The pastor's story and other pieces, or, Prose and poetry
page: 0 (TitlePage) [View Page 0 (TitlePage) ] THE PASTOR'S STORY AND OTHER PIECES; OR, THOSE A2T DD IO-ET Yj.- BY M. A. H. GAY, DECATUR, GEORGIA. NINTH EDITION. BALTIMORE: TURNBULL BROTHERS. 1874. page: 0-iii (Table of Contents) [View Page 0-iii (Table of Contents) ] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, BY MARY A. H. GAY, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. CONTENTS, PAGE. Memory's Chain, . . . , ^ a 1, Local Attachments, . . To my Love, . 1 Charity, * . .1 My Valley Home, . . . 17 The Dew-Drop, . . 1 Is this, then, Life? . . 21 The Pastor's Story, .27 The Four Scenes, . . . . 7 Linles to a Young Lady, . . . An Acrostic, . . The Robin, .. . * . . " Full Many a Flower, . . . . 7 To Mary, . . An Elegy on the Death of a Young Lady, . 83 To Ada, . * Happiness, 87 Forget Thee, . . . Lines to Little Minnie, . The Sabbath, . . . The Unfortunate, . . Temperance Address, . . 9 My Childhood's Home, . . 9 Tallassee Fails, . 10 The Ancient Languages, . . 107 Farewell-to Alabama, . 1" Sad Heart, .. . . " I Went to the Place, . . .117 The Power of Trifles, . 119 To Mary, . . . 1 (iii) page: iv (Table of Contents) -1[View Page iv (Table of Contents) -1] iv CONTENTS. PAGE Lines to my Sister, . . . . 131 Sing Gently, . . , . 131 Religion, . .. .. . . 135 Don't Cry, my Baby, . . . . . 137 The Little Grave, . . . . . 142 The Sabbath, . . . . . . . . .144 Oothcaloga, . . . . ... . 148 Harry May, . . . . .150 To Sarah, . . . . .15 Thie Busy-Body, . . . . . . . . . 153 To Ann, . . ... 155 Song, . . . . .156 Willie to Mollie, . . . . . . 15 A Vision, . , . . . . . . 10 Flowers, . . .. . .. .165 Song, . . . . . . . . . . 160 To Maria, . . . . . . . . .16S A Leaflet from Life's Book, . . . 170 The Nineteenth Century, . . . . . . 175 To God all Trusts Belong, . . . . 192 A- Fragment, . . . 19 An Undevout Astronomer is Mad, . . * o The Dream of Love, o . . * -.. My Spirit Groom, . . . . ..03 The Gift, . . . . . ..2" 212 An Oasis, . . . . . 212 My Bird, . . . . .21 Verses, . . . . . . 218 aIn the Graveyard, , . . . . . . 231 228 Evergreen, . . . 2 230 A Fragment, . . . . .. 230 The Zephyr, . . . 233 Spring, . . . .35 The Salvation of the Soul, . . . . 3 To the '3emory of Capt. John B. Rowan, . -253 I am Dreaming, 261 Weariness, 264 MEMORY' CHAIN. I've chanc'd on mem'ry's broken chain, And gather'd up its links again; Old-time mementos dimm'd by tears Have made the chain complete, And joys long past, and hopes and. fears, And looks and tones more sweet, Are thrilling my heart anew--anew- As 'twas thrill'din other years. Again we roam in twilight's hour, Hearts full of its witching power: Thy voice has caught the melody That swells in autumn breeze, And like some full rich symphony Borne over moonlit seas, Is thrilling my heart for you, for you, - As it thrill'd iu other days. page: 2-3[View Page 2-3] 2 nMEMORY S CHAIN. Be still, my heart 'Tis worse than vain To clasp those riven links again; For fetters o'er my soul were thrown Which could not be undone, Ere my lone life the glow hadbIknown Of its meridian sun And all that's left td me, to thee, Is memory's broken clhan But where spirits their kindred greet; Where fetterless and free they meet; Where sever'd hands no hearts divide, Such rapture will be given As those on earth intensely tried Know not except in Heaven : And then, my lov'd one pure and true, I'll clasp thee mine again As upturn'd eye drinks light from thine, And thy full soul thus speaks to mine, The moon floats up in silv'ry car, Shimm'ring radiance down, And stars look out from homes afar Like jewels in Night's crown,- Words, like heart-throbs, are welling o'er With love of olden time. f. t MEMORY S CHAIN. 3 Again thy soul-entrancing glance, Thy dark eye'4blove-lit radiance, Thy last fond look awakes a spell As mournful as of yore, When soul bade soul a mute farewell, And parted long ago: My sad heart is tlrilling o'er, o'er, With grief of olden time. page: 4-5[View Page 4-5] e "OCAL ATTACHMENTS.. There is no principle of the human heart more deeply planted, or more difficult to eradicate, than that of local attachments. Every nation on the globe, despite the disadvantages of its government or geographical position, clings to its native land with intense devotion, The Icelander, surrounded as he is by eternal snow, and liable at any moment to be engulfed in the fiery floods of some volcanic eruption, yet exclaims with heartfelt emotion, "Iceland is the best land the sun shines upon!" The Switzer; far from home, bears upon his heart the image of his own cloud-capped Alps, and the blue lakes sleeping at their base. The Scotsman loves his heather hills; and the Ger- man never fails to speak the praises of his " fatherland." Even the poor son of Erin, driven from his own green isle to seek in the land of the free an asylum froni want and British tyranny, can yet look back with "swelling heart and a tear-stained cheek" upon the (4) "OCAL ATTACHMENTS. 5 receding cliffs of the Emerald Isle. In that degraded but lovely land his childhood was spent; and there in the quiet churchyard sleeps his young wife she who when perishing from hunger could still smile for his sake. The emigrant ship glides swiftly over the waves, bearing him on to that land where there is "work for all, and bread enough to spare;" but who can blame him for vowing, I'll ne'er forget old Ireland!" And as he thinks of the magnificent forests of the New World, he exclaims: "Often in those grand old woods I'll sit and shut my eyes, And my heart will wander back again To the spot where Mary lies." But while love of country is a universal principle, existing alike in millions of human hearts, at the same time each has his own particular home, which none can love so well as himself. Home! What heart does not thrill at the sound of that word? It is closely con- nected with all that is dear on earth, whether past, present, or prospective. Within its welDremembered walls our first childish accents were heard; and there the early buddings of intellect were watered and trained by a mother's guiding hand. By its fireside, impres- sions were made which ambition and worldly cares may dim but cannot obliterate. i page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 LOCAL ATTACHMENTS. The traveller may visit the palaces of kings and princes, and be a welcome guest at the hearth-stones of a foreign land, but he still yearns for home and the loved ones there. He engages passage on a homeward- bound vessel, and at last, after many wanderings by sea and by land, he is nearing the goal for which he has sighed. He has but to cross the little bridge, surmount the brow of the hill, and the old farm-house bursts upon his anxious vision, surrounded by the same beautiful lilacs and clustering vines. ' With trembling hand he lifts the gate-latch; creeping on tip-toe he enters the porch, and with straining eye peeps in upon the family group, all unconscious of his approach. With grateful heart he finds that not one is missing from that loved circle; his heart swells with uncontrollable emotion, and in the very fulness of gratitude he exclaims: "'Be it ever so humble, There's no place like home." The sailor may look with admiring wonder on the beauties, the majesty of the great deep, when its waves are sleeping beneath the silvery moon-beams, or when "The foam-wreath glows with its phosphor light, Like a crown on a sea-nymph's brow." He may gaze on these same waves when lashed in fury by the tempest's wrath, but yet, "oft in the stilly "OCAL ATTACHMENTS. 7 night" he weeps as there steal over his soul the loved visions of home. The tottering steps of the aged pilgrim are nearing the verge of Jordan. He has but little recollection of the scenes through which he has but recently passed; but speak to him of the home of his early youth, and the dim eye will brighten, and the faltering tongue grow eloquent as it discourses of the days of yore. 1il else may be forgotten, but the home of childhood, never. Who does not cherish a strong attachment for the old schoolhouse where first they learned to say A, B, C, etc., the elements of all subsequent attainments? It may be a humble building of logs, but we love it for all that. As years roll on, we may enter a more digni- fied structure; but whether it be academy, seminary, or college, our attachment for the place where our school- days were spent is still the same. Each room has its own peculiar associations, not the less dear because sometimes sad. They must be callous indeed who do not love the very spot where, day by day, the powers of the soul are consciously expanded, its glorious attributes devel- oped, while listening to the sublime truths of physical science, or the philosophy of the mind, expounded by a gifted and beloved teacher. Among "the pictures that hang on memory's wall," page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 LOCAL ATTACHMENTS. is one of a little church, situated on a gently rising knoll, and almost surrounded by a group of forest trees untouched by the woodman's axe. Apart from the world, there is nothing to disturb its sacred silence, save the soft hymn of a bird heard at intervals amid its leafy shades. At the sunset hour, how sweet it is to linger about this lovely, this consecrated spot, and med- itate upon the soleinn events which have here trans- pired! How vividly we recall the lineaments of the faithful pastor who for years has ministered to the people wont to assemble here! How often from the sacred desk have the unsearchable riches of Christ's dying love been proclaimed, the thoughtless aroused, said the heavy-laden soul relieved of its burden as it was brought to the foot of the cross and pointed to the crown of immortality! Just in sight, on yonder hill- side, gleam the white marble pillars which serve to mark the last resting-place of fallen humanity. There many a worn soldier of the cross, with: " feet torn and bleeding by the way," lays him down in peace to sleep till the last trump shall awake him to the resurrection of the just. There are little hillocks, too, beneath whose green sod lie many a household pet. In every part of the grounds, paths are seen leading to the graves of the loved and lost, proving that some at least love even the city of the dead. "OCAL ATTACHMENTS. 9 It may be my lot to sit beneath the dome of some lofty cathedral or magnificent church, where elegance meets the eye and fills the mind with admiration, and the pealing notes of the full-toned organ seem bor- rowed from angel harps ; but yet amid all this splendor my heart would wander back again to its own loved village church. It may be my lot to roam through the beautiful cemeteries of the opulent, where the hand of art has done much to rob the place of its wonted solem- nity, and "' The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, And storied urns record who rests below ," but yet amid all this mockery my heart would wander back again to its own loved village grave-yard, boast- ing no sacrilegious pomp. Local ttachments: but for this principle, many wise purposes had been defeated; man would not have re- mained in one place sufficiently long to have made those improvements which so greatly contribute' to the comfort and enjoyment of the human race; convenient and beautiful homes would never have been erected, nor stately cities built. In proportion as civilization ( advances, local attachments increase. The nomadic tribes of ancient Britain, and other countries, had no fixed habitations, but wandered from place to place in quest of pasturage for their flocks and herds. Now the page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 LOCAL ATTACHMENTS. homes of England show that these aborigines have been succeeded by a nobler race, created for a higher destiny: "The Saxon, in his pride of high descent, And Gaul, with spirit harp of finer strings," have reared ancestral homes, which will be loved and honored throughout all succeeding generations. Some there may be who have no local attachments. Such we do not envy, for surely their hearts must be as hard as the nether millstone. Great and good men have always loved native land and native home. List to the beautiful author of the Course of Time: "Nor do I of earthly sort remember-- If partial feeling to my native place Lead not my lyre astray-of fairer view, And comelier walk, than the blue mountain paths And snowy cliffs of Albion renowned. Nor do I of that isle remember aught Of prospect more sublime and beautiful, Than Scotia's northern battlement of hills, Which I from my father's house beheld, At dawn of life; beloved in memory still."' An anecdote illustrating Daniel Webster's love of home is doubtless familiar to many. He was born in a log-cabin, raised among the snow-drifts of New Hamp- shire. Years after, wheni his unrivalled eloquence and statesmanship had made him a nation's idol, he still paid an annual visit to the remains of this rural home. His own words are: "I love to dwell on the tender recollections, the kindred ties, the early affections and "OCAL ATTACHMENTS. " narrations and incidents, which mingle with all I know of this primitive family abode, and I weep to think that none who then inhabited it are now among the living." To local attachments may be ascribed the high posi- tion which America occupies among the nations of the earth. It was the love of country and the love of home that nerved our forefathers for the great revolu- tionary struggle, and we, their posterity, are this day the witnesses of the glorious result-the recipients of the inestimable benefits. But notwithstanding the many good effects which have resulted from this principle, still it ought not to be allowed to fasten our affections too closely about this perishing earth -it ought not to be allowed to entwine the tendrils of our hearts too closely around perishing objects. This beautiful world, with all its lovely scenes, must pass away. There is but one locality which we can safely love with all the heart, and dread not its loss! That place is heaven. We need not fear that we can ever have too strong an attachment for that bright abode. When once sheltered within its pearly gates, we will go no more out for ever; for there no parting is known, and there "no farewell tear is shed." page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] TO MY LOVE. Dost thou think of me, lov'd one? O dost thou think of me? When far from thy side I'm gone, Who then doth cherish thee? Dost think of me at morn's sweet hour, When holy thoughts have sway, And as the sun in kingly power Sends forth his farewell ray? Dost think of me in silent prayer, When purest spirits nigh, To bear the humble strain up there, To Jesus Christ on high? If I were sure that through the day, At morn and evening's hour, And when thou kneel'st to God to pray In closet or in bower, (12) TO MY LOVE. 13 That thou, lov'd one, of me dost think, With soft affection's thrill, Though I were standing on death's brink, My soul with joy 'twould fill. - at page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] CHARITY. "Pure in her aims, and in her temper mild, Her wisdom seems the wisdom of a child. She makes excuses, when she might condemn; Reviled by those who hate her, prays for them Suspicion lurks not in her artless breast-- The worst suggested, she believes the best; Not soon provoked, however stung and teased, And, if peichance made angry, soon appeased; She rather waives than will dispute her right, And, injured, makes forgiveness a delight." COWPER. In this age of ostentation and selfishness, charity has almost lost its sweet meaning. Instead of the pure, spontaneous offering of the heart, owing all value to sentiment, it has become a humiliating insult, resorted to by the rich to remind the poor of their inferiority and dependence. Great attention to public manifestations is no evidence that true charity exists. The most selfish, heartless being on earth, governed alone by the rule of self- interest, regardless of the responsibility devolving on every individual to contribute to the comfort of the indigent, to "cloth the naked and feed the hungry," can converse as scientifically of relieving distress as (14) CHARITY. 15 though it were the fragrant breathing of a benevolent heart. We are not, however, considering superficial or affected charity, but that which had its birth in heaven: that which suffereth long; envieth not; vaunteth not itself; seeketh not its own; thinketh no evil and re- joiceth not in iniquity; that which beareth all things; believeth all things; hopeth all things; and endureth all things. Charity is the sister of Humility, and they recipro- cally strengthen each other; subduing all malice, all hypocrisy, and all evil-speaking; spontaneously suggest- ing all that is forgiving, candid, and compassionate; striving always to think others better than themselves; never severe on the frailties of others, because all are frail; declaiming not on a mote in another's eye, because none are exempt. Genuine charity leads its possessor to scenes of pov- erty, misery, and crime; gives simplicity to the charac- ter; levels the differences of the mind and station; facilitates a mutual flow of affection; and teaches the important truth, that the efficacy of means of usefulness depends not on their imposing and expensive character, but on their skilful and earnest application. Shall we who have acquired the eithets of "guar- dian angels," and "angels of mercy," permit pride and page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16 CHARITY. selfishness to deprive us of the privilege of being recog- nized in heaven as the instruments of past alleviation? The most favored of us should consider our own helplessness and inutility, unaided by Divine power, and let friendship, love, and truth influence our every act. As an elevated standard gives elevation to the mind, let us compare our principles, motives, and obligations with what our Saviour has done for us and commanded us to do. And those who are luxuriating in opulence should remember they have an important trust to fill: to whom much is given, of them much will be required. They are imperatively commanded to search out and relieve distress; and to consider their " mightiest efforts as a drop of heavenly dew falling on the great salt waters." MY VALLEY HOME. I love my cottage by the moor, With woodbine running o'er the door; A green grass covering spread around, With blossoms to adorn the ground. I love that place, though 'tis no dome; But, sweeter far, it is my home! I love the sun that shines for me Upon my cottaga light and free: It stirs again my bee's wild hum, And brightens up my valley home. I love that place, though 'tis no dome; But, sweeter far, it is my home! I love tha moon that shines so bright, I love the stars with their mild light; They seem to linger near the spot, They seem to smile upon the cot. I love that place, though 'tis no dome; . But, sweeter far, it is my home! (17) page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 -MY VALLEY HOME. All things around that place I love, The earth beneath, the heavens above. When time on earth with me is o'er, O, lay me by that cottage door! There let me wait till God doth come, To take me to my heavenly home. V THE DEW-DROP. "It serves as morning bev'rage, We drink it when we sup; In every place we find it, Except the drunkard's cup." No, you may search well from the bottom up, No dew-drop you'll find in the drunkard's cup; But a Bohon Upas there you will find, Which, after the body, destroys the mind. Destroys the comfort of the father dear, Whose head bears the frost of many a year; Destroys the peace of a fond mother's heart, Who never in pleasure again takes part. Destroys faith fraternal, in which there's love Caught from the angels in heaven above; Destroys affection too profound to tell, Which a sister's bosom full long doth swell. Destroys the happiness of her whose hand Forms the brightest linklet in Hymen's band; (19) page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 THE DEW-DROP. Destroys the golden hopes of children young, Whose joyous song of mirth too soon was sung. Destroys the last fear of that Being great Who created man for a high estate, Who alone hath power the soul to save, And rob of its victory the cold- dark gravel O! you may search well from the bottom up, No dew-drop you'll find in the drunkard's cup; But a Bohon Upas there you will find, Which, after the body, destroys the mind. IS THS, THEN, LIFE? Is this, then, life? O! was I born for this-- To follow phantoms that elude the grasp? Or whatsoe'er secured, within my clasp To withering lie? as if an earthly kiss Were doomed death's shuddering touch alone to greet t O life! hast thou reserved no cup of bliss? Must the unattained allure my feet? The unattained with yearnings fill my breast, That rob for aye the spirit of its rest? Yes, this is life, and everywhere I meet Not victor's crowns, but wailings of defeat! I falter not, for I have a test That shall incite me onward, upward still: The present cannot sate, my soul it shall not fill. From the cradle to the grave it is the lot of humanity "to follow phantoms that elude the grasp." . The little child catches at thq sunbeams gilding the floor; he opens his tiny hand, expecting to behold a bright treasure, but it is not there. He learns only by re- peated disappointment that those glittering rays have no tangible form. How ambitious, how confident is youth! Its boastful language is: "Others may have been defeated in the battle of life; but, struggling, it may be, with a mighty army, I shall vanquish every foe. I shall trample (21) page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 IS THS, THEN, LIFE? under my feet every obstacle, and at last stand foremost in the rank--stand highest on the mount of earthly glory. A laurel wreath of unfading green awaits my brow. And when, full of honors, I shall have descended to the tomb, I will leave behind me 'footprints upon the sands of time,' which the tempestuous storms of the world's commotion can never blot out!" Pause, am- bitious youth, and contemplate the career of one who, like thyself, sought to win a brighter fame than even a Caesar or an Alexander! Earthly glory was his idol. To this he devoted his time, his talents, his best affec- tions; for this he was content to sever the fond ties that bound a loving heart to his! On the altar of earthly fame he recklessly sacrificed his immortal soul. He became the most powerful potentate of Europe. Kings and Pontiffs trembled at his name. But, alas, how uncertain the duration of earthly honor-of earthly greatness! The hero of so many battles is at length subdued. His conquerors decree that he shall be ban- ished to a lone isle of the ocean. There he spends a few years in ignominious exile and sorrow; and there, far from his native land, far from her to whom he was dearer than the vital principle which sustained her own unhappy life, he falls a victim to death, the last great conqueror! The howling blast, the roaring billows, and the peal- IS THS, THEN, LIFE? 23 ing thunder chant his funeral dirge! The nations rejoice that he sleeps his last sleep, and will lead against them his conquering forces no more. Such will ever be the fate of those who seek merely for earthly fame-" of all the phantoms fleeting in the mist of time, the most unsubstantial, unessential shade." In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, "the observed of all observers." Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the elysian world of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! each new 'scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity: the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball- room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and embittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul! page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 IS THS, THEN, LIFE? Mark the care-worn countenance of him who has wasted the best- portion of life in the acquisition of wealth; not that he might be enabled tr relieve the wants of the destitute and afflicted, but that he might be powerful, and leave a rich legacy for his children when he is gone. Does his wealth secure happiness? Ah, no! He has exhausted his energies in accumu- lating a fortune, and received naught but vexation of spirit in return. He has sought for gold, and found but dross. Such are life's scenes! Change and disappointment are written upon every leaf of Time's book. The present seems cheerless, oftentimes sad, and we look forward to the future for a " reserved cup of bliss ;" the future comes, and we find the cup empty, or sadly adulterated. Our dearest joys, how fleeting they are! We place our affections upon some cherished friend, and that friend is taken from us by death; we bestow all the wealth of our affections upon some idolized object, and that devotion is unrequited-perhaps held in derision. Life, however, has some sunny spots; but they who seek happiness only from the world, find but few of them. The gifted Byron, possessed of rank and talents by which he swayed at will the human heart, and at the waking of whose " harp nations heard entranced," was most unhappy. IS THS, THEN, LIFE? 25 "A wandering, weary, worn, and wretched thing, Scorched and desolate and blasted soul, A gloomy wilderness of dying thought- Repined and groaned and withered from the earth." The desire felt by every one for bliss which cannot be realized on earth, is a sure proof of the soul's im- mortality; it is vain to endeavor to sate its yearnings with terrene pleasures, riches, or honors. There is but one thing that can satisfy the soul, and that is, the restoration of the innocence it originally possessed. The purity and consequent enjoyment of the soul were lost when man sinned -against God to restore that lost purity and consequent enjoyment, Christ died on the cross, and if it is made a partaker of salvation, it has many foretastes of the bliss which awaits it in eternity. And, though bowed down by the sorrows of earth, the time will come when the ransomed soul, perfectly free from care and earth's changes, shall be full of happiness in the presence of the Lord. That consoling assurance, O life! is the cup of bliss reserved to allure my feet heavenward. to fill my yearning breast with heavenly aspirations! In the celestial home there will be no sadness, for ,God himself shall wipe away all tears from the eyes of his saints. The wailings of despair will there be changed to the triumphant songs of praise. All will strike their golden harps to notes of sweetest melody; 2 page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 IS THS, THEN, LIFE? all will be clothed in spotless garments; all will bear the conquering palm, all wear a victor's crown. Therefore, I falter not, for I have a test That shall incite me onward, upward still; The present cannot sate, my soul it shall not flll' a THE PASTOR'S STORY. i iHe patient showed us the wise course to steer, A candid censor and a friend sincere; He taught us how to live; and (O! too high The price of knowledge) taught us how to die." In a retired yet delightful location, about -- miles from Charleston, reside Thomas Daniel and his amiable wife Edith, in the full enjoyment of that serene bliss which the ostentatious scenes of the world can never bestow. He is the faithful, zealous pastor of an intelligent and affectionate congregation, to whom he ministers every week, in a neat little granite church, almost im- bedded in fragrant shrubbery. lit would seem that some pious genii had adapted the spot to the purpose, and constituted its occupant the presiding divinity- so appropriate is it, and so efficient is he. Each member of its attendance, too, seems imbued with a spirit of Christian piety, imparted by the same mystic agency, as unobtrusive as their place of worship, and as unpretending as their humble pastor. He is (27) page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 THE PASTOR S STORY. one of those high-toned beings with whom we but rarely meet, who wants not pretension to give him influ- ence and position; and who wants not wealth, though he has it in abundance, to give him preeminence in society. He is one of those rare mortals, who, by un- remitting perseverance in works, has grown in grace until invested with a heavenly sublimity apparent to every beholder. Gifted with extraordinary oratorical powers, listen- ing senates might have hung entranced upon'the elo- quence of his tongue, and conferred upon him their highest meeds of honor. But he chose the better part, which will stay with him when the statesman and the orator shall have been stilled in death, and when their influence shall like them, have passed away: he chose to serve even as a laborer in his Master's vineyard. And Edith. Have you seen the full-blown rose in its beauty and fragrance; the most delicate hues, the most refined shades trembling on its bosom; the gentlest perfume floating around it, as it seemed the spirit of loveliness basking in the effulgent rays of eternal sun- shine? Then you have seen that which is emblematical of her. lMatured in womanhood, charitable and hopeful in disposition, refined in manners and elevated in intellect, the most delicate thoughts and impulses animate her I?: THE PASTOR S STORY. 29 beautiful features; whilst she moves about, the embodi- ment of loveliness, gently but surely exerting an influ- ence conducive to her husband's great work; an influence which will shine with undiminished brightness when the glory of the sun shall have been dimmed. A fit com- panion she for such a man! We endeavored to learn the history of this happy couple-these golden threads in the tissue of society, these step-stones to heaven-and found it invested with much of romantic interest, as well as with religious zeal. We give it as it was given to us: Edith Baxter was bequeathed as a dying legacy to her maternal grandparents by their beloved daughter, bearing the same name; and never was infancy more tenderly cared for, nor childhood more judiciously managed. At an early age Edith developed traits of character gratifying to the fondest wishes of these her dearest friends, and which secured for her the love and admira- tion of all with whom she associated. Her father, who, after the death of her mother, had resided much of his time in foreign countries, especially in England, sojourned, when in America, in the metropolis of his native State; and, on every return from a European tour, hastened to spend a week, at least, with his little daughter in the country. Each page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 THE PASTOR'S STORY. returning visit more fondly attached the parent to ]is child, and increased the conviction that the duration of the absent periods must become shorter. As her years increased, so did her resemblance to her sainted mother, to whom he was undyingly attached; and every look and every gesture which reminded him of her, but strengthened the tie which bound him to the home of his conjugal felicity. On one of these joyful occasions, Edith learned that her father had brought with him a lHttle English boy, an orphan, consigned by his widowed and expiring father to the guardianship of his most intimate friend, Major Baxter. The magnanimous Carolinian at once determined to adopt the unfortunate boy, and give him advantages equal to those of his own child. And during his first happy interview with his little girl, he communicated to her his intentions, begging that she would consider him her brother. Edith's affectionate heart responded to the call, and she unhesitatingly received the juvenile foreigner as one entitled to her kindest regards and most affectionate sympathy. Much as moralizing is denounced when occurring in stories, we can but remark what a source of gratification to the father must have been this happy compliance on V " * !- TTHE PASTOR'S STORY. 