Soon as from earth I [the spirit] go,

What will become of me?
Eternal happiness or woe

Must THEN my portion be:
Waked by the trumpet's sound

I [the body now] from my grave shall rise,
And see the Judge with glory crown'd,
And see the flaming skies!

How shall I leave my tomb,
With triumph or regret?
A fearful, or a joyful doom,

A curse, or blessing meet?

Will angel-bands convey

Their brother [the body] to the bar?

Or devils drag my soul away

To meet its sentence there?

Now let us endeavour to ascertain the meaning of the above very popular composition, so popular, indeed, that numerous tunes have been expressly composed for it. Let us take it according to its grammatical construction, and we shall see how guiltless those who continually sing it with devout admiration must be, of attaching any. thing like a coherent meaning to it. It appears, then, from these words, a reflecting reader of them may exclaim, that I shall lay my body down at death, and my spirit will fly into an unknown land of deepest shade, which land, however, is well known as consisting of heaven-of which "shade," cannot be predicated-and of hell. My spirit, and that, whether it be good or bad, will find this land, and even that part of it called heaven, to be the dreary regions of the dead, or of departed spirits which are there alive, and where all things are forgot; and, consequently, even in heaven there must be an entire oblivion of all past mercies; and in hell, of all past sins! What the spirit is to be conscious of, after forgetting all its former consciousness, both of its affections and perceptions; all its religious knowledge, faith, and convictions; all its joys and woes, does not appear; but, undoubtedly, 1, that is, my spirit, "as soon as" I depart, shall find elernal happiness or woe, in the dreary regions where all things are forgot. "I, (that is my soul) from my grave shall rise," "waked by the trumpet's sound," that is, "soon as from earth I go:" [Here is a strange confusion of periods; and I, means first the spirit, and then I, changes to the body; but this shifting is only known from the context; the grammatical sense asserts that the spirit, immediately on its quitting the body, will be waked by the trumpet's sound, (which

"

trumpet, however, is not to sound, perhaps, for ages after,) and then will see the world in flames.] I shall leave my tomb with triumph or regret ;-but whence either emotion? If as soon as my spirit" departed it triumphed in "eternal happiness," and met " a joyful doom," or "felt regret" in "eternal woe," how can either the regret, or the triumph, be renewed? Can he, who, twenty years since, triumphed on finding, or regretted on losing, a treasure, renew the fulness of triumph or regret as if he had never triumphed before? Angel-bands are to convey "their brother" to the bar (if righteous), but does "their brother" mean the soul or the body? How can that which was in the tomb be the brother of angels? It would seem to be the body, according to what precedes, but the soul from what follows; for devils are to drag "my soul," (if wicked it is presumed) from hell to "the bar" in heaven (!!!) "to meet its sentence THERE;" that is, not antecedent to its punishment, but after having endured ages of woe in hell, it is to be brought to the bar, that is, of course, in order to see if its former "doom" was just or not. How anxious must one of these spirits feel on being dragged up by the devils to be tried; perhaps some hope may spring up that his Judge may convict his cruel jailors of false imprisonment! If this be not possible, why pass over again a sentence on "the soul," which must have been passed ages before, when its punishment began, immediately after death? And angels are to conduct the souls with whom they have enjoyed sweet companionship in realms of bliss, to the bar to be tried-tried! for what purpose? What other idea can be suggested but that their trial is to settle whether they are to have their former sentence to happiness confirmed or reversed? If so, what an anxious time it must be for both the angels and their brethren whom they are conducting to the bar! And if so, there is not much room for a feeling of triumph until the new trial is over. But if it is the souls of the good, as well as the souls of the wicked, which are to be then tried, what can be meant by "How shall I leave my tomb ?" Will the angels conduct "their brother" into a tomb before they conduct him to the bar? Or is it meant that the angel-bands will convey the righteous bodies to the bar, while devils drag the wicked souls? At any rate, it is not clear how the phrase, "my tomb," can be fitted to the phrase "my soul," supposing "my soul" to be wicked, unless the devils put the wicked souls into the tombs once tenanted by their former bodies, before they drag them to the bar.

Good Bishop Heber's mind was in a similar state of confusion when he penned the following lines "on the death of a Christian :-"

"Thou art gone to the grave, and its mansion forsaking,
Perhaps thy tried spirit in fear linger'd long ;
But the sunshine of heaven beam'd bright on thy waking,
And the sound which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song.
Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee,

Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian, and guide:
He gave thee, and took thee, and he will restore thee,

And death has no sting, for the Saviour hath died."

The Bishop informs us, hereby, in plain prose, that "the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on the waking" of that which, being forsaken by its spirit, was "gone to the grave;" and which, on awaking, heard the seraphim's song: also that God was the ransom and guardian, and guide, of this Christian's body-of that which is "gone to the grave;" and then, forgetting the waking, seeing, and hearing, in heaven, already attributed to that which is "gone to the grave," the Bishop adds, "He took thee,"-took thee! Where? To the grave? "and he will restore thee," that is from the grave to-to where ? Why, to the world, or the term restore has .no proper meaning.

Really, such strange things fill one with

WONDER!

ON THE TRIALS ATTENDANT UPON THOSE WHO FILL PUBLIC STATIONS.

With an Attempt to Shew the Cause of their PermISSION.

THAT this life is a state of trial is so obvious, that the observation is trite even with the most heedless. But the trials mostly regarded, and which usually furnish subject for complaint and condolence, are those which affect the sensual part of our nature only; thus, for instance, the loss of the means by which we gratified our external inclinations, is dwelt upon at a length, and with a pathos, worthy of a better theme; and he who can cheerfully submit to privations of this character, is, not unfrequently, lauded as the purest and most exalted of Christians. Now, while it must be admitted that this state of resignation to the course of external circumstances, may be regarded, even by the Christian, as one of no mean attainment, yet it is far, very far, below what the Christian dispensation is capable of producing. Besides, the man of a truly noble and expanded mind, who lives more for others than for himself, invests worldly possessions with a very subordinate value, and by him their privation is, consequently, felt but slightly. Again; when honours which he cannot but see he is himself entitled to, are showered on the undeserving instead, this affects

him but little, because his heart is set upon things of an intrinsically higher quality. To admire then the fortitude, and to praise the patience, of such an individual, in such circumstances, is, evidently, to admire and to praise that which does not exist. Surely he cannot be said to display fortitude, who has to encounter that which, to him, presents no formidable aspect; nor can his patience be much exercised who experiences no disappointment which is calculated to excite, in him, feelings of irritability. These and similar trials can affect him but slightly. But when engaging strenuously and disinterestedly in the promotion of the good of his neighbour, as this is included in the welfare of the community of which he is a member, or of the country which he calls his own, he meets with that blighting cold-heartedness which shrinks from co-operation where personal interest finds no promise of advancement; or when, after having carried on his benevolent plans for a time, he experiences desertion from those on whom, in the hour of need, he relied for support; these are, indeed, trials which explore the inner recesses of his heart: for, living for others, he feels not so much for himself-he feels not on account of his blighted hopes alone, but most for those who have thus turned recreant to the best of causes,-that of genuine, universal charity.

If when thus beset, we see him patient; if when thus heavily laden, we behold him bearing up with fortitude against the incumbent and almost crushing weight; and perseveringly and cheerfully performing his public duties, and endeavouring, by an increase of activity, to supply the deficiency occasioned by the defection he has experienced ;then do we behold a man whose example is worth considering, and of whom each may apply to himself the injunction of, "Go, and do thou likewise."

It is strange, but yet it is too certainly true, that mankind, in the aggregate, are basely ungrateful. The pages of the historian exhibit this lamentable fact in the records of every nation, both ancient and modern; and the student of biography will find the observation fully verified in the account of almost every individual who has adorned the age he lived in, and been the public benefactor of his species. It is true, that posterity usually does justice to the injured party, by restoring his name to honourable distinction, and by covering the memory of his persecutors with contempt and execration; while, nevertheless, (so inconsistent a creature is man!) the very age which is thus rendering justice to its ancestry, practises the same species of injustice towards its contemporaries.

To trace such anomalous conduct to its origin would probably be extremely difficult; and, if accomplished, would, perhaps, tend more

to the gratification of curiosity than to the production of any beneficial But to examine the question, Why does a just Providence permit such a state of things to exist? may, possibly, be attended with some benefit.

Why is evil permitted to exist at all? Because the commission of evil cannot be prevented, except by an arbitrary interference of power, which would destroy the liberty of man, and thus would render him an irresponsible agent; and this would of necessity reduce him, in this respect, to a level with the brutes; or, in other words, would destroy him as a man.*

But it must not, hence, be supposed, that evil is allowed to revel and riot uncontrolled. All evil is under the supervision of a universal, ever-watchful Providence, one of whose laws is, to prevent the greater evil from becoming active, by allowing the lesser to come into open manifestation. From a knowledge of this permissive law of the Divine Providence, it is presumed, the present subject may be elucidated thus:-If of any one it can, with certainty, be pronounced, that he is preparing, while living in this lower world, for a high station in the kingdom of heaven; this may be said of the man who fulfils arduous public duties from a principle of love to his neighbour. It may readily. be seen, then, that that which should tend to alloy the golden motives. from which such an individual acts, and which thus would operate to dim his eternal glory, would also interfere with, and prove prejudicial to, the design of the Creator,-that of the formation of a heaven from the human race. Now, if honours, riches, and the applause of his fellowcitizens, uniformly attended and rendered brilliant the career of the patriotic, would not the purity of their motives be in danger of being sullied by the admixture of selfish notions of meriting all these by their works? And would not weak, frail, human nature, be scarcely, if at all, able to withstand the supervention of a state, in which the doing of good for the sake of worldly reward would be blended with that of doing good for its own sake? And, most probably, the former would ultimately be substituted for the latter. To prevent this direful consummation, the Divine Providence more especially permits the trials in question to overtake those who expend their energies in the promotion of the public good; and thus, by a wise and merciful, though, to the subject, painful dispensation, the persecutions of their adversaries are made instrumental in securing to the good an eternal crown in heaven.

Dec. 2, 1837.

* D. P. n. 75 et seq.

EDGAR.