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2. Soft heath this elevated spot supplied,
With resting-place of mossy stone; and there
The frame and general aspect of the scene;
Pierced through their thin ethereal mold, ere we,
Scattered through half the circle of the sky;
While from the grassy mountain's open side
Through earth, sky, water, and all visible space,
Power inaccessible to human thought
Save by degrees and steps which Thou hast deign'd:
To furnish; for this image of Thyself, To the infirmity of mortal sense Vouchsafed; this local, transitory type Of Thy paternal splendors, and the pomp Of those who fill Thy courts in highest heaven, The radiant cherubim;-accept the thanks Which we, Thy humble creatures, here convened, Presume to offer; we, who from the breast Of the frail earth, permitted to behold The faint reflections only of Thy face, Are yet exalted, and in soul adore! Such as they are who in Thy presence stand, Unsullied, incorruptible, and drink Imperishable majesty stream'd forth From Thy empyreal throne, the elect of earth Shall be divested at the appointed hour Of all dishonor-cleansed from mortal stain. Accomplish, then, their number; and conclude Time's weary course! Or, if, by Thy decree, The consummation that will come by stealth Be yet far distant, let Thy Word prevail, Oh! let Thy Word prevail, to take away The sting of human nature. Spread the law, As it is written in Thy holy book, Throughout all lands; let every nation hear The high behest, and every heart obey!" "The Excursion." WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.
3. For mark well, even in the course of a single night, changes may take place in human things without your being consulted which entirely alter your position; and each one who, instead of concerning himself with the common good, and regarding himself as a part of the great whole, has limited his interest to some narrow circle, perhaps opposed to the private interest of some one else; every one has a soul which, with all its desires and joys, its treasures and possessions, may in a night be required of him! And the more keenly the strife has been carried on, the less sure can human wisdom be of any
firm ground or of any certain issue; the more foolish would it be to undertake to answer the question, Whose shall those things be which thou hast provided, or hast wished to provide? But where instead of strife and wrangling, instead of selfseeking and covetousness, that rule of life and feeling guides men which makes them rich in God; in that God who makes His sun shine on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust; in that God before whom all are equal, His fatherly love going forth to all; whose wise decrees are indeed hidden from us, so that we can never for one short moment lift the veil that conceals them, but whose laws and will are clearly revealed and should be written on the hearts of those who confess the name of His Son;-among such people there is an end of this folly; each of them is willing that his soul should be called away at any moment; and such men know whose the things shall be which they have provided. F. E. SCHLEIERMACHER.
"True Harvest Joy."
4. Have you ever seen a poor girl at midnight sitting down on a doorstep crying? Somebody passes by, and says, "Why do you sit here?" "I have no house, sir. I have no home.” "Where is your father?" "My father's dead, sir. "Where
is your mother?" "I have no mother, sir." "Have you no friends?" "No friends at all." "Have you no house?" "No; I have none. I am houseless.' And she shivers in the chill air, and gathers her poor ragged shawl around her, and cries again, "I have no house-I have no home." Would you not pity her? Would you blame her for her tears? Ah! there are some of you that have houseless souls here this morning. It is something to have a houseless body; but to think of a houseless soul! Methinks I see you in eternity sitting on the doorstep of heaven. An angel says, "What! have you no house to live in?" "No house," says the poor soul. "Have you no father?" "No; God is not my Father, and there is none beside Him.' "Have you no mother?" "No, the Church is not my mother; I never sought her ways, nor loved Jesus. I have neither father nor mother." "Have you no house, then?" "No; I am a houseless soul." "Spurgeon's Illustrative Anecdotes."
LOUIS ALBERT BANKS.
5. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Let it pry through the portage of the head,
Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought,
That those whom you called fathers did beget you:
And teach them how to war! And you, good yeomen,
That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not;
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Confounded.-Vexed or troubled.
6. In this refulgent summer, it has been a luxury to draw the breath of life. The grass grows, the buds burst, the meadow is spotted with fire and gold in the tint of flowers. The air is full of birds, and sweet with the breath of the pine, the balm of Gilead, and the new hay. Night brings no gloom to the heart with its welcome shade. Through the transparent darkness the stars pour their almost spiritual rays. Man under them seems a young child, and his huge globe a toy. The cool night bathes the world as with a river, and prepares his eyes again for the crimson dawn. The mystery of nature was never displayed more happily. The corn and the wine have been freely dealt to all creatures, and the never-broken silence with which the old bounty goes forward has not yielded yet one word of explanation. One is constrained to respect the perfection of this world in which our senses converse. How wide; how rich; what invitation from every property it gives to every faculty of man! In its fruitful soils; in its navigable sea; in its mountains of metal and stone; in its forests of all woods; in its animals; in its chemical ingredients; in the powers and path of light, heat, attraction, and life, it is well worth the pith and heart of great men to subdue and enjoy it. The planters, the mechanics, the inventors, the astronomers, the builders of cities, and the captains history delights to honor.
But when the mind opens and reveals the laws which traverse the universe and make things what they are, then shrinks the great world at once into a mere illustration and fable of this mind. What am I? and What is? asks the human spirit with a curiosity new-kindled, but never to be quenched. Behold these outrunning laws, which our imperfect apprehension can see tend this way and that, but not come to full circle. Behold these infinite relations, so like, so unlike; many, yet one. I would study, I would know, I would admire forever. These works of thought have been the entertainments of the human spirit in all ages.
A more secret, sweet, and overpowering beauty appears to man when his heart and mind open to the sentiment of virtue. Then he is instructed in what is above him. He learns that his being is without bound; that to the good, to the perfect, he is born, low as he now lies in evil and weakness. That which