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At last surrounds their sight
A globe of circular light,

That with long beams the shamefaced night array'd;
The helmèd Cherubim,
And swordèd Seraphim,

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd,
Harping in loud and solemn quire,
With most melodious notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir.
Such music as 'tis said,
Before was never made,

But when of old the sons of morning sung,
While the Creator great
His constellations set,

And the well-balanced world on hinges hung;
And cast the dark foundations deep;
And bid the weltering waves their oozy channels keep.
Ring out, ye crystal spheres,
Once blest our human ears,

If ye have power to touch our senses 80;
And let your silver chime
Move in melodious time,

And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow,
And with your ninefold harmony,

up full concert to the angelic symphony.
Yea, truth and justice then
Will down return to men,

Orb'd in a rainbow, and, like glories wearing;
Mercy will sit between,
Thron'd in celestial sheen,

With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering;
And heaven, as at some festival,
Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.—MILTON.


The largest amount of historical belief can do no more than bring us in discipleship to the feet of Jesus, and awaken the feeling of the moral beauty, the inherent sublimity, and the natural

authority of Christianity.

The imperfect media through which the incidents of the Advent are transmitted to our knowledge, may render it difficult to obtain assurance as to many of its external facts; but they leave no doubt as to that grand central figure, in which all that is august and tender in the religion is collected and impersonated. To look upon that form, blending the majesty of the prophet with the sweetness of the child; to hear that voice of grace and truth, revealing the open secrets of the heart, and, with the ease of self-renunciation, giving precepts that have the depth of prayer; to watch the vicissitude of his mind, the flush of early hope, the shade of deepening grief, the light of constant trust; to follow him to the beach, the village home, the leper's haunt, the temple courts, the upper room, the moonlit mount, the cross, the skies; and to feel, as he speaks to the various lot and many-colored guilt of men, the penetration of his simplicity ;-if this be not enough to bring us to his feet, we are not his sheep, nor can we know his voice. Nothing surely can have authority with us, save that which touches the seat of all authority,—the conscience. Hence it should be our devout study to harmonize the teachings of Christ with the moral intuitions of the mind, to show how they raise us to a consciousness of duty and capacity unfelt before, to clear away the confused rivalry of other images, and make it apparent that in all human history, he stands at the unapproached summit, the mingling point of the ideal and the real. We should learn to regard all minds as of one race, variously partakers of one inspiration, melting at their upper margin-beyond the centre of their will—into the all-comprehending Spirit, that holds them “ as the sea her waves.” And such are their affinities together, that the highest which we see carries us on to a higher, in whom we believe : and this is Christ, the image and representative of God. This appreciation of Jesus, resting upon intrinsic personal ascendency of soul, being once secured, the historical limitations of his life,-its human coloring with thé sentiments of a nation and a time,-sie outside its religious office,-its relation to our faith and trust: they become simple matters of secular criticism, and the temporary form of the first Christianity is harmonized with its essential perpetuity.


Yet not to thy eternal resting place
Shalt thou retire alone. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings,
The powerful of the earth- the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills,
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sea; the vales,
Stretching in pensive quietness between;
The venerable woods; rivers that move
In majesty; and the complaining brooks,
That make the meadow green; and, poured round all,
Old ocean's grey and melancholy waste;
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man.
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan,—that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
There go not like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but,-sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, ---approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
Around him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.--BRYANT.

Ages have rolled their course, and time grown gray;
The earth has gathered to herself again,
And yet again, the myriads that were born
Of her uncounted, unremembered tribes.
The seas have changed their beds—the external hills
Have stooped with age—the solid continents
Have left their banks-and man's imperial works-
The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, which had flung
Their haughty honours in the face of heaven,
As if immortal-have been swept away,
Shattered and mouldering, buried and forgot.
But time has shed no dimness on thy front,
Nor touched the firmness of thy tread: youth, strength,
And beauty still are thine-as clear, as bright,
As when the Almighty Former sent thee forth,
Beautiful offspring of his wondrous skill,
To watch earth's northern beacon, and proclaim
The eternal chorus of immortal Love.


