Part 9
2. Vain was the man, and false as vain, Who said: “Were he ordained[265] to run His long career[266] of life again, He _would do_ all that he _had done_.” Ah! ’tis not thus the voice that dwells In sober birthdays, speaks to me; Far otherwise—of time it tells Lavished[267] unwisely, carelessly, Of counsel mocked—of talents made, Haply,[268] for high and pure designs, But oft, like Israel’s incense, laid Upon unholy, earthly shrines, Of nursing many a wrong desire, Of wandering after Love too far, And taking every meteor fire That crossed my path-way, for his star!
3. All this it tells, and I could trace[269] The imperfect picture o’er again, With power to add, retouch,[270] efface[271] The lights and shades, the joy and pain, How little of the past would stay! How quickly all should melt away, _All_—but that freedom of the mind, Which hath been more than wealth to me; Those friendships in my boyhood twined,[272] And kept till now unchangingly.[273] And that dear home, that saving ark, Where love’s true light at last, I’ve found, Cheering within when all grows dark, And comfortless, and storm around.
[265] OR-DAINˊ-ED, appointed.
[266] CA-REERˊ, race, course.
[267] LAVˊ-ISHED, wasted.
[268] HAPˊ-LY, perhaps, perchance.
[269] TRACE, delineate, draw.
[270] RE-TOUCHˊ, improve by new touches.
[271] EF-FACEˊ, erase, blot out.
[272] TWINˊ-ED, closely united.
[273] UN-CHANGˊ-ING-LY, unvaryingly.
XXXIV.—LABOR.
FRANCES OSGOOD.
1. Pause not to dream of the future before us; Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o’er us; Hark! how creation’s deep musical chorus,[274] Unintermitting,[275] goes up into Heaven! Never the ocean-wave falters[276] in flowing, Never the little seed stops in its growing, More and more richly the rose-hart keeps glowing, Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.[277]
2. “Labor is worship!”—the robin is singing; “Labor is worship!”—the wild bee is ringing; Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing, Speaks to thy soul from out nature’s heart. From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower; From the rough sod comes the soft-breathing flower; From the small insect, the rich coral bower; Only man, in the plan, ever shrinks from his part.
3. Labor is life!—’Tis the still water faileth; Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth[278], Keep the watch wound; for the dark dust assaileth[279] Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. Labor is glory!—the flying cloud lightens; Only the waving wing changes and brightens; Idle hearts only the dark future frightens; Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune.
4. Labor is rest—from the sorrows that greet us; Rest from all petty vexations[280] that meet us; Rest from sin-promptings[281] that ever entreat us; Rest from world Sirens[282] that lead us to ill. Work—and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow; Work—thou shalt ride o’er care’s coming billow; Lie not down wearied ’neath woe’s weeping willow: Work with a stout heart and resolute[283] will.
5. Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish[284] are round thee; Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee; Look on yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee; Rest not content in thy darkness,—a clod.[285] Work for some good,—be it ever so slowly; Cherish some flower,—be it ever so lowly; Labor!—all labor is noble and holy; Let thy great deeds be a prayer to thy God.
[274] CHOˊ-RUS, a singing together.
[275] UN-IN-TER-MITˊ-TING, unceasing.
[276] FALˊ-TERS, hesitates; fails.
[277] RIVˊEN, rent; torn off.
[278] BE-WAILˊ-ETH, bemoans; laments.
[279] AS-SAILˊ-ETH, invades; attacks.
[280] VEX-Aˊ-TIONS, troubles.
[281] SIN-PROMPTˊ-INGS, temptations to sin.
[282] WORLD-SIRENS, attractions of the world.
[283] RESˊ-O-LUTE, firm; unbending.
[284] ANˊ-GUISH, extreme pain.
[285] CLOD, dull, stupid fellow; dolt.
XXXV.—OUR MISERIES OFTEN OUR FAULT.
BLAIR.
