Masculine sentiments, vigorously holden, well become a man;
But a weak mind hath a timorous grasp, and mistaketh it for tendernese

of conscience. Many are despised for their folly, who put it to the account of their religion, And because men treat them with contempt, they look to their God for

glory: But contempt shall still be their reward, who betrayed their Master unto

ridicule, Reflecting on Him in themselves, meanness and ignorance and cowardice. A Christian hath a royal spirit, and need not be ashamed but unto One. Among just men walketh he softly, but the world should see him as a

champion. His humbleness is far unlike the shame that covereth the profligate and

weak, When the sober reproof of virtue hath touched their tingling ears; It is born of love and wisdom, and is worthy of all honour, And the sweet persuasion of its smile changeth contempt into reverence.

A man of a haughty spirit is daily adding to his enemies:
He standeth as the Arab in the desert, and the hands of all men are against


A man of a base mind daily subtracteth from his friends,
For he holdeth himself so cheaply, that others learn to despise him.
But where the meekness of self-knowledge veileth the front of self-respect,
There look thou for the man, whom none can know but they will honour.
Humility is the softening shadow before the stature of Excellence,
And lieth lowly on the ground, beloved and lovely as the violet:
Humility is the fair-haired maid, that calleth Worth her brother,
The gentle silent nurse, that fostereth infant virtues:
Humility bringeth no excuse; she is welcome to God and man:
Her countenance is needful unto all, who would prosper in either world;
And the mild light of her sweet face is mirrored in the eyes of her com

panions, And straightway stand they accepted, children of penitence and love. As when the blind man is nigh unto a rose, its sweetness is the herald of

its beauty,

So when thou savourest humility, be sure thou art nigh unto merit.
A gift rejoiceth the covetous, and praise fatteneth the vain,
And the pride of man delighteth in the humble bearing of his fellow;
But to the tender benevolence of the unthanked Almoner of good,
Humility is queen among the graces, for she giveth Him occasion to



DEEP is the sea, and deep is hell, but Pride mineth deeper;
It is coiled as a poisonous worm about the foundations of the soul.
If thou expose it in thy motives, and track it in thy springs of thought,
Complacent in its own detection, it will seem indignant virtue;
Smoothly will it gratulate thy skill, O subtle anatomist of self,
And spurn at its very being, while it nestleth the deeper in thy bosom.
Pride is a double traitor, and betrayeth itself to entrap thee,
Making thee vain of thy self-knowledge; proud of thy discoveries of pride,
Fruitlessly thou strainest for humility, by darkly diving into self:
Rather look away from innate evil, and gaze upon extraneous good :
For in sounding the deep things of the heart, thou shalt learn to be vain

of its capacities,
But in viewing the heights above thee, thou shalt be taught thy littleness:
Could an emmet pry into itself, it might marvel at its own anatomy,
But let it look on eagles, to discern how mean a thing it is.
And all things hang upon comparison; to the greater, great is small:
Neither is there any thing so vile, but somewhat yet is viler :
On all sides is there an infinity: the culprit at the gallows hath his worse,
And the virgin martyr at the stake need not look far for a better.
Therefore see thou that thine aim reacheth unto higher than thyself:
Beware that the standard of thy soul wave from the loftiest battlement:
For pride is a pestilent meteor, flitting on the marshes of corruption,
That will lure thee forward to thy death, if thou seek to track it to its


Pride is a gloomy bow, arching the infernal firmament,
That will lead thee on, if thou wilt hunt it, even to the dwelling of despair
Deep calleth unto deep, and mountain overtoppeth mountain,

And still shalt thou fathom to no end the depth and the height of pride:
For it is the vast ambition of the soul, warped to an idol object,
And nothing but a Deity in Self can quench its insatiable thirst.

Be aware of the smiling enemy, that openly sheatheth his weapon,
But mingleth poison in secret with the sacred salt of hospitality:
For pride will lie dormant in thy heart, to snatch its secret opportunity,
Watching, as a lion-ant, in the bottom of its toils.
Stay not to parley with thy foe, for his tongue is more potent than his arm,
But be wiser, fighting against pride in the simple panoply of prayer.
As one also of the poets hath said, let not the Proteus escape thee; (13)
For he will blaze forth as fire, and quench himself in likeness of water ;
He will fright thee as a roaring beast, or charm thee as a subtle reptile.
Mark, ami) all his transformations, the complicate deceitfulness of pride,
And the more he striveth to elude thee, bind him the closer in thy toils.
Prayer is the net that snareth him; prayer is the fetter that holdeth him:
Thou canst not nourish pride, while waiting as an almsman on thy God, -
Waiting in sincerity and trust, or pride shall meet thee even there ;
Yea, from the palaces of Heaven, hath pride cast down his millions.

up the mandrake from thy heart, though it cost thee blood and groans, Or the cherished garden of thy graces will fade and perish utterly.


I KNEW that age was enriched with the hard-earned wages of knowledge,
And I saw that hoary wisdom was bred in the school of disappointment :
I noted that the wisest of youth, though provident and cautious of evil,
Yet sailed along unsteadily, as lacking some ballast of the mind:
And the cause seemed to lie in this, that while they considered around them,
And warded off all dangers from without, they forgat their own weakness

within. So steer they in self-confidence, until, from the multitude of perils, They begin to be wary of themselves, and learn the first lesson of

Experience. I knew that in the morning of life, before its wearisome journey, The youthful soul doth expand, in the simple luxury of being; It hath not contracted its wishes, nor set a limit to its hopes ; The wing of fancy is unclipt, and sin hatlı not seared its feelings: Each feature is stamped with immortality, for all its desires are infinite, And it seeketh an ocean of happiness, to fill the deep hollow within. But the old and the grave look on, pitying that generous youth, For they also have tasted long ago the bitterness of hope destroyed : They pity him, and are sad, remembering the days that are past. But they know he must taste for himself, or he will not give ear to their

wisdom. For Experience hath another lesson, which a man will do well if he learn, By checking the flight of expectation, to cheat disappointment of its pain.

EXPERIENCE teacheth many things, and all men are his scholars :
Yet is he a strange tutor, unteaching that which he hath taught.

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