—Job 11. 17.
My Father, I would remember that it is mostly from my inspirations that I conceive life. Take away hatred and vanity that keep me in faults, and awake in me the thoughts that are responsible for visions that lead to high ideals. Amen.
Then came old
In an old wagon, for he could not ride,
Drawn of two fishes for the season fitting,
Which through the flood before did softly slide
And swim away; yet he had by his side
His plow and harness fit to till the ground,
And tools to prune the trees, before the pride
Of hasting prime did make them bourgeon wide.
Ben Jonson born 1574.
John Philip Kemble born 1757.
Arthur Henry Hallam born 1811.
George Cruikshank died 1878.
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night—
It was the plant and flower of Light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measure life may perfect be.
There are four things which
are little upon the earth,
But they are exceeding wise:
The ants are a people not strong,
Yet they provide their food in the summer;
The conies are but a feeble folk,
Yet make they their houses in the rocks;
The locusts have no king,
Yet go they forth all of them by bands;
The lizard taketh hold with her hands,
Yet is she in king’s palaces.
—Proverbs 30. 24-28.
Creator of all, lead me to see the light, and instruct me that I may be able to reason. Guard me against spectacular endeavors, that I may be genuine. Amen.
Nell Gwynn born 1650.
Hannah More born 1745.
William Henry Burleigh born 1812.
’Twas doing nothing
was his curse—
Is there a vice can plague us worse?
The wretch who digs the mine for bread,
Or plows, that others may be fed,
Feels less fatigue than that decreed
To him who cannot think, or read.
Not all the peril of temptations,
Not all the conflict of the passions,
Can quench the spark of Glory’s flame,
Or quite extinguish Virtue’s name.
Sound, sound the clarion,
fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.