1. We find man placed in a world, where he has, by no means, the disposal of the events that happen. Calamities[286] sometimes befall the worthiest and the best, which it is not in their power to prevent, and where nothing is left them, but to acknowledge and to submit to the high hand of Heaven. For such visitations of trial, many good and wise reasons can be assigned[287], which the present subject leads me not to discuss.[288]
2. But, though those unavoidable[289] calamities make a part, yet they make not the chief part, of the vexations and sorrows that distress human life. A multitude of evils beset[290] us, for the source of which we must look to another quarter. No sooner has any thing in the health or in the circumstances of men, gone cross[291] to their wish, than they begin to talk of the unequal distribution[292] of the good things of this life; they envy the condition of others; they repine[293] at their own lot, and fret against the Ruler of the world.
3. Full of these sentiments, one man pines under a broken constitution.[294] But let us ask him, whether he can fairly and honestly assign no cause for this but the unknown decree of Heaven? Has he duly valued the blessing of health, and always observed the rules of virtue and sobriety?[295] Has he been moderate in his life, and temperate in all his pleasures? If now he is only paying the price of his former, perhaps, his forgotten indulgences, has he any right to complain, as if he were suffering unjustly?
4. Were we to survey the chambers of sickness and distress, we should often find them peopled with the victims of intemperance and sensuality, and with the vicious children of indolence and sloth. Among the thousands who languish there, we should find the proportion of innocent sufferers to be small. We should see faded youth premature[296] old age, and the prospect of an untimely grave, to be the portion of multitudes who, in one way or other, have brought those evils on themselves; while yet these martyrs of vice and folly have the assurance to arraign[297] the hard fate of man, and to “fret against the Lord.”
5. But you, perhaps, complain of hardships of another kind; of the injustice of the world; of the poverty which you suffer, and the discouragements under which you labor; of the crosses and disappointments of which your life has been doomed to be full. Before you give too much scope to your discontent, let me desire you to reflect impartially upon your past train of life. Have not sloth, or pride, or ill-temper, or sinful passions, misled you often from the path of sound and wise conduct? Have you not been wanting to yourselves in improving those opportunities which Providence offered you, for bettering and advancing your state?
6. If you have chosen to indulge your humor or your taste, in the gratifications[298] of indolence and pleasure, can you complain because others, in preference to you, have obtained those advantages which naturally belong to useful labors and honorable pursuits. Have not the consequences of some false steps, into which your passions, or your pleasures, have betrayed you, pursued you through much of your life; tainted[299], perhaps, your character, involved[300] you in embarrassments[301], or sunk you into neglect?
7. It is an old saying, that every man is the artificer[302] of his own fortune in the world. It is certain, that the world seldom turns wholly against a man, unless through his own fault. “Religion is,” in general, “profitable unto all things.” Virtue, diligence, and industry, joined with good temper and prudence, have ever been found the surest road to prosperity; and, where men fail of attaining it, their want of success is far oftener owing to their having deviated from that road, than to their having encountered insuperable barriers in it.
8. Some by being too artful, forfeit the reputation of probity. Some, by being too open, are accounted to fail in prudence. Others, by being fickle and changeable, are distrusted by all. The case commonly is, that men seek to ascribe their disappointments to any cause, rather than to their own misconduct; and, when they can devise no other cause, they lay them to the charge of Providence. Their folly leads them into vices; their vices into misfortunes; and, in their misfortunes, they “murmur against Providence.”
9. They are doubly unjust toward their Creator. In their prosperity, they are apt to ascribe their success to their own diligence, rather than to His blessing; and, in their adversity, they impute their distresses to His providence, not to their own misbehavior. Whereas, the truth is the very reverse of this. Every good gift and every perfect gift cometh from above; and of evil and misery, man is the author to himself.
[286] CA-LAMˊ-I-TIES, misfortunes.
[287] AS-SIGNˊ-ED, given; specified.
[288] DIS-CUSSˊ, debate, reason on.
[289] UN-A-VOIDˊ-A-BLE, inevitable.
[290] BE-SETˊ, surround; besiege.
[291] CROSS, adverse; contrary.
[292] DIS-TRI-BUˊ-TION, dispensation.
[293] RE-PINEˊ, murmur.
[294] CON-STI-TUˊ-TION, corporeal frame.
[295] SO-BRIˊ-E-TY, temperance.
[296] PREˊ-MA-TURE, too early.
[297] AR-RAIGNˊ, call in question.
[298] GRAT-I-FI-CAˊ-TIONS, indulgences.
[299] TAINTˊ-ED, stained; corrupted.