31 i the part of his child with his benevolent wishes. Had she, jealous of her rights, manifested an unwillingness to receive him, how pained and embarrassed would he have been: and how soon, perhaps, have regretted, yea, have abandoned the generous design I With no other resource or protection, how mortified, too, would have been the dependent though noble young Englishman! If there is anything on earth which angels contem- plate with pleased satisfaction, it is the operations of a sympathetic heart, prompting its possessor to deeds of philanthropy and love. Were there many such, this world would be a paradise, this life a summer day, where no cloud enthralled the sky, no Bohon Upas exhaled its poisonous odor. Such a world and such a life we shall have when the spirits of Faith, Hope, and Charity have scattered from their urns the incense of pure and holy aspiration. With a heart as fresh as the atmosphere of his own native clime, and a mind as clear as its skies, Thomas was sensible to every act of kindness by his stranger friends, and grateful and enthusiastic in his new attach- ments, loving his kind benefactor vith more, if possible, than filial devotion, and his little sister with fraternal tenderness. No effort which a refined and grateful mind could suggest was spared to promote their enjoy- ment, or to evince to them his readiness to be guided by their wishes, page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 THE PASTOR'S STORY. No wonder that these children, brought together under circumstances bearing to each other such remarkable similarity, should become warmly attached. The son of Albion, on the elegant estate of Edith's grandfather, equally privileged, enjoying with the com- panion of his affections the appropriate pastimes of childhood, unattended by solicitude and apprehension, ceased to remember his own classic Avon; or, if remem- bering, with not more fondness than for the lovely Edisto, along whose banks he often wandered in delighted admiration. Together with joyous steps the young friends brush the crystal dews of morning; together en- gage in the important studies of the day; together raise their silvery voices in evening orisons to the Father of mercies. When Edith had reached her twelfth and Thomas his fifteenth year, they were placed at boarding-schools situated in the same city, where they were soon distin- guished for their application and rapid progress: Edith excelling in the course of education usually marked out for woman, and in the concomitant accomplishments indispensable to ease in the circle for which she was destined; Thomas exhibiting characteristics of that genius and intellectual superiority which in after-life gave him so influential a position. Diligent during school months, these youthful stu- THE PASTOR'S STORY. 33 dents hailed with glad buoyancy of spirit the liberties of vacation; and returned to the loved scenes of home with renewed affection and delight. Time, as it rolled by in its rapid car, drew in closer connection the souls of these passengers to eternity; and they knew no dearer tie in nature than the one which united their souls together. .Alas that so dear a connec- tion, so strong a tie, should ever be severed! The period at length came when these friends, so unselfish in their every principle-these bona fide lovers--wqe to be separated. General Daniel, having passed many years in the Indies, possessed of the handsome sum of five hundred thousand dollars, returned to England-the home of his fathers. Not finding an only brother, whom he left in--, and of whom he had heard nothing for a great while, he immediately instituted a search for him. That brother was deceased, but his only child survived. This child-the young Thomas--had crossed the "Atlantic's blue waves" with Major Baxter, and found a home and friends amid the rural scenes of the New World. The wealthy Englishman having ascertained his address, dispatched a letter to Major Baxter, enclosing one to his nephew. These letters represented himself a disappointed adventurer, who had spent his life in 2* page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 THE PASTOR S STORY. the vain effort to amass a fortune; and now, almost destitute of means and a confirmed invalid, returned to his native city, from which, as a prodigal son, he had wandered in the hopeful days of early manhood. He implored Thomas, as he valued his proud name -a name humbled but by the reverses incident to life -to hasten to his relief: to come with a heart prepared for any emergency-nerved for any conflict; as he would be to a great extent dependent upon his youthful exer- tions for support. This intelligence was received during a visit the now betrothed couple, in company with Major Baxter, were making in Charleston. And, though it very naturally cast a gloom over the minds of the devoted trio, each, including himself, felt it the duty of Thomas to imme- diately comply with the, what would have appeared to others, selfish requisition. "Go," said the self-sacrificing Edith, 'and minis- ter to the very utmost of your ability to the require- ments of your afflicted relative. Whilst he lives, think not of returning to your adopted home; but when he shall have yielded to the inexorable power of disease, and the grasp of death has set his spirit free, come O, come back to us who love you as our own lives and who will ever cherish your image in our hearts enshrined." THE PASTOR'S STORY. 35 "Go, my son," said Major B., "the calls of humanity are imperative; especially when coming from those claiming flear consanguinity. Go, and by your generous sympathy strew with flowers the pathway to the tomb; and when the cypress shall have waved its melancholy blossoms over the grave, delay not your return to America - the home of your youth -the nativity of your first, and Heaven grant, while Edith lives, your only love." "Go,' said a still, small voice, which spoke from the inner man, and seldom erred in its dictates; go, and however long the term of trial and personal sacrifice, however onerous the tasks imposed, faint not in well- doing." Thus directed and sustained, Thomas determined to leave at once for the distant shores of his native land. Preparatory to which he desired to bid farewell to the aged friends who so kindly welcomed him to their hospitable abode, and by the tenderest attentions taught him to regard them as indeed his grandparents. On the hill-top of innocent .expectation of most brilliant entertainment the party entered the city- a new world to them, glittering with coruscations of bliss too ex- quisite for realization, too bright for mortal vision. With saddened though resigned feelings, they departed for the old homestead. page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 36 THE PASTOR:S STORY. It has been said that misfortunes and sorrow never come singly. Truly, indeed, was the saying verified in this instance. A few miles from Charleston, the chas- tened travellers espied a horseman in full speed. Ap- proaching nearer, they recognized the groom of the estate. Apprehension simultaneously prepared them for the melancholy tidings, thus almost winged to them, of the dangerous illness of the dear grandmother whom they had so recently left in the full prospect of many more years of health and usefulness. Alas for earthly hopes and prospects! One rude blast may destroy the superstructure of years; one mighty cloud overshadow the brightest sky; one bitter frost chill the heart for life. Facilitating their movements, each hoped to arrive at home in time to receive her dying blessing, but in this too they were disappointed. Unable to distinctly articulate, she breathed her last farewell to him who had been for many years the com- panion of her life, just a short while before they reached home. Upon Major Baxter devolved the sad duties of the funeral, and in their faithful performance, as in every transaction of life-as in the discharge of every duty, either public or private, either joyous or sad--he showed himself a' gentleman of the most refined sensi- bility. g THE PASTOR'S STORY. 37 Edith sorrowed deeply at this her second great be- reavement, but not as one without hope. The pale, expressive face and tearful eyes of Thomas plainly told the deep emotion within. It would be sacrilege to speak of the deep though almost sublime grief of the aged and bereaved husband--it was too peculiar, too profound for description. The day after the interment, Thomas, impelled by a sense of duty, ventured to appoint the next for his de- parture. His friends, as endeared as he was to them, and much as they regretted the circumstances which rendered his going necessary, were too considerate to -seek in any way th detain him, or to embitter the part- ing moments by an unavailing demonstration of grief. "Walk with me, Thomas, to the church grounds," said Major B. to his adopted son, the last afternoon before his departure for England; "I have a message to communicate to and a gift to bestow on you, invested with sacred interest; and there is no place on earth more suitable to witness the deed than that afforded by that consecrated enclosure." Seated upon the stone steps of that little sanctuary, with Thomas, in anxious, hopeful suspense, by his side, he commenced thus: I should know of no excuse sufficiently deprecatory to exculpate me from the charge of unkindness, in so long withholding from you the revelation I am about to make, but for a promise I made your father-- " page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 THE PASTOR S STORY. "A promise made my father!" gasped, rather than repeated, the overwhelmed young man. "O, can it be that he left any message for me? Any gift, however small, which may possess talismanic virtue to avert the ills which now seem impending; and which, not- withstanding the principles of Christian philosophy instilled, I hope, into my very being by the venerable pastor of this church, hang over me as a dark cloud, threatening to crush me by their fall." Major B. removed the envelopes one by one from a little ivory box, which enclosed one of the richest of jewel cases. On opening this case, imagine, if you can, Thomas's astonishment and delight, not, however, without trepidation, at beholding a letter bearing his own address, "Care of Major Baxter, South Carolina, U. S. A." He hurriedly opened it, and eagerly glanced at the signature. His own father's name, traced with a feeble hand, met his eye, and filled him with melancholy joy. Long and steadily he gazed upon the name, entwined with his very existence; and hallowed by the innocent memories of his childhood, as if to learn of it the im- port of that to which it was subscribed. At length turning to the beginning, he slowly perused the follow- ing letter: THE PASTOR S STORY. 39 "'MAY 18, 18-. ' "MY DEAR SON -When this letter shall have been given you by the hand of friendship and affection, the one which traced it will long since have mouldered in the dust, and been numbered among the dead. You will doubtless ask, why the only memorial of your father has so long been withheld from you? If living, pro- vided you receive it before you attain your majority, Major Baxter will answer: 'Because it was your father's request: but for this stipulated contingency, had I given it to you a day sooner, I had violated a sacred trust.' "For this request, I will myself account. In order to appropriately address you, I must, in fancy, transport myself through the dark valley of death to the bright mountains of the redeemed, and converse with you as from the spirit-land. "In consigning your childhood and youth to the care of one in every respect entitled to my confidence and esteem, I felt that any directions to him with regard to his subsequent management of you were unnecessary. A high-toned, honorable man never proves recreant to a trust - never deceives friend or foe. I gave you to him in the full confidence that you would be brought up in the ways of virtue and peace, and I doubt not that such has been his endeavor. "To you, my dear son, I simply said: Thomas, I page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 THE PASTOR'S STORY. bequeathe you to Major Baxter. Extend to him the obedience and affection which would have been due me had I lived; and be grateful and tender to him in his declining years. To one of your upright principles, I knew this to be sufficient to insure the most scrupulous performance of duty. "With regard to myself I have but little to narrate: suffice it that I am the son of highly respectable parents, a descendant of one of the oldest and best families in England. My father designed and educated me for the ministry of the gospel, but not considering myself wor- thy so high a calling, I disappointed his desire, and chose the vocation of law. Established in a lucrative profes- sion, and winning golden opinions every day, although poor, I aspired to the hand and heart of a beautiful lady of immense wealth and of illustrious birth. She en- couraged my advances, and we were clandestinely mar- ried. As she apprehended, from that hour her kindred abandoned and disowned her. What mattered that, however? We were all in all to each other; and by my untiring exertions and her frugality, we were soon independent of their -notice. "By and by, you, my son, were given to us. And O, what a blessed world this then was! The very stars shone brighter, and the atmosphere was redolent of joy, as I gazed upon the baby face of my darling boy- my THE PASTOR'S STORY. 41 miniature self! But mysterious indeed is the hand of Providence. The same 'hour that brought you to my enraptured vision, entertained the grim-monster Death; and gave him as fair a lily as ever opened its pure petals to light, to feed upon. "Day by day I watched the gradual diffusion of the florid flush as it steadily encroached upon her lovely line- aments without the power to arrest it; and one year of intense suffering and patient endurance added another conquest to the relentless tyrant's power, and another to the catalogue of the bereaved. "With her head upon my bosom, her emaciated hand clasped within mine, I saw her die. I felt the death- throe! In an agony of despair, I besought God to show compassion by permitting me to die too, I called upon the earth to swallow, the rocks to cover me! In the delirium of grief, I forgot there was a remaining link connecting me to earth. Hforgot you, my son! The recollection of you, of your helpless and dependent infancy, came like a sunbeam to my soul, reconciling it to its earthly imprisonment, and to the then sad duties of life. "In the course of time my grief, though never subdued, became less poignant, and I often experienced the most grateful rapture in contemplating the physical and mental development of the only pledge of the dearest page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 THE PASTOR S STORY. period of my existence. For you, my son, I had not learned even yet the fallacy of earthly honor - all the ambition of my nature was revived. I anticipated the time when an -admiring world should have culled the brightest flowers in the garden of fame, and offered them as an oblation at your feet. With the eye of affection I beheld your brow enwreathed by a garland of rose- buds, destined to expand and bloom in heaven with unrivalled splendor and sweetness. "But the presumption and temerity of man seldom go unpunished even in this world. His most cherished hopes and objects are those soonest destroyed or dis- appointed. Constitutionally delicate, the care, which I would not permit shared by others, during the affliction of your dear mother, laid a sure foundation upon which consumption again reared its funeral pile. Flattering as the disease is, and struggle as I would against the conviction, I knew that the work of death was going on: I knew that I must soon leave you, my noble boy, an orphan in the world. But a merciful Father raised up a friend to supply my place; that friend you know to be Major Baxter, and I repeat that I hope that he has ever had and will ever retain the place in your affections which would have been mine. "In conclusion, there is another duty I would impress upon you: you have an uncle, my only brother. Than THE PASTOR 'S STORY. 43 his, a more noble, generous heart never throbbed. Too confiding, however, he learned, when too late, that all were not, like himself, to be trusted. By the duplicity of others having been greatly reduced in a pecuniary point, he embarked for the Indies in the hope of making up his losses. For several years we maintained a reg- ular correspondence, but at length he became, if living, too much engaged in the pursuit of wealth to write to absent friends, or his letters miscarried. On this account I fear he has been unsuccessful, and chooses to exile himself rather than return to his native land without the means of sustaining the position to which accustomed. Should you ever hear that he needs assist- ance, go directly to him and do all in your power to relieve his wants. God will reward you. "True it is, that 'brevity is the soul of wit,' but it is not the soul of affection. In thisi my last communi- cation to you, I couldt have written volumes-I could have multiplied endearing epithets without number, but want of time forbade. "Before, however, finishing this already prolix epistle, I cannot forbear telling you, my beloved son, that a change came over the spirit of my ambition. I would still have had you great, but only in a moral and religious sense; still have had you win a name, but only such as Heaven would approve. In the spirit of Wes- page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " THE PASTOR' STORY. ley, Newton, and Edwards, seek to make the world better by having lived in it; this being done, you will have achieved a victory for which Napoleon would have relinquished his blood-stained honors. This being done, recording angels will haye inscribed your name in im- perishable characters in the highest courts of the New Jerusalem. "Now, my dear son, a long and tender farewell. May the Father of the orphan watch over and shield you from the ills of life, is the prayer of your dying father, WILLIAM DANIEL. "P. S.--In the same box containing this letter, you have your mother's bridal present from me. Attached is her written desire with regard to it. "Affectionately, W. D." The contents of this letter filled the mind of Thomas with a pleasing sadness, and gave to it a fixed purpose in life. As though he deemed himself unworthy to touch an article sanctified by his mother's wear, Thomas hesitated in opening the case in which it was concealed. Major B., perceiving the hesitation, and divining the cause, kindly opened the case, and drew forth a necklace of diamonds of the purest water. Full and complete it was, save one missing jewel. Turning it over, he dis- THE PASTOR'S STORY. 45 covered in small but unmistakable characters the initials of his mother's name. And upon a tiny sheet of em- bossed note-paper, neatly secured to the valuable relic, were these words: "To my dear son I bequeathe this memento of the fondest affection, with the desire that he will never part with it until he shall have found one dearer to him than all the world beside. He then will be at liberty to clasp it around her neck, a symbol of his love. His affectionate mother, MARY DANIIEL." After reading it, Thomas enclosed his mother's note in his father's letter and placed them next his heart. Too overpowered for conversation, he and his friend silently retraced their footsteps home. He sought an early opportunity to hand th@ letter to Edith, with a request that she would read it and then meet him in the verandah. The meeting of these lovers on this memorable occa- sion, we forbear to describe; suffice it, that it was long and tender. And before they separated, Thomas clasped the necklace, but now, as it were, the gift of his mother, round the neck of Edith. She fully understood the import so delicately implied; yea, more, she understood the refined nature which appreciated a look far more than the most enthusiastic page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " THE PASTOR'S STO1RY. expressions, and forebore the utterance of thanks. Her beautiful face, radiant with love and gratitude, plainly evinced that which language were impotent to convey. The parting struggle was experienced that night. And a resignation to duty so calm and so unim- passioned succeeded, that he who looks merely at the surface of things, would never have suspected the mighty conflict beneath. Or, rather, he who is incap- able of such moral triumphs over the passions and sensibilities of his nature, would have thought them too stoical for lovers. At a very early hour next morning, Thomas accom- panied by Edith and her father, was on his way to Charleston, whence he expected to embark the succeed- ing day for England. In an eloquence intelligible only to the soul, the fare- well was expressed, and Thomas went aboard an elegant steamer bound for Albion's shores. With a disposition which could adapt itself to circumstances, and conform with composure to the requirements of the occasion, he soon appeared one of the most contented passengers, and did much to contribute to the entertainment of the voyage. Day after day, and night after night, as the magnifi- cent ship moved on its way, Thomas paced the deck wrapped in devout meditation. His whole being was THE PASTOR'S STORY. 47 filled with love and admiration- for Him who, in the omnipotence of his power, holds the winds in his fists, and the seas in the hollow of his hands; and, without any positive religious experience, he would fall upon his knees and pour out his soul in supplication to Him who "walked on the waters." Thomas's lofty soul aspired to communion with this great Being, and he determined to hesitate no longer in making known his wants. Many beautiful passages of the Holy Scriptures suggested the way, and encouraged him to seek after that higher good, that purer joy, that loftier love for which his religious instincts kept longing. As a little child he cried, Lord, save, or Iperish! This was the way and the only way to be healed with that balm which grew by the pure waters of Gilead. A beautiful evan- gelical faith filled his heart with praise and thanks- giving to the dear Saviour, who had often extended to him a sustaining influence. Thomas was a Christian! O how he longed to tell Edith of this great work in his heart! O, how he longed that the world might be encompassed by this wondrous love! After an auspicious and delightful voyage, the vessel anchored at --. With a heart fortified by manly resolve and Christian purpose, Thomas stepped ashore. Tthe clear depths of page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 -THE PASTOR'S STORY. his dark eyes betrayed to every beholder this resolve-- this purpose. And none could look, even casually, into his earnest, thoughtful face, without being impressed with the superiority of the indwelling spirit. Inclination, as well as a sense of duty, urged him to delay no time in going to the city of his uncle's abode. Arrived there, he at once went in search of him, Aided by the directions enclosed in the letter received in Amer- ica, he soon found the humble dwelling. With a com- posed and determined step he approached the door. Gently rapping, he received as response an invitation to "come in." ' Thomas's feelings and emotions, upon entering that poor and unfinished apartment, were bet- ter imagined than described. On a rude bedstead, upon which was only a thin mattress, lay the once proud form of General Daniel. A moment sufficed to establish in the mind of the nephew the identity of the uncle. The resemblance to his father, whom he remembered well, was too apparent to be imaginary. He was overwhelmed by a thousand thoughts, and in a moment of uncontrollable feeling he rushed to his side, and clasped his astonished uncle in his arms. ' My uncle!" "My nephew!" were the proud exclamations of these strangerrelatives. Though apparently reduced to penury, Thomas saw in the eye, and in the curve of the thin lip, unmistakable indica- t. THE PASTOR'S STORY. 49 tions of the soul's nobility. And but for a certain un- definable something in his manner, which he could not reconcile to this nobility, he would have gloried to call him uncle-gloried to minister to his adverse situation. Were it prudent, time would not allow us to repeat the affectionate conversation which ensued; before it ended, lowever, General D. was satisfied that his brother's son was not ashamed of the relationship, and that his high- est pleasure would be to serve him. Though too much interested to think of dinner on "s own account, Thomas knew that his uncle needed refreshment, and he was anxious to procure it. Owing :o the generous supply his American friend, Major B., iad slipped into his hand as he bade him farewell, he yet had ample means for many weeks' support. But low to go about providing for the present occasion, especially when so refined a person was the object of it, ie was at a loss to devise. Apprehending the cause of embarrassment, General D. asked his nephew to place the little table which 3tood in the corner, by his bedside. Having complied, "s uncle removed a coarse but snow-white covering, ind, to his gratification, he beheld, if not the most Ohoice articles of food for an invalid, those which were luite suitable. Perceiving there was an abundance, he lid not hesitate to share the humble meal. Humble as 3 page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 THE PASTOR S STORY. it was. the host, however, went through with all the formalities of a courtly entertainment, and before they had finished the repast, his nephew was convinced in his own mind that he was either a monomaniac, or a proud man of the world, who rebelled against the decrees of Providence. In the course of the afternoon, General D. informed Thomas that he had some important business to which he wished him immediately to-attend, as the delay of even a few hours might be attended with disadvantage. Ready to perform any duty, and anxious to obtain if possible a clue to his uncle's state of mind, he received a bundle of papers, with verbal instructions as to the locality of those to whom the business appertained. "This being accomplished," said General D., " the afternoon will be nearly spent; but however late, I then want you to go a little way up the river and call at the elegant mansion of my namesake, General Daniel, and deliver into his own hand this letter. Do not ask directions--- you cannot fail to find the place." Thomas complied with his uncle's desires with regard to the letter. Having finished arrangements with the at- torneys, he proceeded to the elegant mansion on the bor- ders of the Avon. To the servant who answered his ring he handed his card, with a request to see the master im- mediately on urgent business. The servant soon returned THE PASTOR S STORY. 51 with a kind invitation to him to go to the chamber of the General, as he was too indisposed to see him elsewhere. Ushered into one of the most princely apartments, imagine the surprise of Thomas as he beheld, clad in purple andfine linen, the very same uncle whom he had but so recently left in one of the most obscure domiciles in the city. He could scarcely credit his own senses, so mysterious did everything appear. General D., feel- ing that it would be unkind to keep him longer in sus- pense, extended to him his hand, with but these words, 'My nephew "\ Words which sent a thrill of joy to his heart but that very morning, now fell upon his ears without inspiring a single emotion of pleasure. Quick as thought he comprehended all. His uncle was very wealthy, anQ had resorted to this expedient to force him from his frields in America-to recall him to England. He was disappointed, almost vexed. General Daniel, perceiving this, rendered satisfactory reasons for the "innocent hoax." Returning to his native home with wealth that would have satisfied the most avaricious, and having no heir upon whom to bestow it, he resolved to adopt his only nephew, whom he had never seen, to inherit his magnificent estates. In order to convince himself that this nephew was deserving his generosity, he conceived the plot to deceive him, and see how he page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 THE PASTOR S STORY. would yield compliance to his requests. In one respect he did not deceive: he was indeed in rapidly declining; health. And, as a dutiful and affectionate relative Thomas ministered to the comfort and enjoyment of his last days. A few months of unremitting suffering completed its work; and he who had spent his life in the acquisition of wealth and worldly honors, discovered, when too late, that they could avail nothing in the hour of death. Notwithstanding the prayers and entreaties of his pious nephew, this man of the world died as he had lived, unmindful of his soul's salvation. When Thomas had discharged the last sad duties to his only uncle and known relative, he fully realized that he was a stranger among strangers; and his heart instinctively turned with all its yearnings to his home and friends in America. He immediately wrote to Major Baxter and to Edith, informing them of the melancholy though expected event, and for the first time made known to them the "hoax." Judging them by the majority of persons, he had erroneously supposed that upon discovering that his uncle needed not his assistance, they would think hel ought to return to his adopted home, and he had avoided alluding to h:s situation; and had even retained, with the warmest expression of thanks, several considerable * - * , THE PASTOR S STORY. 53 sums of money, remitted to him by his dear friend "across the waters.:" Strange, unaccountably strange, to Thomas, month after month elapsed, and no answer came to any of these letters. He never for a moment questioned the fidelity of his friends. O no! he knew them too well for that. In the agony of suspense, he determined to sail without delay for America. But, then, although sole heir, his deceased uncle's business had to be adjusted according to law, and it was indispensable that he should give it his personal attention. Besides this important reason for remaining awhile in England, there was yet another, which, though he him- self could scarcely explain, was even more controlling. While yet in doubt with regard to the cause of his not receiving answers from his Carolina friends, an impres- sion, bordering on certainty, existed in his mind that something stranger, more gratifying perhaps than any thing preceding it, awaited him, and prevented him from carrying out his premature determination to leave. Many a starlit evening he wandered alone on the classic shores of the grand old river winding by his beautiful home, absorbed in earnest thought or religious meditation: thought inspired by the enchanting solitude and mystic melodies of the majestic old trees, standing like sentinels to guard ancestral inheritance, around the page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 THE PASTOR'S STORY. princely mansion; and the peculiar plaintive song of the boatman, as iL told its tale of love. Memory, too, was often at work, and by its magic power he lived over again the loved season spent with Edith in a distant land. Each glance of her cerulean eyes beamed upon him with the same tender fervor; each softened intona- tion of her musical voice was borne on the fragrant zephyrs, and vibrated upon the harp-strings of his soul. He saw her point to heaven, and bid him hope. And that same beautiful faith, which sprang up in his soul on his voyage hither, dispelled all depressing forebod- ings, and inspired his tongue with songs of praise and rejoicing. In one of his solitary rambles, Thomas observed at a distance a stately form, which at once riveted his eye. Advancing nearer, he beheld the commanding figure of an aged gentleman, whose appearance united the nobil- ity of nature with the aristocrat of society. Admira- tion and reverence at once took possession of him, and he involuntarily raised his hat until he passed him. The interest was mutual. There is something truly inexplicable in the affinity which kindred spirits bear to each other. Thomas felt that he had seen his own prototype, and with a sort of enthusiastic impatience he wanted to see more of it. Day after day he wandered in the same direction, with THE PASTORS STORY. 