JOHN QUARLES, A SON of Francis Quarles, inherited much of his father's character and genius. He was educated by Archbishop Usher, upon whose death he wrote an elegy, beginning with these beautiful lines: "Then weep no more; see how his peaceful breast, Rocked by the hand of death, takes quiet rest. Disturb him not; but let him sweetly take A full repose; he hath been long awake." He was for some time engaged in the civil wars, travelled abroad, and returning to London, died of the plague in 1665. HYMN. GREAT GOD, whose sceptre rules the earth, Distil thy fear into my heart, That, being rapt with holy mirth, I may proclaim how good thou art: Open my lips, that I may sing Full praises to my God, my King. Great God, thy garden is defaced, The weeds thrive there, the flowers decay; Restore thou them, cut these away : In all extremes, Lord, thou art still The mount whereto my hopes do flee; O make my soul detest all ill, Because so much abhorred by Thee: Shall mountain, desert, beast, and tree, Nor stir this stone-this heart of mine? Fountain of light, and living breath, Whose mercies never fail nor fade, Fill me with light that hath no shade; Lord, God of gods, before whose throne When all the world belongs to Thee? O Thou that sittest in heaven, and seest I care not, so I rise to Thee. What I possess, or what I crave, Brings no content, great God, to me, If what I would or what I have Be not possessed and blessed in Thee: What I enjoy, oh, make it mine, In making me that have it-Thine. When winter-fortunes cloud the brows Of summer-friends,-when eyes grow strange, When plighted faith forgets its vows, When earth and all things in it change, O Lord, thy mercies fail me never,— When once Thou lovest, Thou lovest forever Great God, whose kingdom hath no end, To know, Lord, teach me to admire. SIR RICHARD BLACKMORE. 66 SIR RICHARD BLACKMORE, a poet, physician, and miscellaneous writer, was born in 1654. Among his poems are "The Creation," “The Redeemer,” a "Paraphrase on the Book of Job,” and a “ Version of the Psalms." Blackmore was the butt of contemporary wits. Dryden commenced the persecution, and a host followed. Heedless, however, of this, he went on in his selected path, and he has received his reward in the commendations of such men as Addison, Locke, and Johnson. He died in 1739. THE HUNDRED AND FOURTEENTH PSALM PARAPHRASED. WHEN God a thousand miracles had wrought, The favorite tribes' deliverance to promote, Their God, and with celestial light Canaan was blessed, as Goshen was before, While all their neighbors lay involved in night. God the foundation of their empire laid, And ruled with equal laws the sacred state. Was from the Egyptian bondage freed. When God to do this wondrous work was pleased, Great consternation nature seized: The restive floods refused to flow, Panting with fear, the winds could find no breath to blow, The astonished sea did motionless become, Horror its waters did benumb. The briny waves, that reared themselves to see The Almighty judgments, and his majesty, With terror crystallized, began to halt, Then pillars grew, and rocks of salt. Jordan, as soon as this great deed it saw, Struck with a reverential awe, Started, and with precipitation fled, The thronging waves ran backward to their head. Terror the mountains did constrain To lift themselves from off their base, And on their rocky roots to dance about the plain. The little hills, astonished at the sight, Flew to the mother-mountains in a fright, And did about them skip, as lambs Run to and bleat around their trembling dams. What ailed thee, O thou troubled sea, That thou with all thy watery troops didst flee? What ailed thee, Jordan? tell the cause That made thy flood break nature's laws; Thy course thou didst not only stop, And roll thy liquid volumes up, But didst e'en backward flow, to hide Within thy fountain's head thy refluent tide. What did the lofty mountains ail? What pangs of fear did all the hills assail, That they their station could not keep, But, scared with danger, ran like timorous scattered sheep? But why do I demand a cause Of your amazement, which deserves applause ? Yours was a just, becoming fear; For when th' Almighty does appear, Not only you, but the whole earth should quake, Who by his great commanding word Can make the floods to solid crystal grow, Or melt the rocks, and make their marble flow. WHAT if the sinner's magazines are stored |