worship,
Neither let thy calculating folly gainsay the unity of three;
Nor scorn another's creed, although he cannot solve thy doubts;
Reason is the follower of faith, where he may not be precursor:
It is written, and so we believe, waiting not for outward proof,
Inasmuch as mysteries inscrutable are the clear prerogatives of Godhead.
Reason hath nothing positive, faith hath nothing doubtful;
And the height of unbelieving wisdom is to question all things.
When there is marvel in a doctrine, faith is joyful and adoreth;

But when all is clear, what place is left for faith?

Tell me the sum of thy knowledge,—is it yet assured of any thing?
Despise not what is wonderful, when all things are wonderful around thee.
From the multitude of like effects, thou sayest, behold a law:

And the matter thou art baffled in unmaking, is to thy mind an element.
Then look abroad, I pray thee, for analogy holdeth every where,
And the Maker hath stamped his name on every creature of his hand :
I know not of a matter or a spirit, that is not three in one,

And truly should account it for a marvel, a coin without the image of its
Cæsar.

MAN talketh of himself as ignorant, but judgeth by himself as wise:
His own guess counteth he truth, but the notions of another are his scorn
But bear thou yet with a brother, whose thought may be less subtle thar

thine own,

And suffer the passing speculation suggested by analogies to faith
Like begetteth like, and the great sea of Existence