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 THE 
 
 EVERGREEN 
 
 1837.
 
 
 M
 
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 T H E 
 
 EVERGREEN. 
 
 REVISED BY THE COMMITTEE OF PUBLICATION OF THE 
 AMERICAN S. S. UNION. 
 
 AMERICAN SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION: 
 
 PHIL.A.DELPHIA. 
 
 1837.
 
 I. ASIIME.VU AND CO. PRIXTKIIS.
 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 3» 
 
 ^ The following collection of original and selected 
 ^ articles forms a volume appropriate to the season, 
 ^ and to the class of youthful readers for whose use 
 it is especially designed. 
 
 Its title is intended to be significant of its charac- 
 ter and value. The Evergreen is an emblem of 
 < permanence and stability — so the great truths we 
 here inculcate are eternal and unchangeable ; and 
 whatever becomes of us or of the world we inha- 
 bit, the truth of God must abide for ever. 
 
 !582S
 
 IV 
 
 The Evergreen is also emblematical of joy and 
 victory — and hence it fitly illustrates the triumph 
 of wisdom over folly, truth over falsehood, and 
 holiness over sin — to hasten which is the great 
 purpose of all the Society's publications.
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 Page 
 
 I. The Evergreen, 9 
 
 II. The Blessedness of the Righteous, - - 16 
 
 III. The Better Land, 17 
 
 IV. Consolations under the fear of Death, - - 19 
 V. The Pilgrim of Zion, 24 
 
 VI. The Grave of the Year, - - - - 25 
 
 VII. The Hope of the Christian, .... 31 
 
 VIII. Which is the happiest death to die ] - - 32 
 
 IX. What a Child can do for the Heathen, - 35 
 
 X. Uncertainty of Life, 52 
 
 XI. Funeral of a lost Soul, - - ... 53 
 
 XII. New Year's Hymn, G2 
 
 XIII. Reflections on the close of the Year, . . 61 
 
 XIV. Love to God, 68 
 
 XV. Dream about the old Year, - - . . 70 
 
 XVI. To Spring, 78 
 
 XVII. Simple exhibition of the design and duty of Prayer, 80 
 
 XVIII. Charley and his Father, - - - - 91 
 
 XIX. Youthful Devotion, 94
 
 VI 
 
 Page 
 
 XX. Hymn to the Deity, .... 98 
 
 XXI. January, 99 
 
 XXII. The Pride of the Peacock, - - - 101 
 
 XXIII. Zion Comforted, 105 
 
 XXIV. Mummies, 107 
 
 XXV. Midnight (Dec. 31.) - - - - 115 
 
 XXVI. Singular Animals, - - - - 117 
 
 XXVII. The Universal Voice of Praise, - - 119 
 
 XXVIII. The Death at Sea, - - - - 121 
 
 XXIX. The Advent, 126 
 
 XXX. The Promise of a Saviour, - . - 127 
 
 XXXI. The Mission from the Heathen, - - 129 
 
 XXXII. Good News, 133 
 
 XXXIII. Trust in the Lord, .... 139 
 
 XXXIV. Will you Go ] 141 
 
 XXXV. Will you Come] 144 
 
 XXXVI. Star of Bethlehem, .... 147 
 
 XXXVII. New Year's Hymn, - - - - 148 
 
 XXXVIII. Construction of a Fly's Foot, - - 149 
 
 XXXIX. Immortality of the Soul, ... 154 
 
 XL. The New Year, 155 
 
 ♦ .
 
 EMBELLISHMENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Child at Prayer (Steel) Frontispiece, - - 1 
 
 Palm Tree, . . . . . 15 
 
 A Father's Counsels, (Steel) - - - 80 
 
 The Peacock, - - - - - 101 
 
 Egyptian Mummy, . . . _ 107 
 
 Sukotyro, - - - - - - 117 
 
 Cape Cat, -..--- 118 
 
 Hindoo Deities, ----- 128
 
 «• 
 
 Ui
 
 THE EVERGREEN. 
 
 There is a class of trees and shrubs whose leaves 
 do not wither in the autumn, as the leaves of other 
 trees and shrubs do, but remain green throughout 
 the whole year. 
 
 In almost every forest we find, here and there, a 
 bright green tree or plant. And when all around it 
 is leafless and dreary, and even in the depth of 
 winter, when the earth is covered with snow, the 
 evergreen shows its glossy leaf and its vigorous 
 branch, as if it knew no season but spring. 
 
 It is so with the lessons which our pious fathers 
 have taught us, and especially so with the truths 
 which divine wisdom teaches. These last, like 
 their great author, change not — but are the same 
 yesterday, to-day, and for ever. 
 
 In the happy days of childhood and youth, when 
 
 B
 
 10 
 
 we have no care or thought for the future, we may- 
 think the restraints which these lessons would im- 
 pose upon us are too hard to be borne. We are 
 inclined to take the counsel of the wise man, and 
 to rejoice and let our hearts cheer us in the days 
 of our youth; but oh! how few of us, at that period 
 of life, think soberly of the rest of the wise man's 
 counsel, Know thou, — remember, — be assured — 
 
 THAT rOR ALL THESE THINGS GoD WILL BRING THEE 
 INTO JUDGMENT. EcC. xi. 9. 
 
 There is a very impressive picture drawn in the 
 first of David's Psalms, of the diflerence between 
 the righteous and the wicked. The good man is 
 compared to an evergreen. If our readers have 
 not studied it very often and very carefully, they 
 have not seen all the beauty of it. 
 
 Blessed is tlin man 
 
 That walkelli not in the counsel of the ungodly; 
 
 Nor staadeth in the way of .'dinners ; 
 
 Nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. 
 
 But his delight is in the law of tlie Lord, 
 
 And in his law doth he meditate 
 
 Day and night. 
 
 And ho sliall be like a tree 
 
 •V
 
 11 
 
 Planted by the rivers of water, 
 That bringeth forth his fruit hi his season ; 
 His leaf also shall not wither, 
 And whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. 
 
 Of all the evergreens, none perhaps is more fa- 
 mous than the Palm or date tree. Linnaeus, the 
 great botanist, calls the whole order to which the 
 Palm belongs, " princes of the vegetable kingdom, 
 distinguished by their sheathed and many-spiked 
 flowers, their flowing habit, their lofty stature, 
 the simple elegance of their unbranched and long- 
 enduring stem, the leafy evergreen garlands M'ith 
 which they are crowned, and their princely trea- 
 sures of rich fruit." 
 
 The palm or date tree belongs to the warm cli- 
 mates of Africa and Asia. It rises to a great 
 height, sometimes as much as ninety or a hundred 
 feet. The leaves, which grow only near the top, 
 and fall oft' as the stem rises, are six or eight feet 
 long, and reach out far on every side. The flow- 
 ers, in clusters near the top, are small, divided into 
 six parts; those which produce fruit and those 
 which do not being on separate trees ; the fruit, 
 called dates, consists of a hard kernel surrounded
 
 12 
 
 by a soft pulp. The stem of the palm is entirely 
 different from those of the trees we are accustomed 
 to see. It is round, straight, and nearly of the 
 same thickness from bottom to top ; on the outside 
 are many rough knots, where the former leaves 
 stood. Within, there is nothing like the woody 
 rings of our common trees, but the appearance is 
 somewhat like that of a stalk of Indian corn. On 
 the top of the stem there is a cluster of small green 
 leav^es, sometimes called the cabbage. Besides 
 being a noble and beautiful tree, the palm is highly 
 valued for the great variety of uses made of differ- 
 ent parts of it. The fruit affords a common food 
 for the people, while their camels feed upon the 
 seeds. From the leaves are made baskets, mats, 
 and brushes; from the branches, cages and fences; 
 from the fibres, thread and ropes; from the sap 
 and the fruit arc prepared a sort of wine and ho- 
 ney, which are thought to be meant in Gen. xliii. 
 11 ; 2 Chron. xxxi. 5; and Isa. xxiv. 9. 
 
 Palm trees abound in many parts of the East, 
 though few are now found in Judea. In former 
 times, however, they were numerous in that coun- 
 try, in well-watered plains and valleys. Jericho 
 
 ^ '
 
 13 
 
 was called " the city of palm-trees." Deut. xxxiv. 
 3; Judg. i. 16; iii. 13; 2 Chron. xxviii. 15. Un- 
 der a tree of this kind, Deborah had her dwelling. 
 Judg. iv. 5. 
 
 Solomon built a city in the desert a considerable 
 distance to the east of Syria, probably to protect 
 the trade carried on over-land with the eastern 
 countries. This city was called Tamar, or Tad- 
 mor (1 Kings ix. 18; 2 Chron. viii. 4; Ezek. xlvii. 
 19 ; xlviii. 28) ; and afterwards Palmyra : names 
 taken from the abundance of palm trees. It now 
 presents a wonderful scene of temples and columns 
 in ruins, surrounded by deserts of sand. Soon after 
 passing the Red Sea, the Israelites came to Elim, 
 where they found twelve wells of water and seventy 
 palm trees (Exod. xv. 27) ; at the same spot there 
 is still a number of them. 
 
 The word Tamar, signifying a palm, seems to 
 have been a common female name among the He- 
 brews, taken from the straight and beautiful figure 
 of the tree. Gen. xxxviii. 6; 2 Sam. xiii. 1. 
 
 For the same reason also, the palm afforded a 
 model for stately columns. 1 Kings vi. 29 ; 2 Chron. 
 iii. 5; Ezek. xl. 16.
 
 14 
 
 Jeremiah, describing certain idols, says, *' They 
 are upright as the palm tree," but of course dumb 
 and senseless. Jer. x. 5. Many of the idols of the 
 heathens have not even this to recommend them, 
 but are extremely disgusting and frightful. 
 
 The palm tree, thus beautiful in appearance and 
 valued for its uses, lives and flourishes to a great 
 age. So Davicr says the righteous sliall flourish, 
 supported by grace and bringing forth the fruits of 
 praise to God, and usefulness to their fellow men 
 men, Ps. xcii. 12 — 14; and so Solomon describes 
 the church, represented by the spouse. Sol. Song 
 vii. 7, 8. 
 
 Palm branches were an emblem of victory, and 
 were carried before conquerors in triumph. For this 
 reason they were borne before our Saviour on his 
 entry into Jerusalem, John xii. 13; and the saints 
 are represented as bearing them in token of having 
 overcome their spiritual enemies. Rev. vii. 9. They 
 were used with other branches by the Jews in the 
 feast of tabernacles, as a memorial of deliverance 
 from their bondage in Egypt. Lev. xxiii. 40 ; Neh. 
 viii. 15.
 
 15 
 
 We have here a beautiful and accurate engraving 
 of a wild palm tree, near Mount Sinai; and is co- 
 pied from Laborde's Views in Arabia Petraea. 
 Speaking of this interesting object, he says: 
 
 " What appeared to me most worthy of notice, 
 was a palm tree in its natural state, which we found 
 above Ouadi Seleh. The palm tree is always re- 
 presented with its summit pointed — its leaves bent 
 back and spreading over its head, from whence 
 gracefully hang dates as bright as coral ; and we 
 never imagine that all this elegance is produced by 
 art, and that nature, less refined, has only attended 
 to its preservation. At times, the palm tree forms 
 impenetrable forests : more frequently, however, it 
 is found isolated near a fountain, as we see in the 
 engraving." He adds — " It presents itself to the 
 thirsty traveller like a friendly light-house, pointing 
 out the spot where water is to be found, and a 
 charitable shade in which to repose."
 
 16 
 
 THE BLESSEDNESS OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 
 
 The man is ever blest, 
 
 Who shuns the sinner's ways, 
 Among^ their councils never stands, 
 
 Nor takes the scorner's place : 
 
 But makes the law of God 
 
 His study and delight, 
 Amidst the labours of the day, 
 
 And watches of the night. 
 
 He like a tree shall thrive. 
 
 With waters near the root ; 
 Fresh as the leaf his name shall live ; 
 
 His works are heavenly fruit. 
 
 Not so th' ungodly race ; 
 
 They no sucii blessings find : 
 Their hopes shall flee like empty chaff 
 
 Before the driving wind. 
 
 How will they bear to stand 
 
 Before that judgment seat. 
 Where all the saints at Christ's right hand 
 
 In full assembly meet]
 
 17 
 
 THE BETTER LAND. 
 
 I HEAR thee speak of the better land ; 
 Thou call'st its children a happy band ; 
 Mother ! oh where is that radiant shore, — 
 Shall we not seek it and weep no more ? 
 Is it where the flower of the orange blows, 
 And the fire-flies dance through the myrtle boughs 1 
 " Not there, not there, my child !" 
 
 Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, 
 And the date grows ripe under sunny skies, 
 Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, 
 Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, 
 And strange bright birds on their starry wings. 
 Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ] 
 " Not there, not there, my child !" 
 
 Is it far away, in some region old. 
 Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold — 
 Where the burning rays of the ruby shine. 
 And the diamond lights up the secret mine. 
 And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand — 
 Is it there, sweet mother, that better land 1 
 "Not there, not there, my child !" 
 c
 
 18 
 
 Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ! 
 Ear hath not heard its deep song-s of joy, 
 Dreams cannot picture a world so fair, 
 Sorrow and death may not enter there ; 
 Time doth not breathe on its faultless bloom, 
 For beyond the clouds and beyond the tomb, 
 It is there, it is there, my child !
 
 19 
 
 CONSOLATIONS AGAINST THE FEAR OF DEATH. 
 
 And are you very "weak? Is sickness in the 
 chamber, and death at the door? Come then, and 
 let us sit down with death and eternity in view ; 
 and encourage one another from the word, the 
 precious word of God. 
 
 What is there frightful in death, which our ever 
 blessed Redeemer has not taken away ? Do the 
 pangs of dissolution alarm us? Should they be 
 sharp, they cannot be very long ; and our exalted 
 Lord, with whom are the issues of death, knows 
 what dying agonies mean. He has said in the 
 multitude of his tender mercies, " Fear thou not, 
 for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am thy 
 God : I will strengthen thee, yea I will help thee ; 
 yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my 
 Righteousness." (Isa. xJi. 10.) This promise 
 authorizes us to say boldly, " Yea, though I walk 
 through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
 
 20 
 
 fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy 
 staff they comfort me." (Psalm xxiii. 4.) 
 
 Are we afraid to enter into a strange, invisible 
 world? It is the world into which our divine Mas- 
 ter is gone ; where he has prepared everlasting 
 mansions (John xiv. 2.) for his people, and has ap- 
 pointed his angels to conduct us thither. (Luke 
 xvi. 22.) Having such a convoy, what should we 
 dread ; and going to our eternal home, where our 
 all-bountiful Redeemer is, why should we be re- 
 luctant ? 
 
 Are we concerned, on account of what we leave ? 
 We leave the worse, to possess the better. If we 
 leave our earthlv friends, we shall fuid more loving 
 and lovely companions. We shall be admitted 
 among the innumerable com])any of angels, and to 
 the general assembly and church of the first- born, 
 that are written in heaven. (Mob. xii. 22, 23.) Do 
 we leave the ordinances of religion, which we have 
 attended with great delight \ Do we leave tiie word 
 of God, which has been sweeter to our souls than 
 honey to our moutiis? We shall enter into the Tem- 
 ple, not made with hands, and join that happy choir 
 who rest not day or night, saying, " Holy, Holy,
 
 21 
 
 Holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and 
 is to come." (Rev. iv. 8.) And if our Bible is no 
 more, we shall have all which is promised, we shall 
 behold all that is described therein. If we drop 
 the map of our heavenly Canaan, it will be to take 
 possession of its blissful territories. That " city 
 has no need of the sun, neither of the moon to 
 shine in it ; for the glory of God does lighten it, 
 and the I^amb is the light thereof." (Rev. xxi. 23.) 
 Oh ! my friend, blessed, for ever blessed be the 
 grace of our God, and the merits of his Christ ! we 
 shall exchange the scanty stream for the boundless 
 ocean; and if we no longer pick the first ripe 
 grapes, we shall gather the full, the abounding, the 
 never ending vintage. 
 
 Do we fear the guilt of our countless sins ? 
 Adored be the infinite loving-kindness of God our 
 Saviour ! our sins have been atoned for by the bless- 
 ed Jesus; the Lord laid on him the iniquity of us 
 all. (Isa. liii. 6.) " He his own self bare our sins, 
 in his own body on the tree." (1 Pet. ii. 24.) So 
 that " there is no condemnation to them that are 
 in Christ Jesus." (Rom. viii. 1.) Oh ! that we may 
 be enabled with the Apostle to make our boast of
 
 22 
 
 this Saviour, and to triumph in this faith ! " Who 
 shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect? 
 It is God that justifieth, who is he, that condemn- 
 eth? It is Christ that died, yea, rather, that is risen 
 again, who is ever at the right hand of God ; who 
 also maketh intercession for us." 
 
 Is judgment the thing that we fear? To the 
 pardoned sinner it has nothing terrible. The Lord 
 Jesus, who keeps his servants from falling, pre- 
 sents them also faultless before the presence of his 
 glory " with exceeding joy." (Jude 24.) Observe 
 the comfortable expressions, presents faultless and 
 with exceeding joy. Justly therefore does the 
 Apostle reckon it among the privileges of the Chris- 
 tians, that they are come to God, " the Judge of 
 all." (Heb. xii. 23.) For the Judge is our Friend ; 
 the Judge is our Advocate ; the Judge is our Pro- 
 pitiation ; the Judge is our Righteousness. And is 
 it not a privilege to come to such a Judge, as will 
 not so much as mention our iniquities to us, but 
 condescend to take notice of our poor unworthy 
 services ; who sits on the groat tribunal, not to pass 
 the sentence of damnation upon us, but to give us 
 a reward I a reward of free grace, and of bound- 
 less richness.
 
 23 
 
 Let me conclude with those charming words of 
 the evangeUcal prophet: " Comfort ye, comfort ye, 
 my people, saith your God. (Isa. xl. 1, 2.) Speak 
 ye comfortably to Jerusalem and cry unto her, that 
 her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is 
 pardoned ; for she hath received of the Lord's hand 
 double for all her sins." May the God of our life and 
 salvation make these Scriptures unto us as a staff 
 in the traveller's hand, and as a cordial to thd faint- 
 ing heart, that we may be strong in the faith of our 
 Lord Jesus Christ.
 
