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Where'er the Lord is, there are they ;
In every heart that gives them room,
Zeal to inflame, and vice consume.
Take it on trust a little while;
In the full sunshine of his smile.
The Dove must settle on the cross,
With Christ in sight, turning our gain to loss.
ELIJAH AT SAREPTA.
*Make me thereof a little cake first, and bring it unto me, and after make for thee and
for thy son.”
A child low wailing lies :
Scarce heeding its faint cries,
Gathers dry boughs, their last sad meal to dress.
And vigil-wasted air ?
I with thy child would share ?”
That all his own may be.
Healing and life to thee.
And thou, dear child, though hungering, give glad way
To Jesus in his need:
Thy name in heaven may read;
No distance breaks the tie of blood;
Brothers are brothers evermore ;
That magic may o'erpower.
Their mutual share in Jesus' blood
Of holiest brotherhood.
MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER. 1810.
Tuis distinguished author--distinguished for the fine fancy, deep thought, and elevated moral tone of most of his writings—has recently' made us a visit. He came, not to be lionized, but to see our country, and exchange kindly words with those who had loved and honored, though unseen, the author of the “ Proverbial Philosophy."
He is a son of the eminent surgeon, Martin Tupper, F. R. S. of London, and was born in that city in 1810. He took his degree of B. A. at Christ Church, Oxford, and subsequently entered at Lincoln's Inn. In due time he was called to the bar, but never practised as a barrister.
ages of sacred and profane history, ancient and modern. In 1840 appeared a pleasant volume of odds and ends, called “An Anthor's Mind.” His next work was a moral novel, published in 1844, entitled “The Crock of Gold,"—designed to illustrate the Sixth Commandment, as well as to show the curse and hardening effects of avarice. It is a talo beautifully told, and one of great interest and attraction. The principal characters of the story are honest Roger Acton, the luckless finder of the “ Crock of Gold;" his pure and simple-hearted daughter Grace, her lover Jonathan, Simon Jennings the murderer, his aunt Bridget Quarles the murdered one, and Ben Burke the poacher.
The same year (1844) Mr. Tupper published two other works of fiction, in one volume each, namely: “Heart, a social Novel,” and “The Twins, & domestic Novel,”—both highly subservient to the cause of sound morals, and depicting virtue and vice in their appropriate colors. His next work, published in 1845, is entitled “A Thousand Lines,"-a little tract of but sixty pages, containing poems on various subjects, written in his most captivating manner.
Mr. Tupper is most known by his “ Proverbial Philosophy;" and a book more replete with sound practical wisdom is hardly to be found, though it must be confessed the style of it is in some parts rather inflated. His prose works are also eminently instructive. Of these, “The Crock of Gold” has been most widely read and generally admired; for, as a tale of intense interest and clear moral point, it is scarcely exceeded. The following is the simple account of its origin :
“Some years ago he purchased a house at Brighton. While laying out the garden, he had occasion to have several drains made. One day, observing a workman, Francis Suter, standing in one of the trenches wet and wearied with toil, Mr. Tupper said to him, in a tone of pleasantry, “Would you not like to dig up there a crock full of gold ?' 'If I did,' said the man, 'it would do mne no good; because morely finding it might not make it mine.' 'But, suppose you could not only find such a treasure, but honestly keep it, would you not think yourself lucky?' 'Oh yes, sir, I suppose should—but,' after a considerable pause, “but, I am not so sure, sir, after all, that that is the best thing that could happen to me. I think, on the whole, I would rather have steady work and fair wages all the season, than to find a crock of gold!' Here was wisdom. The remark of the honest trench-digger at once set in motion a train of thought in the mind of the author. He entered his study-wrote in large letters on a sheet of paper these words, “THE CROCK OF Gold, a tale of Covetousness, -and in less than a week this remarkable story was finished.” With such simple threads does genius elaborate the richest and most gorgeous tapestry.'
For verily on all things else broodeth disappointment with care,
Power is seldom innocent, and envy is the yoke-fellow of eminence;
purchased; He would be on the mountain's top without the toil and travail of the
climbing. But equity demandeth recompense; for high-place, calumny and care; For state, comfortless splendor eating out the heart of home; For warrior-fame, dangers and death; for a name among the learned, a
spirit overstrain'd; For honor of all kinds, the goad of ambition; on every acquirement, the
tax of anxiety. He that would change with another, must take the cup as it is mix’d: Poverty, with largeness of heart: or a full purse, with a sordid spirit; Wisdom, in an ailing body; or a common mind with health ; Godliness, with man's scorn; or the welcome of the mighty, with guilt; Beauty, with a fickle heart; or plainness of face, with affection. For so hath Providence determined, that a man shall not easily discover Unmingled good or evil, to quicken his envy or abhorrence. A bold man or a fool must he be who would change his lot with another; It were a fearful bargain, and mercy hath lovingly refused it; For we know the worst of ourselves, but the secrets of another we see not; And better is certain bad, than the doubt and dread of worse. Just, and strong, and opportune is the moral rule of God. Ripe in its times, firm in its judgments, equal in the measure of its gifts : Yet men, scanning the surface, count the wicked happy,
[tions : Nor heed the compensating peace which gladdeneth the good in his afflicThey see not the frightful dreams that crowd a bad man's pillow, Like wreathed adders crawling round his midnight conscience; They hear not the terrible suggestions that knock at the portal of his will, Provoking to wipe away from life the one weak witness of the deed; They know not the torturing suspicions that sting his panting breast, When the clear eye of penetration quietly readeth off the truth. Likewise of the good what know they? the memories bringing pleasure, Shrined in the heart of the benevolent, and glistening from his eye; The calm self-justifying reason that establisheth the upright in his purpose; The warm and gushing bliss that floodeth all the thoughts of the religious. Many a beggar at the cross-way, or gray-hair'd shepherd on the plain, Hath more of the end of all wealth than hundreds who multiply the means. FORGIVE AND FORGET.
When streams of unkindness, as bitter as gall,
Bubble up from the heart to the tongue,
By the hands of Ingratitude wrung-
While the anguish is festering yet,
“I now can forgive and forget.”
And the lips are in penitence steep'd, With the wrong so repented the wrath will depart,
Though scorn on injustice were heap'd; For the best compensation is paid for all ill,
When the cheek with contrition is wet,
At once to forgive and forget.
However his heart may forgive,
And but for the future to live:
Recollection the spirit will fret,
Though we strive to forgive and forget.
And mind shall be partner with heart, While thce to thyself I bid conscience reveal,
And show thee how evil thou art:
How vast is that infinite debt!
Been swift to forgive and forget!
For thou art injurious too-
For thou art unkind and untrue:
Now mercy with justice is met;
Nor learn to forgive and forget ?
Be quick to receive him a friend;
Hot coals-to refine and amend;
As a nurse on her innocent pet,
And whisper, Forgive and forget.