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O dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrecoverably dark! total eclipse, Without all hope of day.

These eyes, tho' clear To outward view of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot, Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, not bate a jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer Right onward.

Deep versed in books and shallow in himself.

Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image, but thee who destroys a goode booke, kills reason it selfe.

'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity; She that has that is clad in complete steel, And, like a quiver'd nymph with arrows keen, May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds; Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, No savage fierce, bandite, or mountaineer, Will dare to soil her virgin purity.

So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lacky her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt.

Rather than be less Car'd not to be at all.

Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell, . . . . And boldly venture to whatever place Farthest from pain?

The Pilot of the Galilean Lake.

Servant of God, well done, well hast thou fought The better fight.

CHRISTMAS DAY ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY This the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. That glorious form, that light insufferable, And that far-beaming blaze majesty, Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table To sit the midst of Trinal Unity He laid aside, and, here with us to be. Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, Now while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? See how from far upon the eastern road The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet! Oh, run! present them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the Angel Quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.

We read not that Christ ever exercised force but once; and that was to drive profane ones out of his Temple, not to force them in.

When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?" I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies: "God doth not need Either man's work, or His own gifts. Who best Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best. His state Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait.".

[If] there be any difference among professed believers as to the sense of Scripture, it is their duty to tolerate such difference in each other, until God shall have revealed the truth to all.

This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring, For so the holy sages once did sing, That He our deadly forfeit should release, And with His Father work us a perpetual peace.

Ring out ye crystal spheres! Once bless our human ears, If ye have power to touch our senses so; And let your silver chime Move in melodious time, And let the bass of Heaven's deep organ blow; And with your ninefold harmony Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.

Towered cities please us then, And the busy hum of men.

The city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo.

Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?

There does a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night, And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.