Preys on my vitals, turns the healthful hue
Of my fresh cheek to haggard sallowness,
And drinks my spirit up!
_David and Goliath_. H. MORE.

If I shall be condemned
Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else
But what your jealousies awake, I tell you,
'Tis rigor, and not law.
_Winter's Tale, Act iii. Sc. 2_. SHAKESPEARE.

Though I perchance am vicious in my guess,
As, I confess, it is my nature's plague
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not.
_Othello, Act iii. Sc. 3_. SHAKESPEARE.

But through the heart
Should Jealousy its venom once diffuse,
'Tis then delightful misery no more,
But agony unmixed, incessant gall,
Corroding every thought, and blasting all
Love's paradise.
_The Seasons: Spring_. J. THOMSON.

JESUS CHRIST.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning!
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.
_Epiphany_. BISHOP R. HEBER.

He was the Word, that spake it;
He took the bread and brake it;
And what that Word did make it,
I do believe and take it.
_Divine Poems: On the Sacrament_. DR. J. DONNE.

And so the Word had breath, and wrought
With human hands the creed of creeds
In loveliness of perfect deeds,
More strong than all poetic thought.
_In Memoriam, XXXVI_. A. TENNYSON.
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,
So hallowed and so gracious is the time,
_Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

In those holy fields,
Over whose acres walked those blessed feet
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed,
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.
_Henry IV., Pt. I. Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.

Lovely was the death
Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power,
He on the thought-benighted Skeptic beamed
Manifest Godhead.
_Religious Musings_. S.T. COLERIDGE.

But chiefly Thou
Whom soft-eyed Pity once led down from Heaven
To bleed for man, to teach him how to live,
And, oh! still harder lesson! how to die.
_Death_. B. PORTEUS.

One there is above all others,
Well deserves the name of Friend!
His is love beyond a brother's,