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1. AARON : and Christ.

SEE Aaron, God's anointed priest,
Within the veil appear,

In robes of mystic meaning dress'd,
Presenting Israel's prayer.

Through him the eye of faith descries
A greater priest than he―
Thus Jesus pleads above the skies
For you, my friends, and me.

He bears the names of all the saints,
Deep on His heart engraved ;
Attentive to the state and wants
Of all His love has saved.

In Him a holiness complete,

Light and perfection shine;
And wisdom, grace, and glory meet—
A Saviour all Divine.

The blood which, as a priest, He bears,
For sinners, is His own;

The incense of His prayers and tears

Perfumes the holy throne.

In Him my weary soul has rest,
Though I am weak and vile;

I read my name upon His breast,
And see the Father smile.-John Newton.

2. AARON: his death.

WITH trembling hand

He hasted to unclasp the priestly robe,
And cast it o'er his son, and on his head
The mitre place; while with a feeble voice,
He bless'd, and bade him keep his garments pure
From blood of souls. But then, as Moses raised
The mystic breastplate, and that dying eye
Caught the radiance of those precious stones,
By whose oracular and fearful light

Jehovah had so oft His will reveal'd,
Unto the chosen tribe whom Aaron loved
In all their wandering-but whose promised land
He might not look upon-he sadly laid

His head upon the mountain's turfy breast,
And with one prayer, half wrapp'd in stifled groans,
Gave up the ghost.-Lydia Huntley Sigourney.

3. ABEL: entering heaven.

TEN thousand times ten thousand sung

Loud anthems round the throne,

When lo! a solitary tongue

Took up a song unknown;

A song unknown to angel ears,
A song that spoke of vanish'd fears,
Of pardon'd sins and dried-up tears.
Not one of all the heavenly host

Could those high notes attain,
But spirits from a distant coast

United in the strain,

Till he who first began the song,
To sing alone not suffer'd long,
Was mingled with a countless throng.
And still as years are fleeting by,

The angels ever bear

Some newly ransom'd soul on high,

To swell the chorus there;
And still the song shall louder grow,
Till all, redeem'd from sin and woe,
To that fair world of rapture go.

Oh grant me, Lord, a golden harp,
And tune my broken voice,
That I may sing of troubles sharp
Exchanged for endless joys!
The song that ne'er was heard before
A sinner reach'd the heavenly shore,
But now shall sound for evermore!

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CALL now to mind what high capacious powers

Lie folded up in man; how far beyond

The praise of mortals may the eternal growth
Of Nature, to perfection half Divine,

Each half-form'd purpose and dark thought of sin; Expand the blooming soul! What pity, then,

Quench, e'er it rise, each selfish, low desire,

And keep my soul as Thine, calm and divine.

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5. ABIDING IN CHRIST: our only safety.

O LAMB of God! still keep me
Near to Thy wounded side;

'Tis only then in safety

And peace I can abide.

What foes and snares surround me!
What doubts and fears within!
The grace that sought and found me,
Alone can keep me clean.

'Tis only in Thee hiding,

I feel my life secure,-
Only in Thee abiding,

The conflict can endure:
Thine arm the vict❜ry gaineth

O'er every hateful foe;
Thy love my heart sustaineth
In all its cares and woe.

Soon shall my eyes behold Thee
With rapture, face to face :

Should sloth's unkindly fogs depress to earth
Her tender blossom, choke the streams of life,
And blast her spring! Far otherwise design'd
Almighty wisdom; Nature's happy cares
The obedient heart far otherwise incline.
Witness the sprightly joy when aught unknown
Strikes the quick sense, and wakes each active power
To brisker measures: witness the neglect

Of all familiar prospects, though beheld
With transport once; the fond attentive gaze
Of young astonishment; the sober zeal
Of age, commenting on prodigious things;
For such the bounteous providence of Heaven,
In every breast implanting this desire
Of objects new and strange, to urge us on
With unremitting labour to pursue

Those sacred stores that wait the ripening soul,
In Truth's exhaustless bosom.-Mark Akenside.

7. ABILITIES. Difference of

ALAS! what differs more than man from man? And whence this difference?-whence but from himself?