 24 
 
 THE PILGRIM OF ZION. 
 
 Sad pilgrim of Zion, though chasten'd awhile, 
 Through this dark vale of tears, Hope still bids thee smile ; 
 Far spent is the night, — see approaching the day. 
 That calls thcc from sorrow and sighing away. 
 
 No tear of repentance, nor wave of the storm, — 
 Not a cloud shall e'er darken the light of that morn. 
 Where thy sun sets no more, but for ever shall shine 
 Unsullied in beauty, in glory divine. 
 
 WJiite thy robe, wash'd in blood, the price that was given 
 To redeem thee from earth, and to raise thee to heaven ; 
 Where love blooms in peace, and blest joys feast thy sight — 
 > Where God is tliy glory, tlio Lord thy delight. 
 
 Oh pilgrim, till then, be thou instant in prayer, 
 Life's sorrows and pains thy Redeemer will bear; 
 Reposing in death, still the love that ne'er dies, 
 Siieds a light to conduct thee in peace to the skies.
 
 25 
 
 THE GRAVE OF THE YEAR. 
 
 " ' The Grave of the Year !' father ; did you 
 say 'The Grave of the Year? Why, does the 
 year live and die, like a mant If it does, it must 
 breathe, and see, and walk, I should think." 
 
 No, my child ; it may live, and yet neither 
 breathe, nor see, nor walk. Did you not tell me this 
 morning that your geranium was dead ; but you 
 know that a geranium neither breathes, nor sees, 
 nor walks. 
 
 " Then it was not proper for me to say it was 
 dead, I suppose ; was it, father ?" 
 
 Yes it was, my dear, perfectly proper to say 
 so. We say a flower lives, because it has life ; it 
 grows, it blooms, it fades, and falls to the ground 
 — and soon we shall see no more of it. The leaves 
 of spring come out fresh and green, but in a few 
 short months they become yellow, and slowly fall
 
 26 
 
 to the ground and perish. Thus they hve and die. 
 It is said of man that he cometh forth Uke a flower, 
 (Job xiv. 2.) The infancy of man is his budding 
 lime. In childhood and youth he puts out the ten- 
 der leaf and the gay blossom. In manhood we 
 look for fruit, to repay the culture of earlier years. 
 But, in a little while, his strength and beauty fade 
 away — he becomes a feeble, tottering old man, and 
 soon passes into the grave, and is seen no more. 
 
 Now the year seems to pass through just such 
 changes as these. In spring all is life, and gaiety, 
 and animation. You know how fresh and beauti- 
 ful the spring morning is, when the air is filled with 
 the music of birds and the fragrance of flowers; 
 and life is seen springing up in the tender grass, or 
 bursting forth from the swollen bud. This is the 
 infancy or seed-time of the year. The summer is 
 its youth, in which the husbandman looks about 
 upon his rich fields, and sees the promise of a fu- 
 ture harvest. Then comes autumn, or the man- 
 hood of the year, when the fruits of the earth are 
 gathered in and laid up in store for man and beast. 
 And now the frosts, " the killing frosts," spread 
 dreariness and gloom over the forests and fields :
 
 27 
 
 and the snow soon appears on the mountains, Uke the 
 silver locks upon the old man's head. And then 
 the new-born year opens upon us, and we look for- 
 ward again to the spring-time of life and joy. And 
 where is the year whose progress we just now 
 traced ? Alas ! it has gone — never, never to re- 
 turn. Not one of its ten thousand precious mo- 
 ments can be recalled. It is buried m the grave 
 OF THE PAST. We look back upon it as upon the 
 life of some departed friend, whose face we shall 
 see and whose voice we shall hear no more. We 
 remember a thousand things done that ought not 
 to have been done, and ten thousand things left 
 undone that ought to have been done; but the op- 
 portunity has past, and we can show our penitence 
 only by more diligence for the time to come. 
 
 When we stand over the grave of a beloved 
 parent or relative, and remember any neglect or 
 unkindness which we have shown to them in their 
 life-time, we are filled with sorrow, especially when 
 we think that there is no longer any opportunity to 
 confess our fault and obtain forgiveness. 
 
 So it should be in the review of the past. We 
 may think of ourselves as standing over the grave
 
 28 
 
 OF THE DEPARTED YEAR, and Calling to mind the 
 hours and days we have wasted, the duties we 
 have neglected, the mercies we have abused, and 
 the opportunities to do and to get good which we 
 have misimproved. The thought that the time we 
 should have valued so much is past and gone for 
 ever, must fill a serious mind with deep sorrow. 
 
 My dear child, before another year shall have 
 flown by, you may stand over my grave, or I may 
 stand over yours, or both of us may sleep, side by 
 side, beneath the clods of the earth. Let us work 
 then TO-DAY, while it is called to-day ; and may 
 God teach us so to number our days that we may 
 apply our hearts to wisdom. 
 
 I will read you a beautiful jMCce of poetry on 
 this subject, which I think you can understand. It 
 is called 
 
 THE GRAVE OF THE YEAR. 
 
 Written on the 31s/ of Dec. 
 
 Be composed every toil and each turbulent motion 
 That encircle the heart in life's treacherous snares, 
 
 And the hour that invites to the calm of devotion 
 Undisturbed by regrets, unencumbered with cares. 
 
 k. ■ ..
 
 29 
 
 How cheerless the late blooming face of creation ; 
 
 Weary Time seems to pause in his rapid career, 
 And, fatigued with the work of his own desolation, 
 
 Looks behind with a smile — on the grave of the year. 
 
 Hark ! the wind whistles rudely — the shadows are closing, 
 
 Tliat enwrap his broad path in the mantle of night; 
 While pleasure's gay sons are in quiet reposing, 
 
 Undismayed at the wrecks that have numbered his flight. 
 From yon temple where fashion's bright tapers are lighted, 
 
 Her vot'ries in crowds, decked with garlands, appear, 
 And (as yet their gay hopes by no spectres affrighted) 
 
 Assemble to dance round the grave of the year. 
 
 Oh ! I hate the stale cup which the idlers have tasted, 
 
 When I think on the ills of life's comfortless day — 
 How the flowers of my childhood their verdure have wasted. 
 
 And the friends of my youth have been taken away. 
 They think not how fruitless the warmest endeavour 
 
 To recall the kind moments, neglected when near, 
 When the hours that oblivion has cancelled for ever, 
 
 Are interred, by her hand, in the grave of the year. 
 
 Since the last solemn reign of this day of reflection, 
 Wliat throngs have relinquished life's perishing breath ; 
 
 How many have shed their last tear of dejection, 
 And closed their dim eye in the darkness of death :
 
 30 
 
 How many have sudden their pilgrimage ended 
 Beneath the low pall that envelops their bier, 
 
 Or to Death's lonesome valley have slowly descended, 
 And made their cold beds with the grave of the year. 
 
 'Tis the year that so late its new beauties disclosmg, 
 
 Rose bright on the happy, the careless and gay, 
 Who now on their pillows of dust are reposing. 
 
 Where the sod presses damp on their bosoms of clay. 
 Then talk not of bliss wliile her smile is expiring, 
 
 Disappointment still drowns it in misery's tear: 
 Reflect and be wise, for the day is retiring, 
 
 And to-morrow will dawn on the grave of the year. 
 
 Yet awhile and no seasons around us will flourish, 
 
 But silence for each her dark mansion prepare, 
 Where beauty no longer her roses shall nourish, 
 
 Nor the lily o'erspread the wan cheek of despair: 
 But the eye shall witli lustre unfading be brightened. 
 
 When it wakes to true bliss in yon orient sphere. 
 By sunbeams and splendour immortal enlightened, 
 
 Which no more shall go down on the grave of the year.
 
 31 
 
 THE HOPE OF THE CHRISTIAN. 
 
 If all our hopes and all our fears 
 
 Were prisoned in life's narrow bound ; 
 If, travellers through this vale of tears, 
 
 We saw no better world beyond ; 
 O what could check the rising sigh, 
 
 What earthly thing could pleasure give ? 
 O who would venture then to die — 
 
 O who could then endure to live 1 
 
 Were life a dark and desert moor, 
 
 Where mists and clouds eternal spread 
 Their gloomy veil behind, before, 
 
 And tempests thunder overhead : 
 Where not a sunbeam breaks the gloom, 
 
 And not a floweret smiles beneath : 
 Who could exist in such a tomb — 
 
 Who dwell in darkness and in deatli 1 
 
 And such were life, witliout the ray 
 From our divine religion given : 
 
 'Tis this that makes our darkness day ; 
 'Tis this that makes our earth a heaven.
 
 32 
 
 Bright is the golden sun above, 
 
 And beautiful the flowers that bloom, 
 
 And all is joy, and all is love, 
 Reflected from a world to come. 
 
 A REAL OCCURRENCE IN A CIRCLE OF FRIENDS. 
 
 Which is the happiest death to die 1 
 
 "Oh!" said one, " if I might choose, 
 Long at the gate of bliss would I lie, 
 And feast my spirit ere it fly. 
 
 With bright celestial views. 
 Mine were a lingering death, without pain, 
 A death which all might love to see. 
 And mark how bright and sweet should be 
 The victory I should gain ! 
 
 Fain would I catch a hymn of love 
 From the angel-harps which ring above : 
 And sing it as my parting breath 
 Quivered and expired in death — 
 So that those on earth might hear 
 The harp-notf of another sphere. 
 And mark, when nature faints and dies, 
 What springs of heavenly life arise,
 
 33 
 
 And gatlier, from the death tliey view, 
 A ray of hope to light them through, 
 When they should be departing too." 
 
 " No," said another, " so not I : 
 
 Sudden as thought is the deatii I would die ; 
 
 I would suddenly lay my shackles by. 
 
 Nor bear a single pang at parting. 
 
 Nor see the tear of sorrow starting. 
 
 Nor hear the quivering lips that bless me, 
 
 Nor feel the hands of love that press me, 
 
 Nor the frame, with mortal terror shaking, 
 
 Nor the heart, where love's soft bands are breaking. 
 So would I die ! 
 
 All bliss, without a pang to cloud it ! 
 
 All joy, without a pain to shroud it I 
 
 Not slain, but caught up as it were, 
 
 To meet my Saviour in the air ! 
 So would I die ! 
 
 Oh ! how bright 
 
 Were the realms of light 
 
 Bursting at once upon the sight. 
 
 Even so, 
 
 I long to go, 
 
 These parting hours, how sad and slow !" 
 
 His voice grew faint, and fix'd was his eye, 
 As if gazing on visions of ecstasy ; 
 £
 
 34 * * • 
 
 The hue of his cheek and lips decayed, 
 Around his mouth a sweet smile played ; — 
 
 They look'd — he was dead ! 
 
 His spirit had fled : 
 Painless and swift as his own desire, 
 
 The soul undressed, 
 
 From her mortal vest, 
 Had stepp'd in her car of heavenly fire : ^ 
 
 And proved how bright . . "' ' 
 
 Were the realms of light . • 
 
 Bursting at once upon the sight !
 
 35 
 
 WHAT A CHILD CAN DO FOR THE HEATHEN. 
 (by a school-girl.) 
 
 PART I. 
 
 How can a Child do good to the Heathen without Money? 
 
 " How can I do good to the heathen without mo- 
 ney?" and, " How can I get money with which to 
 do good to them ?" are questions over which I used 
 often to ponder. I had, from different causes, be- 
 come strongly interested for the poor, dark idolater. 
 But my parents had never approved or adopted in 
 our large family the plan of giving money to the 
 children. I think they were in the right, but we will 
 not discuss that now. Well, I had no money then 
 to give to the missionary societies, so I tried to 
 think what good to the cause I could do without it. 
 Perhaps some of the young readers of this little 
 book may be in the same situation with myself; let 
 us see then what we could do.
 
 Our distance from the heathen prevents us from 
 employing the means we could ordinarily use to 
 lead souls to the knowledge and love of the Sa- 
 viour. We cannot teach or persuade them, or even 
 set before their eyes a holy and consistent example. 
 But there are men who are willing to go all the 
 way to them, to leave their native shores, and, in a 
 heathen land, spend all their time in publishing to 
 sinful men the gospel of God's grace. Such men 
 will do that work which we are unable to accom- 
 plish, if they can be sent out and supported by 
 Christian people. You and I have no money to give 
 to defray their expenses and assist them in their great 
 work. Our duty then is, to use all our influence 
 with others in this cause, to lead those who have 
 the means to aid the heathen and the missionary. 
 Perhaps some of you do not know exactly how to 
 do this. A few examples will easily explain. 
 
 Louisa Gillod's father came home from his 
 business on a freezing winter evening. Cold and 
 fatigued, he was glad to draw his comfortable arm 
 chair close to the bright coal fire. " It will be half 
 an hour before tea," said his wife ; " the cook has 
 gone out, so I must go down and see about getting
 
 37 
 
 it," and sne left the room. The astral lamp was 
 burning on the table, and Louisa was sitting on a 
 stool by her father. 
 
 " Well then, my daughter," said he, " I would 
 like you to read aloud to me this half hour." 
 
 " What would you like to hear ]" asked Louisa. 
 
 " Any thing that's interesting," was the reply. 
 
 Now Louisa knew that her father scarcely ever 
 thought of religion, or any thing connected with it; 
 but she knew also that he was a sensible and feel- 
 ing man ; so bearing in mind the poor heathen, 
 whom her pious mother had taught her to pity, she 
 ventured to commence a very interesting extract 
 from Ellis's account of the Sandwich Islanders. 
 Mr. Gillod's attention was engaged. After tea, he 
 commenced the regular reading of the book. 
 Evening after evening he took it up and read. 
 He was much struck with its contents; and when 
 he had finished he said, " That really he did not 
 know or trouble himself much about either heathen 
 or missionaries before, but that if those were the 
 kind of things they were, and the kind of things 
 they did, the societies ought to be encouraged." 
 Each month afterwards his name was on the sub- 
 
 385828
 
 ;y 
 
 38 
 
 scription paper for the Foreign Missionary So- 
 ciety. 
 
 George Nugent, on the first Monday of five suc- 
 cessive months, succeeded in persuading iiis family 
 to attend the Monthly Concert of Prayer, which 
 they had before always forgotten or neglected. 
 They are now much interested in the cause of the 
 heathen, always attend the Monthly Concert, and, 
 although the father is only a poor shoemaker, and 
 the mother and daughter, who take in plain sew- 
 ing, have but few employers, the three together 
 give yearly fifteen dollars to the Board of Domes- 
 tic Missions, and twenty-five to the Board of 
 Foreign Missions — forty dollars in all ! 
 
 Eliza Randall goes to school where the scholars 
 sew two hours in the afternoon. Each one, in her 
 turn, reads aloud to the others. They may take 
 whatever they please for perusal ; the teacher, of 
 course, first looks over what is to be read. To-day 
 it is Eliza's turn to read, and she has carried the 
 " Missionary Herald" with her to school. She has 
 taken this means of interesting her companions in 
 the cause of missions. 
 
 Mary Lansing's friend, Laura, is the orphan
 
 39 
 
 ward of a fond old grandfather. She has a great 
 deal of pocket money, for he allows her a dollar 
 every week. How often have I heard Mary beg 
 Laura to remember the heathen idolater, and not 
 spend so much for cakes and candy. 
 
 But here comes Mary into the room. She says, 
 that Laura told her to-day that she meant to put 
 aside thirty-three cents every week for the heathen. 
 Though Laura is a wild girl, a spoiled child, as 
 every body says, yet I never knew her to break 
 her word. So Mary will have been the means of 
 bringing an annual tribute of thirteen dollars into 
 the Lord's treasury. 
 
 Emily Fisher is now twelve years old. From 
 her sixth to her ninth year her parents lived in 
 England, while she staid with an aunt in America. 
 Every fortnight her mother expected to hear from 
 her by the packet ship. So Emily had to write a 
 great many letters. Both her mother and her aunt 
 were very particular about the rules of orthogra- 
 phy and grammar. By this continual practice, 
 she gained a facility and propriety in expressing 
 her ideas quite uncommon in a child of her age. 
 When, on her parents' return, she went to school,
 
 
 40 
 
 the easy style and the correctness of her composi- 
 tions were observed and praised. Emily's parents 
 are both pious, and for the last year we have hoped 
 that Emily is pious too ; for she has changed much 
 in many things. And in proportion as she has be- 
 come interested in behalf of her own soul, has she 
 become interested in behalf of those millions of souls 
 who know nothing of Christ and his salvation. 
 
 Well, how does Emily do good ? She has not 
 any money. She does good with that which she 
 has, with the talents which God has given her. At 
 the school which she attends, the scholars' compo- 
 sitions are read aloud to them every Friday after- 
 noon. Yesterday Emily gave one in, entitled 
 "77ie Poor Hindoo Child.'" She brought it to me 
 before, to know if there was any thing exaggerated 
 or improbable in it. No — it was but a trite picture; 
 yet one to which lam sure few of the scholars can 
 attend on Friday, without feeling a deep compas- 
 sion for the thousand benighted suflerers who are 
 at this moment living witnesses to the truth of the 
 description — or without being obliged seriously to 
 consider the concluding sentence: "My dear school- 
 fellows, can none of us do any thing towards stop-
 
 41 
 
 ping this tide of misery? * Why sit ye here all the 
 day idle?' " 
 
 But I have not yet mentioned the most important 
 way by which many do, all can, and all ought to 
 do good to the heathen, whether they have money 
 or not: it is by praying for them. 
 
 Our Saviour is as willing and desirous that chil- 
 dren should approach him now, as he was when on 
 earth. He then said, " Suffer little children to 
 come unto me;" and can there be any object for 
 which he will be more willing to hear you, more 
 ready to answer you, than that one for which he 
 himself lived, laboured, died ? And yet have we 
 not all reason to ask ourselves how we have per- 
 formed this duty? Has not our desire been to do 
 something grand, (grand for us,) something that 
 will show, something upon which we can pride 
 ourselves, instead of having simply a warm, fer- 
 vent, sincere wish that God's kingdom may come, 
 and his will be done, on earth as it is in heaven? 
 How many of us have often repeated the Lord's 
 prayer, thy kivgdom come, without one thought of 
 the heathen, one glance at a world lying in wicked- 
 ness. Oh, let us resolve that from this time the 
 
 r
 
 42 
 
 duty oi praying for the heathen shall be oftener and 
 better performed. 
 
