text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"832. When Satan Rules the Simple Heart
No man can enter into a strong man's house, &c.
--iii. 27.
When Satan rules the simple heart,
Jesus alone can drive him thence:
Jesus, Thy Spirit's power exert,
Bring in Thy love's omnipotence,
The fiend out of my soul to chase,
And plant Thy kingdom in its place.
The strong man arm'd this moment bind,
The bold usurper of Thy throne,
His armour seize, the carnal mind,
The unbelieving heart of stone,
Out of my flesh the evil tear,
And pluck my soul out of the snare.
My soul redeem'd from Satan's toils
Now for Thy lawful captive claim,
Stir up Thy strength and take the spoils,
Thy double property I am,
Mark'd with Thy name, the goods are Thine,
Thy work, and bought with blood Divine.",2010-06-30 18:39:38 UTC,"""When Satan rules the simple heart / Jesus alone can drive him thence.""",2004-07-12 00:00:00 UTC,On St. Mark,"",2010-06-30,"",•INTEREST. These hymns are packed with dead metaphor. I should read them carefully all at once and be prepared to say more about how they work.,"",8456,3219
"832. When Satan Rules the Simple Heart
No man can enter into a strong man's house, &c.
--iii. 27.
When Satan rules the simple heart,
Jesus alone can drive him thence:
Jesus, Thy Spirit's power exert,
Bring in Thy love's omnipotence,
The fiend out of my soul to chase,
And plant Thy kingdom in its place.
The strong man arm'd this moment bind,
The bold usurper of Thy throne,
His armour seize, the carnal mind,
The unbelieving heart of stone,
Out of my flesh the evil tear,
And pluck my soul out of the snare.
My soul redeem'd from Satan's toils
Now for Thy lawful captive claim,
Stir up Thy strength and take the spoils,
Thy double property I am,
Mark'd with Thy name, the goods are Thine,
Thy work, and bought with blood Divine.",2010-06-30 18:42:18 UTC,"""The fiend out of my soul to chase, / And plant Thy kingdom in its place.""",2004-07-12 00:00:00 UTC,On St. Mark,"",2010-06-30,"","","",8457,3219
"Rash, angry words, and spoken out of season,
When passion has usurp'd the throne of reason,
Have ruin'd many. Passion is unjust,
And for an idle, transitory gust
Of gratified revenge, dooms us to pay
With long repentance at a later day.
",2009-09-14 19:33:36 UTC,"Rash, angry words may be ""spoken out of season / When passion has usurp'd the throne of reason""",2004-07-19 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","","Searching ""throne"" and ""reason"" in HDIS (Poetry); again ""passion""",8471,3226
"E'en let the grumbler rave that will;
While Handel plays, we need not fear him.
Paulet and Hungerford, be still:
Lechmere and Wharton, hear him, hear him!
When reason gets into the throne,
The court shall teach us to be godly;
Pipes sound with breath that's not their own:
Is Fleetwood such an one, or Hoadly?",2014-02-22 04:15:19 UTC,"""When reason gets into the throne, / The court shall teach us to be godly.""",2004-08-26 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Empire,"",HDIS (Poetry),12494,4734
"Sweet expectation! sister fair
Of soft solicitude and prayer,
Allied to hope, allied to fear,
Those joint companions of the year,
Who thro' all chequer'd scenes must run
That fall beneath the rolling sun;
And light and shade to pictures give
Where men are drawn that really live.
Now lively hope in frolic measure
Trips in the silken round of pleasure,
And still with joy-shot glance proposes
Sweet walks, midst groves tied up with roses:
Where fancy keeps her glow-worm court,
Where wearied wishes all resort,
Who mixing in her tinsell'd train
Still keep their title light and vain.
For now with Fancy's glass they see
That long sought spot in destiny
Which hope had ever in her view
And which her hand keeps pointing to.
Tho' oft her castles rest on air,
And golden clouds the columns are,
Till from beneath the farthest mound
Pale fear--that starts at her own sound--
A train of vapours brings along,
Which winding all the scenes among,
Forms here and there a misty veil
Now hides the hill and now the dale.
While Hope to find a purer air
Strays far from hence we know not where;
Till expectation wandering near
Lifts up the veil drawn close by fear.
'Tis then we see the playful maid
So busy in the opening glade,
A tuft of roses scatter here,
A bed of lilies sprinkle there,
Along the meads carnations throw,
And sod-seats make where hare-bells grow.
Where o'er the stream the poplars bend,
The woodbines little arms extend,
While climbing up its curls diffuse
The sweets of long-collected dews.
A thousand knots fond hope will tie
Entangling oft the wandering eye;
She, like the sun-beam, ever throws
The loveliest tincture on the rose,
Hide but a while her gilding ray
The fleeting colour cannot stay,
Tho' nature's cunning hand should try
To mix it for the admiring eye.
In expectation scenes arise
That drop not from the bounteous skies
The groves bestow a cooler shade,
And softer sounds by streams are made;
More sweetly blows the fragrant breeze,
More softly whisper whispering trees;
While every insect gilds his wing,
And every bird essays to sing.
How blissful is this state of mind
Thro' which such scenes of pleasure wind,
Thro' which lone thought can safely stray,
Delighted, though she lose her way:
Still certain that the path will end
Where happiness would seat a friend.
Yet even amidst these sacred bowers
The blest retreat of cheerful hours,
The tender heart will sometimes sigh
And the round tear fill up the eye;
Solicitude will hither come
Whose numerous wishes keep her dumb,
And panting with both hope and fear
Will now retreat, now venture near;
Will sometimes essay to believe
Then doubt again that all deceive;
That promises are shadowy things
Which flit away on airy wings;
That joy will never meet the heart
For those who love must live apart.
Ah! cease, Solicitude to dwell
On ills, alas! we know too well;
Too well we know hope will deceive,
Yet they're ne'er blest who ne'er believe.
The present hour is all we boast
And happiest they who prize it most;
Who most enjoy the good it brings
Deserve the best of nature's things;
And grateful be that heart esteem'd
Who most of happiness has dream'd.",2009-09-14 19:47:40 UTC,"Fancy keeps a ""glow-worm court, / Where wearied wishes all resort, / Who mixing in her tinsell'd train / Still keep their title light and vain""",2004-08-25 00:00:00 UTC,I've included the entire poem,"",,"","","Searching ""fancy"" and ""court"" in HDIS (poetry)",16679,6296
"When the third summer freed us from restraint,
A youthful friend, he too a mountaineer,
Not slow to share my wishes, took his staff,
And sallying forth, we journeyed side by side,
Bound to the distant Alps. A hardy slight
Did this unprecedented course imply
Of college studies and their set rewards;
Nor had, in truth, the scheme been formed by me
Without uneasy forethought of the pain,
The censures, and ill-omening of those
To whom my worldly interests were dear.
But Nature then was sovereign in my mind,
And mighty forms, seizing a youthful fancy,
Had given a charter to irregular hopes.
In any age of uneventful calm
Among the nations, surely would my heart
Have been possessed by similar desire;
But Europe at that time was thrilled with joy,
France standing on the top of golden hours,
And human nature seeming born again.",2009-09-14 19:47:54 UTC,"""But Nature then was sovereign in my mind, / And mighty forms, seizing a youthful fancy, / Had given a charter to irregular hopes.""",2006-09-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","","Searching ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16759,6328
"And to these exhibitions, mute and still,
Others of wider scope, where living men,
Music, and shifting pantomimic scenes,
Diversified the allurement. Need I fear
To mention by its name, as in degree,
Lowest of these and humblest in attempt,
Yet richly graced with honours of her own,
Half-rural Sadler's Wells? Though at that time
Intolerant, as is the way of youth
Unless itself be pleased, here more than once
Taking my seat, I saw (nor blush to add,
With ample recompense) giants and dwarfs,
Clowns, conjurors, posture-masters, harlequins,
Amid the uproar of the rabblement,
Perform their feats. Nor was it mean delight
To watch crude Nature work in untaught minds;
To note the laws and progress of belief;
Though obstinate on this way, yet on that
How willingly we travel, and how far!
To have, for instance, brought upon the scene
The champion, Jack the Giant-killer: Lo!
He dons his coat of darkness; on the stage
Walks, and achieves his wonders, from the eye
Of living Mortal covert, ""as the moon
Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.""
Delusion bold! and how can it be wrought?
The garb he wears is black as death, the word
""Invisible"" flames forth upon his chest.",2009-09-14 19:47:55 UTC,"""Nor was it mean delight / To watch crude Nature work in untaught minds; / To note the laws and progress of belief.""",2006-09-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","","Searching ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16766,6328
"Enough, 'tis true--could such a plea excuse
Those aberrations--had the clamorous friends
Of ancient Institutions said and done
To bring disgrace upon their very names;
Disgrace, of which, custom and written law,
And sundry moral sentiments as props
Or emanations of those institutes,
Too justly bore a part. A veil had been
Uplifted; why deceive ourselves? in sooth,
'Twas even so; and sorrow for the man
Who either had not eyes wherewith to see,
Or, seeing, had forgotten! A strong shock
Was given to old opinions; all men's minds
Had felt its power, and mine was both let loose,
Let loose and goaded. After what hath been
Already said of patriotic love,
Suffice it here to add, that, somewhat stern
In temperament, withal a happy man,
And therefore bold to look on painful things,
Free likewise of the world, and thence more bold,
I summoned my best skill, and toiled, intent
To anatomise the frame of social life,
Yea, the whole body of society
Searched to its heart. Share with me, Friend! the wish
That some dramatic tale, endued with shapes
Livelier, and flinging out less guarded words
Than suit the work we fashion, might set forth
What then I learned, or think I learned, of truth,
And the errors into which I fell, betrayed
By present objects, and by reasonings false
From their beginnings, inasmuch as drawn
Out of a heart that had been turned aside
From Nature's way by outward accidents,
And which was thus confounded, more and more
Misguided, and misguiding. So I fared,
Dragging all precepts, judgments, maxims, creeds,
Like culprits to the bar; calling the mind,
Suspiciously, to establish in plain day
Her titles and her honours; now believing,
Now disbelieving; endlessly perplexed
With impulse, motive, right and wrong, the ground
Of obligation, what the rule and whence
The sanction; till, demanding formal proof,
And seeking it in every thing, I lost
All feeling of conviction, and, in fine,
Sick, wearied out with contrarieties,
Yielded up moral questions in despair.",2009-09-14 19:47:57 UTC,"""So I fared, / Dragging all precepts, judgments, maxims, creeds, / Like culprits to the bar; calling the mind, / Suspiciously, to establish in plain day / Her titles and her honours""",2006-09-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Court,"","Searching ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16775,6328
"There are in our existence spots of time,
That with distinct pre-eminence retain
A renovating virtue, whence, depressed
By false opinion and contentious thought,
Or aught of heavier or more deadly weight,
In trivial occupations, and the round
Of ordinary intercourse, our minds
Are nourished and invisibly repaired;
A virtue, by which pleasure is enhanced,
That penetrates, enables us to mount,
When high, more high, and lifts us up when fallen.
This efficacious spirit chiefly lurks
Among those passages of life that give
Profoundest knowledge to what point, and how,
The mind is lord and master--outward sense
The obedient servant of her will. Such moments
Are scattered everywhere, taking their date
From our first childhood. I remember well,
That once, while yet my inexperienced hand
Could scarcely hold a bridle, with proud hopes
I mounted, and we journeyed towards the hills:
An ancient servant of my father's house
Was with me, my encourager and guide:
We had not travelled long, ere some mischance
Disjoined me from my comrade; and, through fear
Dismounting, down the rough and stony moor
I led my horse, and, stumbling on, at length
Came to a bottom, where in former times
A murderer had been hung in iron chains.
The gibbet-mast had mouldered down, the bones
And iron case were gone; but on the turf,
Hard by, soon after that fell deed was wrought,
Some unknown hand had carved the murderer's name.
The monumental letters were inscribed
In times long past; but still, from year to year,
By superstition of the neighbourhood,
The grass is cleared away, and to this hour
The characters are fresh and visible:
A casual glance had shown them, and I fled,
Faltering and faint, and ignorant of the road:
Then, reascending the bare common, saw
A naked pool that lay beneath the hills,
The beacon on the summit, and, more near,
A girl, who bore a pitcher on her head,
And seemed with difficult steps to force her way
Against the blowing wind. It was, in truth,
An ordinary sight; but I should need
Colours and words that are unknown to man,
To paint the visionary dreariness
Which, while I looked all round for my lost guide,
Invested moorland waste, and naked pool,
The beacon crowning the lone eminence,
The female and her garments vexed and tossed
By the strong wind. When, in the blessed hours
Of early love, the loved one at my side,
I roamed, in daily presence of this scene,
Upon the naked pool and dreary crags,
And on the melancholy beacon, fell
A spirit of pleasure and youth's golden gleam;
And think ye not with radiance more sublime
For these remembrances, and for the power
They had left behind? So feeling comes in aid
Of feeling, and diversity of strength
Attends us, if but once we have been strong.
Oh! mystery of man, from what a depth
Proceed thy honours. I am lost, but see
In simple childhood something of the base
On which thy greatness stands; but this I feel,
That from thyself it comes, that thou must give,
Else never canst receive. The days gone by
Return upon me almost from the dawn
Of life: the hiding-places of man's power
Open; I would approach them, but they close.
I see by glimpses now; when age comes on,
May scarcely see at all; and I would give,
While yet we may, as far as words can give,
Substance and life to what I feel, enshrining,
Such is my hope, the spirit of the Past
For future restoration.--Yet another
Of these memorials:--",2009-09-14 19:47:57 UTC,"""The mind is lord and master--outward sense / The obedient servant of her will""",2006-09-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","","Searching ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16777,6328
"This for the past, and things that may be viewed
Or fancied in the obscurity of years
From monumental hints: and thou, O Friend!
Pleased with some unpremeditated strains
That served those wanderings to beguile, hast said
That then and there my mind had exercised
Upon the vulgar forms of present things,
The actual world of our familiar days,
Yet higher power; had caught from them a tone,
An image, and a character, by books
Not hitherto reflected. Call we this
A partial judgment--and yet why? for then
We were as strangers; and I may not speak
Thus wrongfully of verse, however rude,
Which on thy young imagination, trained
In the great City, broke like light from far.
Moreover, each man's Mind is to herself
Witness and judge; and I remember well
That in life's every-day appearances
I seemed about this time to gain clear sight
Of a new world--a world, too, that was fit
To be transmitted, and to other eyes
Made visible; as ruled by those fixed laws
Whence spiritual dignity originates,
Which do both give it being and maintain
A balance, an ennobling interchange
Of action from without and from within;
The excellence, pure function, and best power
Both of the object seen, and eye that sees.",2009-09-14 19:47:57 UTC,"""Moreover, each man's Mind is to herself / Witness and judge""",2006-09-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Court,•I've included twice: Judge and Witness,"Searching ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16780,6328