leasures, we must beware of excess in it; and not only so, but if we
find it hurtful to us, either because we have used it too freely in
times past, or because our nature is too weak to bear it, that then we
are bound most solemnly to abstain from it; because, however lawful in
itself, or to others who can practise it without injury, whatever is to
us an hindrance in the way of our intellectual and moral and spiritual
improvement, that is in our case a positive sin.

* * * * *

_There is a book, who runs may read, which heavenly truth
imparts;
And all the lore its scholars need,--pure eyes and Christian
hearts.
The works of God, above, below, within us and around,
Are pages in that book, to show how God Himself is found._

JOHN KEBLE.--1792-1866.

XLVI. THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

THOMAS HOOD.--1799-1845.

One more Unfortunate,
Weary of breath,
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!

Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion'd so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!

Look at her garments
Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.--

Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and humanly;
Not of the stains of her,--
All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly.

Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and undutiful:
Past all dishonor,
Death has left on her
Only the beautiful.

Still, for all slips of hers,
One of Eve's family,--
Wipe those poor lips of hers
Oozing so clammily.

Loop up her tresses
Escaped from the comb,--
Her fair auburn tresses;
Whilst wonderment guesses
Where was her home?

Who was her father?
Who was her mother?
Had she a sister?
Had she a brother?
Or was there a dearer one
Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?

Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
Under the sun!
Oh! it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.

Sisterly, brotherly,
Fatherly, motherly
Feelings had changed:
Love, by harsh evidence,
Thrown from its eminence;
Even God's providence
Seeming estranged.

Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,
With many a light