 And now, we will leave off talking, and go about 
 acting. Yet I have one more word to say. I have 
 all along taken it for granted, that each one of our 
 little circle, (for I have fancied us all gathered in a 
 circle,) that each one of us is interested in the ob- 
 ject. We must take a little pains to preserve this 
 interest. We must keep up and accumulate know- 
 ledge respecting these heathen people themselves, 
 the success of the missionaries, and their peculiar 
 wants, trials, and circumstances. 
 
 And now good-bye, but think over what has been 
 said, and each one of you choose what you can, or 
 rather what you irill do, for the heathen, while yet 
 widiout any money. > 
 
 TAUT II. 
 
 How can a Child raise Money for the Heathen 1 
 
 And so, my young friends, we have come toge- 
 ther again, to learn more about doing good to the 
 heathen. The last time we met, we saw some
 
 43 
 
 ways in which we might influence others to give 
 money to promote the spread of Christianity in the 
 world. We can pray, too, for this object. But we 
 must not rest contented here. This is not all that we 
 can do. We must give something ourselves. But 
 you say, "I have no money to give." You wish 
 very much that you had, but father and mother do 
 not give you any allowance. None of us, perhaps, 
 have more than a quarter or half of a dollar, and 
 some only a few cents. With us the great question 
 then is, How shall we get money for this purpose? 
 We cannot read of all the misery of heathenism, 
 of all the blessings of Christianity — and then hear 
 the diflerent missionary societies and missionaries, 
 and even iieathen people themselves, represent their 
 wants, and call aloud for aid, without deeply re- 
 gretting our inability to help them. Shall we not 
 each then seriously, earnestly consider the ques- 
 tion. How can I raise money for the heathen? 
 
 How can we? Let us think. 
 
 Is there no little thing to which we have been 
 accustomed which we can deny ourselves, and 
 the value of which we can receive in money? I 
 should think we might all, with the consent of our
 
 44 
 
 parents, adopt the plan of the young Lawrences. 
 They neither drink tea nor cofTee. Each has a 
 tumbler of clear water (which, by the by, is the best 
 thing any one could have) set on the table for them 
 at morning and evening meals. So there is saved 
 among the three a good deal of milk and sugar, 
 besides the tea and coflee, qnite the worth of the 
 ten cents which their mother gives to each one 
 every week in return. The Lawrences are my 
 cousins, but I should never have known about this 
 arrangement had I not discovered it while staying 
 at their house, for they never speak of it themselves; 
 and I hope that any of you who may adopt their 
 way of saving money, or any other like it, will fol- 
 low their example in this particular. 
 
 I knew another child who used to go without 
 butter, and received instead the price of the quan- 
 tity she would have eaten, say six and a quarter 
 cents a week. 
 
 *' But these sums are so small," perhaps you say, 
 " they seein scarcely worth the trouble of earning," 
 You forget, however, that sixpence a week amounts 
 to three dollars and a quarter in a year. But T do 
 not suppose that you will keep collecting it till the
 
 45 
 
 end of the twelve months. You perhaps put one 
 week's earning into a collection taken up at church 
 for the missionary society. From that society it is 
 sent to China. There it will defray the expense of 
 printing at least two or three pages of gospel truth 
 in the native language. This, with others, is given 
 into the hands of a missionary. By the Chinese 
 people, books are much sought after and esteem- 
 ed; and whenever the missionary, as he passes 
 through the country, brings forth his books, multi- 
 tudes gather round him to hear and to receive. 
 As he reads, the words fall upon the ears of many 
 — in some, perhaps, they reach the heart. Yes ! 
 who knows to how many they may prove the 
 power of God unto salvation. But the usefulness 
 of the books does not stop here. One person hands 
 the precious gift to another, and he to another, and 
 so the little volume travels on, and on, from village 
 to village, and from city to city, penetrates into the 
 very heart of the heatlien nation, and thence over 
 rivers and plains, until it reaches even the wild up- 
 lands of Tartary. Along its track it has kindled a 
 line of gospel light, which may gladden many souls 
 in the places where, for many and many an age,
 
 46 
 
 the people have sat in darkness. Your little mite 
 may be the means of accomplishing such results as 
 these. And can you still think it unworthy of you 
 to earn and to give something towards the salva- 
 tion of men ? 
 
 But let us return to the question, How shall we 
 raise money for the heathen ? And now, if you 
 will imagine that it is a bright summer morning, 
 just five o'clock, and that you are walking with me 
 to Mrs. Carrol's house, I will show you a way to 
 earn it. Here we are at the door. Let us go up 
 stairs, to the back room in the third story. Now, 
 peep in there, and you will see little Ellen, at this 
 early hour, closely engaged with her needle. No- 
 tice the expression of happiness beaming in her 
 countenance. She has thrown open the window, 
 and the fresh morning air, as it breathes over the 
 hill on which the house is situated, is delightful. 
 Her eyes stray for a moment from her fingers to 
 the waking city beneath, and the green velvet slope 
 beyond, the browsing cattle, the opening fiow'ers, 
 and the fluttering birds, who are sounding their 
 early carols from the gardens and hills around. 
 But she soon returns to her work with readiness
 
 47 
 
 and pleasure. As all seems bright and happy 
 without, so Ellen within is bright and happy too. 
 I say she feels bright — for although she rose at four 
 o'clock, she is not sleepy: she went to bed at eight; 
 and she is happy, for she is engaged in an employ- 
 ment which gives her great delight. 8he is work- 
 ing for the heathen. Those shirts she is making 
 are fo-r a brother at the south. Her mother was 
 going to put them out to be done ; but Ellen, 
 anxious to gain money for her favourite object, 
 begged leave to rise and work on them before break- 
 fast, and receive the pay of the sempstress. She 
 w^orks for her mother all the rest of the day, and 
 having no other time which she can call her own, 
 she willingly sacrifices these two hours of unneces- 
 sary sleep for a purpose so much beloved. Can 
 none of us follow her plan? 
 
 But go to the next house, and knock at the door 
 of her friend, Sarah Ward. You will find her busy 
 too, and with her brothers, Charles and Edward, 
 sitting at the round table in the middle of the room. 
 It is strewed with paints, and plates rubbed all over 
 with colours, and there are three piles of picture 
 books. They are colouring the prints. Do you
 
 48 
 
 see? Their father procured the pictures from a 
 bookseller for them to paint, and he will pay them 
 a dollar and a quarter for every hundred sheets 
 they colour. They will each paint ten sheets be- 
 fore breakfast, or, if not so soon, before school-time. 
 They are doing this, so that they can put their 
 names upon the church subscription paper, and so 
 be able, every month, to give regularly to the cause 
 of missions. My young friends, can none of us fol- 
 low their plan of raising money? 
 
 And now it is time that we should turn to go 
 home; but before we separate, we must think of 
 some other ways in which children like ourselves 
 can gain money for the heathen. Some of us, per- 
 haps, can do like Henry Somers. He lives in New 
 York, where the gardens are generally small. His 
 father's yard is rather larger than usual, so that he 
 gave Henry a piece of the wide border for his own. 
 As Henry was one day thinking how he could raise 
 money, he formed this plan, to which both of his 
 parents agreed. It was to cultivate and sell common 
 vegetables, such as beets, carrots, and radishes, in 
 his little garden. His father gave him the neces- 
 sary seeds, and his mother promised to let the 
 
 %. 
 
 «;^
 
 49 
 
 servant boy carry the produce to market to be 
 there disposed of. Almost any morning or evening 
 Henry may now be seen digging, weeding, or wa- 
 tering his ground. Sometimes inchnation strongly 
 urges him to stay to play with his companions in 
 the ev^ening, and to neglect to water the plants, 
 which had been scorched all day by the hot sun ; 
 and sometimes indolence begs most piteously for 
 farther repose, when he is wakened early to gather 
 his plants, and tie them in bundles, ready for mar- 
 ket, before the sun shall become bright and pow- 
 erful. But self-denial and exertion, coupled with 
 much patience and perseverance, are necessary 
 for one who intends to do good. 
 
 Well ! is thei'e nothing like this that ice can do ? 
 I say like this, for in bringing forward these par- 
 ticular cases, I do not in the least intend to imply 
 that they are the only methods which we are to 
 try. We must each think over our own situation, 
 and all its circumstances — the practicability of 
 these schemes, and what others would be more use- 
 ful, more pleasant, or more expedient ; and espe- 
 cially must we regard the feelings of our parents, 
 
 G
 
 5^ 
 
 There are many things to be considered in choos- 
 ing in what way to raise money for the heathen. 
 
 There is another most efiectual method of ac- 
 complishing this object which I have not yet men- 
 tioned, but with which all of you are probably 
 more or less acquainted. It is that of joining in 
 juvenile societies, to meet and make needle or fancy 
 work for sale. In many respects this is a most ex- 
 cellent way for children to earn money. 
 
 But, as I said before, it is time that we should 
 separate ; so I will not dwell on this subject. It is 
 sufficient that I remind you, that there is scarcely 
 any way in which you can be more useful in gain- 
 ing money for the heathen, than by becoming a 
 regular and industrious member of a missionary 
 sewing society. 
 
 And now, my young friends, if any of you have 
 felt as though you could do nothing for the heathen, 
 and have been sad at the thought, cast away the 
 idea at once. Though you are nothing but a child, 
 a very young child perhaps, you surely must be 
 convinced that you can do something. You have 
 seen how much you may accomplish by influenc- 
 
 *•:
 
 51 
 
 ing and interesting others in the cause of the 
 heathen ; how much you are encouraged to pray 
 for them ; and how many means you can devise 
 of obtaining money, to aid more directly in send- 
 ing to them the gospel and happiness. " If ye 
 know these things, happy are ye if ye do them."
 
 .!♦ 
 
 52 
 
 UNCERTAINTY OF LIFE. 
 
 Like crowded forest trees we stand, 
 And some are mark'd to fall : 
 
 The axe will smite at God's command, 
 And soon shall smite us all. 
 
 Green as the bay-tree, ever green, 
 
 With its new foliage on. 
 The gay, the thoughtless, have I seen ; 
 
 I passed, and they were gone. 
 
 Read, ye that run, the awful truth. 
 With which I charge my page ; 
 
 A worm is in the bud of youth, 
 And at the root of age. 
 
 No present health can health ensure 
 
 For yet an hour to come ; 
 No med'cine, though it oft can cure. 
 
 Can always balk the tomb. 
 
 Then let us fly, to Jesus fly, 
 Whose powerful arm can save ; 
 
 So shall our hopes ascend on higli. 
 And triumph o'er the grave.
 
 53 
 
 FUNERAL OF A LOST SOUL. 
 
 A FEW days since I attended the funeral of one 
 of my neighbours, who had suddenly died of a 
 disease of the heart. He was sitting at a table 
 loaded with luxuries, and rejoicing amid his family 
 and guests, when, involuntarily throwing himself 
 back, he gasped and expired. Great consternation 
 and distress ensued. He was a man of no small 
 consequence in the sphere in which he moved. 
 Riches had been lavished upon him, so that he had 
 a great establishment and numerous dependents. 
 But he had forgotten God. The Sabbath had been 
 to him and his household a day of recreation and 
 pleasure. In the morning, if the weather was fair, 
 they usually appeared in the house of God with 
 mucli pomp and pride; but the rest of the day was 
 spent in feasting and mirth. His own hand had 
 gotten him his wealth, and he thanked God that he
 
 54 
 
 had much goods laid up for many years. But in 
 an unexpected moment he passed to the judgment 
 seat. The preparation for his funeral was truly 
 magnificent. And when the procession moved 
 from his mansion, I could not but think of the 
 remark made respecting the Earl of Chesterfield, 
 that nothing could have been more gratifying to 
 the pride of his heart, than to have looked out of 
 his coffin and seen the respect which was paid to 
 his memory. It was indeed "the icy pomp, with 
 which grandeur mourned magnificently over de- 
 parted pride." I returned to my home with many 
 solemn, and, I trust, profitable reflections on 
 human life. On entering my room, I cast my eye 
 on an old English Bible, in the black letter, which 
 lay open on my table ; I was struck with the 
 account of the rich man, who was clothed in pur- 
 ple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every 
 day, particularly with the mention of his burial ; 
 it 'being somewhat dillcrent from our common 
 translation, the rich maiv also died and in hklle 
 HE WAS BURIED. Buricd in hell ! What a funeral, 
 thought I, must that have been! How difl'erent 
 from the one which I have attended this day ! The
 
 55 
 
 burial, not of the body, but of the soul ! And its 
 burial in hell ! I was hence led to a series of 
 reflections on the soul's funeral, or the burial of 
 the lost soul in hell. I first contrasted the prepa- 
 ration which had been made in that now forsaken 
 mansion in my neighbourhood, with the prepara- 
 tion made for the funeral of the lost soul. Several 
 days were there wholly devoted to it, and almost 
 every trade and handicraft were brought into 
 requisition. The merchant, the tailor, the milliner, 
 the coffin-maker, the undertaker, were all in full 
 employ. But for the funeral of the soul there was 
 no preparation. No time was allowed for any. 
 Like one who had died of an infectious disease, it 
 was hurried away the moment its tenement was 
 broken up ; and all was over before the body was 
 laid out or the solemn funeral show had been 
 planned by survivors. Yet there were some things 
 done, as in the burial of the body. 
 
 There were carriers employed. These were 
 difterent from those who carried the soul of Laza- 
 rus to Abraham's bosom. Those were angels ; 
 these were devils. No angels sued for this soul 
 that they might carry it to heaven. Some did
 
 56 
 
 indeed cast an eye upon it, but they saw no 
 image of God there — no spirit of hohness, nor 
 devotion to Christ ; nothing but sin, pollution, 
 malice, and blasphemy; and theyleft it for devils, 
 who eagerly grasped it and bore it to hell. 
 
 There were pall-bearers. And these resembled 
 those whom I had seen at the funeral of my 
 neighbour, the companions of his youth, the par- 
 takers of his sin and guilt, the men who had ate 
 and drank with him on the Sabbath, and mocked 
 God and ridiculed the Holy Ghost. It was indeed 
 proposed that some venerable pious men of the 
 place should walk by his coffin, but his widow said 
 they had never been his associates in life, and they 
 should not be honoured in his death; friends in life 
 should be hrst regarded. And so it was, as I saw 
 that lost soul borne away into eternity, some foul 
 spirits of darkness gathered around it from whom 
 it revolted with peculiar emotions. They were the 
 companions of its youth; its associates in crime; 
 who had been hurried before it into eternity, and 
 were now sent to accompany it to the regions of 
 wailing. 
 
 And there were mourners. In them I was deeply 
 
 ''f-
 
 57 
 
 interested. They seemed to be of a different 
 spirit from all other attendants. They were 
 neither the wife nor children that had survived. 
 They had been apparently great mourners at the 
 funeral of the body, but had cared not for the soul. 
 The chief mourner here was an aged mother who 
 had early dedicated his soul to God, and had in- 
 structed, warned, rebuked and entreated, with tears, 
 that it mi^ht be saved, but who had been foiled 
 in her efforts by the world's power, and had now 
 seen it cut off without God and hope. She fol- 
 lowed it into eternity with tears and groans, 
 exclaiming, O my son ! my son ! And mingling 
 his tears with her's, was a minister of the cross 
 who had watched for that soul "as one that must 
 give account," who had wrestled hard for it with 
 the angel of the Covenant, who had seen it under 
 his preaching, now tremble like Felix, and now 
 like Agrippa, almost persuaded ; yet at last through 
 the wiles of infidelity, turning away in profane 
 scorn, treading under foot the Son of God, and 
 doing despite to the Spirit of Grace ; and who 
 now beheld it, not as a seal of his ministry and a 
 crown of rejoicing, but as one to whom the gos- 
 
 H
 
 pel he had preached had been a savour of death 
 unto death. He wept, exclaiming, ^^ If thou, even 
 thou, hadst knmvn in this thy day the things that 
 belong to thy peace, hut now they are hid from thine 
 eyesr Such were the mourners. Few but sor- 
 rowful. 
 
 I was hurried with all the rapidity of thought to 
 the place of burial. It was 
 
 " A dungeon horrible on all sides round 
 
 As one great furnace flam'd : yet from those flames 
 
 No light, but rather darkness visible, 
 
 Serving but to discover sights of wo ; 
 
 Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 
 
 And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, 
 
 That comes to all; but torture without end 
 
 Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed ^ 
 
 With ever burning sulphur unconsumed, 
 
 Such place Eternal Justice had prepared." 
 
 /•/v<# 
 
 There this poor soul was buried, 
 
 " Far from the utmost verge of day." 
 
 I had read in my childhood of a man who, sup- 
 posed to be dead, was buried in his tomb, but soon
 
 59 
 
 revived ; and there in his coffin, unable to escape, 
 had, when discovered, long lain meditating on his 
 past life, on his awful condition, wishing for death, 
 and not finding it ; and I had ever since a peculiar 
 dread of being buried alive. As I saw this soul 
 buried in hell, I could not but say, how awful there 
 to be buried alive ! But with this soul, it was even 
 so; and I perceived that it was conscious of it, for 
 it looked round with peculiar agony in search of 
 death. 
 
 " There sinners taste the second death, 
 And would, but can't expire." 
 
 I dreaded to think what must be the feelings of 
 this soul, now buried in hell. And I resolved to 
 turn away from the scene and engage in some- 
 thing that would divert my attention, as do men of 
 the world from the funeral solemnities of some 
 neighbour or friend ; but my mind would wander 
 down into that dark abode and there see that once 
 bright and beautiful spirit, which might, but for 
 unbelief, have been an angel of light and glory, 
 now wrapt in eternal night ; deeply realizing that 
 through its own madness and folly it was lost for-
 
 ■ GO 
 
 ever ; deeply feeling that all its pious friends were 
 now in heaven and happy in God, while it was 
 itself cast out, abhorred of God, of Christ, and all 
 holy beings ; the eternal companion of the devil 
 and his angels, and the prey of his own ungoverna- 
 ble appetites and passions ; loathing its own sins 
 in which on earth it had pleasure : remember- 
 ing only with anguish insupportable, all the good 
 things it had enjoyed in this life, its comforts, its 
 pleasures, the warnings and entreaties of heaven; 
 its day and means of grace; enduring the stings of 
 conscience and the wrath of God, and as it looked 
 up and asked. How long, O Lord ? and heard in re- 
 ply. Eternity! Eternity! sinking back in its infernal 
 pit, 
 
 " to weep and wail for evermore, 
 Reaping the liarvest wliich its sins had sown." 
 
 And, said I, is this the end of sin? the wages of 
 transgression ? Is this the place where the wicked 
 are buried? 
 
 " Sad world, indeed ! ah, who can hear 
 For ever there to dwell ? 
 . For ever sinking in despair 
 
 In all the pains of hell !"
 
 61 
 
 I fell into an agony, for I had friends yet in sin, 
 but more tiian all, I saw at a glance that it was the 
 end to which I had fearfully exposed my own soul. 
 While lost to every thing around me, T had a 
 ghmpse of one in shining garments, who said, " I 
 am the resurrection and the life ; he that believeth 
 in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." 
 "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." "O 
 thou precious bleeding Saviour !" exclaimed I. 
 "And didst thou die for me? and wilt thou save me 
 from eternal death?" I fell at the mercy seat, I 
 gave myself to his blessed service. Sweet peace 
 beamed upon me ; I arose, and went forth com- 
 mending that Almighty Redeemer to perishing 
 sinners, as I never did before ; and though I have 
 often found it good to go to the house of mourning, 
 yet I think it has been peculiarly happy for me and 
 for others, that I have attended the funeral of 
 
 THE LOST SOUL.
 
 'A 
 
 62 
 
 NEW YEAR'S HYMN. 
 
 He lives, who lives to God alone, 
 
 And all are dead beside ; 
 For other source than God is none, 
 
 Whence life can be supplied. 
 
 To live to God is to requite 
 His love as best we may ; 
 
 To make his precepts our delight, 
 His promises our stay. 
 
 But life, within a narrow ring 
 
 Of giddy joys compris'd, 
 Is falsely nam'd, and no sucli thing;, 
 
 But rather death disguis'd. 
 
 Can life in them deserve the name, 
 
 Who only live to prove 
 For what poor toys they can disclaim 
 
 An endless life above 1 
 
 Who trample order, and the day 
 Which God asserts liis own, 
 
 Dishonour witli unhallow'd i)lay, 
 And worship chance alone .'
 
 G3 
 
 If scorn of God's commands, impress'd 
 
 On word and deed, imply 
 The better part of man unbless'd 
 
 With life that cannot die ; 
 
 Such want it, and that want, uncur'd 
 Till man resigns his breath. 
 
 Speaks him a criminal, assur'd 
 Of everlasting death. 
 
 Sad period to a pleasant course I 
 
 yet so will God repay 
 Sabbaths profan'd without remorse, 
 
 And mercy cast away.
 
 REFLECTIONS ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR. 
 
 We bring our years to an end, as it were a tale that is told. 
 
 The silent flight of time hath at length brought * 
 us to the close of another year ; and now all the 
 events which happened in it seem but as it were a 
 tale that is told. In this interval of time, how many 
 have slept the sleep of death ! many perhaps of 
 those we have loved and esteemed. Liitle might 
 they have thought, when the year first smiled upon 
 their prospects, how soon their days were to be 
 gone. Just so it is with ourselves; we look forward 
 to another year, and scarcely dream that it may 
 prove our last. But who amongst us can be 
 certain liuir /omr he hath to live ? Another year is 
 nearly past, and hath brought us so much nearer to 
 the hour of death. May this consideration so
 
 65 
 
 teach us to number our days that we may apply 
 our hearts to wisdom. Let us sit down awhile by 
 the sober lamp of meditation, and reflect on the 
 scenes that are past. 
 
 While others have been summoned to their long 
 home, how often hath the hand of Providence inter- 
 posed to save us from destruction ! How many 
 days and months of health and strength have we 
 been permitted to enjoy, while they have lingered 
 on ihe bed of sickness. Some of us, probably, 
 during the year that is past, have felt the severer 
 dispensations of Providence, and suffered the pains 
 of some alarming disease ourselves ; and are now, 
 through the gracious help of God, once more re- 
 stored to health. Has this undeserved mercy 
 worked for good in our breasts 1 Have we learned 
 thereby to look up to that God in whom alone we 
 live, and move, and have our being? Have we 
 duly reflected what might have been our fate, had 
 it pleased him to cut short our lives in the midst of 
 so many unrepented sins ? 
 
 Time flies swiftly, and no man can stop its course ; 
 the year is gone by, and who can recall it ? Is it 
 
 I
 
 66 
 
 not then a question of great consequence to us all, 
 how we have spent it? Many of us have hastened 
 to rise up early, and taken late rest, and eaten the 
 bread of carefulness; but yet our labour has been 
 lost, if we have not laboured in the Lord. Hath 
 this been our case, my friend? Are we no bet- 
 ter Christians to-day than we were a year ago 1 
 Has no progress been made in the difficult task 
 o{ working out our own salvation ? Have we made 
 no advance in the narroio path which leadeth to 
 eternal life? If not, how miserably have we trifled 
 with God's mercy, who hath granted us another 
 year to repent and amend in ! Day hath been 
 added to day, and week to week, and month to 
 month, till at length the year is completed. The pa- 
 tience and long-suffering of God hath borne with us 
 still; the heavenly call hath been sounded in our 
 ears; the truths of the Gospel of Christ have been 
 preached to our souls ; the offers of grace and 
 pardon have been made to us often ; often the Sab- 
 bath bell hath summoned us to the worship of God ; 
 and often have we watched the mourners follow- 
 ing the remains of their departed friends, and com- 
 mitting; tiieir bodies to the cold bosom of the earth.
 
 67 
 
 These events are past; and now that we have 
 brought our year to an end, it seems as it were a 
 tale that is told. It is a tale, however, which, 
 though we ourselves may neglect to attend to it, 
 shall be again told in our hearing, in a language 
 that shall make the stoutest heart to tremble.
 
 68 
 
 LOVE TO GOD. 
 
 How sweet morn's first breeze that strays on the mountain, 
 And sighs o'er its bosom, and murmurs away ; 
 
 And bright is the beam which up-springs from day's fountain, 
 And breaks o'er the East in its golden array ! 
 
 And lovely the riv'let incessantly flowing, 
 
 Which winds, gently murm'ring, its course through the plain; 
 And welcome the beacon which, faithfully glowing, 
 
 Cheers the heart of the mariner toss'd on the main. 
 
 But sweeter, my God, is thy voice of compassion, 
 Which, soft as the summer's dew, falls on the mind ; 
 
 Which whispers the tidings of life and salvation. 
 And casts the dark shadows of sorrow bcliind. 
 
 O yes! I have known it, when, kindly and cheering, 
 It hush'd the hoarse tlumders of justice to rest; 
 
 It was heard, and the angel of mercy appearing, 
 Pour'd the balm of relief o'er the penitent's breast. 
 
 And still may I hear it, while crossing life's ocean, 
 Or borne on the billow, or breath'd in the gale ; 
 
 Enkindling the flame of expiring devotion, 
 And utt'ring the promise that never shall fail.
 
 69 
 
 'Tis the still voice of Him who expir'd on the mountain, 
 And breath'd out for sinners his last dying groan ; 
 
 His voice who on Calvary open'd the fountain, 
 Of water to cleanse, and of blood to atone. 
 
 That voice, O believer ! shall cheer and protect thee. 
 When the cold chill of death thy frail bosom invades ; 
 
 At its sound shall the Day-Star arise to direct thee. 
 And gild with refulgence the valley of shades.
 
 70 
 
 A DREAM ABOUT THE OLD YEAR. 
 
 The year 1830, which was once youthful, 
 sprightly and gay, having passed through the va- 
 ried stages of his transient hfe, is now departed to 
 be no more seen ! Under the impression that the 
 morrow would be the last day of his abode among 
 us, I laid me down to sleep ; and as I slept I 
 dreamed that the morning was come, and that the 
 year made his appearance for the last time, with 
 his locks adorned with snow, and his long flowing 
 beard silvered with the icicles of the north. His 
 step was slow ; yet there was a dignity in his 
 countenance which excited veneration. When I 
 saw him I did him reverence, and bowing low, 
 with my face towards the earth, with profound 
 respect I thus addressed him : — " Reverend father, 
 excuse me if I presume to implore thy advice and 
 counsel, for I know that ere to-morrow's dawn
 
 71 
 
 thou wilt have made thine exit, to be no more seen 
 for ever; therefore, I beseech thee, give me thy 
 blessing." When 1 had thus spoken, he waved his 
 hand, which I considered as a signal to arrest my 
 attention ; and, after pausing a moment, he, in 
 great condescension, complied with my request. 
 And as dreams are not always to be treated with 
 slight and indifference, especially when, if duly 
 regarded, they may tend to promote our moral im- 
 provement, I hasten to record the words which fell 
 from his lips, which, as nearly as I can recollect, 
 were as follows: — 
 
 " Ere I comply with thy request, O, thou descend- 
 ant of Adam, let me charge thee, as thou regardest 
 thy happiness, to pay attention to the words of my 
 mouth ; for, be assured, whether thou regardest 
 them or not, I never speak in vain. If thou listen, 
 and treasure up my words in thy heart, it shall be 
 well with thee ; but if they are sutfered to pass 
 away like the morning cloud and the early dew, 
 though thou hast gratified thy curiosity, yet re- 
 member, thy neglect will be registered on high, 
 and it will prove a swift witness against thee, when 
 God shall require ihy soul !" This introductory
 
 f 
 
 72 
 
 address, delivered with all that dignity and solem- 
 nity which ancient sages were wont to display, 
 made a powerful impression on my mind. After 
 a solemn pause, he thus proceeded : — " Know then, 
 O man ! that heaven hath placed thee in this state 
 of probation, to give thee an opportunity to work 
 out thy salvation with fear and trembling ; and that 
 thou mayest accomplish this important work, a 
 space is assigned thee sufficient unto the great 
 object. Already, days and months and years 
 have been granted thee to this intent ; and now, 
 after so long a time, for which thou art accounta- 
 ble — ' To-day, if thou wilt hear my voice, harden 
 not thine heart!' " Having spoken these words, he 
 presented to me a tube, in which were placed optic 
 glasses, and then continued his address : — " Let ^ 
 the coming day, the latest of my existence, be em- 
 ployed in taking a retrospect of my life ; and when 
 thou hast so done, turn the instrument which I 
 have now ])ut into thine hand, and thereby thou 
 wilt perceive thy own conduct portrayed most im- 
 partially, from the first moment of my appearance 
 in the world, up to the present period. Having 
 performed this important task, let thy conscience
 
 73 
 
 say whether thou hast rendered unto the Lord 
 according to all the mercy and all the truth which 
 he hath shown unto thee. If thou art then con- 
 scious of multiplied neglects, bow low at his foot- 
 stool, and confess thy guilt, for there is forgiveness 
 with him that he may be feared; and if thy peni- 
 tential confessions are attended with genuine 
 remorse and real contrition of heart, they will be 
 recorded in the book of God's remembrance; but 
 if they are insincere and hypocritical, sin lieth at 
 thy door, and thy guilt will he greatly augmented 
 in the sight of the Lord. If the Author of thy life, 
 who dclighteth not in the death of a sinner, but 
 would rather that he turn from his wickedness and 
 live, should indulge thee with leave to behold my 
 successor, hail his coming with gratitude ; and 
 remember, that by such an indulgence, a still longer 
 space is allotted thee, that thou mayest prepare to 
 meet thy God !" 
 
 He ceased, and without waiting my reply, he 
 proceeded onward to fulfil, as a hireling, his day ; 
 and being greatly agitated, I awoke, and behold it 
 was a dream ! 
 
 Such was the eficct produced on my mind by 
 
 K
 
 74 ' • , 
 
 this solemn lecture, that if I were ever disposed to 
 consider dreams the mere reveries of imagination, 
 I should, in this instance at least, have altered my 
 opinion ; for I was constrained to conclude, on 
 mature reflection, that it would be most reasonable, 
 in my waking moments, to reduce to practice the 
 wise lessons that were thus taught me in the visions 
 of the night. 
 
 The day, the last in the year, that is now de- 
 parted, being thus commenced, was a day of serious 
 reflection ; for, as you may well suppose, the vi- 
 sion of the night had made a deep impression on 
 my mind ; consetjuently, when the evening had cast 
 her veil over the face of nature, I retired, and re- 
 signed myself up to solemn thought. I reflected on 
 my situation, as one who must shortly stand before 
 the judgment-seat of Christ, to give an account of 
 the deeds done in the body, whether they be good, 
 or whether they be evil, and the voluntary petition 
 broke from my lips — " The Lord grant that I may 
 find mercy in that day." And inasmuch as now 
 is the accepted time, and to-day is the day of sal- 
 vation, I charged my soul to be much more atten- 
 tive to her great concern, knowing tnat the time is
 
 75 
 
 short, and that the Judge standeth at the door. I 
 considered that time, in its unvarying course, had 
 measured another year, and consequently, I was 
 imperiously called to serious meditation ; that 
 although days, as they hasten their flight, bespoke 
 attention, yet, that when days increased in number 
 to three hundred and sixty-five, their voices are 
 particularly loud, and speak so that all should hear. 
 Hence I felt that I should do well to obey their 
 summons, and to listen with all attention; for, per- 
 adventure, if I should let this opportunity slip, 
 another might not be granted. To-day, therefore, 
 after so long a time, as it is said to-day, I consid- 
 ered myself bound to regard, lest the heavenly 
 oracle should speak to me no more. It was at this 
 moment that I felt myself upbraided with my in- 
 gratitude to the Most High; the inward monitor 
 reminded me, that I had not, in seasons that are 
 past, rendered to the Lord according to the least 
 of the mercies that he had displayed towards me ; 
 that in the retrospect, I should discover innumera- 
 ble instances of ingratitude, notwithstanding I had 
 experienced an uninterrupted series of goodness 
 and mercy ; that in consequence of these repeated
 
 7G 
 
 proofs of disobedience, it would now become me 
 to prostrate myself before him, and make an hum- 
 ble confession of my iniquity, and implore his 
 heavenly grace to enable me henceforth to obey 
 his will. This reproof and advice were so appro- 
 priate, that I instantly complied ; and thus, on 
 New Year's Eve, I poured out my soul before the 
 Lord : — 
 
 " O thou most gracious, most merciful, and ever 
 blessed God, be pleased to permit me, an unwor- 
 thy creature, to prostrate myself at thy footstool ; 
 conscious of my innumerable sins, I tremble to pre- 
 sent myself before thine awful Majesty ; but being 
 informed in thy holy word that there is forgive- 
 ness with thee that thou maycst be feared, I bow 
 myself before thy throne, and beseech thee to have 
 mercy upon me. 
 
 " When I review the past, shame covers me, for 
 I have done very wickedly, and am no more wor- 
 thy to be called thy servant ; but have mercy upon 
 me, have mercy upon me, O Lord ! and blot out 
 all my sins, for thy dear Son Jesus Christ's sake. 
 
 " And will it please thee to accept of my sincere 
 thanks for all the blessings which thou hast con- 
 
 .r
 
 77 
 
 ferred upon me through the year that is now so 
 near its close, and may a grateful remembrance 
 of thy great kindness towards me influence my fu- 
 ture conduct. And as I am about, with thy per- 
 mission, to enter upon a new period, assist me with 
 thine heavenly grace, that, with renewed zeal, I 
 may obey thy will, and cheerfully run in the way 
 of thy commandments. Grant these mercies unto 
 me, O Lord ! I beseech thee, for the sake of thy 
 Son Jesus Christ my Redeemer. Amen."
 
 78 
 
 TO SPRING. 
 
 Hail, reviving, joyous Spring-, 
 
 Smiling- through thy veil of showers! 
 
 Birds and brooks thy welcome sing — 
 Haste, and waken all thy flowers. 
 
 Hark ! a sweet pervading sound ! 
 
 From the breathing, moving earth 
 Life is starting all around. 
 
 Sending joy and fragrance forth. 
 
 O'er the oak's gigantic form 
 Blossoms hang their drapery ; 
 
 Branches that defied the storm, 
 Now are full of melody. 
 
 There is not a silent thing 
 
 In this joyous company ; 
 Woods, and hills, and valleys ring 
 
 With a shout of jubilee. 
 
 Wake, my spirit ! art thou still 1 
 Senseless tilings have found a voice 
 
 Shall this throbbing heart be still, 
 Wlien all nature cries, ' Rejoice' J
 
 79 
 
 Wake, come forth, my bounding soul ! 
 
 Join the universal glee, 
 Yield to nature's kind control. 
 
 Catch her heavenly harmony. 
 
 Join the grateful, happy throng, 
 Cast each selfish care away ; 
 
 Birds and brooks shall tune thy song ; 
 This is nature's holiday.
 
 m 
 
 A SERIOUS ADDRESS TO CHILDREN AND YOUTH, 
 
 Helafing io the great and necessary duty of Prayer. 
 
 Give me leave to propose to you a few serious 
 considerations, to awaken your desires to seek 
 after God, and to pray to him in your early years, 
 and if you are convinced that this is your neces- 
 sary duty, you will then more readily hearken to 
 the advices that follow. 
 
 I. ''Consider who and what God is." 
 Have you not been told that he is an Almighty 
 Being, who made the heavens, and the earth, and 
 the sea, and all things that are in them? That he is 
 a Spirit and that he is every where present, though 
 you cannot see him? That he knows all things that 
 you do, and that he can do all things that you desire 
 of him ? That he is holy, and hates sin, and yet that 
 lie is very good and full of mercy, even to his sinful
 
 . itmrifan Surjcv Sekoot Vi:wn Thiladf
 
 81 
 
 creatures? That he is the greatest, the wisest, and 
 the best of beings ? And does he not expect you 
 should love and honour him, who is so great and 
 so good 1 Does he not require that you should praise 
 him for his glorious nature, and for his wonderful 
 works, or have you learned to know him in vain 1 
 And is he not your heavenly Father who gave 
 you a being ? Did he not make you to love, and 
 serve, and worship him? And how can you pre- 
 tend to serve, and love him, if you never pray to 
 him ? Could you but see him, children, you would 
 think him the most lovely and most excellent of all 
 beings, and should you not then be exceedingly de- 
 sirous to be more acquainted with him, and seek 
 to obtain his love ? 
 
 II. "Consider who and what you are." 
 Are you not young creatures, that a few years 
 ago had no being at all, and can you preserve 
 your own lives ? And is it not of high concern to 
 you to be acquainted with that God, and to pray to 
 him upon whom your very being depends ? He 
 that made you can destroy you. And besides, are 
 you not sinful creatures that have deserved the 
 anger of God ? Do not your own hearts and con- 
 
 L
 
 82 
 
 sciences tell you that you have done many things 
 amiss and that you have provoked that God who 
 made you, to be angry with you, and to take aw^ay 
 all your comforts 1 And are you willing to con- 
 tinue under his anger for ever ? Do you know 
 how terrible is the anger of God, who can make 
 you miserable in this world, and in that which is to 
 come 1 And is he not very gracious, to call upon 
 such sinners as you are, to pray to him? Is it not 
 necessary, therefore, that you should come humbly 
 before iiim, and fall down on your knees and con- 
 fess your sins, and entreat him to lay his anger 
 aside, and to love you notwithstanding all your 
 offences ? This leads me to the third considera- 
 tion. 
 
 III. " Consider what are your wants." 
 Those wants, which you take the first and most 
 common notice of, arc such as relate to your 
 bodies and your present life, which are called tem- 
 poral wants. Do you not stand in daily need of 
 food and raiment, that you may not sutler sharp 
 hunger and cold 1 Do you not want the continu- 
 ance of your health and your ease, that you may 
 not pine away with sickness and pain ? Can you
 
 83 
 
 keep yourselves alive, or can any of your friends 
 here on earth keep you from dying 1 Do you not 
 know, that God is the author of all your comforts, 
 and it is on him you depend for daily food and 
 clothing, for health and strength and ease, for re- 
 covery from sickness, and for preservation from 
 death ? It is certainly from God, that you must 
 seek all these things by prayer. 
 
 Are you not exposed to dangers every day, and 
 every night? Do you not want the care of God to 
 keep you both night and day? to preserve you 
 from mischief, from fires, from violent and cruel 
 men, and from all evils of every kind? And since 
 you deserve nothing at the hand of God, can you 
 suppose he will watch over you, as with his eye, 
 and cover you from all evil, as with his hand, if 
 you never call upon him, nor ask his favour ? 
 
 But in the next place, do you not know, that you 
 have a soul as well as a body, and that you want 
 some spiritual blessings, for your souls, as well as 
 temporal blessings, that belong to your bodies ? Let 
 us now consider, what these spiritual wants are. 
 
 Since you are guilty creatures, do you not great- 
 ly want the forgiveness of your sins? Have you
 
 84 - • 
 
 not been taught, that your sins have deserved great 
 and sore punishments both here and hereafter? 
 And are you not very desirous to he deUvered from 
 this punishment 1 But can you expect God will 
 pardon and deUver you, if you never pray to him 
 for pardon? 
 
 And since you cannot do any thing, to make 
 recompense to the great and holy God, for your 
 offences, how speedily should you apply to Jesus 
 Christ, the Son of God, who now dwells in heaven, 
 who did once dwell here on earth, and make recom- 
 pense by his death, for the sins and offences of men? 
 He is the great Mediator and Peace-maker between 
 God and man? How earnestly should you pray, 
 that you may enjoy the benefit of his mediation, 
 and that he may bring you into a state of peace 
 with God, and reconcile you to him ? How should 
 you cry to God, that he would forgive you, for the 
 sake of his wcU-belovcd Son Jesus t^'hrist ? Me- 
 thinks, since you are sensible that you are guilty 
 sinners, you should not be easy one day, without 
 seeking to God for mercy and forgiveness. 
 
 Remember also that though your sins were par- 
 doned, yet you have a sinful nature in you, ready
 
 85 
 
 to offend God again continually. Do you not find 
 yourselves too ready to commit new sins ? Are 
 you not soon ready to be angry, without a cause, 
 or to strike others presently, or call them ill names, 
 if they do not act just as you would have them ? 
 Are you never ready to be envious, that is to grow 
 uneasy, and fret, if other children have better 
 things than you 1 Are you not ready to disobey 
 your parents or your teacher, or to spend your 
 time in play, when you should be at work, or 
 learning your book ? Are you not sometimes in- 
 chned to hide your faults, by telling a lie ? Do 
 not you find yourselves too ready to learn evil 
 words, or to wish evil to others, or take something 
 privately by stealth, that is not allowed you, or to 
 do something that is forbidden? And do you not 
 see then, how much you want to pray for the 
 grace of God, to keep you from sin daily? 
 
 And are not your minds too ignorant of God, and 
 religion, and heavenly things, and do you not find 
 your spirits too ready to yield to sin 1 Is it not a 
 pleasure to you to think, that God has promised his 
 own Holy spirit, to instruct you in the understand- 
 ing of holy things, as well as to help you, in doing
 
 your duty both to God and man ? This is a blessed 
 promise, indeed, to poor ignorant sinful creatures, 
 such as we are. But can you think, God will give 
 his grace, or his Holy Spirit to them, who never 
 pray to him, or ask him for it? and are there not 
 encouragements given, by our Saviour himself, to 
 such requests ? Do you not read in your Bible, 
 Luke xi. 13 : If we give good gifts to our chil- 
 dren, how much more shall our heavenly Fa- 
 ther give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him ? 
 But besides your temporal and spiritual wants, is 
 there not another sort of blessings, that you stand 
 in need of, which are called eternal blessings ? Do 
 not you know that you cannot live here always? 
 Have you not been taughi that your body must 
 die, and be buried, and turn to dust, in the grave; 
 and that your soul, or spirit, which cannot die, 
 must then go into another world ? Have you not 
 been told, that Jesus Christ the Son of God, who 
 died for sinners once on earth, is now gone to hea- 
 ven, to take care of the souls of his })eo{)le, when 
 they leave this world ? And do you think Jesus 
 Christ will take care of your soul, when it comes 
 like a stranger into that other world, if you have
 
 87 
 
 not been acquainted with him, by believing his 
 word, and if you have not committed and entrusted 
 your soul into his hands by prayer. 
 
 You must go to stand before God the Judge of 
 all, when you die ; and are you prepared and fit to 
 stand before God, if you have not obtained a good 
 hope, that God loves you, and is reconciled to you? 
 There are but two places in the other world, and 
 these are heaven and hell : Heaven for the right- 
 eous, who love God and pray to him, and hell for 
 the wicked, who neither pray to him, nor love 
 him. And can you ever hope that God will save 
 you from hell and the devil, and that he will 
 receive you to dwell with himself, and with his Son 
 Jesus Christ in heaven, if you never pray to him 
 for these blessings ? 
 
 IV. " Consider what your mercies are." 
 How kindly has God dealt with you in this 
 world? Has he not given you such parents and 
 friends, who by his order provide food and raiment, 
 and house and bed, and every thing convenient for 
 you? How many poor children are there that 
 want these comforts, and are exposed to hunger 
 and cold ? Have not your parents and friends
 
 88 
 
 taken care, that you should be taught to read, and 
 to learn many things for your good, both here and 
 hereafter 1 Do you not know that it was God who 
 put it into their hearts, and also made them able 
 to do it? How many thousand poor creatures are 
 there in this land, who know nothing of God and 
 cannot read a word? Is it not God, who has 
 made this happy difference between you and them ? 
 and should you not praise him for his goodness ? 
 Have you not seen other children blind, or lame, 
 or crooked, or foolish ? Is it not God, who has 
 given you your limbs and your senses? Is it not 
 the same good God, that gives you health and 
 peace by night and day ; and are you not bound 
 to thank him for these his mercies ? What! would 
 you live like the brute beasts, who cat and drink 
 and sleep, and take no notice of the great God 
 from whose hand all your blessings come? 
 
 Has not God, by his good providence, caused 
 you to be born and bred in a land where you have 
 learned the knowledge of the true God, and are 
 not brought up, to worship images of wood or 
 stone, as the children in heathen countries do? Have 
 you not the Bible, the book of God, in your hands,
 
 89 
 
 in a language you can read, and where you can 
 read of God, and Christ, and heavenly things ? 
 And since you are taught to know God and the 
 way to heaven, as well as blessed with so many 
 blessings here on earth, is not your heart full of 
 thankfulness to God 1 And how can you refrain 
 from falling down upon your knees, and praising 
 the mercy of God, who has done all this for you ? 
 
 V. " Consider what relation you stand in to 
 others." 
 
 Have you not a father and mother that you are 
 bound to honour and love? And would you never 
 pray, that God would bestow his best blessings 
 on them, and make them live long to bring you 
 up in his fear? Have you not brothers or sisters, 
 or other friends and relations that love you ? and 
 have you no mercies to ask of God for them ? Do 
 not your masters or teachers or ministers desire 
 that you should pray to God to bless them, that 
 they may the better instruct you, in the knowledge 
 of all things useful for this world and that which 
 is to come. They pray for you, and you should 
 pray for them. 
 
 And indeed you stand so nearly related to all 
 
 M
 
 "^ 90 
 
 mankind, that you should sometimes lift up a 
 prayer to heaven for them. Pray for heathens, 
 that they may be turned away from their follies 
 and errors, and I'alse religions, and be led into the 
 ways of truth and holiness and eternal peace. And 
 you should pray for the nation, also, to which you 
 belong, that we all may be preserved in peace and 
 prosperity. And can you not find it in your hearts 
 to forgive those that have injured you, and to lift 
 up one prayer for your enemies that God would 
 forgive them too? This must be done if you would 
 be christians indeed. 
 
 Since then, dear children, there are such a mul- 
 titude of reasons, that oblige you to pray to God ; 
 since you see it is your constant duty, and it is 
 your highest interest, if you would be safe and 
 happy in this world, or the world to come, I would 
 persuade myself, you will delay no longer, but be- 
 gin this religious work immediately; and I humbly 
 pray, that God would abundantly assist and bless 
 you therein, that you may learn from your own ex- 
 perience, how sweet and profitable a thing it is, to 
 call upon the name of the Lord.
 
 91 
 
 CHARLEY AND HIS FATHER, 
 
 A li.VLLAD. 
 
 The birds are flown away, 
 
 The flowers are dead and gone, 
 
 The clouds look cold and gray- 
 Around the setting sun. 
 
 The trees with solemn sighs 
 Their naked branches swing ; 
 
 The winter winds arise, 
 And mournfully they sing. 
 
 Upon his fatiier's knee 
 
 Was Ciiarley's happy place, 
 And very thoughtfully 
 
 He looked up in his face : 
 
 And these his simple words ; 
 
 ' Father, how cold it blows ! 
 ^Vhat 'comes of all the birds 
 
 Amidst the storms and snows'!' 
 
 ' They fly far, far away 
 
 From storms and snows and rain : 
 But, Charley dear, next May 
 
 They '11 all come back again.'
 
 92 
 
 ' And will my flowers come too 1' 
 
 The little fellow said, 
 'And all be bright and new 
 
 Tliat now looks cold and dead V 
 
 ' Oh yes, dear ; in the spring 
 The flowers will all revive, 
 
 The birds return and sing. 
 And all be made alive.' 
 
 ♦ Who shows tlie birds the way, 
 Father, that they must go ] 
 
 And brings them back in May, 
 When there is no more snow 1 
 
 ' And when no flower is seen 
 Upon the hill and plain. 
 
 Who '11 make it all so green, 
 And bring the flowers again V 
 
 ' My son, there is a Power 
 Tliat none of us can see. 
 
 Takes care of every flower, 
 Gives life to every tree. 
 
 ' lie through the pathless air 
 Shows little birds their way : 
 
 And we, too, are his care — 
 lie guards us day by day.'
 
 93 
 
 * Father, when people die, 
 Will they come back in May?' 
 
 Tears were in Charley's eye — 
 ' Will they, dear father, say*?' 
 
 ' No ! they will never come : 
 We go to them, my boy, 
 
 There, in our heavenly home. 
 To meet in endless joy.' 
 
 Upon his father's knee, 
 
 Still Charley kept his place. 
 
 And very thoughtfully 
 He looked up in his face.
 
 94 
 
 YOUTHFUL DEVOTION. 
 
 I SOMETIMES ask invsclf whether the same atten- 
 tion is now paid to form in infants, or children and 
 youth, the habits of devotion, as formerly. There 
 are good people, who write books of devotion for 
 them; but books will be neglected, if parents are 
 not attentive. When I was a child, my mother 
 took my hands in her's, and heard me solemnly 
 repeat the Lord's prayer, prcfacniig and following 
 the exercise with such short remarks, as made me 
 fed it was an act of devotion, if I did not com- 
 prehend the vast meaning of those words. 
 
 Wiien I was older, I was one of the children 
 and grandchildren that were called round the bed 
 of a very aged grandfather, apprehending him- 
 self at the point of death. It was an affecting 
 and impressive scene, something like that in the 
 dying chamber of the patriarch Jacob. My vene-
 
 95 
 
 rated relative, approaching his ninetieth year, re- 
 duced by fever, sat bolstered up in his bed. When 
 he saw us standing round him in a circle, his lan- 
 guid eye seemed to light up with something like 
 inspiration. He spake with a holy wisdom, which 
 astonished every hearer — with a wisdom surpass- 
 ing that of his best days. It was religious counsel 
 all, and adapted to the different ages of children 
 and grandchildren around him. To the young he 
 said — " 1 charge you, keep up secret prayer;' it is 
 the life of religion. Enter into thy closet, and 
 when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father who 
 is in secret, and thy Father 7cho seeth in secret shall 
 reward thee opeiily." Fifty years have not effaced 
 the impression of that charge ; I could almost say, 
 have not diminished the strength and vividness of 
 its impression on my mind. 
 
 It washy such means that the principle of devo- 
 tion was fixed in the young mind formerly, and its 
 sentiment awakened, and its iiabit begun and pre- 
 served. Is it not now the case that many parents 
 neglect their children for a multitude of meetings, 
 enough almost to distract the mind ; and while they 
 keep up social prayer abroad, neglect it at home,
 
 96 
 
 or perform it with less interest and care to edify ; 
 and but seldom take their kneeling children's hands 
 in their's? Well-regulated social meetings are 
 good ; but domestic and secret devotion, parental 
 instruction and self-examination are better, and 
 much more insisted on in the scriptures. 
 
 When 1 was myself young, 1 knew a little boy of 
 eleven or twelve years, who made a conscience of 
 secret prayer. He had his little oratory, or place 
 of prayer. It was retired in an orchard, a little 
 enclosure of four poles. To this he resorted under 
 cover of darkness, or in early morning before peo- 
 ple were abroad, and there poured forth his prayer 
 in secret. When he was very sick, his anxious 
 mother drew from liiin the secret, which he had 
 carefully kept to liiinself, and her pious mind was 
 relieved of half her anxiety for him. Several of 
 his companions, by his j)rivato and confidential f)cr- 
 suasion, began secret j)rayer. One of them became 
 a preacher of the gosj)el, and thanked him for his 
 advice in their childhood ; and another of them 
 became an othcer of the church, of which his early 
 adviser was the pastor. 
 
 These simple facts, I hope, need but be stated to
 
 97 
 
 the young to be edifying and to determine them to 
 the duty of secret prayer, "a duty which is the life 
 of religm}," as thought an experienced and dying 
 man. 
 
 I will close these instances of instruction and 
 example by relating a little incident, which some 
 years since brought tears into my eyes. I was 
 visiting in a respectable family; the gentleman was 
 from Scotland, a devotional nation, and his wife 
 an American, educated devoutly among the Mo- 
 ravians, at Bethlehem. After tea, the nurse 
 brought in a lovely little boy, about three years old, 
 in his night-gown. He kneeled at the feet of his 
 mother, and with clasped hands and great solemnity 
 repeated his prayers. He then rose from his 
 knees, and putting his little hand into his mother's, 
 said, very afiectionately, "God bless you, mam- 
 ma;" he did and said the same to his father; and 
 then to the stranger he said, "God bless you, sir,' 
 and retired with his nurse.
 
 98 
 
 HYMN TO THE DEITY. 
 
 "There is no sound or language where their voice is not heard." 
 
 The heavenly spheres to thee, O God ! attune their evening 
 
 hymn, 
 iMl-wise, all-holy, thou art praised in song of seraphim; 
 Unnumber'd systems, suns, and worlds, unite to worship thee, 
 While thy majestic greatness fills space — time — eternity. 
 
 Nature, — a temple worthy thee, that beams with ligiit and love. 
 Whose flowers so sweetly bloom below, whose stars rejoice 
 
 above ; 
 Whose altars are tlie mountain cliffs that rise along the shore. 
 Whose anthems, the sublime accord of storm and ocean roar : 
 
 Her song of gratitude is sung by spring's awakening hours. 
 Her summer offers at thy slirine its earliest, sweetest flowers; 
 Her autumn brings its ripen'd fruits, in glorious luxury given, 
 While winter's silver heights reflect thy brightness back to 
 heaven ! 
 
 On all thou smil'st — and what is man, before thy presence, God? 
 A breath but yesterday inspired, — to-morrow but a clod : 
 That clod shall moulder in the vale, — till kindled, Lor<h by thee, 
 Its spirit to thy arms shall spring — to life, — to liberty.
 
 99 
 
 JANUARY. 
 
 Winter is come again. The sweet south-west 
 Is a forgotten wind, and the strong earth 
 Has laid aside its mantle to be bound 
 By the frost fetter. There is not a sound 
 Save of the skater's heel, and there is laid 
 An icy finger on the lip of streams, 
 And the clear icicle hangs cold and still : 
 And the snowfall is noiseless as a thought. 
 Spring has a rushing sound, and Summer sends 
 Many sweet voices with its odours out, 
 And Autumn rustleth its decaying robe 
 With a complaining whisper. Winter's dumb! 
 God made his ministry a silent one, 
 And he has given him a foot of steel, 
 And an unlovely aspect, and a breath 
 Sharp to the senses — and we know that He 
 Tempereth well, and hath a meaning hid 
 Under the shadow of his hand. Look up! 
 And it shall be interpreted — Your home 
 Hath a temptation now. There is no voice 
 Of waters with beguiling for your ear, 
 And the cool forest and the meadows green
 
 101 
 
 THE PRIDE OF THE PEACOCK. 
 
 We do not know whether birds and beasts have 
 any of the feelings and dispositions of human be- 
 ings. We know that they have not souls as we 
 have ; nor will they be judged, as we shall, for the 
 deeds done in the body. 
 
 It is certain that different animals have different 
 dispositions and tempers. For example, the sheep 
 is remarkable for its submission and timidity, (Isa. 
 liii. 7.) and the lion for courage and boldness. 
 (Prov. xxviii. 1.) The fox is distinguished for cun- 
 ning; the ass for stupidity; the elephant for sagacity; 
 the ox for dulness; the dog for fidelity, and the cat 
 for duplicity. 
 
 There is something in the looks and motions of 
 some animals that seem to show their disposition. 
 The lion has a noble countenance ; he roams about 
 as if conscious of superiority, and as if he was not 
 afraid to be seen and known. The wolf, on the
 
 102 
 
 Other hand, hides himself in the day time ; he skulks 
 about in the caves of the mountains, or in the deep 
 shades of the forest, until night comes on, and then 
 he secretly creeps out of his hiding place and seizes 
 a stray sheep, or works his way silently through 
 the fold and kills half a dozen of them. 
 
 Among birds, too, there is seen the same differ- 
 ence of character. The robin redbreast is a uni- 
 versal favourite, except in cherry times. He sings 
 sweetly, offends nobody, and seems to be a quiet, 
 unsuspicious, good natured, happy bird. The black- 
 bird, on the contrary, is a quarrelsome bird, sings 
 coarsely, and is always upon the watch for an 
 enemy. The peacock is remarkable for pride ; it 
 struts about and displays itself all day, and if it 
 could speak we should expect to hear it say, "Am 
 I not a beautiful creature ? Do you see my feathers, 
 my fine form, and the beautiful tuft on my head?" 
 Here is a picture of one. 
 
 The peacock is one of the most beautiful of all 
 birds. On its head is a crest of greenish feathers. 
 Those of the neck and breast arc deep blue and 
 green, with a golden tinge, and, in different lights, 
 disphiy a brilliant change of colouring. The most
 
 103 
 
 remarkable are those situated near the tail. These 
 are sometimes as much as four feet long; are 
 mostly carried down, but at the pleasure of the 
 bird may be raised upright and spread out, and then 
 present a splendid show of colours, black, green, 
 and gold, each feather being ornamented near the 
 end with a rich circfe or eye. With all this ex- 
 ternal beauty, the peacock has a harsh scream, and 
 is greedy and mischievous in its habits. 
 
 And so it is among human beings. Pride, in 
 every form, is always connected with some other 
 very bad trait. Sometimes it is selfishness — at 
 other times envy — now avarice, and then detrac- 
 tion. It is always mean — it always makes one 
 miserable — and it is always dreadfully punished. 
 Read and think of the following: '• The fear of the 
 Lord is to hale evil : pride, and arrogancy, and the 
 evil way, and the froward mouth, do I hate." Prov. 
 viii. 13. " When pride cometh, then cometh shame: 
 but with the lowly is wisdom." Prov. xi. 2. " Only 
 by pride cometh contention : but with the well ad- 
 vised is wisdom." Prov. xiii. 10. " Pride goeth 
 before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a
 
 104 
 
 fall." Prov. xvi. 18. "A man's pride shall bring 
 him low : but honour shall uphold the humble in 
 spirit." Prov% xxix. 23. " Thefts, covetousness, 
 wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye, 
 blasphemy, pride, foolishness: all these evil things 
 come from within and defile the man." Mark vii. 
 22, 23. " Blessed is that mafi that maketh the Lord 
 his trust ; and respecteth not the proud, nor such as 
 turn aside to lies." Ps. xl. 4. " Whoso privily 
 slandereth his neighbour, him will I cut off: him 
 that hath an high look and a proud heart will not I 
 suflcr." Ps. ci. 5. " Though the Lord be high, yet 
 hath he respect unto the lowly : but the proud he 
 knoweth afar off." Ps. cxxxviii. G. " A proud look, 
 a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood." 
 Prov. vi. 17. "Every one that is proud in heart 
 is an abomination to the Lord: though hand join 
 in hand, he shall not be unpunished." Prov. xvi. 5. 
 "An high look, and a proud heart, and the plough- 
 ing of the wicked, is sin." Prov. xxi. 4. " But he 
 giveth more grace: wherefore he saith, God re- 
 sisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the hum- 
 ble." James iv. 6.
 
 105 
 
 ZION COMFORTED. 
 
 O ZioN ! afflicted with wave upon wave, 
 Whom no man can comfort, whom no man can save ; 
 With darkness surrounded, by terrors dismay'd. 
 In toiling and rowing thy strength is decay'd. 
 
 Loud roaring, the billows would thee overwhelm. 
 But skiltul's the pilot that sits at the helm ; 
 His wisdom, his power, his faithfulness stand 
 Engag'd to conduct thee in safety to land. 
 
 " O fearful, O faithless," in mercy he cries, 
 " My promise, my truth, are they light in thine eyes ] 
 Still, still I am with thee, and faithful to keep, 
 Though seeming, amid the rough tempest, to sleep. 
 
 " Forget thee I will not ; I cannot forget 
 What Calvary witness'd to cancel thy debt ; 
 On the palms of my hands, while looking, I see 
 The wounds I received, in suffering for thee." 
 
 O Saviour, we trust thee, our life is secure, 
 Thy wisdom is perfect, supreme is thy power : 
 In love thou correctest, our souls to refine, 
 To make us at length in thy likeness to shine, 
 o
 
 106 
 
 The foolish, the fearful, the weak are thy care ; 
 The helpless, the hopeless, thou hearest their prayer ; 
 From all our afflictions thy glory shall spring, 
 The deeper our sorrows, the louder we'll sing.
 
 107 
 
 MUMMIES. 
 
 Mummies are dead bodies preserved by embalm- 
 ing. Owing either to the religious opinions of the 
 Egyptians, or to the nature of the country, which 
 rendered interment inconvenient, or the want of fuel, 
 which rendered burning difficult, they embalmed all 
 their dead, and deposited them in subterraneous 
 chambers, or in grottoes excavated in the moun- 
 tains. An immense number of them has been found 
 in the plain of Saccara , near Memphis ; hence called 
 the 'plain of the mummies, consisting not only of hu 
 man bodies, but of various animals, or heads of ani- 
 mals, bulls, apes, ibises, crocodiles, &c. Numerous 
 caves or grottoes, with contents of the same kind, 
 are found in the two mountainous ridges which 
 run nearly parallel with the Nile from Cairo to 
 Syene. Some of the most remarkable of these 
 tombs are those in the vicinity of ancient Thebes,
 
 108 
 
 in the Lybian mountains, many of which were ex- 
 amined by Belzoni, and those near Eleithias (de- 
 scribed by Hamihon,) farther up the river, which, 
 though less splendid than the Theban sepulchres, 
 contain more illustrations of the private life of the 
 Egyptians. The sepulchral chambers are almost 
 entirely covered with fresco paintings and bass- 
 reliefs, and frequently contain statues, vases, &c. 
 Some of them (the royal sepulchres) consist of suites 
 of spacious halls and long galleries of magnificent 
 workmanship. Those of private individuals vary 
 according to the wealth of the deceased, but are 
 often very richly ornamented. Many of these 
 tombs have been ransacked by Arabs for the pur- 
 pose of plunder, and great numbers of the mum- 
 mies destroyed for the rosin or asphaltum they 
 contain, which is sold to advantage in Cairo. The 
 tombs and mummies are, many of them, two or 
 three thousand years old, and are, in part, indebted 
 for their preservation to the dryness of the soil and 
 ihe mildness of the climate. The processes for 
 the preservation of the body were very various. 
 Those of the poorer classes were merely dried by 
 salt or nitre, and wrapt up in coarse cloths, and
 
 109 
 
 deposited in the catacombs. The bodies of the 
 rich and the great underwent the most comphcated 
 operations, and were laboriously adorned with all 
 kinds of ornaments. Embalmers of different ranks 
 and duties extracted the brain through the nostril, 
 and the entrails through an incision in the side; 
 the body was then shaved, washed, and salted, and, 
 after a certain period, the process of embalming, 
 properly speaking, began. The whole body was 
 then steeped in balsam, and wrapped up in linen 
 bandages ; each finger and toe was separately en- 
 veloped, or sometimes sheathed in a gold case, and 
 the nails were often gilded. The bandages were 
 then folded round each of the limbs, and finally 
 round the whole body, to the number of fifteen or 
 twenty thicknesses. The head was the object of 
 particular attention; it was sometimes enveloped 
 in several folds of fine muslin ; the first was glued 
 to the skin, and the others to the first; the w'hole 
 was then coated with a fine plaster. A collar of 
 cylindrical glass beads of different colours, is at- 
 tached to the mask which covers the head, and 
 with it is connected a tunic of the same material. 
 The beads, both in the collar and tunic, are so ar-
 
 110 
 
 ranged as to form images of divinities, of the sca- 
 rabaeus, the winged globe, &c. Instead of this, 
 the mummy is sometimes contained in a sort of 
 sheath, made of paper or Unen, and coated with a 
 layer of plaster, on which are paintings and gild- 
 ing. These paintings represent subjects relating 
 to the duties of the soul, its presentation to the dif- 
 ferent divinities; and a perpendicular hierogly- 
 phical inscription in the centre gives the name of 
 the deceased, and of his relations, his tides, &c. 
 The whole is then placed in the coffin. Those 
 mummies which have been examined present very 
 different appearances. One class has an opening 
 in the left side, under the armpit, and in another 
 the body is whole. Some of those which have 
 been opened have been dried by vegetable and bal- 
 samic substances, others by salt. In the former 
 case, aromatic gums or asphaltum were used (the 
 gums, when thrown into the fire, give out an aro- 
 matic odor) ; in these the teeth and hair are gene- 
 rally preserved ; but if exposed to the air, they are 
 soon aflbcted. Those prepared with asphaltum are 
 of a reddish colour, and are in good preservation. 
 Tliose dried with saline substances are of a black,
 
 Ill 
 
 hard, smooth appearance. On exposure to the air, 
 they attract moisture, and become covered with a 
 saline substance. Those mummies which have no 
 opening are also partly preserved by saline sub- 
 stances, and partly by asphaltum. In the latter, not 
 only the cavities of the body are filled with it, but 
 the flesh, bones, and every part, seem to be pene- 
 trated by it; it was probably injected in a hot 
 state. These are the most commonly met with. 
 They are hard, black, and without any disagree- 
 able smell. The whole mummies prepared with 
 salt alone are white and smooth, and resemble 
 parchment. The coffin is usually of sycamore, 
 cedar, or pasteboard ; the case is entire, and cover- 
 ed, within and without, by paintings, representing 
 funeral scenes, and a great variety of other sub- 
 jects: the name of the deceased is also repeated on 
 them in hieroglyphic characters. The cover, which 
 is also entire, is ornamented in the same manner, 
 and contains, too, the countenance of the deceased 
 in relief, painted, and often gilded. The breast is 
 covered with a large collar ; a perpendicular in- 
 scription occupies the centre, and funeral scenes 
 the sides. The coffin is often enclosed in a second,
 
 112 
 
 and even third case, eacJi of whicli is also orna- 
 mented with similar representations. 
 
 The name of mu7n?7iies is likewise given to human 
 bodies preserved in other ways, either by accident 
 or by some artificial preparations. The Guanches, 
 or aboriginal inhabitants of the Canaries, preserved 
 the bodies of their deceased friends, which have 
 been found in great multitudes in the catacombs in 
 Palma, Ferro, Tenerifle, &c. The natives called 
 them xaxos. They are dry, light, of a yellow co- 
 lour and strong odour, and often injured by worms; 
 they are enveloped in goat skins, and enclosed in 
 cases. They ai'e supposed to have been dried in 
 the air, after having had the entrails removed ; and 
 they were also covered with a sort of aromatic 
 varnish. Humboldt found mummies prepared in a 
 similar manner in Mexico. The Peruvians, also, 
 had the art of preserving the bodies of their Incas. 
 Mummies were formerly used in medicine, on ac- 
 count of the i)alsam tliey contained ; but they have 
 long ceased to be so emj)loyed. The burying-place 
 of the Capuchin monastery, at Palermo in Sicily, is 
 a large subterranean vault, divided into several wide
 
 113 
 
 and lofty galleries, in the walls of which are niches 
 containing several hundred human bodies, kept in 
 an upright position by being fastened to the wall be- 
 hind, and clothed in their usual dress. The monks 
 have a peculiar manner of preserving bodies, which 
 they keep secret. Naiural mummies are frequently 
 found preserved by the dryness of the air. In a 
 vault of the cathedral at Bremen, called the lead- 
 cellar (because it was formerly employed for melt- 
 ing lead, for aqueducts and organ pipes), are 
 bodies in good preservation. In the monastery of 
 St. Bernard, on mount St. Bernard, the bodies of 
 travellers who have been buried in the snow, are 
 deposited in a chapel, in which there are open 
 windows, protected by grates. They are placed 
 in a sitting position, leaning each on another's 
 breast. The cold prevents their putrefaction, and 
 gives them time to dry. The Gaulish mummies, 
 in the cabinet of comparative anatomy, in the Jar- 
 din du Roi, were found in Auvergne, in the last 
 century. They bear no marks of any balsamic 
 preparation, but are enveloped in linen, and appear 
 to have been interred with great care. It is un- 
 
 p
 
 114 
 
 certain whether their preservation was owing to 
 the nature of the soil, or to a pecuUar and now 
 unknown process of embahiiing. Dried bodies 
 have also been found in some of the saltpetre caves 
 of the western part of the United States.
 
 115 
 
 ON HEARING THE CLOCK STRIKE TWELVE 
 AT NIGHT, DECEMBER 31. 
 
 Knell of departed years, 
 Thy voice is sweet to me ; 
 It wakes no sad foreboding fears. 
 Calls forth no sympathetic tears, 
 
 Time's restless course to see ; 
 From hallo w'd ground 
 I hear the sound 
 Diifusing through the air a holy calm around. 
 
 Thou art the voice of Love ; 
 To cliide each doubt away; 
 And as the murmur gently dies, 
 Visions of past enjoyments rise 
 In long and bright array: 
 I hail the sign, 
 That love divine 
 Will o'er my future path in cloudless mercy shine. 
 
 Thou art the voice of Hope; 
 The music of the spheres — 
 A song of blessing yet to come, 
 A herald from my future home, 
 My soul delighted hears:
 
 117 
 
 SINGULAR ANIMALS. 
 
 We here present our readers with accurate re- 
 presentations of two animals that have never been 
 seen in this country. The first is the Sukotyro, 
 of which there is only one species known. It has 
 an upright mane, which is short and narrow, reach- 
 ing from the top of the head to the rump. Niew- 
 hoff, a Dutch traveller, who visited the East Indies 
 in 1563, describes it as about the size of an ox ; the 
 snout like that of a hog ; the ears long and rough ; 
 the tail thick and bushy ; and the eyes placed up- 
 right in the head, quite differently from those of 
 other quadrupeds. From each side of the head, 
 near the ears, project two long horns, like tushes. 
 It feeds on grass and herbs, and is very difficult to 
 take. Some naturalists doubt, however, whether 
 such an animal exists.
 
 118 
 
 The other is the Cape Cat. This animal has a 
 long tail with black rings ; the ears are erect, and 
 edged with white. It is about the size of a dog ; 
 and its coat is of a bright tawny colour, varied and 
 striped like a tiger's. Its appearance would make 
 us think it was a fierce and cruel animal, but it is 
 really cowardly, and gets its prey by sly and cun- 
 ning arts. It is found chiefly at the Cape of Good 
 Hope, and in a wild state is very destructive of 
 hares, rabbits, young antelopes, and Iambs.
 
 %
 
 119 
 
 MY GOD, ALL NATURE OWNS THY SWAY 
 
 My God, all nature owns thy sway ; 
 Thou givest the night, and thou the day : 
 When all thy loved creation wakes, 
 When morning, rich in lustre, breaks. 
 And bathes in dew the opening flower, 
 To thee we owe her fragrant hour ; 
 And when she pours her choral song. 
 Her melodies to thee belong. 
 
 Or when in paler tints arrayed. 
 The evening slowly spreads her shade ; 
 That soothing shade, that grateful gloom, 
 Can, more than day's enlivening bloom. 
 Still every fond and vain desire. 
 And calmer, purer thoughts inspire ; 
 From earth the pensive spirit free, 
 And lead the softened heart to thee. 
 
 In every scene thy hands have drest, 
 
 In every form by thee imprest, 
 
 Upon the mountain's awful head, 
 
 Or where the sheltering woods are spread ;
 
 120 
 
 In every note that swells the gale, 
 Or tuneful stream that cheers the vale, 
 The caverns depth, or echoing grove, 
 A voice is heard of praise and love. 
 
 As o'er thy work the seasons roll. 
 And sooth, with change of bliss, the soul ; 
 Oh, never may their smiling train 
 Pass o'er the human scene in vain ! 
 But oft as on the charm we gaze, 
 Attune the wondering soul to praise ; 
 And be the joys that most we prize, 
 Those joys that from thy favour rise.
 
 121 
 
 THE DEATH AT SEA. 
 
 Miss Harriet Patterson, daughter of Commodore Patterson, 
 died on shipboai-d, a few days before the frig-ate, in which she 
 sailed, reached Norfolk. The following- notice of the event, 
 from a recent volume, is worthy of preservation. 
 
 There was one who often accompanied us in 
 our diversions along the shores of the Mediterra- 
 nean ; one who frequently gave to such occasions 
 an interest beyond the object which lured our 
 steps; one who would light up the most common 
 themes with her sparkling gems of thought, or 
 supply the worn topics with others, brilliant and 
 fresh from recollection and fancy; one who made 
 others happy without seeming to be conscious that 
 she was the source ; and who ever delicately 
 evaded, as if misplaced, the admiration her youth, 
 genius, and beauty awakened; who now, alas! 
 has left us for ever ! She has gone from the circle 
 of our friendship, and the hearth of her fond father, 
 to return no more ! Over the pleading youth of
 
 122 
 
 her age, and the retaining force of her affection, 
 death has sadly triumphed ! 
 