[300] IN-VOLVˊ-ED, entangled.
[301] EM-BARˊ-RASS-MENT, perplexity.
[302] ART-IFˊ-I-CER, inventor.
XXXVI.—TRUE PATRIOTISM.[303]
SIR WILLIAM JONES.
1. What constitutes[304] a State? Not high raised battlements[305] or labored mound,[306] Thick wall or moated[307] gate; Nor cities proud, with spires and turrets[308] crowned; Not bays and broad-armed ports, Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies[309] ride; Not starred and spangled courts, Where low-browed baseness[310] wafts perfume to pride.
2. No; men, high-minded[311] men, With powers as far above dull brutes endued[312], In forest brake, or den, As beasts excel[313] cold rocks and brambles[314] rude; _Men_ who their duties know, But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain;[315] Prevent the long aimed blow, And crush the tyrant while they rend[316] the chain; _These_ constitute a State; And Sovereign[317] Law, that State’s collected[318] will, O’er thrones and globes elate,[319] Sits empress, crowning good, repressing[320] ill.
[303] PAˊ-TRI-OT-ISM, love of country.
[304] CONˊ-STI-TUTES, makes; forms.
[305] BATˊ-TLE-MENTS, breastworks.
[306] MOUND, rampart; bank of earth.
[307] MOATˊ-ED, surrounded by a ditch.
[308] TURˊ-RETS, little towers.
[309] NAˊ-VIES, fleets of ships.
[310] BASEˊ-NESS, meanness.
[311] HIGHˊ-MIND-ED, magnanimous.
[312] EN-DUˊ-ED, furnished; endowed.
[313] EX-CELˊ, exceed; surpass.
[314] BRAMˊ-BLES, prickly shrubs.
[315] MAIN-TAINˊ, defend; support.
[316] REND, part asunder.
[317] SOVˊ-ER-EIGN, supreme.
[318] COL-LECTˊ-ED, congregated.
[319] E-LATEˊ, raised; lofty.
[320] RE-PRESSˊ-ING, quelling.
XXXVII.—INFLUENCE OF RELIGION ON THE TYROLESE.
ALISON.
Sir Archibald Alison, although not himself a Catholic, eloquently sets forth, in the following lesson, the refining and civilizing influences of the Catholic Church.
1. What is it, then, which has wrought so surprising a change in the manners and habits of Europe, of the inhabitants of the great mountain-girdle of the earth? What is it which has spread cultivation through wastes deemed, in ancient times, inaccessible[321] to improvement, and humanized[322] the manners of a people, remarkable only, under the Roman sway, for the ferocity and barbarism of their customs?
2. What but the influence of religion; of that faith which has calmed the savage passions of the human mind, and spread its beneficial influence amongst the remotest[323] habitations of men, and which prompted its disciples to leave the luxuries and comforts of southern civilization to diffuse[324] knowledge and humanity through inhospitable realms, and spread, even amidst the regions of desolation, the light of knowledge, and the blessings of Christianity.
3. Impressed with these ideas, the traveler, in crossing the St. Bernard, and comparing the perfect safety with which he now can explore the most solitary parts of these mountains, with the perils[325] of the passage, attested by votive[326] offerings, even in the days of Adrian, and the Antonines, will think with thankfulness of the religion by which this wonderful change has been effected, and with veneration of the saint whose name has, for a thousand years, been affixed to the pass where his influence first reclaimed the people from their barbarous life; and in crossing the defile of Mount Brenner, where the Abbey of Wilten first offered an asylum to the pilgrim, he will feel, with a late amiable and eloquent writer, “how fortunate it is that religion has penetrated these fastnesses, impervious[327] to human power, and, where precautions are impossible and resistance useless, spread her invisible ægis[328] over the traveler, and conducts him, secure under her protection, through all the dangers of his way!”
4. When in such situations he reflects upon his security, and recollects that these mountains, so savage, and so well adapted to the progress of murderers and banditti[329], have not in the memory of man been stained with human blood, he ought to do justice to the cause, and gratefully to acknowledge the influence of religion.
5. Impressed with these ideas, he will behold with interest the crosses which frequently mark the brow of a precipice, and the little chapels hollowed out of the rock, where the road is narrowed; he will consider them as so many pledges of security, and rest assured, that so long as the pious mountaineer continues to adore the “Good Shepherd,” and to implore the power of the “Afflicted Mother,” he will never cease to befriend the traveler, nor to discharge the duties of hospitality.
[321] IN-AC-CESSˊ-I-BLE, beyond reach of.
[322] HUˊ-MAN-IZE, to render human.
[323] RE-MOTˊ-EST, most distant.
[324] DIF-FUSEˊ, to spread, to extend in all directions.
[325] PERˊ-ILS, dangers.
[326] VOˊ-TIVE, given by vow, devoted.
[327] IM-PERˊ-VI-OUS, not to be penetrated or passed through.
[328] ÆGIS, shield, protection.
[329] BAN-DITˊ-TI, outlaws, highwaymen, robbers.
XXXVIII.—HYMN OF THE MOUNTAINEERS.
MRS. HEMANS.
Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans was born in England in 1794, and died in 1835. Her poetry is not only remarkable for purity and delicacy of feeling, but is often marked by ardent and vigorous expression.
1. For the strength of the hills we bless thee, our God, our fathers’ God! Thou hast made Thy children mighty, by the touch of the mountain sod. Thou hast fixed our ark of refuge[330] where the spoiler’s foot ne’er trod; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
2. We are watchers of a beacon[331] whose light must never die; We are guardians of an altar midst the silence of the sky, The rocks yield founts of courage, struck forth as by Thy rod; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our father’s God.
3. For the dark-resounding caverns,[332] where Thy still, small voice is heard; For the strong pines of the forests, that by Thy breath is stirred; For the storms on whose free pinions[333] Thy spirit walks abroad; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
4. The royal eagle darteth on his quarry[334] from the heights, And the stag, that knows no master, seeks there his wild delights; But we, for _Thy_ communion, have sought the mountain sod; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
5. The banner of the chieftain far, far below us waves; The war-horse of the spearman cannot reach our lofty caves; Thy dark clouds wrap the threshold of Freedom’s last abode; For the strength of the hills we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
6. For the shadow of Thy presence, round our camp of rock outspread; For the stern defiles of battle, bearing record of our dead; For the snows and for the torrents, for the free heart’s burial sod; For the strength of the hills, we bless Thee, our God, our fathers’ God!
[330] REFˊ-UGE, shelter, or protection from danger.
[331] BEAˊ-CON, a signal, or mark to give warning of danger.
[332] CAVˊ-ERN, a deep hollow place in the earth.
[333] PINˊ-IONS, wings.
[334] QUARˊ-RY, the game which a hawk or an eagle is pursuing, or has killed.
XXXIX.—EXHORTATION TO PRAYER.
1. Not on a prayerless bed, not on a prayerless bed Compose thy weary limbs to rest; For they alone are blessed With balmy sleep, Whom angels keep; Nor, though by care oppressed, Or anxious sorrow, Or thought in many a coil perplexed For coming morrow, Lay not thy head On prayerless bed.
2. For who can tell, when sleep thine eyes shall close, That earthly cares and woes To thee may e’er return? Arouse, my soul, Slumber control, And let thy lamp burn brightly; So shall thine eyes discern Things pure and sightly; Taught by the Spirit, learn Never on thoughtless bed To lay thine unblessed head.
3. Hast thou no pining want, or wish, or care, That calls for holy prayer? Has thy day been so bright That in its flight There is no trace of sorrow? And art thou sure to-morrow Will be like this, and more Abundant? Dost thou yet lay up thy store, And still make plans for more? Thou fool! this very night Thy soul may wing its flight.
4. Hast thou no being than thyself more dear, That plows the ocean deep? And when storms sweep the wintry, lowering skies, For whom thou wakest and weepest? O, when thy pangs are deepest, Seek then the covenant ark of prayer, For He that slumbereth not, is there, His ear is open to thy cry; O, then, on prayerless bed Lay not thy thoughtless head.
5. Arouse thee, weary soul, nor yield to slumber, Till in communion blessed With the elect thou rest, Those souls in countless number; And with them raise The note of praise, Reaching from earth to heaven; Chosen, redeemed, forgiven; So lay thy happy head, Prayer-crowned, on blessed bed.
XL.—BEHIND TIME.
