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, Sinks smilingly forsworn. 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._ CHARITY. _Charity_ suffereth long and is kind; _charity_ envieth not; _charity_ vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;