ow!
Unreal mockery, hence!
_Macbeth, Act iii. Sc. 4_. SHAKESPEARE.

GLORY.

Glory is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself
Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought.
_Henry VI., Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright,
But looked to near have neither heat nor light.
_The White Devil, Act v. Sc. 1_. J. WEBSTER.

We rise in glory, as we sink in pride:
Where boasting ends, there dignity begins.
_Night Thoughts, Night VIII_. DR. E. YOUNG.

The glory dies not, and the grief is past.
_On the Death of Sir Walter Scott_. SIR S. BRYDGES.

GOD.

What is this mighty Breath, ye sages, say,
That, in powerful language, felt, not heard,
Instructs the fowls of heaven; and through their breast
These arts of love diffuses? What, but God?
Inspiring God! who, boundless Spirit all,
And unremitting Energy, pervades.
Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole.
_The Seasons: Spring_. J. THOMSON.

The Somewhat which we name but cannot know,
Ev'n as we name a star and only see
Its quenchless flashings forth, which ever show
And ever hide him, and which are not he.
_Wordsworth's Grave, I_. W. WATSON.

A Deity believed, is joy begun;
A Deity adored, is joy advanced;
A Deity beloved, is joy matured.
Each branch of piety delight inspires.
_Night Thoughts, Night VIII_. DR. E. YOUNG.

Thou, my all!
My theme! my inspiration! and my crown!
My strength in age! my rise in low estate!
My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth!--my world!
My light in darkness! and my life in death!
My boast through time! bliss through eternity!
Eternity, too short to speak thy praise!
Or fathom thy profound of love to man!
_Night Thoughts, Night IV_. DR. E. YOUNG.
Happy the man who sees a God employed
In all the good and ill that checker life.
_The Task, Bk. II_. W. COWPER.

O thou, whose certain eye foresees
The fixed event of fate's remote decrees.
_Odyssey, Bk. IV_. HOMER. _Trans. of_ POPE.

From thee, great God, we spring, to thee we tend,--
Path, motive, guide, original, and end.
_The Rambler, No. 7_. DR. S. JOHNSON.

Whatever is, is in its causes just.
_Oedipus, Act. iii. Sc. 1_. J. DRYDEN.

He that doth the ravens feed
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age!
_As You Like It, Act. ii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPE