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preparing them for one decisive and final struggle. It leaves every one without excuse, who does not co-operate with it; it combines all classes and all creeds, the poor

may contribute their mite, and the rich may pour in 25 their abundance; and those who build precious things,

and those who heap up stubble upon the foundation of the Scriptures, have here one point of agreement in the foundation for which they both earnestly contend. It

has done more good than all the theological discussions 30 for the last hundred years; and though it has confuted

no heresy, it has done still better, for it has made many be neglected and forgotten. It oversteps the boundaries of kingdoms, and the separation of national jealousies,

and presents a field wide enough for men of all nations 85 and languages to enter, without conflicting or jarring with

each other; its field is truly the world; it embraces directly or indirectly, all the interests of humanity; and it is ever profusely distributing the benefits of time, while its ultimate results are lost in the glories of eternity.

EXERCISE 68.

Christ's Entry into Jerusalem.-CUNNINGHAM.
1 From Olivet's sequester'd seats,

What sounds of transport spread?
What concourse moves through Salem's streets,

To Zion's holy head?
Behold him there in lowliest guise!

The Saviour of mankind!
Triumphal shouts before him rise,

And shouts reply behind!
And "strike,” they cry, "your loudest string

He comes! Hosanna to our king!”
2 He came to earth: from eldest years,

A long and bright array,
Of Prophet-bards and Patriarch-seers,

Proclaimed the glorious day:
The light of heaven in every breast,

Its fire on every lip,
In tuneful chorus on they press’d,

A goodly fellowship:

And on the pealing anthem rar,

Hosanna to the son of man!”
3 He came to earth: through life he pass’d

A man of griefs: and, lo,
A noble army following fast

His track of pain and wo:
All deck'd with palms, and strangely bright,

That suffering host appears;
And stainless are their robes of white,

Though steep'd in blood and tears;
And sweet their martyr-anthem flows,

Hosanna to the Man of Woes!” 4 From ages past descends the lay,

To ages yet to be,-
Till far its echoes roll away

Into eternity.
But O! while saints and angels high,

Thy final triumph share,
Amidst thy followers, Lord, would I,

Though last and meanest there,
Receive a place, and joyful raise
A loud Hosanna to thy praise!

EXERCISE 69.
Evening Hymn.—Monthly Visiter.
1 Departing day fades in the west,

The busy world is still,
Be human passion hush'd to rest,

Be tranquil, human will.
2 Father in Heaven, to thee I bend,

To thee I lift my prayer,
Vouchsafe, Divine, Almighty Friend

Thy suppliant's voice to hear.
3 If lur'd by pleasure's specious wiles,

By shadowy hopes or fears,
If earthly joys have waken’d smiles,

Or earthly sorrows, tears;
4 If fall’n from Thee, and Thy commands

(And fallen I must appear)

Before Thee, Lord, thy creature stands,
A suppliant sincere.

5 Oh be this day's offence forgiven,

This night with slumbers blest;
And pious trust in pardoning Heaven
The pillow of my rest.

that his eye

EXERCISE 70. Universal Peace.-CHALMERS. The first great obstacle to the extinction of war, is the way in which the heart of man is carried off from its barbarities and its horrors, by the splendor of its

deceitful accompaniments. There is a feeling of the 5 sublime in contemplating the shock of armies, just as

there is in contemplating the devouring energy of a tempest; and this so elevates and engrosses the whole man,

blind to the tears of bereaved parents, and his ear is deaf to the piteous moan of the dying, and 10 the shriek of their desolated families.

There is a gracefulness in the picture of a youthful warrior, burning for distinction on the field, and lured by this generous aspiration to the deepest of the animated throng, where, in

the fell work of death, the opposing sons of valor strug15 gle for a remembrance and a name; and this side of the

picture is so much the exclusive object of our regard, as to disguise from our view the mangled carcasses of the fallen, and the writhing agonies of the hundreds and the hundreds

more,

who have been laid on the cold ground, 20 where they are left to languish and to die. There no

eye pities them. No sister is there to weep over them There no gentle hand is present to ease the dying posture, or bind up the wounds, which in the maddening fury of the combat, have been given

and received, by the 25 children of one common father. There death spreads

its pale ensigns over every countenance, and when night comes on, and darkness around them, how many a despairing wretch must take up with the bloody field as the

untended bed of his last sufferings, without one friend 30 to bear the message of tenderness to his distant home, without one companion to close his eyes.

I avow it. On every side of me I see causes at work

60 ful benevole, reduced to its right estimate, and the wake

which go to spread a most delusive colouring over war,

and to remove its shocking barbarities to the back ground 85 of our contemplations altogether. I see it in the history,

which tells me of the superb appearance of the troops, and the brilliancy of their successive charges. I see it in the poetry, which lends the magic of its numbers to the nar

rative of blood, and transports its many admirers; as by 40 its images, and its figures, and its nodding plumes of

chivalry, it throws its treacherous embellishments over a scene of legalized slaughter. I see it in the music, which represents the progress of the battle; and where,

after being inspired by the trumpet-notes of preparation, 45 the whole beauty and tenderness of a drawing-room are

seen to bend over the sentimental entertainment; nor do I hear the utterance of a single sigh to interrupt the death-tones of the thickening contest, and the moans of

the wounded men, as they fade away upon the ear, and 50 sink into lifeless silence. All, all goes to prove what

strange and half-sighted creatures we are. Were it not so, war could never have been seen in any other aspect than that of unmingled hatefulness; and I can look to

nothing but to the progress of Christian sentiment upon 55 earth, to arrest the strong current of its popular and pre

vailing partiality for war. Then only will an imperious sense of duty lay the check of severe principle, on all the subordinate tastes and faculties of our nature. Then

, 60 ful benevolence of the gospel, chasing away every spell,

will be turned by the treachery of no delusion whatever, from its sublime enterprises for the good of the species. Then the reign of truth and quietness will be ushered

into the world, and war, cruel, atrocious, unrelenting 65 war will be stript of its many and its bewildering fasci

nations.

Exercise 71.

The Elder's Death Bed.-Prof. Wilson.--Edinb.

PART I. For six years' Sabbaths I had seen the Elder in his accustomed place beneath the pulpit—and, with a sort of solemn fear, had looked on his steadfast countenance,

during sermon, psalm, and prayer. On returning to the 5 scenes of my infancy, I met the Pastor, going to pray

by his death-bed-and, with the privilege which nature gives us to behold, even in their last extremity, the loving and beloved, I turned to accompany him to the

house of sorrow, of resignation, and of death. 10 And now, for the first time, I observed, walking close

to the feet of his horse, a little boy about ten years of age, who kept frequently looking up in the Pastor's face, with his blue eyes bathed in tears. A changeful ex

pression of grief, hope, and despair, made almost pale, 15 cheeks which otherwise were blooming in health and

beauty;—and I recognised, in the small features and smooth forehead of childhood, a resemblance to the aged man whom we understood was now lying on his death

bed. “ They had to send his grandson for me through 20 the snow, mere child as he is,” said the Minister, look

ing tenderly on the boy; “but love makes the young heart bold—and there is One who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb."

As we slowly approached the cottage, through a deep 25 snow-drift, which the distress within had prevented the

inmates from removing, we saw, peeping out from the door, brothers and sisters of our little guide, who quickly disappeared, and then their mother showed herself in

their stead, expressing, by her raised eyes, and arms 30 folded across her breast, how thankful she was to see, at last, the Pastor, beloved in joy, and trusted in trou

A few words sufficed to say who was the strangerand the dying man, blessing me by name, held out to 35 me his cold shrivelled hand in token of recognition. I

took my seat at a small distance from the bed-side, and leit a closer station for those who were more dear.

“ If the storm do not abate,” said the sick man after a pause, “it will be hard for my friends to carry me 40 over the drifts to the kirk-yard.” This sudden approach

to the grave, struck, as with a bar of ice, the heart of the loving boy-and, with a long deep sigh, he fell down, with his face like ashes, on the bed, while the

old man's palsied right hand had just strength to lay it45 self

upon

his head. “God has been gracious to me a sinner,” said the

ble.

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