55 no other motive than that of meeting this mysterious personage. He had a sort of vague, superstitious idea, despite his better knowledge, that there was something more than humanity associated with him, and that there ,was an invisible link connecting their beings, and he longed most ardently for its discovery. Eacl recurrence of these meetings more fully estab- lished in the minds of each that there was a magnetic principle implanted within which could not resist its kindred influence. On an early occasion they met. Through the eye their souls went forth, and in one long embrace united never more to separate--Thomas and his grandfather. With thanksgiving, such as the angel bands of heaven might stoop to hear, these rejoicing spirits made the woods resound. "Praise God, O my soul! for this happy day, this glorious privilege! O, my daughter! whose sacred name I am not worthy to call! thou whom I so unjustly discarded from all the loved endearments of mother and home! look down from thy bright habitation in heaven, and see how en- tirely my heart bows in humble supplication to thce for pardon! And hear my solemn vow to atone, to the very extent of my ability, to the son for the mother's wrongs." Such, and the like, were the contrite exclamations of that once inexorable old gentleman, who had in earlier page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 56 THE PASTOR S STORY. life made all the tender impulses of the heart but secondary considerations; who had made every principle of his nature--and there were many of an excellent character -subserve the arbitrary conventionalities of the sphere in which he was born and reared. Thomas's rejoicing was similar to that of his grandfather, varied only by years and circumstances. By the earliest mail he dispatched other letters to Edith and her father, containing a full account of this happy interview. He implored her to delay not an answer, as everything earthly was as nothing compared with his all-absorbing love for her. He told her that without the hope of her pious example through life, without her gentle guidance through the dangerous vortex of wealth, he feared he would be engulfed in its dark waters. He told her how he had already conceived the idea of endowing a religious and literary institution, and begged her advice and cooperation. Again months passed, and no reply rewarded his fidelity. Again he determined to embark for America. To his aged grandfather he confided the history of his love, and his reasons for desiring to leave England at this important crisis; and, to his gratification, the old gentleman approved his course. The afternoon preceding his contemplated departure, as strolling pensively, he scarcely knew whither, he THE PASTOR'S STORY. 57 came in the vicinity of an establishment of choice jew- elry. As if grateful to that chance which had directed his steps hither, he entered, determined to make a selec- tion of a plain but valuable ring which he intended presenting Edith. Having made the selection, Thomas had turned to leave, when the salesman, anxious to secure the patron- age of one evidently able to afford it, begged that he would examine a case of antique though magnificent diamonds. Leisure allowing, courtesy prompted him to grant the request. Admiringly he examined several articles, which, from their antiquated style, appeared relics indeed. But, O heavens! what was his con- sternation when he beheld the very same necklace he had clasped round Edith's neck the night preceding his departure from America! He could not be mistaken; there it was, with one diamond missing, and his mother's initials! His frame shook as in an ague fit; his head reeled as if intoxicated, and he was obliged to cling to a column near by for support. But a few moments were lost in this way: he seized the necklace, and per- emptorily demanded its price and the manner in which it was obtained. The polite and gentlemanly salesman, understanding the heart-workings which had thus thrown his noble visitor off his guard, gave him a cor- rect account of his purchase of the article hallowed by 3* page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] 58 - THE PASTOR S STORY. the strongest ties in nature. The account, however, furnished Thomas no clue to the real state of affairs, but rather supplied grounds for the most heart-rending suspicion. That Edith was in England he doubted not; but udder what circumstances, conjecture failed to furnish one that was satisfactory. He resolved to lose no time in efforts of discovery. Every hotel and boarding- house in the city he daily visited; every place of public amusement and entertainment lie attended, in hope of seeing the idol of his affections. Just as hope had well-nigh ceased to animate his exertions, an incident of a most thrilling character oc- curred in the near vicinity of his residence; an incident which enlisted his sympathy and interest, and again stimulated him to action, An aged man, who, though in very indigent circum- stances, had by numerous little offices of kindness and accommodation endeared himself to a large circle of acquaintances, was, in the stillness of darkness, broken in upon by several of a banditti which had for months infested the country with defiant boldness, and gagged and bound so as to be unable to oppose them. Whilst the father was thus incapacitated, these men of sin noise- lessly proceeded to the roo:n occupied by his two daughters. Not arousing until too late for effective re- THE PASTOR S STORY. 59 sistance, these unoffending females, who, save on errands of usefulness, seldom went beyond theii father's hum- ble enclosure, were securely fettered and also gagged; then forced from the house and placed each upon an elegant horse, destined, by the sad perversion of the useful, to carry two persons as unlike as midnight and noonday-an ambassador of darkness and a spirit of light. So it is with life: the vile and the pure how often, alas! closely drawn together. Thus mounted, these terrified maidens, the younger of whom was just verging into womanhood, were hurried they knew not whither. Just as day-a day that brought no light to them--- was dawning, they were mockingly ushered into a capacious but unfurnished drawing-room of what appeared to them an untenanted old castle, and begged in the same mocking manner to feel perfectly at ease in their new abode, notwithstanding the contrast to the one from which they came. In a few moments they were conducted with much ceremony to a private apartment, which already contain(d as pure an occupant as ever graced courtly hall or princely saloon, -and bade to hold themselves in readiness for further orders, Brought together under circumstances so mys- terious and humiliating, these unfortunate girls were not long in learning each other's history; and, notwith- standing the uncertainty of their own fate, the sisters page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 60 THE PASTOR'S STORY. seemed to forget their situation, so great was their com- miseration for the gentle creature who had previously been abducted and forced into this rendezvous of iniquity. As "the darkest day has gleams of light," so even this dark place was not without its aperture through which febly gleamed a ray of hope. Unacquainted with the world, and allured by the most plausible and sductive promises, a young man of some very excellent qualities, witl his little patrimony in his pocket, had been induced to unite his interest with that of these "speculators," many of whT mingled as gentlemen in a respectable (?) class ofthe community; and not until too late to rescue his all from their nefarious covetousness, did he discover the nature of their "speculations;" how, with a long catalogue of the most fearful transgressions, they combined that of abducting innocent females and retaining them in cap- tivity until rewards satisfying their cupidity were offered. Then' some of the band, who, disguised in the garb of gentlemen, walked the streets every day, eager to obtain the prize, soon, despite "opposition," and oftentimes "bloodshed," bore the captives in triumph to their rejoicing friends. All this ho discovered, and he resolved, though his life should pay the forfeit, to expose the villainy; in order to do which, and to safely THE PASTOR'S STORY. 61 effect his escape, he had to seem as one of them, taking care not to participate in actual crime. Just as he had matured plans by which to prosecute his intentions, the first of these fair captives was brought hither. He then abandoned all thought of leaving as long as she remained in this gloomy imprisonment; and to mitigate her sufferings, to screen her as much as possible from insult, and to inspire her with hope and cheerfulness was his constant care. Without the cer- tainty of her release, too, freedom, even from this odious place, could not have been given him. To add to his solicitude and care, the other two were brought and likewise confined. Decision wavered no longer. Ad- vising the girls of his plans, and begging them to feign entire ignorance of him should they be interrogated, he went to those of the conspirators who were there, and told them that their "Captain" had left orders with him to be at -- precisely at one o'clock that night. So ingeniously did this young man fabricate his story, that even these bad men yielded ready credence, and offered no objection to the proposed excursion. Mount- ing one of their fleetest horses, he put off at a rapid rate in the direction designated; but as soon as out of sight, he, by a circuitous way, reversed his course, and lost no time in getting to -. A few miles from the town, by the light of a brilliant page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 THE PASTOR'S STORY. moon, he perceived at a considerable distance a man on horseback. Deeming caution the best policy, he imme- diately slackened his pace, with the view (of passing the Stranger in a composed and unsuspicious manner. The gentleman advancing chanced to be none other than our young friend, Thomas: impelled by a restless anxiety and an unaccountable foreboding that something would Soon transpire which would lead to the discovery of Edith's whereabouts, he had gone forth this memorable night. The strangers were about passing in silence, but a mutual gaze, as inquiring as intent, caused each to halt. By a polite salutation, which at once inspired confidence, our young hero broke the silence. A few moments of almost whispered conversation ensued, in which Thomas was brought acquainted with the young man's object, and he at once enlisted his services. Together they sped to the town, and cautiously making known their wants, but a short time sufficed to raise a little army of well- equipped men, ready to spill their life's-blood in a just cause. On, on they sped until within hearing distance of the old castle, destined soon to be the scene both of blood- shed and joy. Dismounting, they secured their horses, and on foot cautiously proceeded to the old building. The "Captain"' having prematurely returned, had / THE PASTOR S STORY. 63 heard the story of the young man's departure, and, filled with torturing apprehensions known only to the guilty, had already given orders for a speedy removal. The bloody conflict which ensue 1 we would not describe; enough that those il the right triumphed. Thomas's heart now throbbed with joy, as the thought occurred to him that two of the young ladies here im- prisoned might be the two so cruelly torn from their father in his own city. To one as sanguine as he, the hope amounted to certainty; and he wondered that he had not thought of it before. He preceded rather than followed his brave young conductor to the apartment of the almost frantic girls. In the very agony of fear, lest he who had imperilled his life that theirs might be rescued had fallen in the contest, they had suffered as much mentally as their rescuers had physically. On opening the door, Thomas, almost paralyzed with amazement, beheld a face the dearest on earth! He had never seen but one like it-he could never see another. Was it an apparition that he saw? No! it was flesh and blool! It was his own loved Edith! Frjom a description of the scene whfch followed our pen would shrink indeed; before it ended, however, Thomas had again clasped his mother's necklace round the neck of the astonished and happy Edith, with a vow never again to leave her exposed. page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] " THE PASTOR S STORY. The morning's dawn found the heterogefeous party on their way home. The gratitude of the old man upon the restoration of his daughters was indescribable. And the heroic young man, so instrumental in the re- lease of these young ladies, sought and won the hand and heart of the younger sister. - At as early a period as practicable, Edith and Thomas were united in the indissoluble bonds of wedlock. O, what a noble spirit was his! No suspicions of the pro- priety of her course caused him to delay the fulfilment of a sacred promise; no elucidation of mysteries was necessary. She loved him; had followed him across the briny deep; and not until the solemn vows had been breathed, did he learn from his loving wife the full extent of her trials and troubles. How, after the deaths of her grandfather and father, she had resolved to go to England, for the purpose of learning, if pos- sible, the reasons for his unexpected course : both his and her letters had been intercepted by a bribed postmaster. How, accompanying som3 friends who were going there, she arrived at --; and how, had she been g-.'ded by the impulses of her own fond attachment, and acquainted him through the mail of her arrival in his city, she might have been spared the humiliating ordeal through which she had passed. How her friends, not knowing as she did the magnanimity of his nature, fearing he had forgotten THE PASTOR'S STORY. 65 his love for her, and was even then, perhaps, the husband of some more fortunate lady, opposed this course. How she, in the hope of discovering something concerning him, had gone forth alone when her friends thought her safe within her own room. How, in one of these soli- tary rambles, she was seized by a ruffian's hand and drawn into a building of good appearance; then vio- lently robbed of her necklace; and then retained in the closest custody until that period most loved by those whose deeds are evil, when she was hurried by the same conscienceless person to the retreat where she was so happily found. With something more than earthly interest Thomas regarded his beautiful young wife, as she recounted the troubles and sufferings which her love for him had occasioned. And he felt just as such a man as he could feel, that a life's devotion were insufficient to repay such heaven-born fidelity. In reviewing the history of his life, he read in char- acters too legible to be mistaken, the handwriting of God; and with a heart surcharged with love and thank- fulness, he bowed, he and his Christian wife, in one long, heartfelt prayer to the Great Author of so many blessings. Thomas told Edith that he was solemnly impressed with the conviction that it,was his duty to preach the page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] " THE PASTOR'S STORY. gospel: to preach Christ and him crucified to a dying people; and in order to do this, so as not to bring re- proach upon the cause, he must pursue a theological course of study. This was the fondest desire of her soul, and she did all she could to facilitate this great and responsible undertaking. Three years after entering one of the best theological institutions in Europe, Thomas was an ordained min istcr of the gospel. The field he chose for his labors was the home of his youth. The church he supplied with a pastor was the neat little granite edifice, almost imbedded in fragrant shrubbery, about -- miles from Charleston. THE FOURE SCENES. SCENE I. The spot is low and grassy; Two lovers there are sitting; The pines are softly whisp'ring, And happy moments flitting Unheeded by. SCENE II. A mansion is surrounded By orange tre s and flowers; Pomegranate, fig and peach trees, Beyond the summer bowers, Together mingle. Bananas, cocoas, grapes are Beyond the lemons growing, The almond, lilac, jasmine, Around their perfume throwing, And sweeten all. (67) page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] G63 THE FOUR SCENES. And in the distance pine trees Are to the breezes sighing, And corn and cotton growing; And birds are singing, trying To tell their love. Two forms are seen among the Pomegranates, figs and flowers, And hand in hand they enter The flower-covered bowers, And smile in joy. Now voices soft are murmuring, And eyes with love are glowing, With smiles are faces radiant Within the bowers, showing True happiness. A gate is shutting; softly The sound of cattle lowing Comes o'er the fields; and chickens Are scratching, cackling, crowing, Around the yard. The plowman's voice sounds mournfully; Far off a colt is neighing; THE FOUR SCENES. 69 A huntsman's dog is barking; And little children playing Among the flowers. SCENE III. The pines are mournfully sighin, Around two graves; and flower Above two heads are growing: They left the summer bowers Long, long ago. SCENE IV. Two loving hearts are basking In sempiternal glory; Their golden harps are tuning To the heavenly story Of "God is love." The war of life is over, And separations ended; Their life is just beginning, And now their love is blended Eternally. page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] "NES TO A YOUNG LADY. Affectionately addressed to a young lady on the receipt of a beauti- ful souvenir- a rich purse, wrought by her hands, and presented to the writer. THANKS for the beauteous gift, sweet girl, thy tasteful skill hath twined, And brilliant though its meshes be as brightly there enshrined,- Through future years will memories dwell of these our happy hours, As the fled summer's glory lives in one rich wreath of flowers. And as thy love-lit years glide on, be each glad hour enwreathed Into a tissue sparkling bright as this thy hand liath weaved: Like to that dial florists frame,* still may the laugh- ing hours Be marked by thee but by the bloom of joy's fresh op'ning flowers. *Linnaus formed a dial of flowers, whose successive openings and chsings marked the hours. 70) AN ACROSTIC.* 'Mid all the ills, the sorrows, care and strife, And dangers thick unseen by mortal eye, Rejoicing in the budding joys of life, Youth passes, as a cloud flits through the sky, And age finds many unprepared to die. How happy those who in their early days Give God their hearts-to His protection fly- And spend their lives in wisdom's pleasant ways, Yield up their breath with joy, and dwell with Him i on high. *To a cousin whose name was precisely the same of the author. (71, page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] THE ROBIN. I HEARD a soft and sweet-toned note, Which rose and swelled from distant tree; A robin from his magic throat, There perched and sang his song for me. The cold winds came, and where went he? Away where summer winds did rove; Where buds were fresh, and ev'ry tree Was vocal with the notes of love. Now green shrubs edge our forest walks, And blushing are our sweet-wood flowers; Snowhalls hang on their slender stalks, Kissed by dew in softest showers. Come are Spring's bright sunny bowers, Come Spring's encircling, tender vines; And Winter, with his dismal hours, On Kenesaw no longer pines. % * 2.'i THE ROBIN. 73 Then come, O come, to this mild sky, So fresh the blooms that scent the air; The vernal winds are passing by, And scattering buds and leaves so fair. Yes, come again, my own dear bird, To this warm clime; haste - speed thy flight! Kiss with the sun the evening's cheek, And stay with me the long, long night. Warble that wildwood note again, And I will read and list the while; Its tones will soon my soul enchain, And all my pensive hours beguile. 4 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] FULL MANY A FLOWER. "Full many a gem cf purest ray serene, The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear; Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air." GRAY'S ELEGY. As an introduction to a few thoughts, I have stolen the diamond from a string pf pearls, strung by one whose heart, "'once pregnant with celestial fire," felt as few men have ever felt; and who from one of the highest summits of that Pisgah which overlooks the fair Canaan of poesy, plucked flowerets from Heaven's festoons, and received inspiration from etherealized spirits, which enabled him to "wield the elements," and to sound the depths of the human heart raising and stilling its passions at his bidding. We are not informed that when God created the world, he did not decorate every portion of it alike beautiful; but we are authorized by his word to relieve, that if any spot received his peculiar consideration, that was the Garden of Eden. There luxuriated in rich variety all the beauties (743 FULL MANY A FLOWER. , 75 of nature, which have elicited the admiration and en- gaged the attention of all succeeding ages. There the rose, acknowledged queen of flowers, and the lily, fit emblem of maiden purity, grew spontaneous. There the lowly violet and the humble little forget-me-not com- manded the same attention as did the proud, majestic magnolia, loftily waving its expansive foliage in the pure atmosphere of heaven. But when we turn from that consecrated enclosure - that favored spot of Divine love- all is conjecture and supposition. Whether the Creator of the universe distributed alike over the surface of the earth these beautiful manifesta- tions of his generosity, or whether it was reserved for man, after his dispersion, and "the fowls of the air" on their migratory tours, to transplant them in other climes, has often been a subject of speculation. The happiest conclusion is, that when God said, "Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit," no section of the world was more propitiously regarded than another. Doubtless, the most sequestered nooks and the most obscure places were then beautified and embellished by the prettiest of flowers; and who will think that those flowers were "Born to blush unseen, And waste their sweetness on the desert air? Have not the angels eyes? And did not they look page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 * FULL MANY A FLOWEE. down from their happy homes in heaven, and unite in anthems of praise for what the Great Dispensor of all good had done for them? Did not the golden stars and the silvery moon lend rays of effulgence to their variegated petals; and the sun reflect their rainbow tints? God was glorified where the foot of man had never trod! Go now, who wilI, to the rich conservatories of the opulent, where affluence and science conspire to change even the order of nature; where, by congregating exotics the very antipodes of each other, are produced; pluck from their offerings the most choice flower, carry it to the gay saloons of pleasure, and bid the votaries of fashion go into ecstacies over its beauty and fragrance! Yes% bid them 1 For it sends no voluntary thrill of delight to the heart--arouses no dormant emotion of love and gratitude! Hand in hand with Flora, I will hie to the moun- taints brow, or to the valley's bosom, and cull a bouquet of the sweetest blossoms, unchanged by the hand of culturp, and take them to the bedside of the sick, or the room of the oppressed. Mark that smile-sweet though melancholy! And that tear-drop! Whence, does it flow? From a heart whose fondest recollections cluster around the past; and whose hopes for the future nestle at the foot of Calvary f FULL MARY A FLOWER. " That little offering of friendship, that simple nosegay of the wildwood, has awakened thoughts of childhood's days ; parents and friends long incarcerated in the house of silence are resuscitated by their magic influence, and are gently hovering round, tenderly discharging the offices of friendship and love. Attachments of more mature years are revived, and exist again in all the fervency of affectionate regard! The heart, disap- pointed in its earthly calculations, turns to heaven, that mighty emporium of happiness, where, parents and children are reiinited, and friends found in whllom there is no decay nor shadow of change! Have those sweet wildwood flowers wasted their sweetness on the desert air? Methinks I see a courageous adventurer wending his way through a narrow defile of the Rocky Mountains. He endeavors to banish all thoughts of home, lest per- chance it should restrain his enterprising footsteps! With forced cheerfulness he whistles a merry air, which fell upon his ear in the joyous parterre, or in the hilari- ous hall of the voluptuous and gay. He avoids such as Home, Sweet Home- it may be that lie fears their plaintive melody will shake the determination to pursue his journey. Look! what a change! That self-defying man is ashy pale! even on lis cheek the tear-drop glistens! page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 FULL MANY A FLOWER. Al! his eyes, in constant search of the beautiful, have fallen on an humble little flower, the same in appear- ance that she, the object of his early love, the plighted partner of his earthly destiny, had given him as em- blematical of her devotion and fidelity. All the tender though slumbering emotions of man's mighty heart are aroused and operated upon. He is again locked in the fond embrace of affectionate regard; wife and children cluster about, and, vine-like, twine their arms around him, the oak of that little grove! Will he refuse to shelter them front the scorching rays of summer, or from the chilling winds of winter? Will he neglect propping those frail twigs, dependent in a measure upon him for the impress the tree shall bear? He has done so! A spirit of adventure, an ambition for worldly renown, has induced him to con- sign that precious little group to the care of those com- paratively disinterested; and to relinquish all the fond endearments of wife, home, and friends! Hence he weeps on seeing that mountain flower - that memento of happier times! Has that flower wasted its sweetness upon the desert air?' I will now ascend from Flora's kingdom to that which embraces man, and endeavor to exhibit the beautiful -aalogy. So much depends upon mental culture in the develop- FULL MANY A FLOWER. / ment of moral and intellectual flowers, that no pains or expense should be spared to promote its general diffusion. Lamentable indeed is the reflection that in many a ne- g lected spot" exist all the "Elemeits to sway an empire Or wake to ecstasy the living lyre." "But knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of Time, has ne'er unrolled; Penury represses their noble rage, And freezes the genial current of the soul." There are flowers, however, belonging to this king- dom not indigenous to any clime, nor entirely de- pendent on culture for development. These are the flowers of the heart-an amiable and gentle disposi- tion, a kind and forgiving spirit. Such offerings are infinitely more acceptable to God than the dazzling treasures of Golconda's mines, or the intellecttual oblations from the hill of science. Humble though they be, no spot, however obscure, can conceal such excellence. A mother on whose brow "the traces of sorrow may be found," or a father whose " footsteps are now feeble and slow," may feel their heavenly influence, and thank their merciful Father for such angel gifts. He who, though gifted with all that renders life at- tractive- parents who watched with tender solicitude over the period of helpless infancy, and whose affection X '\" page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] 80 FULL MANY A FLOWER. diminisheth not in later years; brothers and sisters who shared alike each joy and each woe, and around the same knee learned to lisp, "'Our Father, who art in heaven," - impressed by the powerful obligation he is under to "work the work of Him that sent him, while it is day, for the night cometh, wherein no man can work," and leaves the valued associations of childhood, youth, and early manhood, and devotes himself phy- sically and mentally to leading out of Egyptian dark- ness the poor benighted heathen, seems to bury his talents - seems to waste his sweetness upon the desert air. But when his head shall have received a crown of righteousness, brightened by the acclamations of praise, which shall redound to his Saviour's glory, from heathens saved through his instrumentality from eternal woe, it will be discovered that his talents were wisely em- ployed. Such flowers emit a fragrance inhaled by angels, and will be transplanted in heaven, there to bloom in their native element, through all eternity. TO MARY. In love, dear girl, thy friend now twines A garland for thy youthful brow- A texture of the golden lines, Of hope and joy that glad thee now. Though gilded now by rays of hope, Fraught with changes thy life may be To shade thy radiant horoscope, Dark clouds may linger near to thee. Deceitful ones thy path may throng, While Spring doth last and flowers bloom; But soon as Winter's winds arise, Sycophants shun the coming gloom. Then from the crowd, my friend, select, To be companions chosen here, Those pure and true-of God elect- To virtue and religion dear. 4 * (S1) page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 TO MARY. Like Christians aft' their terrene close, Still living on, though 'bove our view Thy Saviour's love no changing knows- Though ills betide, 'tis ever true. Then treasure well his sacred Word; 'Twill faith unto thy spirit give, And waft it up to joy unheard, Prepared with Christ for e'er to live. AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. No more shall I behold her, No more these arms enfold her: To a land of deepest shade She is gone. Like the flower nipped by frost, Ere its early bloom was lost, So died the lovely maid Who is gone. O, do not weep or mourn, Or desire her rcturn; To the mansions of the blest Shoe is gone From envy and from strife, From adl the ills of life, Where the weary are at rest, She is gone. r83) page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 AN ELEGY. There, free from toil and pain, She for ever will remain; Her sorrows are all o'er; She is gone To that bright throng in heaven, The host of the forgiven; Then let us grieve no more, She is gone. TO ADA. You ask that I record something in this book, de- voted to friendship and affection to thee. But what shall it be? What my theme? Shall I speak of Heaven? Yes. How superior, then, is Heaven to Earth. If we are ever able, my dear young friend, amidst God's gracious dealings with us to catch by the eye of faith but an obscuring glimpse of its delightful prospects, its en- trancing visions, its ineffable pleasures, and its noble employments, how does earth, with its passing vanities, sink in our estimation! How sensibly do we feel that to depart and be with Christ is far better! Far better to leave our possession and enjoyments here, however extensive and dear, mixed as they are, even in their best state, with sickness, sorrow, and sin; to enter the pearly gates of the Heavenly City; to walk its golden streets; to have our seats within its spacious mansions, there provided; to mingle with the blest society there gathered from every age and from all parts of God's (85) I ' - - page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86 TO ADA. wide dominions; to b. forever free from sin and wretchedness; to bask forever in the full sunshine of perfect holiness and unchanging love; and be forever like Christ, and with Him, seeing Him as He is, And knowing Him as we are known. All this is indeed " far better." But it is a faint outline only of what Heaven is and will be, "for eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him." "Jerusalem, my happy home, Name ever dear to me! When shall my labors have an end, In joy, and peace, and thee?" HAPPINESS. HAPPINESS! thou glittering thing, AddV That which we all desire; Thou art for ever on the wing, And if pursued, retire! How many mortals toil through life, 'Mid scenes of danger, care and strife, And in the end -do find That all their work has been in vain They sought what none on earth obtain, tE- A perfect peace of mind. Then stop, vain man, and follow not This ignis fatuus bright, But be contented with your lot; Trust not its flattering light. It still will fly when you pursue, And keep receding from your view- 'Tis but a fruitless chase; And when tour race of life' is run, This rainbow, glistening in the sun, Is in another place. (87) page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] FORGET THEE. FORGET THEE! no, thy image dear Is with the chords of life entwining; Thy noble form is ever near, And like a light before me shining. Whether in slumber or awake, In solitude, or converse sweet, My constant thoughts of thee partake, And whisper we again shall meet. To me thou art a beacon bright, My pathway o'er rough seas to guide; To me thou art a star of night, Far brighter than all else beside. Altho' remote as distant pole, That star relumes my darken'd way; And cheers my sad, desponding soul, With light of more than heav'nly ray. (88) -I ,FORGET THEE, 89 Forget thee! no, I try in vain To banish every thought of thhee When this lorn heart is closed to pain, Thou'lt be my sweetest memory. page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] "NES TO LITTLE MNNIE. As fades the bud without decay, Plucked off by ruthless hand, So passed thy lovely charms aw To holier, happier land. No racking pain, sweet one, by day, Left on thy brow its trace, Nor night of anguish stol'd away The bloom from thy fair face. Thy coral lip lost not its hue, Thy eye its winsome light; Thy bosom ne'er by earth's cold dew Had felt a chilling blight. O, lovely Minnie! pretty dove, Dropt for an hour below To fill our hearts with joy and love, And charm away our woe. (90) "NES TO LITTLE MNNIE. 