XII.

LOVE.

OD is love; His mercy brightens
All the way in which we move-
Blifs He makes, and woe He lightens-
God is light and God is love.

E'en the hour that darkeft feemeth
Shall His ceafelefs goodness prove;
Through the mift His glory ftreameth,-
God is light and God is love.

XIII.

LOVE.

THOU whose wisdom guides the way,

Though now it seem severe,
Forbid my unbelief to say,

There is no wifdom here.'

Lord! if Thou bend my fpirit low,
Love only fhall I fee;

The very hand that ftrikes the blow,
Was wounded once for me.

XIV.

LOVE.

M apt to think, the man

That could furround the fum of things,

and fpy

The heart of God and fecrets of His

empire,

Would fpeak but love with him the bright refult
Would change the hue of intermediate scenes,
And make one thing of all theology.

GAMBOLD.

B

XV.

LOVE.

UT fainter than the viewlefs fand,
Beneath the wave which fweeps the
ftrand;

And paler than the pale ftar's ray,
Beneath the noon-tide blaze of day,

Is all of love that man can know,

All that in angels' breafts can glow,
Compared, O Lord of Hofts, with Thine,
Eternal, fathomless, divine!

XVI.

LOVE.

F rightly trained and bred

Humanity is humble, finds no spot Which her Heaven-guided feet refuse to tread.

The walls are cracked, funk is the flowery
roof;

Undreffed the pathway leading to the door;
But Love, as Nature, loves the lonely poor.

XVII.

WORDSWORTH.

LOVE.

OULD we with ink the Ocean fill,
Were the whole earth of parchment

made;

Were every fingle stick a quill,

And every man a scribe by trade.

To write the love of God above,

Would drain the Ocean dry;

Nor could the fcroll contain the whole,
Though ftretched from sky to fky.*

*These comprehenfive lines are faid to have been written by an idiot.

XVIII.

THE PASTOR.

Parish Prieft was of the pilgrim train,
An awful, reverend, and religious man,
Of fixty years he feemed, and well
might laft

To fixty more, but that he lived to faft.
DRYDEN.

XIX.

THE PASTOR.

E, who

His

your Lord's commiffion bear, way of mercy to prepareAngels He calls you, be your ftrife To lead on earth an Angel's life.

XX.

THE PASTOR.

E lived for others, while he fojourned here,

Made precious fouls the objects of his

care;

Denied himself to do another good,

And preached forgivenefs through the Saviour's blood.

He now has gone to fhare a great reward,
And dwell for ever with his gracious Lord.

XXI.

THE PASTOR.

HEN fuch a man, familiar with the skies,
Has filled his urn where the

W

rife,

pure waters

And once more mingles with us meaner things,-

"Tis e'en as if an angel fhook his wings.