CHANGE.
Because they have no changes, therefore they fear not God.—Psalm lv. 19.
My son, fear thou the Lord and the king: and meddle not with them that are given to change.—Proverbs, xxiv. 21.
For I am the Lord, I change not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.—Malachi, iii. 6.
Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed.—I. Corinthians, xv. 51.
Emblem of life! see changeful April sail
In varying vest along the shadowy skies,
Now bidding summer’s stormy zephyrs rise,
Anon, recalling winter’s softest gale,
And pouring from the cloud her sudden hail;
Then, smiling through the tear that dims her eyes,
While Iris with her braid the welkin dyes,
Promise of sunshine, not so prone to fail.
So to us sojourners in life’s low vale,
The smiles of fortune flatter to deceive,
While still the fates the web of misery weave;
So hope exultant spreads her airy sail,
And from the present gloom the soul conveys
To distant summers, and far happier days.
H. K. White.
Still on its march, unnoticed and unfelt,
Moves on our being. We do live and breathe,
And we are gone. The spoiler heeds us not.
We have our spring-time and our rottenness;
And as we fall, another race succeeds,
To perish likewise. Meanwhile nature smiles—
The seasons run their round—the sun fulfils
His annual course—and heaven and earth remain
Still changing, yet unchang’d—still doomed to feel
Endless mutation in perpetual rest.
H. K. White.
Not seldom, clad in radiant vest,
Deceitfully goes forth the morn;
Not seldom, evening in the west,
The smoothest seas will sometimes prove
To the confiding bark untrue;
And if she trust the stars above,
They can be treacherous too.
The umbrageous oak, in pomp outspread,
Full oft when storms the welkin rend,
Draws lightening down upon the head
It promised to defend.
But Thou art true, incarnate Lord!
Who didst vouchsafe for man to die;
Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word
No change can falsify.
I bent before Thy gracious throne,
And asked for peace with suppliant knee;
And peace was given,—nor peace alone,
But faith, and hope, and ecstacy!
Wordsworth.
Of chance, or change, O let not man complain,
Else shall he never, never cease to wail;
For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain
Rears the lone cottage in the silent dale,
All feel the assault of fortune’s fickle gale;
Art, empire, earth itself, to change are doomed;
Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale,
And gulfs the mountain’s mighty mass entombed,
And where the Atlantic rolls, wide continents have bloomed.
Beattie.
The day was dark and stormy; but the night
Dawns into brightness, and the silvery moon
Pours over sea and land her urn of light,
Making of midnight a most pleasant noon.
The autumn blasts were withering, and their blight
Brought desolation: but a richer boon
The balmy showers and breathing zephyrs bring;
And the cold earth, fanned by the breath of spring,
Again shall start into luxuriant life,
Deformity and beauty—storm and calm—
The day-dawn and the darkness—quiet and calm—
Throughout all nature, mix and mingle rife.
Then why should man expect a fixed state,
Where all is change—or shrink beneath his fate?
A. Bethune.