91 Too soon thy littl song was sung; Too soon thy smile has fled; Too soon, alas! thy lute unstrung; Too soon thy icy head. Thy death-bed was a scene of joy To thee, sweet one! alone, For thou did'st change earth's gross alloy For praise 'neath God's high throne. We laid thee in the cold, dark grave, With prayers, and sighs, and tears; But oh! we know that thou wilt have Holier, happier spheres. And tho' our hearts may bleed and break, We would not have thee here; We'll " pray the Lord our souls to take," And meet in that bright sphere. . page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] THE SABBAT-H. "And God blessed the seventli day, and sanctified it: Decause that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made." -GEN. ii. 3. HAIL, holy day! sweet day of rest, Both blessed and sanctified; In which the poor and the oppressed Are free and satisfied! The poor, who toil from day to day Beneath a burning sun, With gratitude and joy will say, Our six days' work is done. They see the Sabbath day appear, To Heaven their prayers arise; They hope to end their labor here, And rest above the skies. (92) THE UNFORTUNATE. She never said she loved him, But I saw it in her eye, The blush that mantled her fair cheek Whenever he was nigh; The sigh that heaved her tender breast, When, rising to depart, He kissed away the falling tear, And pressed her to his heart. I knew that he was wealthy, She poor, but virtuous too; I thought to spoil her loveliness Was all he had in view; That like some sweet but fragile flower, Torn from its parent tree,' She'd please his fancy for an hour, And then forgotten be.- I told her not to trust him, He'd ruin her fair fame; em page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " THE UNFORTUNATE. Rob her of innocence and life, All but a guilty name; But she believed his promises- With a seducer fled, And now, deserted by the wretch, She toils for her child's bread. TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. AFTER my respects and compliments to the ladies of S-- and vicinity, allow me to apologize for assum- ing my present position: a position which commands the inestimable opportunity of tendering to this Division of the Sons of Temperance a small manifestation of admiration and esteem; a privilege to which you, and you only, are legitimately entitled, and of which, I doubt not, you would ultimately have availed yourself. Knowing, however, the kind and forgiving nature of woman, I feel a confident assurance of pardon. Worthy Patriarch and gentlemen of the Order of the Sons of Temperance, the laudable design in contempla- tion is the only consideration which could have induced me thus to transcend thb conventional barriers of femi- nine delicacy, and to occupy a position so conspicuous. Should I prove, as I apprehend, unable to advance anything deserving your attention, I shall not attempt to supply the deficiency by rhetorical garlands, which please only the superficial, and are, though sometimes (95) page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. indulged, repudiated by the more intelligent and dis- criminating. As a representative of the female sex, I appear before you to mingle the voice of condemnation against the deleterious draught you have wisely renounced; and to express heartfelt gratitude to a philanthropic fraternity, destined to revolutionize the moral world; to dilapidate the strongholds of Satan; to dethrone the most aban- doned sovereign that ever swayed sceptre; to create an earthly paradise where thorns and thistles were wont to luxuriate. When the benign constellation of Temperance had become almost extinct in the moral galaxy; when the whole world, as it were, was writhing under the wither- ing influence and diabolical tyranny of King Alcohol; when the feeble voice of remonstrance- and expostulation had well-nigh yielded to the desponding groans of despair; when solicitude, deep and heartfelt, had almost exhausted her ingenuity, and the dove of hope had plumed her wing the last time in pursuit of the olive branch, then, then it was that a little though determined band of brothers, with hearts ignited by philanthropic zeal, unfurled the banner of Temperance, proclaiming in the thunder's voice rebellion against this hydra- headed monster-this sworn friend of Pluto. Nor has the banner been unfurled in vain! every breeze that O TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 97 passes by wafts tidings of victory. High on the hill- top, or low in the vale, wherever its bright folds are seen, there, too, is a moral reformation visible. The pernicious-pernicious is a word too feeble to convey the idea - the damning effects of intoxicating liquors are too obvious to require delineation, too re- volting for refined contemplation. The concentrated art of sin and wickedness could not manufacture a beverage more demoralizing in its effects, more destruc- tive in its operations. Man, high-hoping man, created in the image of a Divine Maker; superior to all animated nature; en- dowed with the capabilities of a god; an aspirant for heaven, and communion with Christ his intercessor while under its influence is the most corrupt, the most terrible. Yet, strangely deluded, strangely infatuated, in opposition to his better judgment, in defiance of God's awful denunciations against the drunkard, he deliberately and unequivocally administers the suicidal dose which poisons his mind; unfits him for the enjoy- ment of the refined pleasures of existence; introduces contention and discord where love and harmony were wont to dwell; desecrates the sacred privileges of every Divine ordinance; in a word, robs him of the man, and constitutes him a brute, a byword, and a re- proach; finally consigning him to a premature grave, page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 TEMPERANOE ADDRESS. there to wait the death-knell of his soul: "Depart from me, ye cursed. Ye knew your duty,. but ye did it not." Ages of unutterable woe shall have passed, and the agonizing shrieks of the lost are reverberating through the fiery vaults of hell: "Tell me, ye companions of iniquity, how long shall I endure this torture?" Eternity! eternity!"Tell me, thou spirit of my sainted mother; thou whose prayers, fervent and anxious, I disregarded, whose counsels I rejected, how long, O how long shall I suffer this dreadful punish- ment? always consuming but never consumed, always dying but never to die!" Eternity! eternity! eternity T Millions of years shall again have inflicted their allotted portion of misery, and the wailings of despair and supplication are yet reverberating: "Tell me, O God! whose love I spurned, whose wrath I wilfully enkindled, is there no. mercy in heaven? All, all I ask is annihilation." "Ye knew your duty, but ye did it not!" is the response of Him who has promulgated to the world, "The wages of sin is eternal death!" Gentlemen, this is no fancy sketch, conceived by an enthusiastic imagination, and delivered in the delirium of excitement. Would to heaven it were! If there is a single individual present over whom a fate so awful is impending, let me beseech him to pause and reflect; TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 99 to dash far from him the fatal cup, instrumental in pro- ducing such consummate wretchedness. such endless punishment. *' Will he whose soul Is lighted With wisdom from on high PIw To spirits so benighted The lamp of life deny?" Freedom! O, how sweet the sound! Without it life were a cheerless boon, a dreary waste! Give me liberty or give me death, is the sentiment of every en- lightened mind--of every mind bearing the impress of its Divine origin. Whenever the national flag is unfurled to the breeze, every patriotic bosom thrills with courage and valor! No hesitation to investigate causes - enough for man to know that his country has been invaded, his privileges as a freeman exposed to danger., With heart nerved for battle, ready to be immolated upon the shrine -of liberty, he is ambitious to be foremost in the contest, and never shouts more triumphantly than when elevat- ing the standard of victory! If such is man's courage when his temporal rights are assailed, what should be the extent of his courage when the eternal interest of his immortal soul is in- volved? Surely it should employ the most vigilant exertions, the most unrelenting opposition! What should be the extent of his zeal when the banner of page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] 100 TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. Temperance, the ensign of moral greatness, is hoisted? It should acknowledge no restraint within the limits of reason! Were I a man, I, for one at least, would rally around it, defending it with my latest breath! Yes, I would unite with this wise little army, which already has ac- complished much, and is destined to achieve a greater victory than an Alexander or a Napoleon! Is there no Caesar present who will take the lead ii this glorious warfare? The Rubicon being crossed, th4 battle is won. A little moral courage, and the victory is gained. Let the feeble voice of woman inspire that courage In no way can you conduce more to human happiness or more enhance your own; in no way more assuredl] procure for yourselves an approving conscience, or mor effectually secure the approbation of the ladies; in n way sooner establish peace on earth and good wi towards men, or contribute more to the cause of Chris tianity. In conclusion, allow me, gentlemen, to present to yo this banner. Take it- guard it well! During it execution a thousand emotions have revolved in m mind. Hope and fear have alternately prevailed Hope that, in after years, I might have the happ gratification of learning that its pure folds and brigl TEMPERANCE ADDRESS. 101 colors have been shielded from the assaults of the enemy. Fear, lest one of your little number, recreant to duty, recreant to honor, should, by a violation of his sacred trust, reflect dishonor upon it, and upon the Division to which it is given. But, as a summer cloud before the noonday sun, every uncharitable foreboding has van- ished, leaving no vestige of fear behind. An organization having Love, Purity, and Fidelity for its foundation, is obliged to stand. The rain may descend, the floods come, and the winds blow and beat upon it, but it will not fall; for it is founded upon a rock. Yea, it is destined to survive the wreck of the universe, and be perpetuated in heaven, where all will be immaculate members of the Sons of Temperance ! \" page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] MY CHLDHOOD'S IOME. MY childhood's home! My childhood's home! Of thee with rapture I will sing; For thy dear joy to me doth come, As brightest sunshine Spring can bring. My childhood's home, and mother dear, Together linked by strongest tie In this fond heart till death is near To waft my soul beyond the sky. My childhood's ome! and father brave! Blessings sure, by Heaven's decree, To lead my thoughts beyond the grave, To things Divine-O God, to thee! My childhood's home! and sisters too, Are golden links of that bright chain, In mercy formed for me to view; Then draw my soul to Him again. (102) - MY CHLDHOOD S HOME. 103 My childhood's home, and brother's love! Their tendrils, round my heart entwined, Are growing still--will live above, With saints and angels e'er enshrined. page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] TALLASSEE FALLS. TALLASSEE! humble, obscure Taliassee! Thy modest grandeur hath aroused dormant Fancy; and the bright beams celestial, Which from thy crested bosom dart, wake once More the slumbering flame of wild poetic Fire, which, in the days of hopeful ardor, Inspired my happy heart! Yet hard! O, hard the task to tell thy wonders! Language, rich and copious, the tongue rebukes, And bids it silence keep, nor vainly prove Its impotence! Imagination filled With amazement, in vain Essays to grasp thy warring sublimities! Though I may feebly tell the sweet and sacred Thoughts which crowd my brain, as on the rock I Stand, and gaze upon thy fearful chasm! / Thoughts which the love-toned harp of Zion woke, Thy discord calleth forth again (104) TALLASSEE FALLS 105 I gaze Upon thy turbid waters, as they rush From rock to rock, in angry mood, till, vast And vehement, thy warring torrent, like A "lake long pent up amid the mountains," Leaps forth in the gulf below; and as I Gaze, I think upon the awful flood of wrath Due to the sins of vile, apostate man, Which gushed upon the meek and lowly One, and wrung the bitter cry: "My God! My God! O, why dost Thou forsake me!" I behold the mysterious bow of heaven, And read a language in its silent spell! Tellest thou, bright arch, of that beauteous bow Of peace and love which spanned Mount Calvary When Jesus died! The eye of Faith Turns from scenes of earth, and sees, O, love Divine! the wondrous words inscribed by God's Own hand upon that bow, Peace, peace on earth Since Christ the Saviour died! I stand upon the rock! here am I safe. Thus may I ever stand on him, the Rock- Of everlasting ages! Secure from harm, As on the rock I bontemplate that mighty Cataract of wrath which o1 my Saviour 5 *t E 1 page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 TALLASSEE FALLS. Poured to rescue me to rescue all-thus May I gaze upon the bow of mercy! Read its bright lines, and wonder and adore; Thus sweetly may the fountains of my soul Be broken up! and tears, luxurious tears Of joy and gratitude for ever flow. , . .. THE ANCIENT LANGUAGES. IN past ages the study of the ancient languages was confined almost exclusively to the clergy, and a few learned men. The idea of introducing it into female schools and seminaries of learning would have startled the world, and been regarded as some extravagant chi- mera of a madman's brain.! We are told that Lady Jane Grey and Queen Elizabeth were well versed in some of the dead lan- guages. The latter spoke fluently both Latin and Greek! But these royal females were far more favored than others of their sex, and equalled by few of the opposite-were far in advance of their age. Even in classic Scotland, the nursery of science, the study of the Greek language was not introduced until about the sixteenth century; and then it met with much opposition. The great Scottish Reformer, John Knox, did not ,become acquainted with the Hebrew until at the age of fifty. He studied it while an exile in Geneva. (107) page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 THE. ANCIENT LANGUAGES. In our country much indisposition has been shown to the study of the ancient languages. But a brighter day seems dawning upon the literary world. The ponderous tomes of classic authors are no longer confined to the library of the theologian and the linguist.; but may be seen in the hands of every schoolboy, yea, and school- girl too. A great many words in our language, especially the compound ones, are of Latin and Greek origin; and it is impossible to comprehend them thoroughly unless acquainted with the languages from which they are de- rived. Far be it from us to repudiate the use of the good old Saxon words; for many of them, simple though they be, are hallowed by association with the dear objects that they denote. But words which give dignity and grandeur to the English language are de- rived chiefly from the Latin and Greek. By reading translations, some knowledge of the works of classic writers may be acquired; but the best translation is to the original as the lifeless picture to the living form. The principal features may be faithfully preserved, but the warmth, the vivacity of the original are wanting. The scholar who is familiar with the pages of classic literature has many rich feasts, which one unacquainted with the ancient languages can never enjoy. He can THE ANCIENT LANGUAGES. 109 accompany a Caesar through his triumphant career of conquest; listen to the sublime orations of a Cicero; and be entranced by the sweet pastorals or more heroic measures of a Virgil. He thus becomes acquainted with the laws, customs, and peculiar doctrines of the great nations of antiquity, and is prepared to trace their influence on all succeeding ages. Some knowledge of these languages is essentiallto any of the learned pro- fessions. The lawyer has much use for the Latin tongue, be- cause the rudiments of law were early written in that language; and its technical terms are yet in Latin. The Roman tables constitute the basis of our legal sys- tem; and to one unacquainted with the language of Rome, legal lore is unmeaning. To the disciple of Es- culapius, the Greek is indispensable, since medical science was derived from that people. Its forms of expression, its technicalities, are Greek. But especially is it necessary that the theologian should be well acquainted with the languages in which the Sacred Scriptures were originally written. He who is not may be a man of much piety, but never can he enter so deeply into the meaning of the Divine text, as he to whom the Hebrew and Greek are familiar. He who wars against the study of the classical lan- guages of antiquity, is chargeable with recklessness and page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O - THE ANCIENT LANGUAGES. folly as great as he who would demolish the foundation of the temple and expect the superstructure to stand firmly erect. Extinguish the knowledge of these, and the principal languages of the world would degenerate into uncouth jargon. The English, the French, the Spanish, the Italian, owe their polish and beauty to their origin -the oro rotundo of Roman literature. Should it ever unfortunately happen that the study of those languages should fall into disuse --should be banished from the halls of learning, and the writings of Livy, Cicero, Horace, Virgil, and Caesar, and all the host of classic authors, be repudiated, then will our lan- guage become a medley of scraps and terms collected 'from all other tongues. The ancient classics serve to keep the fountain pure. FA REWELL TO ALABAMA.* ALABAMA, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for awhile do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my- heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wander'd through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and readc near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. ' And now we part; the car is running fast, Her pathway decked by wreaths of curling smoke: The Herculean power that guides her mast Will soon bear me to my own Home, Sweet Home. Home! Home! that tender word let me retrace- Retrace each dear and hallow'd spot at home'! Each cherish'd' wish, and ev'ry well-known face, To banish thoughts of those from whom I roam. * Written in imitation of Tyrone Power's "Farewell to America." (ilD page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 FAREWELL TO ALABAMA. Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave -whose spires fade fast from me; And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tate, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee! SAD HEART. MY heart has been sad to-night, Very sad and very lone; But sweet visions pure and bright Now come flitting one by one. And I feel my spirit lifted By their ministrations grand, To communion with the gifted, Far off in radiant land. There is rapture in the scene, Joy and bliss too sweet to tell; Forms of more than earthly mien, Far too bright on earth to dwell; Suns of more than earthly beam Rise before my spirit's gaze, Sending forth the brightest gleam Thjat checkers memory's page. (113) page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 SAD HEART. My enraptured happy soul, Free as the proud eagle's wing, Free from physical control, Soars to worlds where angels sing- To worlds where there is no noise, Nor contention, nor vain strife, t celestial peace and joys Reign throughout an endless life. ow much beyond expression Is the beauty of the scene, Laid out in love before me, Clad in tints of living green. And as I gaze at each star, It a glorious beacon seems, To guide mariners afar Where a world in glory beams, Whose suns and skies are e'er clear, Undimmed by sorrow's dark gloom; And the gently rolling year Ne'er puts off its youthful bloom; Where looks of brightness ne'er know, Through time's lapse, one saddening shade, Nor the forced smile strive to throw Over fond hopes in ruin laid. SAD HEART. 115 Nor age comes with blighting touch Scat'ring symbols of decay, But forms of beauty are such Through eternity's noonday; Where grim death can never wring The heart's dear and tender ties, For in constant love they cling To heaven's immortalities. And friends love without the thought That calls forth the bitter tear, That a few years may leave naught, To our hearts most bound, and dear. 'O blissful thought! O rapturous hour! When friends and kindred all shall meet; When broken circles reunite And walk a bright celestial street!" But hark, my soul! dost forget The gay visions pure and bright, That but now around thee met, With rich feasts of sweet delight? Ye are welcome, dear lov'd guests; Though ye come in mystic form; I will list to your behests, And they with joy I'll perform. page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 SAD HEART. What your mission? what your will That ye come in darkest night? If some dew-drop to distil, Shed it ere the sun give light; If some kind monition brought, Speak at once and I will list; If with sorrow ye are fraught, I can bear that too, I wist. Yes, a dew-drop we do bring, And a kind monition too; "Angels now are on the wing," Singing sweetest songs to you: By their loving hands be led Through the strait and narrow way When the grave enwraps thy head, Live in bliss through endless day. I WENT TO THE PLACE. I went to the place of my birth and said: "The friends of my youth: where are they?"And echo answered; '"Where are they?" I went to the place of my birth, and said: The friends of my childhood, O where are they fled? And echo replied, in a death-like tone, There remaineth not one -all all are gone! Like the dewdrop that glittered on the spray, Or the morning mist, they vanished away: Some went to the east, and some to the west, And some in the house of silence rest. The cot where my father and mother dwelt, Even that the general doom had felt: It was gone; and also the old oak tree, Beneath which I played in infancy. There nothing remained of the days gone by, "To claim a tear or to merit a sigh," But the eternal hills and mountains high, And the ever-enduring calm blue sky. (117) page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] "8 I WENT TO THE PLACE. And thus, I exclaimed, it happens to all- Our friends like the leaves of autumn fall; They noiselessly go, and are seen no more On life's eventful and changing shore. But hope lifts my heart to that world above: O there may I meet each friend that I love! There never again from them shall I sever, But O0 blessed thought, dwell with them for ever! THE POWER OF TRIFLES, "Springing from the faintest causes, Grand results have often shown That there is a power in trifles." A FAINT rustle is heard amid the sere leaves of autumn: a tiny acorn has fallen to the ground. Weeks, months elapse, and at the very spot where lay the acorn, a slender stem, surrounded by a few delicate leaves, appears in its stead. The rain, the gentle dew, and the sunshine, each in its turn contributes to its growth and development. In a few years the fragile plant, which an infant's foot might have crushed, has become a sturdy oak, the hundred-armed Briareus of the forest, whose roots the storms of winter but serve to fix more deeply, in whose branches the birds of the air build their nests, and beneath whose wide-spreading umbrage both man and beast find shelter and repose. Down deep in old ocean's bed, myriads of insects so small as to be scarcely perceptible, are rearing monu- ments of themselves which bid defiance to the roaring winds and the raging waves. Many a green island of (119) page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 THE POWER OF TRIFLES. the sea, where grow the feathery cocoa and the graceful palm, and upon whose shores the dusky son of the tropics erects his home, is the production of these tiny though industrious insects. In that portion of the United States bordering on the Rocky Mountains, is a little limpid lake, from which flows a small stream only a few inches deep. Merrily it dances on its way: now mirroring the wild flowers blushing by its side; now furnishing a cooling draught for the agile deer bounding over its native woods; and now refreshing the weary traveller as he drinks of its crystal waters. A thousand other brooks unite with it, and it becomes a mighty river: on its broad bosom majestic steamers are borne; on its fertile banks proud cities are erected. Proceeding onward, it is constantly receiving tributaries, until finally, having traversed thousands of miles, it mingles its now turbid waters with the Atlantic's blue waves. As the forest oak was once, a bitter acorn; as the island of the sea was the work of the coral insect; as this great Father of Waters - this mighty Mississippi -had its source in a diminutive mountain lake, so in the moral as well as the material world, grand results have often sprung from the faintest causes. Almost all the great discoveries which lave preemi- nently distinguished the late centuries, have been the , T'E POWER OP TRIPLES. 121 result not so much of profound research as of accident. For instance, the simple circumstance which led: to the great discovery of the law of gravitation. A hundred years later, in an humble cottage in Scot- land, a little boy sat by his mothers kitchen fire. In an attitude of the deepest attention he gazed at the tea- kettle singing on the hearth. What did he see in the misty wreaths of steam which ever and anon escaped from the spout, or slowly lifted the lid of the kettle? The expansive, the propelling power of steam! And the grand idea enters his mind of applying this power- ful agent to machinery. Little did his mother dream, when she chided her son for what she considered a foolish habit, that he was making a discovery for which he would not only receive a proud title, but the untiring thanks of a grateful world; for the improvement in the steam-engine, which this discovery enabled Watt to make, has saved an amount of labor no mathematician can estimate. The history of our own country affords many happy illustrations of the power of trifles. Behold Columbus, with a small fleet, and without a chart, sailing over seas hitherto unexplored. Even the magnetic needle, his only guide over the pathless ocean, ceased to point to the polar star. Terrified by this phenomenon, the sailors refuse to go farther, until he, with the presence of 6 page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 THE POWER OF TRIFLES. mind for which he is so remarkable, promises if in three days land does not appear he will return. Soon signs of land are visible : ith renewed hope they pro- ceed; and the discovery of a New World is the result. Had the self-possession of this renowned adventurer forsaken him but for a moment; had the time appointed for retracing their course been but a few hours shorter, America might yet have been a trackless wilderness. More than a century after this important discovery, a solitary 'ship is on the deep. With its precious freight of one hundred and one souls, it pursues its perilous way over the wintry waves. The winds howl through the rigging; the billows rage around;, but within that little vessel all is calm. Those Pilgrims have put their trust in God, and amid the storm they sing his praise. At last, weak and weary, they land on the rock-bound coast of New England, " without shelter, without means,. and in the midst of hostile tribes." Were it possible to interrogate any one unacquainted with the subse- quent history of the Pilgrim Fathers, as to the result of their enterprise, he would answer: "They must per- ish; they cannot survive the privations and dangers to which they are exposed." But every citizen of our nation knows that this little band of Christian brothers, forced by persecution to flee their native land, were the first to establish a permanent colony in the Western THE POWER OF TRIFLES. 123 Hemisphere; the first to establish the glorious privi- leges of civil and religious liberty. The causes which led to the American revolution were in themselves insignificant; but the result!-the formation of a republic for which the world's annals furnish no parallel. Our chief institutions of learning exemplify the prin- ciple of great effects from little causes." As proof, we need only turn to the history of Yale College and Nassau Hall. Even " genius loves to nestle in strange places," and -confer its meeds of honor in the most obscure pathways. The very humblest households have frequently been the nurseries of the most gifted minds. "We see Gal- ileo soliciting the loan of a few shillings with which to purchase the materials for constructing his telescope," an instrument which has brought thousands of stars, never before seen, within the sphere of mortal vision; thus throwing a flood of noonday effulgence on the sub- lime science of Astronomy. Embarrassed by poverty, and surrounded by a gloom never varied by "The sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or human face divine," Milton wrote anl epic poem never equalled. page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 THE POWER OF TBIFLES. Beethoven, whose name is inseparably connected with all that is sublime in harmony, was in extremely limited circumstances.. Like most great geniuses, he was in advance of his age. The world disdained to listen to those exquisite strains its discordant soul could not com- prehend, and almost persuaded him to doubt the powers of his own genius. As a climax to his misfortunes, he became completely deaf. Never more shall he hear the sweet sounds dearer to him than all the world beside; but their memory lives, and will vibrate through his soul for ever. -Alone amid the solitudes of nature, he composed those marvellous symphonies which every- where thrill with unutterable emotion the heart-strings of the gifted, the refined, the noble in soul. c Men of the guinea stamp are much more the coin- age of heaven than of earths And happy indeed for mankind if the truth were universally recognized that the mind, the heart, the soul, and not high birth and great fortune, are the standard of man. The thing that ennobles is virtue and virtuous endeavor, either for our- selves or others; and the thing that degrades is not the lowly condition or the humble and unambitious toil, but indolence and vice. And without intending to pander to class distinctions, yet it might operate as a salutary check to pride or vainglory, if the votaries of fashion would sometimes stop to inquire who be- THE POWER OF TRIFLES. 