And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell. For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of things in the sea, is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind: but the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison.-James. THE GREAT COMMANDMENT. And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart and thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up.-Deuteronomy. GOLDEN WHATSOEVERS. Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, what soever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things -Paul. OF IDLE WORDS. How can ye, being evil, speak good things? For out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. A good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good things and an evil man out of the evil treasure, bringeth forth evil things. But I say unto you, that every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment. For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned.-Matthew. THE VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain: and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it. The voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field: the grass withereth, the flower fadeth; because the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass. The grass withereth, the flower fadeth but the word of our God shall stand forever.-Isaiah. BE NOT DECEIVED. Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. And let us not be weary in well doing; for in due season we shall reap if we faint not.-Paul. 82.-SPRING. MARY HOWITT. The spring--she is a blessed thing! They are soonest with her in the woods, The little brooks run on in light, The aged man is in the field; The maiden 'mong her garden flowers; Of wants that fret, and care that lowers. Up! let us to the fields away, The flower has opened to the bee, And health, and love, and peace are there. 83.-THE STATUE. ANONYMOUS. In Athens, when all learning centred there, And on the top, that dwindled to the sight, Making the wintry marble glow with truth, Alcamenes soon carved his little best; But Phidias, beneath a dazzling thought That like a bright sun in a cloudless west Lit up his wide, great soul, with pure love wrought A statue, and its face of changeless stone With calm, far-sighted wisdom towered and shone. Then to be judged the labors were unveiled; But at the marble thought, that by degrees Of hardship Phidias cut, the people railed. "The lines are coarse; the form too large," said these; "And he who sends this rough result of haste Sends scorn, and offers insult to our taste." Alcamenes' praised work was lifted high Upon the capital where it might stand; But there it seemed too small, and 'gainst the sky So it was lowered, and quickly put aside, And the scorned thought was mounted to be tried. Surprise swept o'er the faces of the crowd, And changed them as a sudden breeze may change A field of fickle grass, and long and loud Their mingled shouts, to see a sight so strange. The statue stood completed in its place, Each coarse line melted to a line of grace. So bold, great actions, that are seen too near, In their true grandeur. Let us yet be wise, 84.-OLD TUBAL CAIN. CHARLES MACKAY. Old Tubal Cain was a man of might In the days when the earth was young; By the fierce red light of his furnace bright The strokes of his hammer rung; And he lifted high his brawny hand On the iron glowing clear, Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers Hurrah for the hand that wields them well, To Tubal Cain came many a one, As he wrought by his roaring fire: And each one prayed for a strong steel blade, As the crown of his heart's desire. And he made them weapons sharp and strong, Till they shouted aloud for glee, And gave him gifts of pearl and gold, And spoils of the forest tree; And they sang, "Hurrah for Tubal Cain, Who has given us strength anew! Hurrah for the smith, and hurrah for the fire, And hurrah for the metal true!" But a sudden change came o'er his heart And Tubal Cain was filled with pain For the evil he had done. He saw that men, with rage and hate, Made war upon their kind That the land was fed with the blood they shed, And their lust for carnage blind; And he said, "Alas! that ever I made, And for many a day old Tubal Cain And his hand forbore to smite the ore, But he rose at last with a cheerful face, And he bared his strong arm for the work, And the fire sparks lit the air; "Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made!" And he fashioned the first ploughshare! And men, taught wisdom from the past, In friendship joined their hands; Hung the sword in the hall, and the spear on the wall, And ploughed the willing lands; And sang, 44 Hurrah for Tubal Cain! Our staunch good friend is he; And for the ploughshare and the plow To him our prize shall be! But when oppression lifts its hand, Or a tyrant would be lord, Though we may thank him for the plough, We'll not forget the sword!" 85.-AUX ITALIENS. R. B. LYTTON. At Paris it was, at the opera there; And she looked like a queen in a book that night, With the wreath of pearl in her raven hair, And the brooch on her breast so bright. Of all the operas that Verdi wrote, The best, to my taste, is the Trovatore; And Mario can soothe, with a tenor note, The souls in purgatory. The moon on the tower slept soft as snow; And who was not thrilled in the strangest way, As we heard him sing, while the gas burned low, "Non ti scordar di me!" ("Remember me alway.") The emperor there, in his box of state, Looked grave; as if he had just then seen The red flag wave from the city gate, Where his eagles in bronze had been. |