Thy mercy sweeten’d every soil,
  Made every region please;
The hoary Alpine hills it warm’d,
  And smoothed the Tyrrhene seas.

Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
  How, with affrighted eyes,
Thou saw’st the wide-extended deep
  In all its horrors rise.

Confusion dwelt in every face,
  And fear in every heart;
When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs,
  O’ercame the pilot’s art.

Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
  Thy mercy set me free;
Whilst, in the confidence of prayer,
  My soul took hold on Thee.

For though in dreadful whirls we hung
  High on the broken wave,
I knew Thou wert not slow to hear,
  Nor impotent to save.

—­The storm was laid; the winds retired,
  Obedient to Thy will;
The sea that roar’d at Thy command,
  At Thy command was still.

_—­J.  Addison_

TRUE GREATNESS

The fairest action of our human life
  Is scorning to revenge an injury: 
For who forgives without a further strife
  His adversary’s heart to him doth tie: 
And ’tis a firmer conquest truly said
  To win the heart, than overthrow the head.

If we a worthy enemy do find,
  To yield to worth, it must be nobly done:—­
But if of baser metal be his mind,
  In base revenge there is no honor won. 
Who would a worthy courage overthrow? 
  And who would wrestle with a worthless foe?

We say our hearts are great, and cannot yield;
  Because they cannot yield, it proves them poor: 
Great hearts are task’d beyond their power but seld: 
  The weakest lion will the loudest roar. 
Truth’s school for certain does this same allow,
  High-heartedness doth sometimes teach to bow.

_—­Lady E. Carew_

CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE

How happy is he born and taught
  That serveth not another’s will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,
  And simple truth his utmost skill!

Whose passions not his masters are,
  Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Not tied unto the world with care
  Of public fame, or private breath;

Who envies none that chance doth raise
  Or vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
  Nor rules of state, but rules of good;

Who hath his life from rumors freed;
  Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
  Nor ruin make accusers great;

Who God doth late and early pray
  More of His grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
  With a well-chosen book or friend;

—­This man is freed from servile bands
  Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
  And having nothing, yet hath all.