125 queathed immortality to such lands as Greece and Rome, the Athens and the Italy of past' and present times? Who was Homer? Socrates? Plato? Demosthenes? Not patricians surely; and yet, but for the stirrings of these lofty souls, the land which gave them birth would have been bankrupt of historic fame, centuries and cen- turies ago." It is with -feelings of grateful triumph that we arrive at our own great and comparatively re- cent blessings, the results apparently of little causes. It was through the stern discipline of early struggles with adversity, that the great American triumvirate, Clay, Webster, and Calhoun, derived that strength of mind which enabled them to battle so successfully when a nation's destiny was' at stake. "Examples are occur- ring every day, in all the departments of useful exertion, of men who by dint of self-help and native energy have sprung from obscurity into shining lights, and whose names, now that they are known, the world will not willingly let die. Who was the late Jbhn Snyder, of Pittsburg, the well-known cashier of a bank in that city, a man whose name for long years was a syno- nym of commercial honor, promptness, probity and zeal? A wagoner. Who was the late Thomas, Corwin, of Ohio, ex-Governor, ex-Senator, and ex-Secretary of the Cabinet of President Harrison? A wagoner. And so we might go on to cull from our single memory alone 9 page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 THE POWER OF TRIFLES. example upon example of men who, like the spider, have taken hold with their hands, but who long before their day was ended, or their web spun, were living in palaces that a king might envy." The very nobility of Christian literature have sprung from the lowest walks of life. Dr. Thomas Horne, author of the Introduction to the Bible, was once a journeyman bookbinder; and Whitfield, the Demos- thenes of the pulpit, was once a poor boot-black in the University of Oxford. Indeed, almost all the great men who have done so much for the advancement of science and the amelioration of mankind, were in early life engaged in some manual employment. The pro- fessing Christian who scorns the lowly, would seem to forget that Jesus selected his disciples from the fisher- men of Galilee; that Melancthon, the theologian of the Reformation, emerged from an armorer's shop; and that Luther went forth from the cottage of a German miner. The publication of a book seems a trivial occurrence; but who can tell the influence, either for weal or woe, which it may exert? Two centuries ago, within the walls of a prison, was written the immortal Pilgrim's Progress, which now goes forth by millions to every quarter of the globe, leading nmultitudes to the Cross of Christ. THE POWER OF TRIFLES. 127 And Doddridge, the author of the Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul, was of humble lineage. Thus we see that that book, and the like literature, which thousands, from the renowned William Wilberforce down to the present time, regard as instrumental in their conversion, have emanated from the domiciles of the poor, or from the confines of the persecuted. A learned writer has said: "There is nothing on earth so small that it may not produce great things." "Planets govern not the soul, nor guide the destinies of man; But trifles lighter than straws are levers in the building up of character." On a bright summer's day, in years gone by, there lay, near a grog-shop, on the outskirts of a Virginia city, one in manhood's prime, but apparently lost to manhood's pride. His senses stupefied by liquor, there he was, a degraded mass of animated dust, the scorch- ing rays of the sun beating down upon his face with furious intensity. A young lady, who was passing by, recognized in the inebriated sleeper the idol of her earthly affections; him whom she had told she would sacrifice everything for, if he would but cease his in- temperate habits. With all woman's devotion and ten- derness, she srftly spread over his face her handkerchief -her name written upon it. The sleeper awoke. The name uppermost in his sober thoughts met his eye. '21 ' . * page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 THE POWER OF TRIFLES. The truth burst upon his mind. He resolves to forsake such an ignominious course. The lovers meet and are united. The subsequent history of William Wirt shows that this little office of love was not lost; yea, that it may even have been the means. of rescuing him, who afterwards declined a presidency, from a drunkard's grave; and enrolled his name upon the annals of his country's greatness to shine with undying lustre. A little word, a little act, a little thought seals our destiny for ever. A yes or a no shapes our fortune for wretchedness or bliss in all coming time. Thus, then, we may learn from this view of the subject not to de- spise little things. They possess a potency and expan- sion of which men little dream, amid the rush and tur- moil of life's career. If we have been denied those extraordinary talents which ever give their possessor such influence, we are apt to imagine there is nothing for us to do. But this is not so-: Every one, though poor and humble, Has a mission to fulfil; Every hand, though small and feeble, Can work out some good or ill. We, then, who may mourn over the want of talents, the inability to accomplish great things, should take courage. Though we be not distinguished for brilliant acquirements; though the worldly and the gay seek not THE POWER OF TRIFLES. 129. our society; though listening senates and crowded assemblies hang not upon the eloquence of our tongue; yet we may exert an' influence, unobserved save by an All-seeing eye-an influence gentle as the dewdrop, sweet as the fragrant flower-- which will live when the vain and frivolous are forgotten, when the statesman and orator are stilled in death. If we have soothed one aching heart; if we have spoken one word of encour- agement to an erring brother; if we have given even a cup of cold water to one of the household of faith, we are not living in vain. Such deeds, though seemingly trifling, are precious in the sight of God; and are recorded in his jewelled ledgers in characters imperishable as eternity. 6* page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] TO MARY. "And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep; A shade that follows wealth and fame, Then leaves the wretch to weep." Is friendship then a selfish thing? Is wealth and fame the only spring, From which such feelings flow? If so, how few on earth can claim That tender, that endearing name! For one, I can't, I know. But 'tis not so- none but the vile, The false, the sycophants, that smile, To gain some purposed end, Would prostitute that acred tie, And, masked in base lypocrisy Profess to be a friend. Yes, there are some whose candid hearts, Would scorn dissimulation's arts; Who are just what they seem. May such kind Heaven bestow on thee, For only such will constant be, Or merit thy esteem. (ISO) "NES TO MY SISTER. [Written in Tuscaloosa.] I'm far away, lov'd one, 'Mid sunshine and song, Where birds of gay plumage, Their love notes prolong; Where golden-hued blossoms, And soft zephyrs play, And joy sprinkles dewdrops, And balm in my way; Where murmuring waters, Glide lovingly by, And reflect as a mirror, The sun-lighted sky; Where orange and myrtle, Together entwine, And dark waving cddar, Rears tendril and' vine. Where the spirit of poesy Floats o'er the scene, 8sD page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 LINES- TO MY SISTER. Like a cloud o'er the earth, In its silvery sheen; And sparkling fountains, Toss up their light spray, In ceaseless merriment, Through night and. through day. These spring days are passed 'Mid Tusca's cool bowers, Her butterflies gay, And soft-tinted flowers; My footsteps have wandered Through grotto and glen, O'er mountain and woodland, Through valley and fen. In Castalia's groves I have tremblingly stood, And my heart beat high In that mystical wood: 'Mid temples of learning And classical lore, And sweet-scented briers, On Warrior's green shore. I've gone, dearest one, To the temple of G-d) d, And knelt in- devotion "NES TO MY SISTER. 133 O'er death's cold sod; I've list to the teachings Of earth, sky and air, While my soul soar'd upward On pinions of prayer. But more sweet to my heart, Is thy voice, my love! Than aught else beneath The bright heavens above; It has power to soothe My worn spirit to rest, And point it to realms Of the pure and the blest; "Where rivers of Jordan Flow o'er the bright plains, And the noontide of glory Eternally reigns." page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] SING GENTLY. "SING gently, sweet syren;" my spirit is sad, Peace has fled from me, no longer I am glad; The semblance has changed, the word has been spoken That blasted my hopes, while my heart it has broken. "Sing gently, sweet syren ;" earth's pleasure is o'er, My bosom shall feel its emotion no more; This heart has been stricken, 'tis bleeding with pain, A pang it has suffered 'twill ne'er feel again. "Sing gently, sweet syren;" my lot has been cast In a land of trouble for ever to last; Hope brings no promise of approaching relief, In sadness and sorrow must weather my grief. "Sing gently, sweet syren;"I'll list to thy lay, Till life's burning troubles shall flicker away; When on my last pillow I've suffered full long, My dying devotion shall cling to thy song. ' RELIGION.; Religion! thou source of all joy on earth. Conceived in heaven, on earth given birth! Beautiful, lovely, glorious, sublime, Thy bliss endureth to the end of time! Ay, longer! o'er time itself victorious, Thou art enthroned in courts above, glorious. Religion! thou art a mysterious gift, Which the heart of man o'er earth doth uplift! Thou tamest the wild savage of the wood, And makest him the instrument of good! Thou strewest with blooms the path of the exile, And in fulness of joy makest him smile. Religion! thou bright'nest the prisoner's cell, And draughts of bliss yieldest from thy pure well! In the desert thou art oasis green, The sad heart making all tranquil, serene! In humble poverty's meagre abode Thou smilest and speakest an hopeful word. (:5) page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 RELIION. Religion! thou art a gem, pretty, meet For the bride to wear her bridegroom to greet! With thanks to God, too many to speak, Thou pressest a kiss on the new-born's cheek! With perfect faith in Christ's power to save, Thou lookest in'hope from the loved one's grave. Religion! thou'rt felt in all walks of life, Now promoting peace, now subduing strife! In halls of state with grace thou dost preside, Enacting laws throughout time to abide! In the senate chamber thy silvery voice For the culprit pleads, making him rejoice. Religion speaketh with voice still and small, Alike in lowly cot and stately hall! To the man of years giveth a new birth, And changeth to heaven his home on earth! "Thou walkest in light shed from heaven above, And summerest in bliss on the hills of God." DON'T CRY, MY BABY. Lines suggested by hearing a sick mother say to her darling boy -an only child -just a few days before he died, "Don't cry, my baby." DoES fever rack my darling boy, And fill his little frame with pain? His mother knows no hour of joy Till he with health is blessed again. Don't cry, my baby. O, nestle, loved one, near my heart; My fond affection may to thee, Health-giving princilleg impart, Ev'n though of life it robbeth me. Don't cry, my baby. Father in Heaven! God of Love! If thou wilt touch him he will live! O, from thy throne, in courts above, In mercy look --bid him survive! Don't cry, my baby. (137) page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 138 DON'T CRY, MY BVBY. Bid him the bitter cup refuse, Surcharged with chilly dews o(f death! O'er his stricken spirit diffuse The healing fragrance of thy breath! Don't cry, my baby. It cannot be, it cannot. be, For man's first sin my child must die! Must from his father and from me, Clasped in death's sleep for ever lie! Ever lie, my baby. O! I was sick, and could not save The dear pledge to mortals given, To raise their thoughts beyond the grave, On wings of faith. to soar to heaven. Blame not, my baby. And when they told me thou wert dead, My senses reeled - my earthly joy, And fondest hopes, together fled To realms above, my cherub boy! To thee, my baby With mournful steps they bore my child, Unto his narrow bed of clay; DONT CRY, MY BABY. 139 Whilst I, in deep despair, was mild, And saw not whlere my son they lay. Saw not, my baby. Though lonely is that dwelling-place, Though dark and deep the chamber there Which from earth's view hdes thy pale face, Sad, sorrowing ones linger nhar. Rest, re:-t, my baby. Dear child of mine! thou liest low; The pulse has left thy silent heart! And thou hast gone where all must go, And all must be as now thou art. My dead, cold baby! "A seal is placed upon thy tongue, Which mortal hand can never burst; A mist before thine eyes is flung, Which mortal might can ne'er disperse." My poor, blind baby. The grief that now my bosom rends, None ever but a mother knew My fair and' faded but now wends To other worlds, far from my view. Far, far, my baby page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O DONT CRY, MY BABY. In brighter worlds the bud now blends Heaven's hues! cerulean blue! From His high throne my King now bends, To list this prayer -"heartfelt and true- This prayer, my baby. Pardoned, accepted, may again, In God's pure fold, the mother meet Her little lamb, by Thee now slain - Now taken angel bands to greet. My angel baby! "Suffer it to come unto me; Composed of such my kingdom is; -But in my courts 'twill meet with thee, Ne'er to part, as in worlds like this!" We'll meet, my baby! Give God the glory, O my soul! For love so great-love so Divine! Which can the broken heart make whole, And cure this wounded spirit mine! Give thanks, my baby! Don't cry, my baby! shout, rejoice, That so soon from sin thou art free! -%, DON T CRY, MY BABY. 141 That thou canst list to Christ's sweet voice, Pleading to save lost ones like me! Rejoice, my baby! Rejoice the seal is off thy tongue, Which mortal hand could never burst; Rejoice! the mist thine eyes is flung, Which mortal might could ne'er disperse. Sing praise, my baby! Some angel mother enfolds thee, Now, beneath her spotless white wings; Some angil band's sweet minstrelsy Thy mother's lullaby now sings.. Sing too, my baby! He who sits on the great white throne Will take you gently in his arms! High above every trouble borne, Ne'er more to feel earth's rude alarms My blessed baby I ias i., page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] THE LITTLE GRAVE. There is a little grave to memory dear, In a vale embosom'd, a river near; The flowers droop lowly that bloom o'er the sod, And border the path by sad ones oft trod. A lovely little cherub lies mould'ring there: Its beauty and loveliness for earth too fair. Death, the archer, pierced it, transform'd it to clay, But Christ claim'd the spirit, and bore it away To realms full of purity, bliss, and love, To join the sweet choir of blest children above. Sing, angel sister, I am glad thou art gone From this world full of troubles, and hearts forlorn. I am glad thou hast escap'd the tempter's snare; I am glad thou never breath'd the sinner's prayer; I'm glad thou'rt with Christ in thy beauty and bloom, Knowing naught of earth's sorrow-naught of its gloom. Thou art with our father who before thee went, (142) TIE LITTLE IRAVE. 143 And an angel, it may be, after thee sent. And with our grand-parents- aged saints are they- Basking in the light of God's eternal day! Thou'rt a sparkling diamond in Jehovah's crown, Borne high over earth's woes secure from its frown; Thou art a star in the bright courts of Heaven, Shining with lustre to thee by God given. Thou art a rich-toned organ, whose softest peal Would fill the whole earth, and its saddest heart heal. Thou art sister to Jesus! to him very dear, The relationship made by God, who is near. Sing on, happy spirit! in realms of bliss sing; Shine on, bright star! in the courts of heaven shine. Peal on, sweet-toned organ, angels are list'ning To the sister of Jesus -sister of mine. page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] THE SABBATH. SWEET day of hallowed rest! How blessed thy sacred hours! White-robed Peace sits enthroned upon yon fleecy cloud, As when the first six days' work was done, and the God Of creation blessed the seventh day and sanctified it! The glorious king of light, in majesty Sublime, shoots forth- his golden arrows, spreading bright Effulgence through the branches of the tall old trees, That, like sentinels, stand around in triumphant Security-twining their leaf-clad arms in close Embrace; and, with ray serene, descends to meanest Blade of grass and lowliest flower that raise Their heads to heaven. The fields are keeping Sabbath the reaping-hook Lies untouched midst Auttimn's generous sheaves! the black * , t THE SABBATH. 145 Bird's gladsome nlote, as he warbles his Heaven-taught Song, "comes soft and mellow from the dale;" the gentle Zephyrs scarce -iss the flowery dell; "and man and beast! Enjoy the season designed for rest." At a time like this- So still, so tranquil, so Sabbath-like, the grateful Heart, in songs of praise and thanksgiving upward, Like holy incense, riseth to heaven.. No earth- Born passion nor thought impure obscures the brightness Of the spirit's gaze: unfettered from the world's cold Prison bars, it sees the vastness of eternity! Hark! it is the steeple's bell I hear. Welcome sound! that summons unto God's holy Worship At thy bidding the rich and poor, the high And. low assemble! The careworn laborer who Earns his bread iy the sweat of his brow, and the proud Voluptuous votary of mammon, all Come at thy impartial bidding! Now the bell has Ceased, and those for. devotion met wait for prayer- Prayer which on angels' wings is borne to heaven! , page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "6 THE SABBATH. Then From the choir songs harmonious swell with chorus Sweet and joyful - voices touched by David's harp Of Zion, unite in the euphonious strain. Prayer again ensues - fervent, eloquent prayer, In which -for "Our Father who art in Heaven" is No respecter of persons - the rich and poor Remembrance find. One in the pulpit stands, of God Elect! exhorting to good. He reasoneth thus: "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white As snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be As wool." His soul, freed from all cares, bathes its wings in glories Unconceived; and as his lofty intellect grasps The inspiration of this most sacred theme, he Through argument great and imagery beautiful, Soars to bright, celestial altars, God has made Himself, eternal in the heavens. Now he tells Of a Saviour's dying love--his high estate -his Shameful banishment from the throne--his agony And bloody sweat - his soul-felt cry of anguish great: THE SABBATH. 147 Eloi, Eloi, llama sabachthani? His ignominious death and burial! The noonday Sun conceals with crapen veil its blushing face! Deep Sepulchral voices fill the air -while the cold graves Send forth their dead! - pale band, to chant the songs of praise And love! "'Tis done, the mighty plan is carried out- The last great sacrifice for sin is o'er; Then from the tomb he rolls the stone away, And shows a risen Saviour and a God! The different hearers testify his power In different ways. The truth, like a sharp sword, Has cleaved its path. The flinty heart is crushed, And the great deep of sin is broken up; The old transgressors tremble by the stand, The young in sin repent to sin no more. A thousand voices join in one wild prayer, And shrieks, and groans, and shouts of joy arise;" And Heaven keeps Sabbath over the joyful scene, SwecA Alleluia to the King of the Sabbath day yu * page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] OOTHCALOGA. VALE of beauty! the lone and troubled heart- In sweet seclusion, far remote from strife, Exempt from pain and folly, guile and art, Which throng around the busy scenes of life- Enjoys within thy bosom that repose, Which in this cold world is seldom given That calm content which from retirement flows, And holds celestial intercourse with heaven! Not here does malice plume her sable wing; Nor mad ambition rage without control I Not here does envy hurl her venomed sting, Nor passions base contaminate the soul! Here, in her primitive simplicity, Nature o'er all holds undisputed reign; And banishes deceit, hypocrisy, And fashion's giddy, unreflecting train! (148) OOTHOALOGA. 149 LiSure I for gayer scenes will never sigh, =S Nor crave the luxuries ill understood; Which lull the senses, and attract the eye, I From thy delightful paths, sweet solitude! O, if to us, while on this terrene sphere, A foretaste of heaven's joy be given, Sure it is by God's own hand strewn here, An earnest of celestial bliss in heaven. F yH page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] HARRY MAY. THS vale was once a pleasant place, And many a blissful day I've pass'd within its peaceful shades With gallant Harry May. But he who was its greatest charm, Is now gone far away; O, may Jehovah's mighty arm, Protect brave Harry May! No more I'll love the verdant spring, With birds on ev'ry spray; Not one in all the grove can sing As sweet as Harry May. No more I'll love the pretty flowers, That scent the air in May; The sweetest one that decks the bowers, Will speak of Harry May. (150) I -]HARRY MAY. 151 The rivulet that murmurs by, - Near which we used to stray, I cannot love- 'twould make me sigh And think of Harry May. page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] TO SARAH. O, MAY thy life with peace be blest! The wish is ardent from my sul- The peace that heals the wounded breast, And lifts the heart o'er earth's control. And when beyond the grave's dark bound Thy vital breath divine shall wend, O, may thy better life be crowned With ev'ryjoy Heaven doth blend. (15) THE BUSY-BODY. DID you ever see a busy-body, A rattling, tattling, talking thing In human shape, a flippant tongue of fire, To poison with its deadly sting? Did you ever note in his daily rounds, The scorched track he leaves behind? The breaking heart-strings and the bleeding wounds,- The worings of a little mind? The lone prairie, swept by destroying fire, Leaves in its rear a blacken'd plain; And the tall, green grass, which in beauty bloomed, By the fiery element slain? The beautiful spring, in "mantle of green," With smiling face and sun so warm, May in one short night be robb'd of her sheen, By the frost and the pelting storm. 7* "153) page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 THE BUSY-BODY. As the devouring flame consumes the grass, And withers by its heated breath, So the darkened shadow of scandal's glass Falls heavy on the good man's death. As the frost in springtime nips the flower, It ne'er resumes its early bloom; So the heart that's bent by scandal's power, Enshrouded is in midnight gloom. /1 !TO A NN. O, Ho shall I measure the flight Or track of thy spirit unfurled? It dwells in the regions of light, And sweetly encircles the world I Where angels in purity move, It lingers in ecstasy there; Drinks deep of the ocean of love, And weeps over woe and despair. It loves the sweet dew-drops that lie jpou the lone wilderness flowers; On wings of imagining fly, And lingers 'neath beautiful bowers. O, how shall I measure the flight Or track of thy spirit unfurled? It dwells in. the regions of light, And sweetly encircles the world I (188) page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] SONG. A SONG for thee, dearest, I send from afar, Where my feet have been roaming Without guide or star, Wilt thou set it to music, And sing when I come, Disheartened and weary, Back to my home? Let the tune be a zephyr, Melodious and free, As true unto nature As thou art to me; Which thy heart can embrace As it would with a friend, And my words and thy music, In melody blend. Not a sad tone nor gay one, But a half-way between; (i56) SONGa. 157 High gladness, deep sorrow, Let it intervene. That so it interpret By musical art How we laugh when we meet, And shed tears when we part. $ page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] WILLIE TO MOLLIE. I WILL not strike the harp to kings, But love shall tune the pensive lay; I'll touch with skill its tuneful strings, And sing of thee, sweet Mollie Ray. Let fortune reign in splendid pride, Fond of excess and rich display; With sweet simplicity my guide, I'd live and die with Mollie Ray. Were I of fortune's smile possessed, While on me shone her brightest ray, A secret pang would rend my breast, If wanting thee, sweet Mollie Ray. How canst thou witness my despair, And bid me from thee ever stray? Show me a girl but half so fair, And I'll abandon Mollie Ray. (138) WILLIE TO MOLLIE. 159 Such charms as thine are rarely found, They bloom in Winter like as May! Go vainly search the earth around, They're only found in Mollie Ray. Should cold neglect, contempt, and scorn My ardent vows of love repay, These eyes her absent form would mourn, This heart would bleed for Mollie Ray. What then could soothe this burning breast When hope had winged her final way? O, Mollie, make me ever blest! And ever blest be Mollie Ray. page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] A VISION. DARIK and tempestuous was the night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sym- pathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, ' My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide- My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy," came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill (160) p A VISION 161 imparted by her touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided a'ay unperceived - unsought. i A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the con- /j tending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two objects presented. The name of my welcome visitor was Meditation. The objects she bade me contemplate were War and Peace. In the right hand of Peace was a branch of olive, in the left a dewy cluster of the richest balm that ever grew in Gilead.. She seemed a seraph sent to teach us how to be; So gentle, so patient, so retiring was she. And yet, within her modest bosom lay stern determin- ation for her rights to contend. No sophistry her heart could contaminate, or her judgment mislead. List! methinks I hear her voice: "The Lord possessed me in the beginning of his way, before his works of old. ' I was set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was. "When there were no depths, I was brought forth; when there were no fountains abounding with water. "Before the mountains were settled, before the hills was I brought forth:. "While as yet he had not made the earth, nor the fields, nor the highest part of the dust of the world. page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 A VISION. "When he prepared the heavens, I was there; when he set a compass upon the face of the depth. "When he established the clouds above; when he strengthened the fountains of the deep. When he gave to the sea his decree, that the waters should not pass his commandment; when he appointed the foundations of the earth. "Then I was by him as one brought up with him; and I was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him. Rejoicing in the habitable part of his earth; and my delights were with the sons of men. I promised them serenest blis, but not content, God's holy behest they defied, entailing thereby all the miserable corrup- tion to which flesh is heir - dissension and war propa- gating throughout time. Since then my habitations have been vacillating and uncertain. Childhood's happy heart to me is a favorite resting-place; but often, alas! when human nature develops itself I am driven away! In rural retirement I love to dwell. There the high thoughts, the ambitious hopes of mortal aspirations to disturb my equanimity seldom obtrude! There the broad basis upon which the magnificent temple of earthly fame is erected, my waking meditations disturb not, and when sleep asserts her reign haunts not my dreams." Hark! a sound so terrific and awful meets my ear, I A VISIoN. 163 fancy it comes from the lowest depths of the lowest deep. 'Tis the voice of War, a convulsed nation an- swers! Markl well the hellish import df his words, the fiendish sneer pervading his countenance observe! But what avails a description? Before the world he stands the greatest terror, as numberless orphans, uncounted ' widows testify.. With delight he surveys the bleeding hearts prostrate at his feet! The manifold groans of the wounded and dying never drew from him a tear! Hark! I am sure I never heard more dreadful words. "Destruction is my mission! Since the creation of the world, my guilty ambition has hurled into eternity no less than fmrteen hundred thousand millions of souls! Conquest is my life. Then why contend?" The silver lute of Valor was perfectly tuned; no dis- cordant note fell upon the ear, like sometimes occur in the studied harmony of words which man has mind to frame or voice to chant, as she thus responded: "So long as I have a votary or patriotism a friend, the ser- vile knee shall never be bowed of America's free sons. To anything illegal, unconstitutional, or unjust, never, never shall they submit!" Shall Valor's appeal in vain be made? Ah, no! Methinks I see the vigorous men of the North, the brave cavaliers of the South, with armor well girded on, marching forth in battle array against the foe who page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] 16: A VISION. our rights would dare assail. Methinks I see an aged man, whose locks are white as snow, whose feeble form is supported by a well-worn staff, raise his head, and, listening, hold his breath to hear the well-known notes 'of martial music! Notes which sent a thrill to his youthful bosom, cause him now to forget the infirmities of age! With enthusiasm he casts away his staff, and once more shoulders his musket in his country's de- fence! Methinks I see an aged mother, whose trem- bling frame is bending over the grave, clasp her darling boy to her bosom, and bid him the patriotic number go swell, and "Come back in triumph, or come not again." She tells him the pearl of mighty price, for which his forefathers "fought, bled, and died," should be by him preserved -should be by him enlarged, else indeed a useless steward prove himself. She tells him to show the world that in an American soldier there is some- thing - in the cause he espouses something - in the name he bears something -in the country he defends something - which equals him for more than any com- mon danger; and that, whether right or wrong, our country's privileges shall be defended, and that "he who conquers shall find a stubborn foe." FLOWERS. TO A SICK STRANGER. SPRING FLOWERS, bright flowers, I send to thee, O! take them in their bloom; Too soon these flowers will withered be- Like all they'll find their tomb. O! may their tomb be thine own heart; Their memory cherished be; And though as strangers now we part, O! take these flowers from me. Yes, take them with my earnest prayer: Although on earth we sever, O! may we meet in Heaven, where Sweet flowers bloom for ever. (165) page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] SON G. AIR.-"Those Evening Bells." THE village, bell! the village bell On loving heart its music fell In other days and happier time, "When first I heard its soothing chime." Whilst now I list to thy dear sound, My heart doth leap with joyous bound! It tells of home, and mother dear, Her silvery voice and tones so clear! In childhood's hour, I list its call- Relinquished hoop, and bat, and ball; With willing steps repaired to school; My teacher loved, obeyed his rule. And as it called each Sabbath day, I happy was to wend my way God's praise to hear, by one whose tongue, With sacred truths divinely rung. (166) IsolN. 167 But sadder strains-I know them well- ** My heart doth sicken while I tell- Of one whose beauty passed away In gay springtime and morn's first ray. 'Tis ever "Oo with earthly sounds, The sweetest strain with woe abounds: There is a world of peace and love! No discord's there in heaven above I I page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] TO MARIA. THY form is like a ray of light, That brightly gleams, Shedding upon the clouds of night, Its clearest beams. For of thy worth the noblest part Is all unseen; Thou hast an angel's soul and heart, I humbly ween. The thoughts that thy high soul doth know, Are all humane; From purest fount they ever flow; There's naught profane. I strive to emulate thy worth, 'Tis all in vain; Thy soul has had immortal birth, 'Tis God's again. (108} TO MARIA. 