Who near his fountains sought obscure re pose, Yet were prepared as glorious lights to shine, Should that be needed for their sacred charge; Blest prisoners they, whose spirits are at large! WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. THE VAUDOIS TEACHER. "The manner in which the Waldenses and heretics disseminated their principles among the Catholic gentry was by carrying with them a box of trinkets or articles of dress. Having entered the houses of the gentry, and disposed of some of their goods, they cautiously intimated that they had commodities far more valuable than these, - inestimable jewels, which they would show if they could be protected from the clergy. They would then give their purchasers a Bible or Testament, and thereby many were deluded into heresy." R. SACCHO, Inquisitor of the twelfth century. The richest web of the Indian loom, which beauty's queen might wear; And my pearls are pure as thy own fair neck, with whose radiant light they vie; I have brought them with me a weary way, will my gentle lady buy?" And the lady smiled on the worn old man through the dark and clustering curls Which veiled her brow as she bent to view his silks and glittering pearls ; And she placed their price in the old man's hand, and lightly turned away, But she paused at the wanderer's earnest call," My gentle lady, stay!" “O lady fair, I have yet a gem which a purer lustre flings, Than the diamond flash of the jewelled crown on the lofty brow of kings, A wonderful pearl of exceeding price, whose virtue shall not decay, Whose light shall be as a spell to thee and a blessing on thy way!" The lady glanced at the mirroring steel where her form of grace was seen, Where her eye shone clear, and her dark locks waved their clasping pearls between ; "Bring forth thy pearl of exceeding worth, thou traveller gray and old, And name the price of thy precious gem, and my page shall count thy gold." The cloud went off from the pilgrim's brow, as a small and meagre book, Unchased with gold or gem of cost, from his folding robe he took! 66 Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price, may it prove as such to thee! Nay-keep thy gold - I ask it not, for the word of God is free!" The hoary traveller went his way, but the gift he left behind Hath had its pure and perfect work on that high-born maiden's mind, And she hath turned from the pride of sin to the lowliness of truth, And given her human heart to God in its beautiful hour of youth! And she hath left the gray old halls, where an evil faith had power, The courtly knights of her father's train, and the maidens of her bower; And she hath gone to the Vaudois vales by lordly feet untrod, Where the poor and needy of earth are rich in the perfect love of God! JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER. LE COLPORTEUR VAUDOIS. The following translation of Mr. Whittier's poem into French was made by PROF. G. DE FELICE, of Montauban, France, and it is said by the Rev. J C. Fletcher to be taught to every Protestant child in France. A letter of thanks was written to Mr. Whittier in 1875 in the name of the Waldensian church, so highly is his poem prized by the primitive people amid the fastnesses of the Alps. OH regardez, ma noble et belle dame, Ses chaines d'or, ces joyaux précieux. Les voyez-vous. ces perles dont la flamme Effacerait un éclair de vos yeux? Voyez encore ces vêtements de soie Qui pourraient plaire à plus d'un souverain. La noble dame, à l'âge où l'or est vaine, Si vous aviez ma perle de grande prix ! Lord! teach us always thy voice to know. And to turn to thee from the world beside, Prepared, when our time has come to go, Whether at morn or eventide. And to say when the heavens are rent in twain, When suns are darkened, and stars shall Alee, Lo! thou hast not called for us in vain, And we shall not call in vain for thee! PHOEBE CARY. THE LEAK IN THE DIKE. A STORY OF HOLLAND. THE good dame looked from her cottage "Come, Peter, come! I want you to go While there is light to see, To the hut of the blind old man who lives Across the dike, for me; And take these cakes I made for him, They are hot and smoking yet; Then the good-wife turned to her labor, And thought of her husband, working hard And set the turf a-blazing, And brought the coarse black bread; That he might find a fire at night, And find the table spread. And Peter left the brother, With whom all day he had played, And the sister who had watched their sports In the willow's tender shade; And told them they'd see him back before Though he would n't be afraid to go With eye and conscience clear ; And now, with his face all glowing, And eyes as bright as the day And his blossoms drop to the ground. He is up the bank in a moment, And, stealing through the sand, He sees a stream not yet so large As his slender, childish hand. 'Tis a leak in the dike! He is but a boy, Unused to fearful scenes; But, young as he is, he has learned to know The dreadful thing that means. A leak in the dike! The stoutest heart And the bravest man in all the land For he knows the smallest leak may grow To a flood in a single night; And he knows the strength of the cruel sea When loosed in its angry might. And the boy! he has seen the danger, And, shouting a wild alarm, He forces back the weight of the sea With the strength of his single arm! He listens for the joyful sound Of a footstep passing nigh; And lays his ear to the ground, to catch The answer to his cry. And he hears the rough wind blowing, But never an answer comes to him, He sees no hope, no succor, His feeble voice is lost; And every head was bared and bent In tearful, reverent joy. 'Tis many a year since then; but still, Remembered through the years; Is named with loving tears. And his deed shall be sung by the cradle, PHOEBE CARY. THE LADDER OF SAINT AUGUS TINE. SAINT AUGUSTINE! well hast thou said, That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of shame! All common things, each day's events, The low desire, the base design, That makes another's virtues less; The revel of the ruddy wine, And all occasions of excess; The longing for ignoble things; The strife for triumph more than truth; The hardening of the heart, that brings Irreverence for the dreams of youth; All thoughts of ill; all evil deeds, The action of the nobler will: All these must first be trampled down We have not wings, we cannot soar; GRAND rough old Martin Luther Bloomed fables - flowers on furze, The better the uncouther: Do roses stick like burrs? "A beggar asked an alms One day at an abbey-door,” Said Luther; "but, seized with qualms, The Abbot replied, 'We 're poor! "Poor, who had plenty once, When gifts fell thick as rain: But they give us nought, for the nonce, And how should we give again?' "Then the beggar, 'See Of old, unless I err, your sins! "Only, beware relapse!' The Abbot hung his head. This beggar might be, perhaps, An angel," Luther said. ROBERT BROWNING. MARTIN LUTHER. A Chamber in the Wartburg. Morning. MARTIN LUTHER writing. MARTIN LUTHER. OUR God, a tower of Strength is he, The old evil foe Doth in earnest grow, In grim armor dight, Much guile and great might; On earth there is none like him. O yes; a tower of strength indeed, A sword and buckler is our God. Safe in this Wartburg tower I stand Safe, yes, safe am I here at last, Safe from the overwhelming blast Of the mouths of Hell, that followed me fast, And the howling demons of despair That hunted me like a beast to his lair. Of our own might we nothing can ; Who is he? ye exclaim; Christus is his name, Lord of Sabaoth, Very God in troth; The field he holds forever. Nothing can vex the evil more Than the name of Him whom we adore. Therefore doth it delight me best These words the Devil cannot endure, This world may full of devils be, This World's Prince, howe'er He is doomed, God wot! One little word can slay him! Incredible it seems to some And to myself a mystery, That such weak flesh and blood as we, Armed with no other shield or sword, Or other weapon than the Word, Should combat and should overcome, A spirit powerful as he! He summons forth the Pope of Rome With all his diabolic crew, His shorn and shaven retinue Of priests and children of the dark; Yesterday in an idle mood, |