 The dehcate virtues that had bloomed, and those 
 that were timidly expanding to the light, have 
 perished from the earth ! The form that moved 
 so lightly; the eye that beamed with such tender- 
 ness and hope; the lips that ever breathed the ac- 
 cents of gentleness and truth ; the rich locks that 
 rendered the cheeks still more transparent, in the 
 rehef of their raven darkness; and the face filled 
 with the expressions of sweetness and beauty, and 
 where no frown ever cast its shadow — all have 
 gone down into the silent recesses of the grave ! 
 
 The ship in which she had traversed the ocean 
 where she had seen the wonders of God displayed 
 in the deep — had returned from its long absence; 
 the green hills of her native land were breaking 
 the horizon; another day, and she would tread that 
 beloved shore. Many were gathered there to 
 whom she was tenderly alHed, and who waited to 
 embrace her with a sister's yearning love; she had 
 redeemed the pledge in which thev parted; and 
 often beguiled their lonely hours with the graj^hio 
 beauties of her pen, they now waited to enfold her
 
 123 
 
 in their arms, and half blamed the breeze that 
 brought the ship so slowly to her anchor. 
 
 They were the first on board, and sought first 
 the one they most loved ! Alas ! the pale form was 
 there, but the spirit that gave it light and anima- 
 tion had fled! Still the tokens of its peaceful de- 
 parture lingered in the sweet composure of her 
 face; the calm brow was still written with thought; 
 the cheek softly tinged with the dreams of her rest. 
 They had come to greet her, to hear her speak 
 and welcome her home ; but the only office that 
 now remained, was to consign to the earth this 
 beautiful relict. With breaking hearts, they dress- 
 ed her grave on the banks of that stream where 
 she strayed in her childhood, and where long the 
 melancholy wave will murmur the music of her 
 name. 
 
 What avails it now that she so widely surveyed 
 the scenes which lend attraction to other shores? 
 that she wandered among the hills of Greece, and 
 gazed on the bright isles of the JEgean ? that she 
 lifted her eye to the solemn dome of St. Sophia, 
 and walked in the deep shadows of the Colosseum 
 at Rome? that she saw Venice emerging in splen-
 
 124 
 
 dour from the waves, and Etna still sending up its 
 steep column of cloud? that she glanced through 
 the gay saloons of Parisian pride; lingered along 
 the banks of the Nile ? that she surveyed the pyra- 
 mids of mouldering Egypt, and made her pilgrim- 
 age to the desolate city of David ? that she stood 
 in the garden where persecuted love resigned 
 itself to the bitterness of its cup — on that mount 
 where the innocent suffered, that the guilty might 
 live — and by that tomb which once sepulchred the 
 Hope of the world ? 
 
 Ah! these availed her; for these mementos of a 
 dying Saviour's affection, and of his triumph over 
 death, were themes upon which her latest and 
 fondest thoughts dwelt ; she knew at length that 
 her hour had come, but her confidence in the faith- 
 fulness of the Redeemer made her a stranger to 
 dismay; she felt that she was passing beyond the 
 assiduities of mortal friendship and affection; but 
 she cast herself, resignedly, upon the love of this 
 compassionate Jesus. Her last, faint accents whis- 
 pered of the cross, and of that land where tears 
 and farewells are unknown. 
 
 Shall we see one dying so young, and with so
 
 125 
 
 many objects to attach her to hfe, and not be re- 
 minded of the hastening hour when we must follow 
 her? Shall the admonition that tenderly speaks 
 from her grave, be lightly regarded ? Shall the 
 seraphic look in which she died be soon forgotten? 
 Shall the religion, displaying the sight of her re- 
 signation and triumphant hopes, continue to be a 
 stranger to these hearts 1 If one so faultless 
 could not die without the light of a Saviour's love, 
 how shall we, in our sins of deeper shade, meet 
 the King of Terrors ? Ah ! there is only one be- 
 ing that can sustain in that last hour of need; only 
 one that can furnish, in this extremity of nature, a 
 refuge for the soul. This one has long been near 
 us, waiting to be gracious; he has tarried without, 
 suing for admission to our confidence, till his locks 
 are wet with the drops of the night. — Happy he 
 who admits this Saviour to his inmost heart. Death 
 may then break down and lay in ruins this moi-tal 
 form ; but the spirit will have given it " the wings 
 of the dove, that it may fly away and be at rest."
 
 126 
 
 CHRIST MANIFESTED. 
 
 Sons of men, behold him far, 
 Hail the long expected star ! 
 Jacob's star that gilds the night, 
 Guides bevvilder'd nature right. 
 
 Fear not hence that ill should flow, 
 Wars or pestilence below ; 
 Wars and tumults now must cease, 
 Ushering in the Prince of Peace. 
 
 Nations all the earth abroad, 
 Haste and own the incarnate God ; 
 Haste, for him your hearts prepare, 
 
 Meet him manifested there. 
 
 There behold the day-spring rise, 
 Pouring light on blinded eyes ; 
 God in his own light survey, 
 Shining to the perfect day. 
 
 Sing, ye morning stars, again, 
 God descends on eartli to reign ; 
 Deigns for man his life t' employ ; 
 Shout, ye sons of God, for joy !
 
 127 
 
 THE PROMISE OF A SAVIOUR. 
 
 There are many things in the Bible which are 
 fiard to be understood and hard to believe; but if 
 we are sure they are a part of the Bible, and that 
 the Bible is true, we are bound to believe them; 
 and when we find doubts arising in our minds, we 
 must pray as a man once prayed to Jesus Christ, 
 when he was upon earth — " Lord, I believe, help 
 thou mine unbelief." Mark ix. 24. 
 
 Sometimes we find evidence to confirm the 
 truths of the Bible, in the condition of the earth 
 and in the history of man. People who are fully 
 acquainted with the subject tell us, that an exami- 
 nation of the substance of the earth shows clearly 
 that at some time or other there must have been a 
 dreadful convulsion and breaking up of its surface, 
 by which the beds of oceans were turned into dry 
 land, and dry land was cov^ered with oceans ; moun- 
 tains sunk into valleys, and valleys rose into moun-
 
 128 
 
 tains. Besides tliis, the various religions of the 
 heathen world notice such an event as the flood, 
 and give various accounts of it, all agreeing in the 
 general fact with the Bible history. 
 
 So also the story of the fall of our first parents, 
 and of the promise of a Saviour, is confirmed by 
 many circumstances in the worship of eastern na- 
 tions. There is one system, prevailing among 
 many millions of men, which represents their great 
 deity as taking upon him a human form, and coming 
 into the world to contend with a great serpent. 
 The accompanying picture represents him, first, as 
 snfiering from the bite of the serpent in tiic heel, 
 and then as crushing the serpent's head with his foot. 
 What could more perfectly illustrate the promise 
 and the curse which is mentioned in Gen. iii. 14, 15: 
 " And the Lord God said unto tiie serpent. Because 
 thou hast done this, thou art cin*sed above all cattle, 
 and aboveeverybeastof the field: upon thy belly shalt 
 thou go, and dust shalt thou eat all the days of thy 
 life. And I will put enmity between thee and the 
 woman, and between thy seed and her seed : it 
 shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his 
 heel."
 
 129 
 
 THE MISSION FROM THE HEATHEN. 
 
 A white man had informed the Flat-head Indians, who re- 
 side west of the Rocky Mountains, that their mode of worship- 
 ping the Supreme Being was radically wrong; and that the 
 whites were in possession of the true mode of worship. Upon 
 receiving this information they called a council, and deputed 
 four of their chiefs to go to the white man's country, 3000 
 miles distant, and learn the true religion. They came, and 
 obtained the desired information. — Two only lived to set out 
 for their native land ; but whether they ever arrived there is 
 unknown. 
 
 The council fire is gleaming bright 
 
 On forest, hill, and glen ; 
 And they are gathering by its light, 
 
 A race of dark-browed men. 
 But not to tell of warlike deed. 
 
 Or join in martial song, 
 Nor yet to claim a warrior's meed. 
 
 Comes one among the throng. 
 
 But all by early dawn are tiiere. 
 
 With heart and purpose one. 
 The grandsire with his faded hair, 
 
 The father and the son. 
 R
 
 130 
 
 The pale-faced stranger's words are told 
 
 To many a listening ear, 
 And vainly wish the young, the old, 
 
 More of those truths to hear. 
 
 Four chieftains of the tribe they send 
 
 To the white man's distant heartii ; 
 One — who the strongest bow can bend, 
 
 And one — of noblest worth ; 
 One — who is fleetest in the chase, 
 
 And one — the eagle eyed. 
 And bid them bring their waiting race 
 
 The white man's spirit's guide. 
 
 Cheerful of heart, and free of foot, 
 
 The chieftains wend their way, 
 Nor cast one longing, lingering look 
 
 To the home of yesterday. 
 That home so dear is now forgot, 
 
 Mother and sister too, 
 Nor bid they e'en in silent thought 
 
 Tlieir dearest ones adieu. 
 
 True, many a river must be crossed, 
 
 And many a prairie wild, 
 And many a mountain's brow of frost. 
 
 And many a valley mild, — 
 And many a sigh of pain suppressed, 
 
 And many a toil be borne,
 
 131 
 
 Ere these red children of the west 
 Can reach the white man's home. 
 
 But what care they for toil or pain ] 
 
 Inured to such from youth ; 
 They do not go on errand vain, 
 
 They go to seek the truth. 
 Days, weeks and months have glided by 
 
 Since they their course begun ; 
 The stranger's fields before them lie — 
 
 The distant goal is won. 
 
 The white man hears their thrilling tale 
 
 With gladness and surprise ; 
 And tears away the misty veil 
 
 From their benighted eyes. 
 Eager they listen to his words, 
 
 And joyfully receive 
 The hopes a Saviour's death affords — 
 
 And every truth believe. 
 
 Two chieftains of the four were left — 
 
 A lonely, feeble pair ; 
 Back to the children of the west 
 
 Those blessed truths to bear. 
 And they perhaps have perished too, 
 
 Unaided and alone. 
 Ere the bright hills had met their view 
 
 Of tlieir beloved home.
 
 132 
 
 Christian ! — to these poor Indians go, 
 
 With words of peace and love ; 
 Their anxious bosoms burn to know 
 
 More of thy God above. 
 Will you not tread the lonely wild, 
 
 These willing chieftains trod 1 
 Then haste to bear the forest child 
 
 The blessed word of God. 
 
 Recount the treasures you possess, 
 
 The joy your bosom feels, — 
 The hopes that cheer you in distress- 
 
 The heaven that faith reveals. 
 Tell how a Saviour bled and died, 
 
 That they might ever live ; 
 The Indian must not bo denied 
 
 The blessings you can give. 
 
 Wlien shall a missionary's soul 
 
 Each Christian's breast pervade ? 
 When shall the glorious tidings roll, 
 
 By fervent Cliristians' aid, 
 Of peace and joy, good will to men, 
 
 O'er all the distant earth'? 
 And angels sing the song again 
 
 Sung at the Saviour's birth.
 
 133 
 
 GOOD NEWS. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS PIECE. 
 
 To those engaged in an unequal contest and dis- 
 astrous war, the proclamation of a willingness to 
 enter into negotiations of peace on the part of the 
 stronger power is always good news to the weak- 
 er. Between God, the Creator and Governor of 
 the world, and man, the creature of his power, 
 and the dependent on his will, there have existed 
 hostilities ever since the first transgression of man. 
 God is able to inflict condign punishment on man 
 at any moment ; and if he turn not, he will cer- 
 tainly do it sooner or later ; but while no obstacle 
 stands in the way of his crushing his feeble ene- 
 mies at a stroke, his long-suffering endures with 
 them; and instead of a storm of deserved wrath, 
 he issues a proclamation of peace and good will. 
 It is a thing wonderful, and calculated to excite 
 our highest gratitude, that a plan of reconciliation 
 has been devised, which at the same time that it
 
 134 
 
 secures the salvation of man, no less consults the 
 honour of God. 
 
 It is GOOD NEWS to rebellious subjects, who have 
 foolishly and inconsiderately cast oft' their allegi- 
 ance to their sovereign, and have exposed them- 
 selves to the severest penalties of the law, to hear 
 from good authority that an ambassador of peace 
 has arrived, and that he comes clothed with full 
 powers to conclude an advantageous peace with 
 all wdio are willing to submit to his most just and 
 reasonable terms; and especially it would render 
 the tidings more joyful if this plenipotentiary 
 should be no other than the king's own son. This 
 would be an instance of extraordinary condescen- 
 sion, and would evince to all the sincerity and ear- 
 nestness of his desire for reconciliation. The Kintr 
 of Heaven has a Son, only-begotten and well-be- 
 loved, and who participated in all his glory, power, 
 and felicity; and yet he has sent him on this mis- 
 sion of peace. Other messengers were sent to 
 announce his coming; but to none of these was 
 committed the important business of reconciling 
 rebellious men: this was reserved as the peculiar 
 work of the Son; and indeed, no other possessed
 
 135 
 
 the requisite qualifications. The case was one of 
 peculiar difficulty: the mere exertion of omnipo- 
 tence or any other divine attribute was not sulR- 
 cient. Offended majesty must be appeased, injured 
 justice satisfied, and a broken law honoured. The 
 celestial missionary must not merely pay a tran- 
 sient visit of mercy to our earth, as the angels 
 often have done; but he must himself become one 
 of us — be made in all respects like us — be born in 
 our nature, and sojourn a lifetime in this miserable 
 world, exposed to all the injuries and calumnies 
 which malignant vice is disposed to heap on spot- 
 less innocence. The mission has been executed; 
 the wonderful child of promise has been born; the 
 divine and human natures have been united in the 
 same person; a holy virgin became the mother of 
 a child, properly called the Son of God, and Im- 
 manuel, God with us. Eighteen hundred years 
 ago, in Bethlehem of Judea, this Almighty Saviour 
 was ushered into the world. The inhabitants of 
 earth were little aware of the grand event, in 
 which they had so deep an interest: but the hea- 
 venly hosts were apprized of the joyous transac- 
 tion; and though not in need of a Deliverer them-
 
 136 
 
 selves, they rejoiced in the glorious event. By one 
 of these bright sons of the morning, the good news 
 was announced to the shepherds, who were watch- 
 ing near the place, and a multitude of the heavenly 
 host soon united with the one who had appeared, 
 and they sang an anthem adapted to tiie occasion, 
 in the sweet and sublime music of heaven. The 
 melody of their song is gone : it was an air which 
 mortal tongues cannot imitate; but the words of 
 this divine song were recorded, and have come 
 down to us unaltered; and no words can be more 
 delightful; " glory to God in the highest, and on 
 
 EARTH peace, GOOD WH^L TOWARDS MEN." 
 
 Now although this event occurred so long ago, 
 and in a country so remote, yet its interesting and 
 important nature is not in the least diininislied. It 
 has already gladdened the hearts of millions of our 
 perishing race, and it is still heard, and will ever 
 be heard with a thrill of delight and admiration by 
 sinners condemned to die. Tiiis single event, which 
 occurred in a small village in a remote country, is 
 more to us than all the great revolutions of em- 
 pires. It matters not who then sat upon the im- 
 perial throne at Rome; or who held the reins of
 
 137 
 
 government at Jerusalem ; none of these things can 
 now be considered as furnishing glad tidings for 
 men in the present generation; but to be assured 
 that eighteen centuries ago a Saviour was born in 
 Bethlehem, even Christ the Lord, is a source of 
 unspeakable joy to every one who has a heart to 
 appreciate it. We may still proclaim and reiterate 
 the message of the angel, glad tidings — glad ti- 
 dings; a Saviour has been born, a Saviour still 
 exists. Sinners need not despair: God is recon- 
 ciling the world unto himself by Jesus Christ, not 
 imputing their trespasses unto them. The way to 
 heaven is no longer closed; the fiery sword of jus- 
 tice no longer keeps the way of the tree of life ; 
 man need remain no longer under the heavy curse 
 of the violated covenant. O sinner, convinced, 
 awakened sinner, who art earnestly inquiring 
 " What must I do V here is good news for thee. 
 Here is a balm for the wounded conscience, and 
 liberty for the captives. Look no longer to the 
 law of works for salvation ; for through our sin 
 the law has become weak to save; it can never 
 more confer life on fallen man. All our hopes 
 must be placed on the Babe of Bethlehem. Come 
 
 s
 
 138 
 
 let us go, as it were, with the shepherds, and see 
 the wonderful child; and let us fall down in hum- 
 ble, grateful adoration before him, and acknow- 
 ledge him as our Lord, and claim him as our 
 Redeemer; or let us follow the eastern star which 
 gave notice of his birth to the sages of a distant 
 country, and let us follow its guidance until it 
 brings us to the spot where our Saviour may be 
 found; and let the glad tidings of tiie existence of 
 a divine Saviour be circulated around the globe; 
 let all who need his aid be informed that he is 
 actually come — was born in Bethlehem, the city 
 of David, and has performed the work for which 
 he was commissioned; has brought life and im- 
 mortality to light ; has obtained eternal redemp- 
 tion for us ; and has returned again to heaven, 
 where he is still a Prince and Saviour, and is able 
 to save to the uttermost all tiiat come unto God 
 by him ; seeing he ever livcth to make intercession 
 ibr them.
 
 139 
 
 TRUST IN THE LORD. 
 
 When gathering' clouds around I view, 
 And days are dark and friends are few ; 
 On him I lean, who not in vain 
 Experienced every human pain. 
 He sees my griefs, allays my fears, 
 And counts and treasures up my tears. 
 
 If anght should tempt my soul to stray 
 From heavenly wisdom's narrow way ; 
 To fly the good I would pursue, 
 Or do the thing I would not do ; 
 Still he who felt temptation's power, 
 Shall guard me in that dangerous hour. 
 
 If wounded love my bosom swell. 
 Despised by those I prized too well. 
 He shall his pitying aid bestow, 
 Who felt on earth severer wo ; 
 At once betrayed, denied, or fled, 
 By those who shared his daily bread. 
 
 When painful thoughts within me rise, 
 And sore dismayed my spirit dies,
 
 140 
 
 Yet he who once vouchsafed to hear 
 The sickening anguish of despair, 
 Shall sweetly sooth, shall gently dry, 
 The throbbing heart, the streaming eye. 
 