169 The glory of the King of kings, Already's thine: O may like joy on angel's wings, Be borne to mine! Then my wrapt soul, in vision bright, Will Jesus see; Will share the bliss with pure delight Now known to thee. Sorrows of earth will then have fled, Or lost their sting; And when I'm numbered with the dead To Christ I'll cling. O wilt thou, loved one, in thy prayers, Remember me? Remember me to Him who bears The Cross for thee , page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] A LEAFLET FRlM LIFE'S BOOK. ONE of the heart's dearest treasures is she the gentle, loving help-meet of our pastor! Never, while memory derives pleasure from communing with the loved images stored away in its garners, or grasps at the sunbeams reflected upon its walls, or while earthly sounds cause the heart-strings of the soul to vibrate with soothing melodies, can we forget how she looked, sitting, as was her wont during the long summer after- noons, in the vine-sheltered portico of the old parsonage, or the tender, heartfelt cadence of her voice as she time and again gave us affectionate welcome to that conse- crated abode. How quiet, how peaceful everything appeared therel On each side of the pretty sand- covered walk, extending from the gate to the house were flower-beds carefully tended by the pastor's favorite daughter. Here, in early spring, bloomed the daffodil, the hyacinth, and the beautiful monthly rose; and when autumn robed the woods in scarlet splendor, the hardy chrysanthemum unfolded its varied-colored blooms- fit emblem of a constant friend, who appears most lovely (170) A LEAFLET FROM LIFE'S BOOK. 171 when all others forsake. But let us not linger so long without, even among flower-beds, when loving heart and tender voice are waiting to welcome us within. Ah! yes, upon the threshold stands "a mother in Israel," the pastor's wife. How cordially she shakes our hand, and what a motherly kiss she bestows upon us; and how kindly, too, she inquires about each member of our mother's household! A child of affliction herself, she ever sympathizes with the sick and-the sorrowing; and many a burdened heart has been lightened by the con- solation which she knew so well how to administer- consolation drawn from God's own word, and the mer- ciful dealings of His providence. She was faithful in all the relations of life, but her devotion to, her husband was, in our eyes, one of the most charming features of her character. Though a few scattered white locks alone remained of the dark-brown masses which once shaded his noble brow, she loved him not a whit the less: her affection for the husband of her youth, the chosen companion of her earthly pilgrimage, steadily increasing as years passed by. An instance of her self-sacrificing devotion we will record: One bright afternoon she was sitting as de- scribed in the commencement of this sketch, in the vine- sheltered portico. She was alone, and yet not alone, for fancy was busy; and well might we guess, if an arch i page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] 172 A LEAFLET FROM LIFE'S BOOK. smile and speaking countenance betray the workings of the mind, that it was planning a pleasant surprise for the loved and absent. Yes, this precious woman had received, as a May-day present from her mother, a generous supply of money, and she was thinking how she would make each one of her family, especially her husband, the recipient of its benefits. Just as she had well-nigh matured a very satisfactory plan,footsteps which she nevermistook, approached. With a face beaming with Iove, sherises to meet him. What a change has come over her countenance -a troubled expression, despite her efforts to conceal it, has usurped the place of thejoyous one t One glance at the face she had long since learned to read as a book, convinced her that all was not right with her husband -that something was weighing heavily upon his mind, or that some cherished object could not be accomplished, and her heart, true to the nature of wema's, -felt the pang more acutely perhaps than his. Feeling that it was her right to share his troubles, she met him, and gently laying her land upon. his arm, inquired what. the' source of trouble was. Handing her a letter received by the: afternoon's mail, he took a seat without uttering a word;. the emotions which heaved his full heart were too overpowering to allow conver- sation. After reading it slowly and carefully, the wife raised her eyes. from the letter to the face of her A LEAFLET FROM LIFE S BOOK. 173 husband, with a most puzzled expression. In it she saw nothing to occasion trouble, but, on the contrary, much to inspire the deepest gratitude -the highest joy. At the earnest solicitation of many members, our pastor had sought and obtained the consent of his church to occasionally supply with gospel food a flock of a distant fold, deprived by death of its aged shep- herd. And the letter was from several of this fold who urged him, in behalf of a goodly number who had at- tended with deep interest upon his ministry, and had been confirmed thereby in the determination " to testify to the world the goodness and love of Christ, by putting him on in the ordinance of baptism," to come and c plant them in the likeness of the Saviour's death." But alas! our pastor was a poor man, and had not the means with which to defray the expenses of the trip; and 'his own people had been remiss in the dis- charge of their obligation to pay a promised salary. Hence his trouble on the present occasion. He, how- ever, who had been with him in six troubles, was ready to carry him through the seventh. In this instance, as in innumerable others, his angel-wifq was the instru- ment in the Lord's hands to relieve his burdened heart, and point him to One who has promised that "every one that askth receiveth." When he had told her the want of meahs to go would prevent his enjoying this t, page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] 174 A LEAFLET FROM LIFERS BOOK. Christ-like privilege, her countenance again grew radiant with joy and gratitude, as she exclaimed with child-like enthusiasm, "You can go! you can go!" Then, and not till then, did our pastor know of that agel mother's May-day present to a daughter who counted it no sacrifice to relinquish her own cherished plans to promote the cause of her blessed Redeemer. THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.* FROM the fifth to the fifteenth century the sable pall of ignorance and superstition spread over the whole of Europe. Learning was almost extinguished; the pure doctrines of the Cross were adulterated, and men bowed in blind superstition to images of wood and stone. In 1587 the Reformation began, which has well been styled t he most important event that has taken place since the first promulgation of Chris- tianity. Simultaneously with the revival of religion was the revival of learning; and the march Of improve- ment has been steadily progressing until it has reached a lhigh point in this .the nineteenth century. Let us contemplate some of the leading features of the age; and though but little more than three decades of this period have elapsed, we safely assert, that never have the arts and sciences advanced so rapidly; never has knowledge been so widely diffused; never have such important revolutions agitated the world; and never * Written in 1860. 175) page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 176 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. have the glorious truths of the Christian religion been so extensively disseminated as in the nineteenth century. During this eventful period, the long list of earth's battle-fields has been extended by the addition of the sanguinary conflicts of Leipsic, Waterloo, New Orleans, the Crimea, and Lucknow. The military exploits of this age surpass in many respects those of any preceding period. A conqueror such as Bonaparte the world never saw. The contests which he waged against the allied powers of Europe are the most wonderful on record, in the extent and rapidity of his conquests, and their in- fluence upon the nations of the world. He stands forth upon the pages of history as the most remarkable potentate of modern times: elevated, at the early age of twenty-seven, from the rank of a common soldier to the chief command of the French army; at thirty, elected First Consul; and at thirty-five, proclaimed Emperor of France. A striking contrast to the ambitious Napoleon, is the hero of Lucknow-the brave, the pious Havelock. Instead of laying waste unoffending cities, he came to the relief of the distressed and helpless; and though he s-ood high as a military commander, le was not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, but preached its unsearchable riches to the soldiers of his regiment, and baptized them with his own hands. But he sleeps in victory I / THE -NINETEENTH CENTURY. 1" His battles are over; and he is now where the scorch- ing rays of the Indian sun, and the fierce combats of opposing forces, can never come. The present century is distinguished by great politi- cal revolutions which have thrown into commotion the nations of the earth. When the year 1800 dawned upon France, she was a republic; in 1804, she became an empire; in 1815, after Bonaparte was- deposed, Louis the Eighteenth was restored to the throne of his ances- tors; and now another Napoleon reigns, under the title of Emperor of the French. How many bloody battles were fought to produce these changes in the govern- ment of France! and what an illustration are they of the mutability of human institutions! In 1806, by the resignation of the reigning emperor, the empire of Ger- many came to an end; and in 1832, Poland was erased front the list of kingdoms by its incorporation with Russia. What changes have been wrought in our own land! In 1801 the United States extended only to the Missis- sippi river on the west, and to Florida on the south. In 1803 Louisiana was ceded to the. Union by France, for $15,000,000. Florida was also ceded by Spain in 1820. Thus has the United States acquired a right to these valuable possessions, which cost their first owners so much death and suffering. In 1539 the romantic 8* r page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. De Soto and his followers wandered over the sunny plains of the land of flowers, in search of El Dorado. After marching over half the continent, they met not the lizaon of their golden dreams. Worn out with fatigue nd disappointment, De Soto sickened and died, and his remains lie undisturbed beneath the turbid waters of that mighty river of which he was the dis- coverer. Spain, once a wealthy and powerful kingdom, now occupies a low rank among the nations of Europe, and the United States quietly enjoys the immense pos- sessions she once claimed. In 1848 California was ob- tained by treaty frolm Mexico; and now the " star-span- gled banner " unfolds its bright colors from the Atlantic to the Pacific. England has forced China to open her ports, so long closed to the civilized world; and by the negotiations of-an American commodore, communications have been established between Japan and the United States. As before stated, the present century is remarkable for advances made in the arts and sciences. Steam, as applied to machinery, has wrought wonders. The first railroad, resembling those now in use, was the "Stock- ton and Darlington Railway," completed in 1825. But the first practical exhibition of the powers of a steam locomotive engine was made at the opening of the "Liverpool and Manchester Railroad" on the 15th of THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 179 September, 1830. In 1856 -upwards of one hundred and fifty separate lines of railway, the total length being 8115 miles, had been completed in the United Kingdom of Great Britain. The increase of railroads in the United States is unparalleled. In 1828 there were only three miles of railroad; now there are 25,000.* The advantages accruing from railroads in the rapid trans- portation of goods and passengers from one section of country to another, and in the increased diffusion of knowledge, may be considered the greatest benefits of the age. In 1807 the first steamboat was launched upon the Hudson. But little more than fifty years have gone by, and beautiful steamers are proudly gliding over all our principal rivers, along our coasts, and upon the broad bosoms of the great lakes of British America. The Pilgrim Fathers were three months performing their perilous voyage across the Atlantic: their descend- ants sail over the same space in little more than ten days: a striking example of the progress of our age. Voyages by steam are performed along the Mediter- ranean, and along the Arabian and Red Seas. Indeed, "almost every sea and oceancon the surface of the globe is traversed by steam-vessels - promoting a rapid inter- course between all the nations, tribes, and families of * There are now, 18.3, 70,000 miles of railroad. page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 180 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. the earth." By steam navigation commerce is extended, knowledge is increased, civilization is advanced, and the heathen world enlightened by intercourse with Chris- tian nations, preparing the way for the missionaries of the Cross. and the consequent conversion of the Gentile world. We come now to the greatest discovery of the nine- teenth century, the electric telegraph. When we look upon a steam-engine rapidly advancing with its long train of cars, and hurrying on its freight of many tons; when we stand by the river's edge, or on the shore of the mighty deep, and behold some gallant steamer steadily and swiftly pursuing its way, in opposition to wind and tide, we feel that man, though fallen, is noble still, possessing an intellect capable of devising and executing great things; but when we contemplate the electric telegraph, we can scarcely persuade ourselves that it is the result of human research and human skill. To use the language of another: "The principle, or agent, which displays its terrific energy in the awful volcano, the fearful hurricane, and the destroying earth- quake, is the same as, subdued by science and human art, is rendered useful to society in a vast variety of ways, and in no way more prominently than inl the electric telegraph." By this agency the principal towns of the United States are closely connected, Friends THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 181 thousands of miles apart converse as if in the same hall. How many heart-cheering messages have thus been borne upon the lightning's wing! and in the late re- vival it has been made the speedy messenger of the glad tidings of God's converting grace. Submarine wires encased in gutta percha connect Europe with the British Isles; and the cable of the telegraph between Europe and America is now laid upon the bed of the ocean; and the time is doubtless near when all the grand divi- sions of the globe shall by this means be brought in converse. But to the philanthropist and the Christian the improvement in the art of printing by the applica- tion of steam-power, stands preeminent. As an illus- tration of the rapidity with which printing is done by this method, a machine of this kind throws off from nine hundred to twelve hundred sheets in an hour. Books once so costly that only the most wealthy could afford their purchase, are now within the reach of every. one. Newspapers, magazines, and periodicals of every description are daily issuing from the press, containing much valuable information, and, alas! much which is deleterious to the minds and souls of men. The power wielded by the press is second to none on earth; and it is a lamentable fact that this, the nineteenth century, is so prolific of that species of literature entitled novels, infusing into the minds of countless multitudes, espe- page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] 182 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. cially of the rising generation, false notions of life, and erroneous views on the great subject of religion. For- tunately, however, for society, this is not the only litera- ture published and read in this age. Many excellent works on history, philosophy, and theology, have been written, and hailed with enthusiasm by the literary world. What a vast amount of good has been accom- plished by those noble institutions, the British and Foreign Bible Society, the American Tract Society, and the American Bible Society, all of which have been established since the dawn of the present century. There are many other discoveries and inventions of the present age, which have done much for the ameli- oration of the human race. Many a poor miner has had reason to thank God that Sir Humphrey Davy was ever led to construct the safety-lamp, which has been the means of preserving many useful lives. Lighting the streets of large cities with gas has been more effectual in suppressing vice and crime than any police. Securing a life-like shadow by the daguerrean art, has afforded more satisfaction to all classes of persons than any pre- ceding discovery. Within this century many interesting discoveries have been made in the science of astronomy. On the first of January, 1801, Ceres, the first of the asteroids, was discovered. Since then many of these THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 183 miniature planets have been seen, which are supposed to be the fragments of a large celestial body, which once revolved wilere the asteriods are now seen. This re- markable discovery has given us a slight insight into those great changes which are taking place in the remote regions of space, and fills the mind with admiration for that Almighty Being who formed the starry worlds,- that bringeth forth their hosts by number; that calleth them all by names." The discovery of the planet Leverrier, or Neptune, by calculation, is a signal triumph of the human mind. By means of the great telescope of Lord Rosse, many of the nebule, once supposed to be chaotic masses of luminous matter, have been resolved into stars, giving us enlarged conceptions of the boundless extent of the universe. The nineteenth century is distinguished by its long array of illustrious sculptors, musicians, artists, authors, statesmen, and theologians. Among sculptors none stand higher than Powers, whose "Eve," and whose "Greek Slave," have been the admiration of both sides of the Atlantic. From the earliest ages of the world ! the sons of men have loved and cultivated music; but we are persuaded that it has now arrived at a degree of perfection never before attained. The exquisite mechan- ism of musical instruments, especially that of the piano- forte, is one of the improvements of the age, And - page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] 184 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. where, in the annals of the world, have we an account of such vocal powers as those of Jenny Lind? or of sweeter strains than those of Thalberg and William Vincent Wallace? What shall be said of the authors of the nineteenth century? In British literature we find the names of Sir Walter Scott, Byron, Moore, Pollok, Eliza Cook, Mrs. Hemans, Macatlay, Professor Wilson, and Hugh Miller. Among American authors are conspicuous Bryant, Longfellow; Bancroft, Mrs. Sigourney, and many others whose writings have exercised a powerful influence on the age, corresponding in its nature to the characters of their respective works. Besides the authors mentioned, there are travellers who have rendered their names immortal by contributions they have made to our knowledge of the distant regions of the globe. -Such are Dr. Kane, who wrote an account of his search for the long-lost Sir John Franklin in the frozen regions of the frigid zone; and Dr. Livingstone, who has spent sixteen years amid the burning sands of Africa. The Eastern Continent has not been without men who have swayed the councils of nations by the wisdom of their measures and the witchery of their eloquence; but in our own free land are we to look for the noblest statesmen of the nineteenth century. At its commencement Washington had just rested from his THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 185 labors; but his associates, Jefferson, Madison, and Hamilton, held a prominent position before the nation. In later date come J. Q. Adams, Andrew Jackson, Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, and Daniel Webster. But to the disciples of the Prince of Peace, neither the warrior nor the statesman appears so glorious as those men of giant intellect and holy heart who have during the present century boldly stood forth before the world and contended for "the faith once delivered to the saints." Of such are Chalmers and Cumming, of Scot- land; Miller and Alexander, of America; and Spur- geon, the modern Whitefield of the English pulpit. And there is another whom it would be wrong to pass in silence, Harbaugh, the author of that beautiful series of works whose subject is Heaven. Who that has read these books can ever divest himself of their mild but powerful influence--an influence leading his thoughts to that happy world of which they speak in such sooth- ing and beautiful strains. With regret we now introduce another phase of this century, which forms a painful contrast to those by which it is preceded. Notwithstanding the wide diffusion of religious knowledge, there are some who, having closed their eyes to the truth, have embraced and propagated tle'most dangerous errors. As in- stances, the Millerites, perched upon the highest cmi- page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] 186 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. nences, awaiting in their white robes for the arrival of a specified day on which to ascend to heaven; the Mormons, differing in their origin and system of belief from any sect that hais yet appeared before the world; and the Spiritualists, who have been so abundant in the Northern States. The position of woman is a remarkable feature of this age, being in many respects far more exalted than ever before; and yet, not satisfied with her own appropriate sphere, she has in a few instances sought to assume privileges belonging exclusively to man. Such are Lucy Stone and her strong-minded sisterhood, the ad- vocates of woman's rights. But doubtless these errors and follies will sooa be banished by the superior force of truth, which is mighty and must prevail, to the pulling down of the strongholds of error. Another circumstance worthy of notice is, that no universal monarchy now exists as in the days when Assyria, Macedonia, and Rome flourished. The nations of the world are becoming too enlightened to allow a few despots to exercise unlimited sway. Under the benign influence of Christianity the world is becoming better. Much of the cruelty of former times has been abolished; even war is less terrific. Benevolent associ- ations for the relief of suffering humanity have been formed all over the civilized world. Asylums of ele- THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 187 gant architecture, surrounded by beautifully embellished grounds, have been erected for the reception of the deaf, dumb, and blind. To these institutions the world is indebted for many bright intellects which otherwise would have remained in obscurity. Even poor little outcasts found in all large cities have received their share of attention. Houses of industry have been established where these little vagrants are taught much that is useful. Thus have many souls been "snatched from hell and laid in the sheltering arms of Heaven." Missionary efforts have been 'crowned with signal suc- cess, and the Bible translated into languages spoken by more than half the human race. England has the honor of devising and carrying into operation the present sys- tem of foreign missions, About fifty years ago the first missionaries, Carey and JHall, were sent out to India, and soon afterwards Newell and Judson, of America, were appointed to the same field. A feeble band, they went forth to convince the heathen of the sin of idolatry, and turn them to the service of the living and true God. Many, even in this favored age, regarded foreign missions as a visionary scheme; but those pious ambas- sadors knew that they were obeying the command of Christ: "Go forth into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature;" and they bade adieu to home and friends, and braved the dangers of the stormy deep, page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] 188 'THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. leaning upon the precious promise, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Since then many self-denying men have devoted themselves to the missionary work. Need we detail the results? Go ask the converted Ilindoo, the Chinaman turned from the worship of his idols, and the Christianized inhabitants of the islands of the sea, what they think of this glorious enterprise of the nineteenth century, and they will answer: By their instrumentality we have been brought out of darkness into the marvellous light and liberty of the gospel. But, if not before then, at the last day will all the glorious effects of missions be known; when that vast multitude, redeemed out of every nation, kindred and tongue, shall be welcomed to the courts of Heaven, there to sing everlasting praises to the "Lamb of God," and there to meet the heralds of the Cross who led them to see Him as their Saviour. Thus have we cursorily reviewed the triumphs of this great age - an age in which more has already been done towards the civilization and renovation of the world than in any age since the Christian era. And yet the volume of its history is but half complete. Nearly half of its years, and, it may be, half of the mighty record of its achievements, is yet untold. The future, as it unrolls the panorama of wonderful events to the eye, may yet eclipse the years that have passed- aston- ishing as have been their developments. THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 189 One would think that the remainder of this glorious century might be well employed in filling up the outline of its present achievements: in perfecting its inventions ; in extending the utility and applications of these great instrumentalities of good which have already been brought to light; in laying off adorning, and beautify- ing the magnificent field which the march of mind has comlpassed; and that the historian and author might find ample employment in the materials of the half century already elapsed. But who shall presume to set bounds or limits to the mighty march of this century - to that progress which impels civilization onward, as the comet is hurled in its infinite journeyaround the firmament? Who shall say that the inventive resources of genius are exhausted- that the future has no reserve, no depths of profounder wisdom yet to be fathomed -no fields yet wider and wider to be explored - no more wonderful plans to be worked out by that Divinity which is so manifestly developing the destiny of man? Who shall say that science, with all its boasted attainments, may not yet be in the primer of its learning - when future years shall have poured upon the world the meridian splendors 'ich are yet to appear? She las gathered beautiful iebbles on the beacl, but the dark, unfathomed caves of ocean have not yet emptied at her feet the gems page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] 190 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. which are richly treasured there. The morning has come, the sun of knowleJge has risen on the horizon, but it has not yet performed its course; it has but begun the revolution of glorious light which it is destined to make, and before which all clouds and vapors shall be dispelled. "Knowledge shall increase," is the fiat which has gone forth, and none but God who issued that decree shall set limits to that increase. Its fountain is no less than the mind of Deity. It draws its illumination from the great central sun of that omniscient intellect which is the light of the everlasting universe. Who shall say that the full measure of its revelation to man, through the medium of nature, has yet been seen, or that He will not evolve from the vast treasury of his wisdom and his goodness a increasing degree of knowledge, until ignorance shall be torn as a covering from the hideous vice and depravity of man - until light shall drive from. the world the dark legionary of superstition, ignorance, and hell. The philosopher and divine cannot fail to perceive that religion and know- ledge go hand in hand-- that God has chosen light, in the moral world, as the instrument to dispel the dark- ness of error and evil, as, in the physical world, to chase away the gloom of night. Will he not, then, impel onward the intellectual march of the world, until knowledge all over the earth shall pave the pathway for the chariot-wheels of religion and millennial glory? THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 191 How much of so great a destiny is reserved for this century must be left to the unborn historian to write. We can only indulge in the bright anticipations which the past and the present inspire. Judging from these, that future volume of the history of this century will reveal to its readers other great triumphs of genius, other inventions, and other evidences of the wisdom ancd goodness of that Supreme Being who has so siLntly favored this proud age. page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] TO GOD ALL TRUSTS BELONG. WHY is it that the midnight moon, No moment stays? And why the sweetest bloom so soon Droops and decays? Why is it that the noonday sun, So soon descends? And why the honor nobly won So quickly ends? Why sends the west its brightest ray, As sinks the sun? Why sings the swan its sweetest lay, When life is run? Why is the rainbow's gorgeous hue, Begirt with clouds; And when 'tis brightest, dark clouds too The earth enshrouds? (192) TO GOD ALL TRUSTS BELONG. 193 And why does friendship's golden link So bright appear, Just as the foot has reached the brink Where ruin's near? Alas! 'tis always thus on earth! The dearest tie, In love vouchsafed to mortal worth, Doth quickly die! I'll never trust the midnight moon, Though full and bright; Nor cling to earthly joy, so soon To fadle from sight. Ill never gaze on noonday sun, In heaven high, But with the thought his course's soon run, His light must die. I'll never love the rainbow's hue, n Though bright and fair'; For when 'tfs brightest, dark clouds too Are lurkfng there. 