The cloud-capp'd towers—the gorgeous palaces-
The solemn temples-the great globe itself-
Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve,
And-like the baseless fabric of a visión
Leave not a wreck behind.


What does not fade? The tower that long had stood
The crash of thunder, and the warring winds
Worn by the slow but sure destroyer, Time-
Now hangs in doubtful ruins o'eroits base.
Even pyramids and walls of flint descend:
The granite hills and rock-bound coasts decay.
Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones;
And tottering empires fall by their own weight.-Young.

Life's mystery-deep, restless as the ocean-

Hath surged and wailed for ages to and fro;
Earth's generations watch its ceaseless motion,

As in and out its hollow moanings flow;
Shivering and yearning by that unknown sea,
Let my soul calm itself, o God, in Thee !
Life's sorrows, with inexorable power,

Sweep desolation o'er this mortal plain;
And human loves and hopes fly as the chaff

Borne by the whirlwind from the ripened grain;
Ah, when before that blast my hopes all flee,
May my sad soul in prayer ascend to Thee.

Between the mysteries of death and life

Thou standest, loving, guiding,--not explaining; We ask, and Thou art silent-yet we gaze,

And our charmed hearts forget their drear complaining ! No crushing fate-no stony destiny! O God revealed in Christ, we rest in Thee ! The many waves of thought, the mighty tides,

The ground-swell that rolls up from other lands,
From far of worlds, from dim eternal shores,

Whose echo dashes on life's wave-worn strands,-
This vague dark tumult of the inner sea
Grows calm, Almighty, when we trust in Thee !

Mrs. H. B. STOWE.-Adap.


Courage, brother! do not stumble,

Though thy path is dark as night;
There's a star to guide the humble

Trust in God and do the right.
Let the road be long and dreary,

And its ending out of sight;
Foot it bravely-strong or weary,

Trust in God and do the right.
Perish “policy” and cunning,

Perish all that fears the light;
Whether losing, whether winning,

Trust in God and do the right.
Trust no party, church, or faction;

Trust no “ leaders” in the fight;
But in every word and action

Trust in God and do the right.
Trust no forms of guilty passion,

Fiends can look like angels bright:
Trust no custom, school, or fashion,

Trust in God and do the right.
Some will hate thee, some will love thee,

Some will flatter, some will slight;
Cease from man, and look above thee,

Trust in God and do the right.
Unfailing rule for our safe guiding,

For true peace and inward light;
A star upon our path abiding,


Be every faith established, Lord ! in truth.
Let all who preach the word, live by the word,
In moderate 'estate; and in Thy church,
May orders be distinguished, not by wealth,
But by love and power of winning souls.
And we entreat Thee, that all men whom Thou
Hast gifted with great minds may love Thee well,
And in Thy service their vast powers employ.
Have mercy, Lord, on all—for all have sinned-
The best in Thy sight are but vanity.
May peace, and industry, and commerce, join
Into one, all nations of this vast globe,
Making all trials and all blessings common :
That all mankind may form one brotherhood,
And love and serve each other. May the hour
Soon come when all false gods, false creeds, false prophets,
Deceive no more that all hearts henceforth may be
The pure abode of God, the heritage
Of Christ,--another Paradise on earth.

Adapted from FESTUS.


Knowest thou not the wondrous lyre?

Its strings extend from earth to heaven,

And ever more the angels seven
With glowing fingers tipped in fire,
Draw from the chords celestial tones,
That peal in harmonies through all the starry zones.
An angel with a pensive face

Sits at the key-note evermore;

Not sad, as if a pang she bore,
But radiant with supernal grace :-
Her name is Sorrow; when she sings
The wondrous Lyre responds in all its golden strings.
The second breathes in harmonies ;-

A rainbow is her diadem,

And on her breast she wears a gem
That trickled from Contrition's eyes :-
Her name is Sympathy; her tears,
Falling upon the Lyre, make music in the spheres.
The third is beautiful as she;

Unfading flowers her brow adorn,

And from her smile a ray is born
That looks into Eternity :-
Her name is Hope ; to hear her voice
Belted Orion sings, and all the stars rejoice.

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