The mind is its own place, and in itself
  Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
Paradise Lost, Bk.  I.  MILTON.

  Sure, He that made us with such large discourse,
  Looking before and after, gave us not
  That capability and godlike reason,
  To fust in us unused.
Hamlet, Act iv.  Sc. 4.  SHAKESPEARE.

  How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice,
  Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice.
The Vanity of Human Wishes.  DR. S. JOHNSON.

  How small, of all that human hearts endure,
  That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! 
  Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
  Our own felicity we make or find. 
  With secret course, which no loud storms annoy,
  Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.
Lines added to Goldsmith’s Traveller.  DR. S. JOHNSON.

  Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,
  Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.
Hamlet, Act iii.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

Measure your mind’s height by the shade it casts! Paracelsus.  R. BROWNING.

  Were I so tall to reach the pole,
  Or grasp the ocean with my span,
  I must be measured by my soul: 
  The mind’s the standard of the man.
Horae Lyricae, Bk.  II.:  False Greatness.  DR. I. WATTS.

  Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise;
  His pride in reasoning, not in acting, lies.
Moral Essays, Epistle I.  A. POPE.

  While Reason drew the plan, the Heart informed
  The moral page and Fancy lent it grace.
Liberty, Pt.  IV.  J. THOMSON.

  Minds that have nothing to confer
  Find little to perceive.
Yes!  Thou art fair.  WORDSWORTH.

  Cried, “’T is resolved, for Nature pleads that he
  Should only rule who most resembles me. 
  Shadwell alone my perfect image bears,
  Mature in dulness from his tender years;
  Shadwell alone of all my sons is he
  Who stands confirmed in full stupidity. 
  The rest to some faint meaning make pretence,
  But Shadwell never deviates into sense. 
  Some beams of wit on other souls may fall,
  Strike through and make a lucid interval;
  But Shadwell’s genuine night admits no ray.”
Mac Flecknoe.  J. DRYDEN.

MISSIONS.

  Onward, ye men of prayer! 
    Scatter in rich exuberance the seed,
  Whose fruit is living bread, and all your need
    Will God supply; his harvest ye shall share.

  Seek ye the far-off isle;
    The sullied jewel of the deep,
  O’er whose remembered beauty angels weep,
    Restore its lustre and to God give spoil.
Missionaries.  W.B.  TAPPAN.

  When they reach the land of strangers,
    And the prospect dark appears,
  Nothing seen but toils and dangers,
    Nothing felt but doubts and fears;
      Be thou with them! 
      Hear their sighs, and count their tears.
Departing Missionaries.  T. KELLY.