9 - page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 TO GOD ALL TRUSTS BELONG. I'll never trust to friendship's chain, Though bright and strong; But to the Lamb for sinners slain All trusts belong. A FRAGMENT. The glorious sun was hast'ning To bid adieu to earth; his farewell ray Was bright'ning, and his length'ning shadows Casting through the balmy spring-time air. All nature sought repose, and woo'd, by its Soft lullaby, the busy throng to rest. A strange, sweet sympathy upon my spirit Fell, which with the hour chimed in unison; And gently touched the mystic chords That bind us to the spirit land, and swell The soul with love unutterable and full of joy! Led by unseen hand, my footsteps wander'd To the habitation of the dead. I stood Beside a full grown grave--yea, two Blent in one: In life, "two bodies-one heart; In death, two bodies - one grave." And a charm, sad and sweet, Enchain'd me there. It was the last resting' Place earth had to give those who, years agone, (195) page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] 196 A FRAGMENT. Had fondled in their arms, and to their Daughter's orphan child spoke words Of love and comfort., Sad memories of the. past Crowded thick and fast upon my brain. The funeral throng, with solemn, measured Tread; the crapen hearse; the earth arrayed In sable garbs-as if it gave in sullen Mood the spirits lent-all appeared, in quick Review, before my spirit's gaze. And Repeating yet the still, small voice Which whispered: "I am the resurrection And the life, saith the Lord; he that believethi In me, though he were dead, yet shall lihe Liv..: And whosoever liveth and believeth In me shall never die."' The strug'ling sun breaks through The darken'd clouds, and a bright rainbow Spans thie arch of blue. The tall old cedar keeps nightly vigil, While through the cypress blooms the beautiful Sunlight, in mellow radiance, brightens All around; and the eyes of heaven Look down in love upon those who sleep Beneath I AN UNDEVOUT; ASTRONOMER IS MAD. "THE globe, that, in its present epoch, is the habita- tion and peculiarpossession of the human race, appears, when regarded by itself, a body of imposing dimen- sions ;" but when night's dark drapery conceals from view its varied scenery, its picturesque landscapes, and busy thoroughfares, its sunshine and shade, then it is that the eye, the portal of the soul, turns to the " lights in the firmament of heaven."' What transcendent glories meet it there! The sky, the deep blue sky, be- studded with glittering orbs, pavilions this earth of ours! The moon in queenly majesty pursues her course through the chambers of heaven. What an in- spiring scene! how elevating, how ennobling the con- templation of these "' emblems of the Infinite!" iKings have descended from their thrones" to ad- mire its beauty-to feel its power; "and humble shepherds, while watching their flocks by night, have beheld with rapture the blue vault of heaven% with its thousand shining orbs moving in silent grandeur, till (197) page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] 198 AN UNDEVOUT ASTRONOMER IS MAD. the morning star announced the approach of day ; but by the astronomer alone -who views the mighty works of nature as stepping-stones to nature's God--is the scene fully comprehended - fully appreciated. Though appearing, to those unacquainted with astro- nomical science, to be situated at equal distances from us, yet shining with different degrees of intensity, as "one star differeth from another star in glory ;" he, by deep research, has ascertained that those bright worlds are not all situated at equal distances, but that many of them are millions of miles more remote than others: he knows that some of the smallest stars that twinkle with golden lustre on the bosom of night, are suns perhaps larger than our own proud luminary, surrounded by planetary worlds which receive from them light and heat, and the vicissitudes of day and night. With tele- scope in hand he joins the innumerable host, whose movements are not noted by the common eye - walks with Hesperus, and becomes familiar with Jupiter! About the latter he tells many strange things. He says, instead of the bright planet which this orb appears, it is an irregular world, " like our globe, and has un- dergone similar convulsions." It has been estimated by the astronomer that there are one hundred millions of stars now visible through the telescope, which cannot be seen by the unassisted AN UNDEVOlTT ASTRONOMER IS MAD. 199 eye. And is it not probable that in the reg:ons of in- finite space there are countless worlds which man, not even by the aid of the most powerful magnifying- glasses, will ever behold? Far beyond the reach of mortal vision, they wheel on in their rapid course, un- seen save by the eye of Omnipotence, or the adoring angels and seraphim around the throne on high. Count- less as are these worlds, each, doubtless, has its own peculiar orbit, never interfering with the motions of an- other. The Power which placed them there has also appointed their bounds, beyond which they cannot pass. Let us take an astronomical view of the solar system of which we form a part. This system consists of the the sun as a centre, around which the asteroids, and the principal planets, with their satellites, revolve. During a solar year, or in an interval of twelve months, our earth, at a distance of one hundred millions of miles. describes an undeviating circle around this great central point. "Between the earth, and the centre of its mo- tion, there are two other'bodies, named, on that account, the inferior planets; and beyond it we find six superior orbs -the remotest, Neptune, being thirty times more distant than we are from the sun." The utmost bounds of this complicated system are enlightened by the sun, its great centre. The planets which surround him form page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] 200 AN UNDEVOUT ASTRONOMER IS MAD. a geometrical series, each one being double the distance of its next interior planet from the sun. Mercury being nearest to tie sun, and receiving from him a much greater degree of light and beat, is found to be the most dense of all the planets. The atmosphere of the planets is also thought to differ! therefore, it may be as comfortable at Neptune as at Mercury. If these planets are all inhabited as well as our earth, what a wise provision of Providence is this! each planet pre- cisely adapted to the peculiar situation it occupies. Our globe, the third planet from the sun, is most favorably situated in the solar system; nearly all the sister planets being visible to the naked eye. Its inhabitants may all look upon the silvery brightness of Mercury, the mild radiance of Venus, and the fiery splendor of Mars; and its astronomers, by the aid of telescopes, may gaze upon Saturn with his " sky-girt rings " and seven moons; and Jupit-r with his belts and satellites. What a generous display of the wisdom, power, and goodness of God! When we consider that all the planets composing the solar system, many of them hundreds of times larger than the globe we inhabit, are, without doubt, peopled by intelligent beings, formed to admire and adore the wonders of the universe, are not our minds impressed with the mighty power, benignity, and wisdom of Him who made them? But when we reflect still further, ,' / AN UNDEVOUT ASTRONOMER IS MAD. 201 that were our system, vast as it appears to us, to be stricken from the "Divine empire," it would scarcely be missed by His Omnipotent eye, then are we lost; and feel indeed that God's ways "are past finding out." What must be the immensity of the universe if such a system as ours is but as a grain of sand to the sea- shore -a drop of water to the ocean? When we gaze upon the firmament of heaven, and see the moon " walk- ing in beauty," and the same stars which shone upon our happy childhood, inspiring it with lofty thoughts, the first, perhaps, it ever entertained, we feel as if to them no change could come. The very same orbs, in all their wonted brilliancy, are nightly shining over us which Abraham, and Job, and David looked upon with pious admiration. "Canst thou bind the sweet influ- ences of Pleiades, or loose the bands of Orion? Canst thou bring forth Mazzaroth in his season? or canst thou guide Arcturus with his suns?" are beautiful inquiries, replete with significance, which the Lord put to the faithful Job; and when the "sweet singer of Israel" considered the heavens the work of God's fingers, and 'the moon and stars which He ordained, he exclaimed, with a deep sense of his own impotence: "What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him? The Plhiades and the bands of Orion gleim as 9* page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 AN tUNDEVOUT ASTRONOMER IS MAD. brightly now as then; the same heavens proclaim the might of His handiwork! But yet, even within the observation of mortals, there have been worlds which, having doubtless subserved the purpose of their creation, hlave been seen to burn brighter and brighter as the work of their consumption progressed, and then becoming fainter and still fainter, to disappear for ever from the starry host. And so it will be with this beautiful earth on which we live. "The day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat; the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up." When it shall have accomplished the end for which designed, at a day and hour of which we know not, it shall be consumed. O, it seems that one look, through the medium of science, at the starry sky, would "elevate the soul above vicious passions and grovelling pursuits;" would irresistibly lead the almost god-like energies of the mind to the Divine fulcrum of this mighty machinery; that one look would constrain man to bow in humble adoration to Him who "rules in the armies of heaven, and doeth His will among the inhab- itants of earth." An astronomer who can devote his life to the sublime study of the heavenly bodies, and not exclaim, with deep humility of spirit, Great AN UNDEVOUT ASTRONOMER IS MAD. 203 - , - and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty! Thou art worthy to receive glory, and honor, and power, for thou hast "created all things, and for thy pleasure they were created," is a madman indeed. page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] THE DREAM OF LOVE. IN girlhood's bright and sunny days, I had a dream of joy, That filled my soul with sweetest lays And bliss without alloy. I saw a noble, gifted youth, Who stood amidst the throng, Beloved, admired for the truth Which would not stoop to wrong. I saw enrapt ten thousand forms,-- In sacred silence stood- By eloquence, his eloquence, Poured forth in crystal flood. I listened to his language bold; I looked upon his brow; I gazed into his eagle eye,- Whose light is with me now. (20 THE DREAM OF LOVE. C205 Till language, brow and eye, enshrined Within my inmost heart; With his my very soul entwined- Of his became a part. In secret long I nursed the flame Which shed so soft a light; Nor dreamed that he would ever name, Or heighten my delight. At length one balmy morn he came, And breathed into my ear The. sweetest words I ever heard- The sweetest and most dear. His language I can ne'er recall, Though manna to my soul; I only know his theme was love, And I the loved of all. I could not tell my love for him It trembled on my tongue; He saw it on my blushing cheek, And pressed it to his own. I could. not breathe one single word, To tell, him I was his; But little beatings there were heard Of rapture and of bliss. page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 206 THE DREAM OF LOVE. Though of love no word was spoken, Though breathed no vow to him, All the signs of love the token Were borne by cherubim, And written in the books of heaven, In characters of gold, To stand until the earth is riven, And heaven's joy unfold. In the pure ecstasy of love Passed sweet and happy days; The angels round the throne above Taught me their joyous lays. And I essayed to touch the lyre, And sing love's sweetest song, In strains of heartfelt melody- In notes to God belong. In full sweet strains of joy I sang Of a cot in the vale; And one lone minister of love, My loving heart to hail. And I sang of--I will confess- A darling, bright-eyed boy, My cottage in the vale to bless, His father's hope and joy. :Jy THE DREAM OF LOVE. 207 But in my song a note of woe, High o'er the rest was heard! My dream of love will ne'er below Call forth a joyous word. 'T was but a dream, too bright to last, And now from earth 'tis gone; But mem'ry sad recalls the past And leaves my heart forlorn. Yes, the dream of love has passed away Unto the realms of night, Where never star nor sun is seen To shed one ray of light. And as a worn and wearied child Upon its mother's breast, I'd lean my aching head on Thee, Thou only source of rest! A bruised reed Thou wilt not break, Nor quench the smoking flax; And though in anguish long I've wept, Thou'lt stay the fatal axe. I know if I but kiss the rod By Thee "in mercy sent, The staff of comfort from my God Shall in liis love be lent." page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] MY SPIRIT GROOM IN life's gay morn and vernal bloom, We met and loved, my spirit groom! My hand you sought with noble pride- I knew myself your spirit bride, And gave at once a loving heart, Forgetting that the world could part The spirit bride and spirit groom, Or overcast their sun with gloom. Many long years we lived and loved, Many long years I gently moved A happy captive to love's sway, And dreamed of joy's unending day. No shadow dark, my spirit groom, O'er this bright scene did darkly loom! Bit as the snake in Eden roved, The tempter came, and potent proved. (208) MY SPIRIT GROOM. 209 Yes, Satan came with costly ore; The paltry stuff you did adore; And turned from me, your spirit bride, To lead another by your side, And call her "wife." O, spirit groom! I'd have her loved, whate'er my doom; For blessings on her I'll implore; Though sad my fate, I'll not deplore. Another claims my spirit groom; Another rose for him doth bloom; A little bud opes by his side, And calls her "mother," his earth bride. And yet I love her-love her child, And love irnm too, with fervor wild. Wilt Thou, O Lord! dispel this gloom, And guard with care my spirit groom? Long years have flown since last we met, But still thy spell enchains me yet; And naught can cheer this heart's sad gloom Save thoughts of thee, my spir't groom Thou 'lt think of me when far away, I'll think of thee when knelt to pray; Though years have flown since last we met, You love me still-I love you yet. / page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 210 MY SPIRIT GROOM. O, love like yours, and love like mine, Too sacred was for earthly shrine "Our Father's House" alone hath room For love like ours, my spirit groom! And though on earth we never meet, In heaven each the other 'll greet; And, like the stars, our love will shine With radiance bright, godlike, divine. THE GIFT. YES I will keep it for thy sake: O, these are words of power, From parted love the sting to take, And soothe affliction's hour. For Friendship's sake that pledge I'll keep Through life's uncertain years; And e'en the eyes that o'er it weep Shall find a bliss in tears. The simplest gift from one we love, Retains a magic power; Dear to me the chain you wove, And dear the gathered flower. Yes, I will keep it for thy sake, My heart its shrine shall be; And every wish that hope can wake, Shall blend through life for thee. 1(i) page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] AN OASIS. I SAW a green oasis once Amidst a barren waste, Where bright, pellucid streamlets flowed- Pure nectar to the taste; Where lilies and white roses grew, Marjoram and sweet thyme, The mignonette its fragrance threw, And fruits of ev'ry clime. In state the tall magnolia stood, And sweetly bloomed the while: The monarch of that favored wood Looked down with sweetest smile. And ev'ry little flow'ret shed Its perfume soft and sweet, And ev'ry little zephyr sped To bearjt to God's feet. (212) AN OASIS. 213 And many birds of plumage gay, And throats attuned to song, I Their Maker's praise sang day by day, In chorus sweet and long. All nature joined the grateful strain, And trilled the joyous lay, Till zephyrs caught the strain again, And bore it far away. Upon that verdant spot by day The sun in beauty shone, Till like a sea of glory lay The flow'ret, tree and stone. And when the twilight hour cameon With holy, rapturous spell, The moon in modesty looked down, And saw that all was well. No shiv'ring blast nor blighting frost Its loveliness did mar- The Storm-god, with destructive host, Kept from th's spot afar. And Venus in her pathway bright, A brighter ray shed forth, As she bleheld, with much delight, No rava-:, of the norLh. tf page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 AN OASIS. Its Adam was a god-like man, Of form and brow erect; And his fair face the impress bore Of thoughts from God direct. Its Eve was beautiful and good, And moved with angel grace, As, in the flowery wild-wood, With dew she bathed her face. Their children were a noble race, Living for good alone; With not a single care to trace A line of sorrow's own. The serpents trail ne'er entered there With sin's destructive breath; And not a single human care Brought on a human death. All nature to their store bequeathed An off'ring rich and bright; The very atmosphere they breathed Was pure as heavenly light. "They worshipped in no lofty pile, No proud cathedral fane; God's universal temple theirs- Hill, valley, wood and plain." AN OASIS, 215 Their friendship never waxed nor waned, But stronger grew with time, Till, by the sacred spell enchained, Borne to still brighter clime. Their love--an angel's purest love More pure than theirs could be, But not on earth the chosen dove Could woo from sin more free. Would you, dear friend, that Eden know, Amid what flow'ry plain, That you may enter bliss below, Nor live on earth in vain? Wouldst thou shake off the coils of sin That bind thee to this earth, And hie thee to a home wherein Sin never yet had birth? "Alas! 'twas but a dream of night That showed that spot to me," And not on earth will spot so bright Be ever seen by thee. * . i page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] MY BIRD. BIRD of the gay and joyous wing, Send forth again thy tuneful lay! Sweet is the song thou e'er dost sing At dewy eve or break of day! I love thy song! its gentle strain Has oftimes cheered a lonely hour; And now I list its notes again, And feel once more its soothing power. What makes thy heart, sweet bird, so light? Ah! naught of trouble thou dost know To mar thy joy, so fresh and bright, Or shadows cast by clouds of woe! What makes thy tones so sweet and clear? Hast thou an angel's voice, my love, To sing the hymns to mortal ear, Which vibrate round the throne above? (216) MY BIRD. 217 I would that I could join thy song, And sing with thee the lays of love; But grief has closed my harp so long, It would not chime with thee, my dove: There is no sorrow in thy song, Because no sin is in thy heart; And he whose soul is kept from wrong, Has learned the secret of thine art: Has learned by faith to soar aloft, And trust in One who dwells on high, To cleanse from sin repeated oft,- Who'll hear his song beyond the sky. Sweet bird! with gladness in thy lay, And heaven's pure light upon thy wing, I seem to hear thy transport say, ' Seek heaven, like me, if thou wouldst sing.'" 10 page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] VERSES TO A BEAUTIFUTL, THOUGH VERY SAD-LOOICING, YOUNG LADY THE WRITER SAW IN SOUTH-WESTERN GEORGIA. Lady, we did but meet; No introduction then; Thy name I could not greet, If we should meet again. And yet I felt for thee A sister's tender love, A sister's sympathy: O, may we meet above I I saw on thy young brow The lines of deepest woe: They spoke not of joy now In any thing below. And on thy blanched cheek, The rose's faded hue Of withered hopes did speak, And of withered joy too. (218) VERSES. 219 Hast thou no brother's arm To shield thee from distress? Or, if should come alarm, To seek for thee redress? Hast thou no sister's love To brighten thy blue eye, And point to realms above, Where pleasures never die? Hast thou no father old, To live for and to love? WI Gird on thine armor bold, And woo the olive dove! Hast thou no mother dear, To soothe thy aching breast? Thy brother, Christ, is near He'll give thee sweetest rest. Hast thou no friend to lend A helping hand to thee? Thy Father, God, will send A friend who'll constant be. "If love has seared thy heart, A glorious hope is given, Which soothes affliction's smart There's purer love in heaven." page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 VERSES. O, if there is not one To follow thy lone bier, When. life on earth is done, And shed a silent tear, Turn thy heart, so riven, Beyond the clouded sky, "To tenderer ties in heaven," Where loved ones never die. IN THE GRAVEYARD. IN the graveyard see them lie, Quietly, side by side; No anxious thought that mortal eye Should gaze approving, or deride, 'Disturbs them now; No broken vow, Nor cold averted look-- Oft seen in life's checkered book- Shivers now the pulseless heart; These it never more will brook. Peacefully the baby lieth In its narrow bed of clay; While the soul that never dieth Lives in bliss through endless day: Love it, angels, love it dearly, Love it not as angels merely. Jesus said - And from his love-lit eye Divine Sparkled light too bright to shine Long on earth - (221) page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 IN THE GRAVEYARD. To me let little children comes And share my bright celestial home. Buds fresh and white, And diamonds bright, We ever want To glitter round the throne on high. Then love it, angels, love it dearly, Love it not as angels merely. In the graveyard see her lie, The youthful maiden fair; Called in the spring of life to die, In grief we laid her gently there: The flower sprite, In sacred might To earth came down, And took the rose, And then arose Far above mortal sight; O! in thy might again come down, And tell to us the joy she's won: From earth we know she's passed away-- Her earth-light dimmed and turned to night; But faith points to a shining day, In which she basks in radiance bright- A flowret in that holy crown. IN THE GRAVEYARD. 223 In the graveyard see her lie, The aged mother dear; No more the tear bedims her eye; No more oppressed by anxious fear; No more exposed To human woes, For God has heard her life-long prayer, And now in peace she lieth there. Hath it flown, her spirit bright? Or lingereth it near its earth-worn garb? Or nearer still in darkest night To those on earth most loved? Points she still to that realm of light, Where Jesus is, from earth removed? Or hear ye the notes of an angel's song, As upward and homeward it speeds along? O, list to those notes, As in ether it floats! They will soothe thy spirit's sadness, And give peace to thee and gladness; And, perchance, They'll guide thy wandering footsteps In the paths of truth and love, And direct thy wayward spirit "To the bright, bright world above, Where the holy angels move." i* page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] 224 IN THE GRAVEYARD. In the graveyard see him lie, The honored statesman bold; His form doth moulder in the dust, His spirit shine more bright thin gold: O, why did this statesman, Nature's true nobleman, The silent grave enfold? Why does mortal worth Pass so soon from earth? Why the manly voice Hush so soon in death? Why ascend to heavenly sphere? His nation wants his service here. O! cease, vain heart! His Saviour's praise Now claims, apart, His joyous lays. In the graveyard see him lie. The patriot brave.; His country's call he quick obeyed, And gave his life to save. "Better that death Should come, than 'neath A tyrant's yoke to rest, Or be by foes oppressed," IN THE GRAVEYARD. 225 He said: 1i Better all the sweet joys of home- Its sacred love and tender ties - Should pass from time away, than come A despot's rule, and die as dies A coward mean." Thus fortified by valor strong, He bravely fought, but fell, ere long: And now his rest, so peaceful, seems To ask steps that will not break its dreams. In the graveyard see them lie, Quietly, side by side; No anxious thought that mortal eye Should gaze approving, or deride, Disturbs them now; No broken vow, Nor cold averted look- Oft seen in life's checkered book Shivers now the pulseless heart; These it never more will brook. Peacefully the baby lieth On its mother's breast of clay; While the soul that never dieth Lives with Christ through endless day; And never more on earth will wake, 10 page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 IN THE GRAVEYARD. The maid the sprite came down to take. And the mother, aged mother, Lies beside the aged father; And the sons, And lovely daughters, calm in death, Are waiting for undying breath. The poor man, And he by opulence made bold, Slumber alike both stiff and cold. The poet sweet, And artist, meet And mingle here. The statesman and the patriot brave, Side by side with the coward mean; They cannot now their country save; He cannot now to weakness lean. O cruel grave! Thou tenement of all! Not always will thy sway be felt! As Jesus from the grave arose-- As near his cross the heart doth melt, And breathe to him its earthly woes- So the buried dead Will burst apart thy fetters strong, Their mortal forms hath held full long; li .IN THE GRAVEYARD. 227 And, Christ at their head, Will vanquish Death, their latest foe; His form into the caverns throw: One mighty grave Will this tyrant have! There, through Eternity's long day, ,With naught to cheer his cheerless way, He'll lie alone. O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory? page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] EVERGREEN. -I SEE the cottage in the glen, Remote from village, town, or fen, Where every touch of taste was shown A mother's hand alone, alone Could give to beautify the scene, And make the bliss of Evergreen. "I hear the fountain murm'ring still, I see the sloping of the hill, And sward, and banks, and clumps of trees, Gently swaying in the breeze," Which gave enchantment to the scene, Around my home of Evergreen. I breathe the fragrance of'the mead, And that which dost from fields proceed, And hear the songsters of the wood Pour forth their hymns -a vocal flood: I gaze enraptured on the scene, And live once more at Evergreen. (228) EVERGREEN. 229 I list once more to music's strain, And feel its soothing power again; It wakes and stirs, with pleasing thrill, Emotions of the heart and will, In this elysian, rural scene, Where is my home, sweet Evergreen. And now I con the classic page, Or converse sweet with friends engage To. cheer this heart, too soon grown sad, And make my spirit light and glad, Amid the quiet little scene Around my home, sweet Evergreen. And now I gaze on worlds afar, Outshining far the brightest star, And, wrapped in meditation there, I dream of all things bright and fair Of things surpassing e'en the scene That beauty gives to Evergreen. Yes, all these things before me pass, With the aid of memory's glass! But never more on earth will wake The bliss in youth I used to take, Amid the dear, romantic scene Which gave the charm to Evergreen. page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] A FRAGMENT. 'TWAS in the May-day of youth! Her brow was fair as the page of truth; No trouble had left its impress there; And o'er it wreathed her dark brown hair. I saw the soul in her mild blue eye, Which gave to her cheek that glowing dye That beams midst Spring's ethereal showers, Brightening her world of shade and flowers. Her pure young heart was light and gay As Luna's beams on ocean spray; Her beauteous form appeared to sight Like an angel clad in robes of light; "A foot more light, or a step more true, Ne'er irom the heath-flower brushed the dew." I saw her crowned sweet queen of May, And reign in love that festal day; Whilst every heart in homage low Did near its queen devoutly bow. I saw her again in woman's prime t Her heart beat not to music's chime I (MO0) A FRAGMENT. 231 And that marble brow, though very fair, Was marked by the lines of deep despair. And the soul I saw in her mild blue eye, Which gave to her cheek that glowing dye, No longer beamed with radiant love On aught beneath her home above. And too soon, alas! that lovely form Bowed to the blast, and bent to the storm; And slow and feeble her pulses played As her thoughts afar too often strayed. She moved a shadow-a spirit of fear, As one whose home is not of this sphere; And walked the earth alone - alone, As one from every friend uptorn. "Was it sickness that made her cheek so pale, Or was it the trace of weeping and wail?" "The deceiver came - his syroc breath Blanched her fair cheek with the hue of dc-ath And now, as a beautiful wounded bird, Whose rich-toned notes in each grove were heard, 'Till a thoughtless shot deep pierced its side, It never sang more, but languished and died; She is passing from earth away-away, page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] 232 A FRAGMENT. Without one comforting, cheering ray, Her happiness wrecked, her spirit torn, And on life's current rudely borne, To stem the tide and buffet the wave, 'Till she sink unweit to ltr welcome grave." ^ THE ZEPHYR. DAUGHTER of Aurora! whence comest thou, In beauty and freshness to kiss my warm brow? All laden with sunshine-all laden with love, And sweet balmy nectar just dropped from above? "From the flowery walks of Valhalla I come, Where the rose's cup is my elysian home; I've been to the Queen of the Morn-at her call, I've borne sweet fragrance to her star-columned hall; I've quivered the leaves of the forest boughs, And songsters have risen to warble their vows; I have kissed the sod where the green grass grows high, And the lark is now hymning her melody. I've been to the chamber of beauty, and there' Have played with long ringlets of'radiant hair: I've wreathed her fair neck which but the snow eclipsed, And sipped the rich dew from her odorous lips. I've carried the plaint of a love-burdened strain; (233) page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 234 THE ZEPHYR. And the maiden blushed deep at the murmur of pain. 'Twas the same gentle sigh which but yestereve fell; It had kissed her soft hand, it had bid her farewell. I have been to the bleak house of death, and from thence Have winged the .freed soul to Omnipotence! 'Twas an innocent, beautiful babe, and the sigh Of the mother was heard in the cloud-paths on high-- Half mingled with prayer to the seraphim given, Who smiled when it welcomed the baby to heaven. To Italia's seas I go, where the gondola rides, Like a nymph of the deep, o'er the languishing tides; Whilst waves one by one into slumber fast fall, And not a breath's heard save the Zephyr's call. 'Tis the clamor of voices I hear swells the dome- Loud the call is for 'Zephyr'- I come, I come, To your sun-lighted shores--to your bright seas away; There are wan ones awaiting, I dare not delay; I've flower-loves to meet - I have vows to renew, I fan your warm brow-- Adieu, lady! adieu!" SPRING. THOU'RT come again, sweet youth of time! In all thy pristine sheen; With voice attuned to music's chime, And robes of brightest green. Thou'rt come, with sunlight on thy wing, And joy's fresh op'ning day; And buds and blossoms thou dost bring To scatter by the way. Thy step is felt o'er hill and dale; It glides along the main; 'Tis bounding o'er the modest vale, And quiv'ring o'er the plain. I feel thy impulse through me'thrill, It throbs through heart and brain; 'Tis coursing through each little rill, And throughl each larger vein. (235) page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] 236 SPRING. The turtle's song is heard again, The cuckoo's gentle call! No more the nightingales complain Of Winter's frozen pall. The mockbird's song at early dawn, The thrush at noontide hour, And, as the dewy eve comes on, Humming-bird in rosy bower. Thou'rt come again, sweet youth of time! Thy beauty spreads from pole to pole! The sunny South, and Northern clime, Wake in joy at thy control! Thou'rt come, with sunlight on thy wing; I see thy glory in the East! The bird, and bee, and brooklet sing, As "light by light 's increased." Thou hast breathed into mother earth Thy fructifying breath, And "nature bounds, as from her birth She gathers might and strengtl. Already see the flowers start To "beautify her -feet;" Already feel the bounding' heart Spring the flowers to greet. SPRING. 237 The violets are blooming now, Where late the storm-god whirled; And ice-drops from his shaggy'brow, Are dewdrops now by zephyrs stirred. The crocus and the lilac's hue Is fitting now a royal king; The hyacinth and tulip, too, Their tributes of rich fragrance bring. Thou'rt come again, sweet youth of time, With merry pleasant hours, And voice attuned to music's chime, In fairy woodland bowers. Thou'rt come, with sunlight on thy wing, And roses on thy brow; And beauty's smile on every thing Which decks thy pathway now. page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] THE SALVATION -OF THE SOUL. "For what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or, what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" STARTLING questions! Momentous inquiries! Ques- tions which, if not found in the book of God, but simply propounded by man to his fellow-man, how deeply even then would he be impressed with their weighty importance, their startling suggestions! How much more weighty, how much more startling then should they appear, addressed to us, as they are, by the Holy Spirit Himself. All will admit that the salvation of the soul is of more worth than any, or all, mere earthly possessions or attainments, however desirable these may be. These questions teach the doctrine that the soul is immortal, therefore of more worth than the whole perishing world besides. Wealth, earth's most treacherous gift, is nevertheless valuable; it commands for the possessor every earthly comfort and every earthly luxury: it gratifies his appetite, indulges his passions, and purchases position; it allures the weak, it conquers (238) THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. 