For, see the universal race endow'd

With the same upright form! The sun is fix'd,
And the infinite magnificence of heaven,
Within the reach of every human eye :
The sleepless ocean murmurs in all ears;
The vernal field infuses fresh delight

Into all hearts. Throughout the world of sense,
Even as an object is sublime or fair,
That object is laid open to the view
Without reserve or veil; and as a power

Is salutary, or its influence sweet,

Are each and all enabled to perceive

That power, that influence, by impartial law.

Gifts nobler are vouchsafed alike to all ;Reason, and, with that reason, smiles and tears; Imagination, freedom of the will,

Conscience to guide and check; and death

To be foretasted-immortality presumed.

Strange then, nor less than monstrous, might be deem'd

The failure, if the Almighty, to this point
Liberal and undistinguishing, should hide
The excellence of moral qualities

From common understanding; leaving truth
And virtue, difficult, abstruse, and dark;
Hard to be won, and only by a few :

Strange, should He deal herein with nice respects,
And frustrate all the rest! Believe it not:
The primal duties shine aloft like stars;

The charities, that soothe, and heal, and bless,
Are scatter'd at the feet of man, like flowers.
The generous inclination, the just rule,
Kind wishes, and good actions, and pure thoughts-
No mystery is here; no special boon

For high and not for low-for proudly graced
And not for meek in heart. Wordsworth.

8. ABRAHAM. A Legend of

AT night, upon the silent plain,
Knelt Abraham and watch'd the sky;
When the bright evening star arose
He lifted up a joyful cry :

'This is the Lord! This light shall shine
To mark the path for me and mine.'
But suddenly the star's fair face

Sank down and left its darken'd place.
Then Abraham cried, in sore dismay,
'The Lord is not discover'd yet;
I cannot worship gods which set.'

Then rose the moon, full orb'd and clear,
And flooded all the plain with light,
And Abraham's heart again with joy
O'erflow'd at the transcendent sight.
'This surely is the Lord,' he cried;
'That other light was pale beside
This glorious one.' But, like the star,
The moon in the horizon far
Sank low and vanish'd. Then again
Said Abraham: "This cannot be
My Lord. I am but lost, astray,
Unless one changeless guideth me.'

Then came, unheralded, the dawn,
Rosy and swift from east to west;
High rode the great triumphant sun,
And Abraham cried, 'O last and best
And sovereign light! Now I believe
This Lord will change not, nor deceive.'
Each moment robb'd the day's fair grace;
The reddening sun went down apace;
And Abraham, left in rayless night,
Cried, 'O my people, let us turn

And worship now the God who rules
These lesser lights, and bids them burn!'
Helen Hunt, from the 'Koran.

9. ABRAHAM. The Sacrifice of

IT was noon

And Abraham on Moriah bow'd himself And buried up his face and pray'd for strength. He could not look his upon and son, pray; But with his hand upon the clustering curls Of the fair, kneeling boy he pray'd that God Would nerve him for that hour.

He rose up and laid The wood upon the altar. All was done. He stood a moment-and a deep, quick flash Pass'd o'er his countenance; and then he nerved His spirit with a bitter strength and spoke : 'Isaac ! my only son!'-The boy look'd up: 'Where is the lamb, my father?' Oh the tones, The sweet, familiar voice of a loved child!What would its music seem at such an hour! It was the last deep struggle. Abraham held His loved, his beautiful, his only son, And lifted up his arms and call'd on GodAnd lo! God's angel stay'd him-and he fell Upon his face and wept.

Nathaniel Parker Willis.

10. ABSENCE. Effects of

ALL flowers will droop in absence of the sun
That waked their sweets.-Dryden.

Love reckons hours for months, and days for years;
And every little absence is an age.—Dryden.

11. ABSENCE. Improvement of

WHAT shall I do with all the days and hours
That must be counted ere I see thy face?
How shall I charm the interval that lowers

Between this time and that sweet time of grace? Shall I in slumber steep each weary sense,

Weary with longing? Shall I flee away Into past days, and with some fond pretence

Cheat myself to forget the present day?

Shall love for thee lay on my soul the sin

Of casting from me God's great gift of time? Shall I, these mists of memory lock'd within, Leave and forget life's purposes sublime?

Oh, how or by what means may I contrive

To bring the hour that brings thee back more near? How may I teach my drooping hope to live Until that blessed time, and thou art here?

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