_Hatred_ stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins.--Proverbs, x. 12. He that _hateth_ dissembleth with his lips, and layeth up deceit within him.--Proverbs, xxvi. 24. _Hate_ the evil, and love the good, and establish judgment in the gate.--Amos, v. 15. He that _hateth_ me _hateth_ my Father also.--John, xv. 23. I tell thee not the burning thunderbolt, When its fierce brow is lit in blasting flames, Stooping from its red chariot to sweep The earth, its angry voice is pealing o’er, Is half so deadly, or so sure as _hate_. Promethean _hate_! that can make cowards bold; Where he pursues it is in vain to flee; Where his form comes, a blight is on the earth; Where his hand strikes, life passeth, or is cursed; Where his eye glances, there despair comes down; Where his breath falls, all mercy vanisheth. _Constantia L. Reddell._ Blunted unto goodness is the heart which anger never stirreth, But that which _hatred_ swelleth, is keen to carve out evil. Anger is a noble infirmity, the generous failing of the just, The one degree that riseth above zeal, asserting the prerogatives of virtue; But _hatred_ is a slow continuing crime, a fire in the bad man’s breast, A dull and hungry flame, for ever craving insatiate. _Hatred_ would harm another; anger would indulge itself; _Hatred_ is a simmering poison; anger, the opening of the valve; _Hatred_ destroyeth as the upas-tree; anger smiteth as a staff; _Hatred_ is the atmosphere of hell, but anger is known in heaven. _Martin F. Tupper._ HEAD. The hoary _head_ is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness.--Proverbs, xvi. 31. Even to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you.--Isaiah, xlvi. 4. The very hairs of your _head_ are all numbered.--Matthew, x. 30. These hairs of age are messengers, Which bid me fast, repent, and pray; They be of death the harbingers, That doth prepare and dress the way; Wherefore, I joy that you may see Upon my _head_ such hairs to be. They be the lines that lead the length How far my race was for to run; They say my youth is fled with strength, And how old age is well begun; The which I feel, and you may see Such lines upon my _head_ to be. They be the strings of sober sound, Whose music is harmonical; Their tunes declare a time from ground I came, and bow thereto I shall; Wherefore I love, that you may see Upon my _head_ such hairs to be.