FREEMAN HUNT.
1. A railroad train was rushing along at almost lightning speed. A curve was just ahead, beyond which was a station at which the cars usually passed each other. The conductor was late, so late that the period during which the down train was to wait had nearly elapsed; but he hoped yet to pass the curve safely. Suddenly a locomotive dashed into sight right ahead. In an instant there was a collision. A shriek, a shock, and fifty souls were in eternity; and all because an engineer had been _behind time_.
2. A great battle was going on. Column[335] after column had been precipitated for eight mortal hours on the enemy posted along the ridge of a hill. The summer sun was sinking to the west; rëenforcements[336] for the obstinate defenders were already in sight; it was necessary to carry the position with one final charge, or every thing would be lost.
3. A powerful corps had been summoned from across the country, and if it came up in season all would yet be well. The great conqueror, confident in its arrival, formed his reserve[337] into an attacking column, and ordered them to charge the enemy. The whole world knows the result. Grouchy[338] failed to appear; the imperial guard was beaten back; Waterloo was lost. Napoleon died a prisoner at St. Helena because one of his marshals was _behind time_.
4. A leading firm in commercial circles had long struggled against bankruptcy. As it had enormous assets[339] in California, it expected remittances by a certain day, and if the sums promised arrived, its credit, honor, and its future prosperity would be preserved. But week after week elapsed without bringing the gold. At last came the fatal day on which the firm had bills maturing[340] to enormous amounts. The steamer was telegraphed at daybreak; but it was found, on inquiry, that she brought no funds, and the house failed. The next arrival brought nearly half a million to the insolvents[341], but it was too late; they were ruined because their agent, in remitting, had been _behind time_.
5. A condemned man was led out for execution. He had taken human life, but under circumstances of the greatest provocation, and public sympathy was active in his behalf. Thousands had signed petitions for a reprieve[342], a favorable answer had been expected the night before, and though it had not come, even the sheriff felt confident that it would yet arrive in season. Thus the morning passed without the appearance of the messenger. The last moment was up. The prisoner took his place on the drop, the cap was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a lifeless body swung revolving in the wind. Just at that moment a horseman came into sight, galloping down hill, his steed covered with foam. He carried a packet in his right hand, which he waved rapidly to the crowd. He was the express rider with a reprieve. But he had come too late. A comparatively innocent man had died an ignominious death, because a watch had been five minutes too slow, making its bearer arrive _behind time_.
6. It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the most important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the weal of nations, honor, happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed because somebody is “behind time.” There are men who always fail in whatever they undertake, simply because they are “behind time.” There are others who put off reformation year by year, till death seizes them, and they perish unrepentant, because forever “behind time.” Five minutes in a crisis is worth years. It is but a little period, yet it has often saved a fortune or redeemed a people. If there is one virtue that should be cultivated more than another by him who would succeed in life, it is punctuality; if there is one error that should be avoided it is being _behind time_.
[335] COLˊ-UMN, a body of troops in deep files, with narrow front.
[336] RE-EN-FORCEˊ-MENTS, supplies of additional troops.
[337] RE-SERVEˊ, a select body of troops kept in the rear of an army in action, to give support when required.
[338] Napoleon Bonaparte, emperor of France, was defeated by the Allies under the Duke of Wellington, at Waterloo, June 18, 1815. Marshal Grouchy was expected to aid the emperor with a body of troops, but failed to appear.
[339] ASˊ-SETS, property or effects.
[340] MA-TURˊ-ING, ripening, coming to a perfected state. Bills or notes mature when they become due.
[341] IN-SOLˊ-VENT, one who cannot pay his debts.
[342] RE-PRIEVEˊ, a suspension of a entence of death.
XLI.—EVIL INFLUENCE OF SKEPTICISM.
CAMPBELL.
Thomas Campbell was born in Scotland in 1777, and died in 1844. Some of his shorter poems are remarkable for pathos and beauty, such as “O’Connor’s Child,” “The Exile of Erin,” etc.
1. O, lives there, Heaven! beneath thy dread expanse, One hopeless, dark idolater of Chance, Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined, The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind; Who, mouldering earthward, reft[343] of every trust, In joyless union wedded to the dust, Could all his parting energy dismiss, And call this barren world sufficient bliss?