But as I urged thus, and writ down What pleasures should my journey crown, What silent paths, what shades and cells, Fair virgin-flowers and hallowed wells, I should rove in, and rest my head Where my dear Lord did often tread, Sugaring all dangers with success, Methought I heard one singing thus:

1 Leave, leave thy gadding thoughts; Who pores And spies Still out of doors, Descries Within them nought.

2 The skin and shell of things, Though fair, Are not Thy wish nor prayer, But got By mere despair Of wings.

3 To rack old elements, Or dust, And say, Sure here he must Needs stay, Is not the way, Nor just.

Search well another world; who studies this, Travels in clouds, seeks manna where none is.

'That they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him, though he be not far off from every one of us: for in him we live, and move, and have our being.'--ACTS xvii. 27, 28.

ISAAC'S MARRIAGE.

'And Isaac went out to pray in the field at the eventide, and he lifted up his eyes, and saw, and, behold, the camels were coming.' --GEN. xxiv. 63.

Praying! and to be married! It was rare, But now 'tis monstrous; and that pious care Though of ourselves, is so much out of date, That to renew't were to degenerate. But thou a chosen sacrifice wert given, And offered up so early unto Heaven, Thy flames could not be out; religion was Hayed into thee like beams into a glass; Where, as thou grew'st, it multiplied, and shined The sacred constellation of thy mind.

But being for a bride, prayer was such A decried course, sure it prevailed not much. Hadst ne'er an oath nor compliment? thou wert An odd, dull suitor; hadst thou but the art Of these our days, thou couldst have coined thee twenty New several oaths, and compliments, too, plenty. O sad and wild excess! and happy those White days, that durst no impious mirth expose: When conscience by lewd use had not lost sense, Nor bold-faced custom banished innocence! Thou hadst no pompous train, nor antic crowd Of young, gay swearers, with their needless, loud Retinue; all was here smooth as thy bride, And calm like her, or that mild evening-tide. Yet hadst thou nobler guests: angels did wind And rove about thee, guardians of thy mind; These fetched thee home thy bride, and all the way Advised thy servant what to do and say; These taught him at the well, and thither brought The chaste and lovely object of thy thought. But here was ne'er a compliment, not one Spruce, supple cringe, or studied look put on. All was plain, modest truth: nor did she come In rolls and curls, mincing and stately dumb; But in a virgin's native blush and fears, Fresh as those roses which the day-spring wears. O sweet, divine simplicity! O grace Beyond a curled lock or painted face! A pitcher too she had, nor thought it much To carry that, which some would scorn to touch; With, which in mild, chaste language she did woo To draw him drink, and for his camels too.