239 the strong, and is the idol of multitudes. 'When properly managed and judiciously appropriated, wealth is valuable to man. In the hands of the wise, wealth is power, and its possessor an almost universal con- queror. But wealth belongs to earth; it abideth not with man. "Wealth hath never given happiness, but often has- tened misery," Knowledge, too, is valuable. Knowledge is wealth of the most durable character; she possesses a wand which commands for her possessor a nobler happiness, a more exalted destiny; and weaves for his brow a chaplet. of imperishable renown, whose bright colors will fade but with the end of time. But knowledge shall fade, her devotees be transformed to dust, her laurel-wreathed altars crumble to decay, tongues and prophecies lie stilled in death. Power is valuable: it elevates to the very summit of earthly bliss. To be the observed of observers, as the one preeminent, to govern and command, is pleasing to the soul of man - is the acme of the bright but illu- sive grandeur of human happiness. But it, like wealth and knowledge, abideth not with man. Wealth is terrestrial, and, however useful as a means, passeth away. Knowledge,when confined to earthly sci- ences, however the glory of its attainments may ennoble W- page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] 240 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. the mind and feast the intellect, perishes; and power, the poor brief power with which man is invested, is but weakness! Either of these great objects of man's am- bition, however conducive to his temporal happiness, is mortal, and, in its very best estate, must perish in its use. The occupant of a palace, the presiding deity of millions, lies down in a little narrow house of clay, with the poverty of him who tenanted a hovel, scarcely com- manding the subsistence of a day. The philosopher, ' Who knew all learning, and all science knew; And all phenomena in heaven and earth, Traced to their causes," with the simple man Who never had a dozen thoughts In all his life, and never changed their course," both stripped alike in death; and the king, ' The man condemned to bear The public burden of the nation's care," in the grave is too often more impotent than the subject; for the power of the kingdom protects the tomb of the subject, while the king dies in banishment and is buried in exile. Human life, in its purest form, surrounded by all the heart holds dear, is but vanity and vexation of spirit. Man,-" poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour, walketh in a vain show." Why should he strive, why should he toil to obtain either of these the surest THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. 241 sources of earthly happiness, if life, and all that per- tain to it, so soon be gone? But will not human wealth, and knowledge and power combined, secure the happiness he craves? Hath -not human effort, industry and ingenuity often combined them? And what did they bring to the possessor? Happiness? No! "For who did ever yet, by honor, wealth, Or pleasure of the sense, contentment find? Who ever ceased to wish, when he had health? Or, having wisdom, was not vexed in mind?" Field joining field, waving and laden with autumn's golden grain; Minerva standing by, industriously, gloriously, analyzing, compounding, increasing, com- manding the product of its wealth; then rising in the majesty of her own queenly power, to gather and con- trol productive industry from still brighter fields, of larger dimensions and nobler range, in yonder star-lit- plains, whose husbandman giveth the increase; increas- ing, producing, expanding, in the proudest nobility of man! -this were a higher happiness than earth hath ever known, and yet it were vanity; for the golden bowl is broken at the fountain, the daughters of music laid low, and man goeth to his long home! Hope whispers not of bliss unfading in yonder heaven. Faith points not to the Lamb which taketh away the sin of the world. Who then will deny that he walks in a " * ' - page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. vain show? Who then will deny th t his life, without the hope of a blissful immortality, is a shadow, and his earth-born happiness emptiness anJ -vanity? De- pravity-universal and destructive depravity -the demon spirit that rears its altars at the expense of every earthly good, and then brings as its oblation purity and hope, which it consumes with fiendish delight, has made a wreck of human happiness; and the undying part of man, unsatisfied by mere temporal gool, weeps in agonizing bitterness over fhe mockery of life. Nor does death itself, the end, of all things sublunary, dispel its anguish: upon the graves of the departed it keeps its nightly vigils and its eternal moanings. We have immortal souls-0, what an i!centive to good t - which soar above the earth, which death can- not imprison, which only eternity can measure in its duration of existence ; and before another sun brightens the earth, the dark cloud of death may cast its shadow over all that is beautiful in life, the cold grave entomb all that is dear to the heart, and may even be open to receive these bodies of ours; but our souls, without re- generation, will live in the dreadful desolation of death, shall weep in endless hell, when the conqueror of life shall be destroyed, and the very funeral pall of Time itself be white as snow. O, what is worth a thought, what is deserving a moment's consideration, when put THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. 243 in the balance with the immortal part of our being? Is wealth? No! Thou,lgh the wealth of both Indies and the diamonds of Golconda were ours, to-morrow we die, and these our goods may become'the possessions of enemies, to the oppression of our own heirs: "Wealth heaped on wealtli, nor .trutlh nor safety buys, The dangers gather as the treasurej rise.'" Is knowledge? "Sorrow is knowledge; they who know the most, Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, The tree of knowledge is not that of life;" and though we were master of all science and the very light of philosophy, to-morrow we die and shall find no consolation in human wisdom. Is the power of kings? "Earth's highest station ends in ' here he lies,' And 'dust to dust' concludes her noblest song." When did the turbid tide of death roll back at the command of kings ; or the crown of the dead give se- curity to the heir? The wealth of the world, the wis- dom of Solomon, and the power of crowned heads com- bined! they dwindle into insignificance when put in the balance with the immortal spirit of man. "As the mortal to the immortal; as the dead to the living!" Wisdohl is powerless to attempt .the measure of an argument: "For what shall a man give in exchange for his soul? "Nothing is worth a thought beneath, But how f may escape the death That never, never dies." page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] 244 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL, This great preparation of the soul should be the grand object of human pursuit. It cannot be repeated too often, that the accomplishment of this great work is worth a lifetime of the most arduous toil, the most try- ing sacrifices. There is impIanted within the breast of every rational being a longing for immortality; to die, to pass away and be no more, is revolting to every reflective mind. But what would immortality be without the redemption of the soul? without a saving grace which taketh away the sin of the world? A death that never, never dies! What is it to be a redeemed soul? It is to possess, to the fullest extent, that which our reason tells us con- stitutks perfect happiness; it is. the possession of wealth without the ensign of poverty; the possession of knowl- edge which aspires to heaven, and passeth not away; the possession of power which subdues death and robs the grave of victory; it is everything combined, which human reasons, true to herself, calls happiness.-esteems valuable beyond estimate. Let us see what it is to be a lost soul r It is a heart- rending personification of poverty; poor, naked pov- erty, in its most abject condition; poverty that the wealth of kings and emperors cannot enrich; it is ignor- ance that the knowledge of man cannot educate; it is moral darkness that the world cannot illuminate; it is weakness THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. 245 that the powers of earth cannot make strong. This little pigmy world, with its scenes of conflict and strife, where the unsatisfied mind is tantalized and disappointed in her every effort to obtain complete happiness, is trouble enough for finite fortitude; but to be cut off from hope which ventures beyond the narrow confines of time, from life everlasting, and to be doomed to inhabit the deep chambers of despair in unfathomed hell-banished irre- vocably from the presence of God - the last hope of rescue extinguished: This it is to be a lost soul! Anguish, deep and heart-felt, may envelop in dark clouds our spirits to-day, but to-morrow's sun dispels the gloom. Pain in the night, acute, excruciating, sub- sides in the morning; but in eternity no hope of the day's return comforts the lost soul; no bow of promise spans the fiery abyss; trouble and sorrow, anguish and conflagration, never terminate; the light of eternal life beams full and brilliant upon the liquid fire, not to inspire hope, but a greater and more accurate knowledge of the soul's eternal loss. The thrilling questions, asked in all the impressive- ness of a Saviour's solicitude for dying man, which we have chosen for the subject of our remnarks, plainly, un- mistakably imply that the rejected soul finds its way to that fiery ablyss through its own neglect of the great overtures of mercy extended to it by a crucified God, all page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. powerful to save; and with every other source of trouble in perdition,the thought that we wilfully, delib rately, of our own free will and choice, made our destiny eter- nal woe, will doubly augment the dreadful suffering- will plunge us infinite fathoms deeper in the torturing lake. The inquiry suggests: Is it indeed true that we are the controllers here of the destiny of our immortal souls in yonder vast, limitless eternity? Yes; the united testimony of the inspired writers teaches that we are as much the directors of our immbortal as of our mortal destiny. Yea, more; it teaches that we may secure the salvation of our souls, while the acquisition of a world's wealth, the acquisition of a world's wisdom, the acquisi- tion of a world's power were impossible, and, if it were possible, would avail us nothing in eternity. Yes, these are the sublime teachings of the meek and lowly Jesus, the risen Saviour and eternal God. It is ours to secure immortal bliss, or unending woe; to shine a bright luminary in the pure galaxy of angels, or to be en- shrouded in midnight darkness; to sing praises with Moses and the Lamb, or to shriek in despair for ever. We are not now suspended between heaven and hell, without a bias to the choice of either. This position is but the too common error--fair and plausible, even palatable to the understanding in theory, but false and ,THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. 247 poisonous in practice. This is an error fraught with destruction to immortal beings; this is an error which has kept many from the Cross of Calvary. If a man does not secure the salvation of his soul, must he not endure the eternal wrath of God? Yes, as sur. ly as the God exists who promulgated that the wages of sin is eternal death. Christ never taught the doctrine for which careless sinners contend; He never set life and death, heaven and hell, before men who were disposed to the choice of neither; He did not take upon Himself the form of man and come into the world to glorify the supposed free volition of man in enabling him to save himself. He came seeking to save the lost, those over whom sin had dominion: He came in might to break open the prison-house of the bound; He came to set the captive free;. He came to proclaim glad tid- ings to a dying world; He came to give the free agency of life to the spiritual dead, who have no agency to the right. To-day He comes to us - to those lost to holi- ness, lost to life, lost to happiness, lost to heaven - He comes with the white garments .f holiness, the great balm of life, the great secret of lhappiness, the key to heaven, and offers them without money and Without price. Who will refuse such great gifts? who will refuse to be made alive? He stands above the tomb of buried hopes to- day, and says to the dead: "Come forth unto life ;" to page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. the sick, he says: "Take up your bed and walk; ' to the blind, he says: "Behold thy Saviour;" to the deaf, he says "Hear the word of the Lord;" and to the poor, he says: "Ye have the Gospel preached unto you, and blessed is he, whosoever shall not be offended in me." Does this not look like Jesus came to set Lfe and death before men free to choose either? He says: "OChoose life and live, or drink the wrath of God." Iss it not also plain that he who is perfectly free to choose either of two things, is equally free to choose neither? And God, our Saviour, therefore, upon this principle of human volition, fails entirely to the end of man's probation, and salvation by grace becomes the merest song of the idle imagination. Unholy, impious thought, which seeks to elevate man by depressing and blotting the revelation of God! Has sin the dominion? Are we then without a bias to choose weal or woe, heaven or hell? Is not sin our prior choice, the troublesome current ill our life which we cannot control? It flows on, it flows ever, anxious, disturbed, with swollen waters and increasing flow; it rolls us into the lake which burnet!l with fire and lbinm- stone, unless the fatal stream be br:oken, and its springs be dried up in time, He, therefore, who would pamper the pride of h:s depravity, the lust of his flesh, with the variety of choice in the freedom, the recklessness THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. 249 of volition, is the enemy of his-own soul, the destroyer of his own immortal happiness. The choice to life proposed in the heavenly philosophy, in the Divine economy, to eternal life in Christ, our ransom, is from heaven. There is a hope, and but one way of hope, to escape the fearful punishment of sin; there is a holiness, and but one way of holiness, that leads up to heaven; there is the Christ, the appointed choice in God's ap- pointed salvation to the lost soul. For out of this appointed salvation, this salvation through Christ, our God is a consuming fire. Must we not choose the one way of life, the appointed way of salvation, to escape the everlasting death of the soul? Is not the soul's estate before it embraces this appointed salvation one of spiritual death, without hope and without God in the world? I read in the blessed Book of God that when there was no eye to pity man, and. no arm to save him from death, then Jesus loved him. O wondrous love and pity, beyond our highest thought! Jesus loved the sinner in his sinful, lost estate. With an arm of power He enters the prison-house of death, and brings life and immortality to light. I read that He comes to-day, and says: "I am the Truth and the Life; choose me and live!" and so far from leaving man to exercise a depraved volition: divine love pleads with him for acceptance; reasons with him of ability to forgive his "* page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. sins and make him holy; entreats his acceptance of the Saviour for his own good; warns him that there is no other way to escape the eternal wrath of God- the eternal death of his soul. His Word, His Spirit, and His Providence he offers to sinful man, and they are his if he accepts them, to teach, to guide and to save. Who would not receive this salvation and live? And, O, who would reject it and -receive the wrath of God? God, who is free to will the salvation of his creature, hath willed, decreed man's life, and has not willed or decreed the death of any man, but that all would come to Him and have life everlasting. If man escapes not the damnation of hell, it will- not be because God willed his punishment; it will be because he rejects the decree of life -the great salvation appointed in Christ. This is the great difficulty with those who delay the acceptance of this appointed salvation; they entertain the idea of physical power in connection withy the decree of life : whereas God is a Spirit, and the decree to sal- vation is spiritual, therefore cannot do violence to the spiritual man; that part of man which is born of the spirit of God is the spiritual man; and that which is Lorn of the flesh is flesh. It is not physical change; it is not a new creation of the physical man for which immortality pants and sighs: it is a redemption of the spirit from the death of depravity which makes the THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. 251 luxuriant earth a barren desert to the soul. The re- demption of the soul is precious. Who should be anxious much as to his physical man? What profit here? But O! his soul! his fettered, lost, immortal soul, where shall he find a ransom? Thanks to God for his unspeakable gift. God has found a ransom; he hath laid help on one who is mighty to redeem; and in the appointment of his love he comes to all. He finds way to every lost spirit -for he is a Spirit--through the physical man, with- out violence, without let or hindrance, to the laws of the physical constitution. He offers freedom t the captive soul; he unbinds the fettered spirit; he speaks, and it is done; the liberated spirit leaps for joy; salva- tion and the sinner are locked in close embrace; the lost is found; the soul is saved. This is the way to heaven ; this is the way our fathers trod. Let us be warned of the coming wrath. Let us embrace the Christ appointed. Let us enter the good old ship of Zion: At anchor safe within the bay she rides; Nor heeds the danger of the swelling tides: Faith, Hope. tnrd Prayer her steadfast anchors prove, With resignation to the powers above. God is too good to tantalize a poor lost soul with this variety of choice; Heaven regards sinners, as they really are, the objects of pity.' The spirit fallen through page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 252 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. its own choice of evil, and the totality of its depravity, constitutes the continual tendency to all evil; Heaven compassionates the poor lost soul, and so far from say- ing to the bound in sin, loose thyself, she approaches it in the more rational way; she says: I know thy sin and thy just deserts; I know thy weakness) that thou canst not make one hair white or black; but I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have redeemed you with great power, and have laid help upon one who is mighty to save; I have wrought out a righteousness which can save you; I give it to you freely; in this way only can you escape; receive now the grace of God and live, or reject it and die in your sins. It is my will that you live; it is my choice; I have chosen yoa in Christ to everlasting life, that you should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain; that whatsoever you shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it to you!"How any lost soul can resist the appeal of God's love, is one of the inexplica- bilities of human depravity. Yes, God so loves sinners, that he gave his only- begotten Son to die for them, that they may have ever- lasting life. Why will they then fret their day of grace away in useless speculations as to the way of life? Jesus says: "-Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden; take my yoke upon you; learn of me, and find THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. 253 rest to your souls ;" and again, "Ye will not come to me and have life." This address must be to those capable of exercising such a process of reason in regard to the facts contained in it, as shall bring the understanding to the point of the gospel address; which is, that sinners are fallen spirits, lost souls, and there is no escape from everlasting punishment, but in the mercy of God as proclaimed in Christ, the appointed Saviour; and this operation of the reason brings us to the very point of the whole matter. The Bible plainly says, if saved at all, it must be through the mercy of God, not by works which we can do; and reason, looking to the facts, arrives at the very same conclusion in reference to sal- vation. What then can sinners do but fall at the feet of sovereign love, and say: If I perish, I perish; I have no hope but in the mercy, the undeserved, uncon- ditional mercy of God; I have no claim to such mercy; but, though my sins are great, I will venture to ap- proach the mercy-seat! I can but perish if I go, I am condemned already; this is my only mode of escape. Have we reached this point? Then light hath entered in- life is given. We must submit to the salvation of God; we must be born again, not by the flesh nor the will of man, but by the will, the power of God. To seek out the lost, then, and to secure our redemption from the power of page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. sin, is the object of Jesus' mission to earth; and it is because He comes to us by his word, His Providence, and His Spirit, and in His loving interest for the sal- vation of our souls, inclines us to choose Him, that we are enabled to choose at all the way of life. Does this look like a choice of human, depraved volition only? Is it not rather the choice of Christ, the choice of the benevolent Deity, our only Saviour? Yes, reason does and must see a necessity for the interposition of Divine will to life! Must see that without this Divine will to life, humanity, lost, must wail forever the universal wreck of her happiness. "For what is man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? or, what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?"These important questions are an argument of Jesus, by which he would incline us to the choice of true happiness; and since our choice of life everlasting is dependent on the predetermining choice of Christ, the riches of his love as exhibited to us in the predestination of our souls to' eternal life, we should accept the offered choice; if we do not, we are lost souls, and the possession of the whole world could not save us from sorrow. It is the grace of God that saves souls. By grace we enter into the grace of salva- tion; because of grace abounding in the gift of life, we enter in, or it is freely given to us to enter in. In the THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. - 255 tenth chapter of the Gospel of St. Mark, the Saviour teaches us the way to Christ: the question is plainly asked, the answer is given in the same beauty of sim- plicity: "Good Master! what shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?" "Verily I say unto you," says Jesus, " whoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein." Now, this lost soul, it appears, was in quest of eternal life, and he ran to Jesus, and propounded the question to him. Jesus said: "Knowest thou the commandments?" "All these have I kept from my youth up," said the young man; " but I have not found eternal life. What lack I yet?" Jesus looked upon him and loved him; he was in the right way; he had qualified himself for eternal life so far as man can qualify himself, as he supposed, and yet he lacked something, he' knew, but knew not what that something was. With an anxious mind lie ran to Jesus: I am, in quest of eternal life; my soul is not satisfied with its portion; I have searched the Scriptures; I have kept the commandments; I have done all I canl; I have prepared the way; I no relief can find: Jesus, Master, what lack I yet?" We should particularly notice that human reason, in her quest, brought this young man to Christ; we should notice that he was kindly received; and we should also notice that he lacked but one thing, and that that was page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. everything to him. He had not yet learned that jus- tification unto life is the treasure from heaven. Human reason sought a justification in the deeds of the law, but found it not. In the search, however, he found Christ coming in the way; and presents himself, where reason fails, to the Saviour for further instructions. He seenms to have been in earnest in the pursuit of life: "What lack I yet? I wait thy further command". Well might Jesus love him; for here is an ardor and anxiety on the part of this young man in relation to his salva- tion, that is lovable, most lovable: '. What lack I yet? I am determined in my search; no sacrifice w;ll be too dear; I have done much already; I have kept all the commandments: what lack I yet?" Human reason, the proud guardian of man's destiny in this fallen world, calculated on some great sacrifice, and was prepared to make it; but she was not prepared to yield up herself into the hands of another. Jesus looked upon him, and loved him, and said: "One thing thou lackest. Go sell all thy goods, and give to the poor; then come, take up thy cross, fillow me, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven." And the young man went away sorrowful, for he was very rich. He was not prepared to make the sacrifice required; he was not prepared to receive the kingdom of God, He lacked but one thing, and that one thing he was not THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. 257 prepared to do. He, therefore, went away sorrowful. Had he been as a little child, he would have done as Jesus bade him; he would have received the kingdom of God. But it is asked: How could he, being a man, receive the kingdom of God as a little childl? Jesus has answered this question also: He could have been born of the Spirit then and there, by the will and power of God, without violence to his physical man, and as a child of heaven. But he went away sorrowful. Perhaps if noble reason had been as willing to sacrifice self and self-love as to keep the commandments; had he been willing to give up all to the sovereign mercy of God, peradventure he had not gone away sorrowful. We are explicitly taught, however, that we cannot do anything which will enable us to inherit eternal life. We can do nothing but receive the grace of God, which brings salvation. The condition of the accep- tance of the grace of God is not the doing of anything to bring salvation, but it is the receiving of the offered grace of God which brings salvation. The very per- formance of the condition, therefore, is a virtual sur- render to the sovereign mercy of God, in order to the soul's salvation at the hand of the merciful God. Now, if we lack but one thing, and will submit our proud and sinful souls to the sovereign mercy of Go.1, page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] 258 THE SALVATION OF THE SOUL. we will not go away sorrowful. The entrance of light shall give life, and we shall live forevermore. If we stay away we know we shall perish, and if we come to Him we will be kindly received and loved; for He loves lost souls; and if we come to Him aright, lacking nothing, it is His pleasure,-His purpose, and His pre- rogative to save. We claim rightfully, rationally the choice of our des- tiny. And there is an appeal to our reason by a pow- erful motive of love; a love that is life. A Saviour is ready, able, and willing to redeem us. Will we accept? Will we choose Him and live? Will we make our election sure? Will we save our souls? Shall the great reprieve which props our house of clay be ours in vain? Shall the love of God, as exhibited to us in the glorious plan of salvation, be ours in vain? O let us save our souls! "For what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" *\ A ' TO THE MEMORY OF CAPTAIN JOHN B. ROWAN, 3D MARYAND ARTILLERY, C. S. A., WHO FELL MORTALLY WOUNDED NFAI NASHVILLE, TENN., THE 16ii DEC., 1864. Let others touch the lyre to kings, And sing of deeds of high renown; In love I'll touch its muffled strings, And sing of one in death gone down, As the radiant sun goes down, Scattering a flood of glory, Whose tints outshine a royal crown, E'er described in song or story. Not in the tender bloom of youth, Ere reason's sway had been unfurled:- In noble manhood's love of truth, He braved the wrath by passion hurled. And proudly donned a suit of grey, And proudly marched to duty; HiIs children's cries could not delay, Nor the pleading eyes of beauty. (25j) page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 TO Ta 3 MEMORY OF CAPT-r J. B. LOWAN. On old Virginia's honored soil, First he pitched his soldier's tent; Then to Georgia's flowery vales And mountains high he slowly went. For four full years he fought and bled, Contesting ev'ry foot of land; And four full years to vict'ry led From Tennessee to ocean strand. First in the conflict, last to yield, he was never known to falter; And burnished bright was valor's shield He laid on his country's altar. With fame achieved at length he falls In deadly strife, the carnage great; The sanguinary scene appals Many a heart now desolate. But he "shall not forgotten lie," Though round his grave no martial tramp; The name, the deeds shall never die Of him - " the life of field and camp." I-e fought, he bled, he died to save All that is dear to liberty; And the soil hallowed as his grave, Shall yet bear fruits of victory. I AM DREAMNG. I AM dreaming--fondly dreaming, Of the happiness of yore, Of the blissful, peaceful moments Gone forever evermore. In those& departed, sunny hours I had visions bright and fair, And garlanded fresh flowers For my raven-colored hair. I am dreaming, sadly dreaming, Of elysian momenrts past; Of the days that knew no sorrow, Of the years that fleeted fast. Then the future seem'd before me "Like a rose-begirded path Adown which I long'd to wander," 'Mid the dreams a poet hath . ("61) page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 I AM DREAMNG. I am thinking, I am thinking, Of the changes Time has wrought; Of his cold touch and silent trcad, And the desolation brought. There's an end to all my dreaming In the ruins round me cast; There's an end to hope's bright beaming In the shadows of the past. Many a cheerless, blighted home In his path the War-god made; Many a noble hero fell By his cold, relentless blade. In my home amid the Southland, The blood-stained banner waves O'er the greensward of a brother, And his gallant comrades' graves. O'er hill and dale the black Typhoon, With wide open sails has swept; His darken'd garments drench'd in brine, By sorrowing ones oft wept. His blighting touch and with'ring breath Naught in his pathway left, But sickness, sorrow, pain and death, And hearts of ev'ry joy bereft. :. . . - I AM DREAMNG. 263 And though eight long and dreary years, Have pass6d o'er my head, My heart, like desert sands, retains The deep marks of their tread. There's an end to all my dreaming In the ruins round me cast; There's an end to hope's bright beaming In the shadows of the past. page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] WEARINESS. I ami tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep; Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap. I am weary of days and hours- Blown buds and barren flowers; Desires and dreams and powers. And everything but sleep. SWINBURNE. I AM tired of fame and glory, And drawing painful breath; Of life's dull, irksome story, That no sweet romance hath. I am weary of books and reading; Of paths no whither leading; And feet both torn and bleeding, And everything but death. I am tired of men and mortals, And worlds to devils given; Of suns in eastern portals, And flowers that fade at even. (264) WEARINESS. 265 I am weary of strife eternal, Of fiends and sins diurnal, Of smokes and fires infernal, And everything but Heaven. I am tired of ghouls and glourring; Of worms with gloating rife; Of hideous things devouring My limbs where once was life.. I am weary of death and sleeping; Of the grave my body keeping; And wait the glorious reaping Of the Resurrection Life. 12