 When sorrowing o'er some tomb I bend, 
 Which covers all that was a friend. 
 And from his voice, his hands, his smile, 
 Divides me for a little while ; 
 Thou Saviour, seest the tears I shed, 
 For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead. 
 
 And oh ! when I have safely past 
 Througii every conflict but the last, 
 Still, still unchanging, watch beside 
 My painful bed — for thou hast died ; 
 Then point to realms of cloudless day, 
 And wipe the latest tear away.
 
 141 
 
 WILL YOU GO? 
 
 Some people say they are not to be frightened by 
 what they are told about hell. They will acknow- 
 ledge that they are not fit for heaven, but comfort 
 themselves with the belief that the punishment of 
 the wicked will not be so bad as is represented. 
 
 I wish such persons could be brought to reflect 
 on what any place must be where the wicked shall 
 be together for ever! For that is the least that 
 can be said of the place of punishment. Let it be 
 even supposed that the world of misery, instead of 
 being a dismal gulf, or a lake of fire, is such a 
 place as this earth. Let the sinner imagine it to 
 be as beautiful as Eden itself — I only ask him to 
 acknowledge this one thing, that none hut the ene- 
 mies of God inlJ he there. And I say this is a hell 
 dreadful enough to terrify the stoutest heart. 
 
 Think of it! All that is now frightful in wicked- 
 ness will be there. Do men now fear to meet a 
 murderer or a robber? How will they feel when 
 they are placed in their society for ever? Do they
 
 142 
 
 now shun the drunkard, the debauched and the 
 vile? But hell is the eternal home of such. Who 
 would be willing to live with such persons as oc- 
 cupy our prisons, although they should dwell in 
 palaces? Would not any place be intolerable with 
 such society only? 
 
 But such will be hell, and worse. For in this 
 world, even in prisons, the men of violence and 
 crime are under restraint. The fear of punish- 
 ment; the dread of disgrace; the desire of favour; 
 the spirit of pride, and a thousand other motives 
 keep men within some bounds. But in hell all 
 these will be removed. There will be no motive 
 to keep back the most outrageous crimes. All the 
 vile and violent passions will be let loose. It will 
 be like unchaining a multitude of furious maniacs. 
 There will be no shame. The virtuous and the 
 pure, whose good oj)ini()n they wished to have on 
 the earth, and whose influence kept them in some 
 restraint, will be in heaven. They care not for 
 their companions in despair. 
 
 No laws will be there to keep them in check. 
 There will be nothing to be gained by good be- 
 haviour and hypocrisy. Rage, hatred, madness, lust
 
 143 
 
 and violence will prevail. Despair will drive them 
 on to unceasing wickedness. Curses and oaths, 
 and all that is hateful and abominable in language, 
 will be unrestrained. 
 
 All this must go on increasing in horror. No 
 hope of escape will ever cheer one of the wretched 
 company. Not an expectation of deliverance will 
 be indulged. For ever and for ever it must last! 
 Even death is denied; there is no weakening or 
 decay of the life; there is nothing to alleviate or 
 drown the anguish. There is nothing to gratify 
 the wicked desires of the soul. The drunkard 
 raves in vain for his cups. The sensualist burns 
 with ungratified and growing appetites. 
 
 I ask, is all this any thing more than the natu- 
 ral consequence of excluding sinners from heaven? 
 iMust not this be the scene where " the abomi- 
 nable" are fixed in one eternal place of exile? And 
 is not this hell enough to stop any sinner in his 
 course? Is it not enough to cause every impeni- 
 tent person to cry out, what must I do to be saved I 
 Reader, wu.l you go?
 
 f 144 
 
 WILL YOU COME? 
 
 I have attempted to give the most favourable 
 view conceivable of the place of endless punish- 
 ment. I only ask that hell should be considered 
 as the eternal abode of all the unpardoned beings 
 that have ever existed in this world, or have been 
 cast out from heaven, and then I put the question 
 to every one who is not a Christian, idll you go to 
 such a place as this is? 
 
 I would now call the reader's attention to the 
 voice which sounds from heaven. It is that of the 
 Spirit and the Bride, saying, come. It is echoed 
 by him that hcareth — comk. It presents the other 
 side of the great alternative which is presented to 
 sinners in this life, and which in the day of judg- 
 ment will mark the (lisj)osition of the two multi- 
 tudes that will stand before the throne, when to 
 one shall be said, " Come ye blessed of my Fa- 
 ther," and the other " shall go away into everlast- 
 ing punishment." 
 
 And here, to<», 1 will lay out of view all other re- 
 presentations of the glory and felicity of heaven
 
 145 
 
 which are given us in the Scriptures. I would, as 
 in the other case, abstract every other considera- 
 tion of what constitutes the happiness of heaven. 
 I would leave out of view the visions of the beloved 
 disciple, and of the apostle who was " caught up 
 into paradise." I would simply ask the reader, 
 whatever and wherever heaven may be, should he 
 not risk every thing else to be for ever icitli the 
 Lordl Would you' not feel perfectly safe, and as- 
 sured of happiness, if you believed you were going 
 to dwell without any ceasing, in the place where 
 God is, as an infinitely happy being, reconciled to 
 and rejoicing in all who are with him? Would you 
 not be willing to trust your soul on such an assur- 
 ance, though the place and the employments of 
 heaven should be undefined? 
 
 Yes; this is the hope and confidence of the 
 Christian. Noio he is a son of God. This is enough 
 for him to know, even though it doth not yet ap- 
 pear what he shall be. But he knows, too, that 
 when his Redeemer shall appear he shall see him 
 as he is. 
 
 Surely this is reasonable. After all that God has 
 done for men; after all that Christ has endured for 
 
 T
 
 146 
 
 them; after all the manifestation of love which he 
 has made to his redeemed children, they may be 
 confident that their joy will be full when they are 
 taken to his very presence in heaven. Surely if 
 God spared not his own Son for their sakes, he 
 will, together with him, freely give them all things. 
 
 There, too, will be collected all that was pure 
 and holy on earth and in heaven. The spirits of 
 just men made perfect, and an innumerable com- 
 pany of angels, are there. Every being is a sanc- 
 tified one. 
 
 Holy love will be universal throughout all the 
 myriads. Peace and joy will prevail without any 
 cessation or disturbance. There will be none to 
 interrupt the harmony of the blessed family. 
 
 Is not this enough to attract our souls to heaven? 
 Is not this prospect of eternal peace and safety, 
 this assurance of for ever dwelling with God and 
 the saints, enough to captivate every heart that 
 feels its immortality? 
 
 Reader, will you come ? 
 
 • «
 
 147 
 
 THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. 
 
 When marshall'd on the nig-htly plain, 
 
 The glittering host bestud the sky, 
 One star alone, of all the train, 
 
 Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. 
 Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks 
 
 From every host, from every gem ; 
 But one alone the Saviour speaks, 
 
 It is the Star of Bethlehem. 
 
 Once on the raging seas I rode. 
 
 The storm was loud, — the night was dark. 
 The ocean yawn'd, — and rudely blow'd 
 
 The wind that toss'd my foundering bark. 
 Deep horror then my vitals froze, 
 
 Death-struck I ceas'd the tide to stem ; 
 When suddenly a star arose. 
 
 It was the Star of Bethlehem. 
 
 It was my guide, my light, my all, 
 
 It bade my dark forebodings cease, 
 And through the storm and dangers' thrall, 
 
 It led me to the port of peace. 
 Now safely moor'd — my perils o'er — 
 
 I'll sing, first in night's diadem, 
 For ever and for evermore, 
 
 The star, the Star of Bethlehem.
 
 148 
 
 NEW YEAR'S HYMN. 
 
 While with ceaseless course, the sun 
 
 Hasted through the former year, 
 Many souls their race have run, 
 
 Never more to meet us here : — 
 Fixed in an eternal state, 
 
 They have done with all below ; 
 We a little longer wait, 
 
 But how little, none can know. 
 
 As the winged arrow flies, 
 
 Speedily the mark to find, 
 As tiie light'ning from the skies 
 
 Darts and leaves no trace beliind ; 
 Swiftly thus our fleeting days 
 
 Bear us down life's rapid stream ; 
 Upwards, Lord, our spirits raise, 
 
 All below is but a dream. 
 
 Thanks for mercies past receive ; 
 
 Pardon of our sins renew; 
 Teach us, henceforth, how to live 
 
 With eternity in view : 
 Bless thy word to young and old. 
 
 Fill us with a Saviour's love ; 
 And when life's short tale is told, 
 
 jMay we (Uveli with tlice above.
 
 149 
 
 CONSTRUCTION OF A FLY'S FOOT. 
 
 The Psalmist David, who was possessed of a 
 truly philosophic mind, and whose ardent piety- 
 was equal to the strength of his intellect and the 
 depth of his scientific research, has declared, " O 
 Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom 
 hast thou made them all." And to this pious tes- 
 timony every man who has properly investigated 
 the appropriate and harmonious character of the 
 Creator's work must contribute his unhesitating 
 assent. The wisdom and power of God are exhi- 
 bited in the minute as well as in the more magnifi- 
 cent parts of creation. The stupendous elephant, 
 the ponderous whale, and those amazingly massive 
 orbs which compose the solar system, all bear the 
 impress of infinite wisdom and divine power, but 
 this impress is stamped with equal depth, though in 
 characters less legible, because of smaller dimen- 
 sion, on the most insignificant insect that crawls
 
 150 ♦ 
 
 unseen upon the earth, or that buzzes in the air. 
 This remark is strikingly exemplified by Dr. 
 Hooke, in the interesting description which he has 
 furnished of the wonderful construction of the foot 
 of a fly. In this account the doctor produces very 
 satisfactory mechanical reasons for the remarka- 
 ble ability of this creature to walk on smooth sur- 
 faces, and even on the under surfaces of polished 
 bodies. The doctor has proved, by microscopic 
 inspection, that the foot of a fly consists of three 
 joints, two talons, and as many pattens, soles, or 
 sponges, as some writers call them; by the wonder- 
 ful contrivance of which instruments this creature 
 is enabled to walk perpendicularly upwards, even 
 against the sides of glass, nay, to suspend itself, 
 and walk with its body downwards on the ceiling 
 of rooms, and on the under surfaces of most other 
 things, with all possible facility and firmness. The 
 two talons are handsomely shaped, regularly taper- 
 ing to the ends, and are very large in proportion 
 to the rest of the foot. The thicker part of them 
 is bristled, or hairy, all over; but the tops, or 
 points, which turn downwards or inwards, are 
 smooth, and very sharp. Each talon moves on a
 
 151 
 
 joint, whereby the fly is able to shut or open them 
 at pleasure; so that the points of the talons, having 
 entered the pores of any thing, and the fly endea- 
 vouring to shut them, they not only draw against, 
 and by that means fasten each other, but also pull 
 forward all the parts of the foot ; and at the same 
 time the tenters, or sharp points, (of which a fly 
 has two at every joint,) run into the pores, if they 
 find any, or on a soft place make their own way. 
 Somewhat of this kind may be discerned by the 
 naked eye in the feet of a chafer; and if it be al- 
 lowed to creep over the hand, or on any tender 
 part of the body, its manner of stepping will be as 
 sensible to the feeling as it is to the sight. But as 
 the chafer, notwithstanding this contrivance to 
 fasten its claws, often falls when it walks on hard 
 or close bodies; so likewise would the fly, had not 
 the Creator furnished its foot with a couple of pat- 
 tens, or sponges, which the doctor next describes. 
 From the bottom or under part of the last joint of 
 the foot, two small, thin-plated, horny substances 
 proceed, each consisting of two flat pieces. They 
 seem to be flexible, like the covers of a book, 
 whereby the two sides do not always He on the
 
 152 
 
 same plane; but may sometimes shut close, so that 
 each of them can take a little hold. But this is not 
 all ; for the bottom of the sponges are everywhere 
 beset with small bristles, or tenters, like the wire 
 teeth of a wool-card, with all their points inclining 
 forwards; by which the two talons, drawing the 
 trunk forward, as before described, and the sponges 
 being applied to the surface of the body which the 
 fly walks upon, with the points of all their bristles 
 looking Ibrvvards and outwards, if the surface of 
 the body has any irregularity, or gives way in any 
 manner, the fly can suspend itself or walk thereon 
 very easily and firmly. And its being able to walk 
 on glass proceeds partly from some little rugged- 
 ness thereon; but chiefly a kind of tarnish, or smoky 
 substance which adheres to the surface of that very 
 hard body, so that although the sharp points on the 
 sponges cannot penetrate the surface of the glass, 
 they may easily enough catch hold of the tarnish 
 it has contracted. 
 
 From this account of the wonderful mechanism 
 of this comparatively insignificant part of creation, 
 we learn how much we are indebted to human in- 
 vention and scientific research, for the valuable
 
 153 
 
 means they have furnished for contempK-tting those 
 amazingly minute productions of infinite wisdom 
 and power which exist in ahnost every department 
 of creation. But for the invention of that useful 
 philosophical instrument, the microscope, the asto- 
 nishing mechanism displayed in the foot of a fly, 
 and also in an extensive variety of the minute parts 
 of the works of God, would ever have remained 
 unknown to us; inasmuch as they are far too small 
 in their dimensions to he investigated by the unas- 
 sisted eye of man. From this interesting exhibi- 
 tion we are also reminded of the extreme folly of 
 those persons who can contemplate the appropri- 
 ateness of God's purposes in creation, and yet with 
 a reckless impiety aflect to ascribe the whole to an 
 indescribable something, which they designate 
 chance! We learn also to admire and adore that 
 unfathomable wisdom which exercises itself with 
 equal care and certainty in the insignificant and 
 minute as in the magnificent and ponderous parts 
 of creation. And with fervent ascriptions of praise, 
 the pious mind ejaculates, " Wonderful are thy 
 works, O Lord ! in wisdom hast thou made them 
 all !" 
 
 u
 
 154 
 
 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 The grave is not a place of rest, 
 
 As unbelievers teach, 
 Where grief can never win a tear, 
 
 Nor sorrow ever reach. 
 
 The eye that shed the tear is closed, 
 
 The heaving- breast is cold ; 
 But that whicii suffers and enjoys, 
 
 No narrow grave can hold. 
 
 The mouldering earth and hungry worm 
 The dust they lent may claim ; 
 
 But the enduring spirit lives 
 Eternally the same.
 
 155 
 
 ON THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 It is the observation of a great man,* that time 
 is given us that we may take care of eternity; and 
 eternity will not be too long to regret the loss of 
 our time, if we have mis-spent it. As God in his 
 mercy and providence has spared us a little longer, 
 and permitted us to enter upon another year, surely 
 it is our serious duty to prostrate ourselves before 
 the mercy-seat, and, in humble, fervent prayer, 
 from the very bottom of our hearts, to supplicate 
 for grace to redeem the remainder of our precious 
 time. "Whatsoever thine hand findeth to do," 
 saith the wisest of men, " do it with thy might; for 
 there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor 
 wisdom in the grave, whither thou goest." We 
 are dying creatures, hastening to an eternal world, 
 where we must be for ever happy with God in 
 
 • Archbishop Fenelon.
 
 156 
 
 heaven, or miserable with devils in hell. What an 
 argument should this bo with all of us to escape 
 from the wrath to come ! Thousands are now 
 lifting up their eyes in hell, weeping, and wailing, 
 and gnashing tlieir teeth, who have for years la- 
 mented, and will, in vain, through eternity, lament 
 the foolishness of their folly, in rejecting the glori- 
 ous gospel of God our Saviour. My dear reader, 
 cry mightily to God for his Divine Spirit, that this 
 may never be the case with thee. If thou art care- 
 less, unawakened, and unconverted, oh, consider 
 thy latter end, before it be too late! Be wise in 
 time, while it is called to-day. Husband thy pre- 
 cious moments, in a proper and important use of 
 them, by fleeing unto Jesus, the only hope set be- 
 ' fore thee in the gospel. Reflect that God could 
 have long since cut you down, and caused all your 
 hopes to ])erish. He could have given you dark- 
 ness instead of light, and have sworn in his wrath 
 that you should never enter into his rest. But now 
 lie is still waiting to be gracious. He is full of 
 compassion, long-sufl'ering, and of great goodness; 
 not willing that any sinner should perish, but that 
 all should come to repentance. The blessed Jesus, 
 
 y
 
 157 
 
 who once had his dear hands pierced with nails on 
 the cross, is now stretching them out, ready to em- 
 brace, not only every returning prodigal, but also 
 every penitent, backsliding sinner. 
 
 " Come unto me," says Jesus, " all ye that labour 
 and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 
 Matt. xi. 28. " Come now, and let us reason toge- 
 ther, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scar- 
 let, they shall be as white as snow; though they 
 be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." Isa. i. 
 18. " Return, thou backsliding Israel, saith the 
 Lord; and I will not cause mine anger to fall upon 
 5^ou: for I am merciful, saith the Lord, and I will 
 not keep anger for ever. Turn, O backsliding chil- 
 dren, saith the Lord, for I am married unto you; 
 and I will take you one of a city, and two of a fa- 
 mily, and I will bring you to Zion. Return, ye 
 backsliding children, and I will heal your back- 
 slidings." .Ter. iii. 12, 14, 22. What precious en- 
 couragements, and gracious invitations, are here 
 held forth to us ! May we begin the new year 
 with thankfully receiving them ! Let us seek the 
 Lord while he may be found, and call upon him 
 while he is near. Now is the accepted time, and
 
 158 
 
 now is the day of salvation. My dear young 
 friends, if you would avoid eternal misery, and be 
 for ever happy in the blissful mansions of glory, 
 embrace the finished salvation of Jesus, which is 
 now most affectionately proposed to you, before it 
 be for ever hid from your eyes. So compassionate 
 is our dear Saviour, that he is ready and willing 
 to receive us graciously, and love us freely. He 
 is able and willing to send down the Holy Ghost, 
 the Comforter, to soften and change our sinful 
 hearts to repentance, and to frame and I'orm us fit 
 for heaven. May he, with the commencement of 
 a new year, be graciously pleased to give us new 
 hearts, susceptible of divine and holy impressions! 
 May we know what it is to have a divine change 
 pass upon our hearts! May God the Spirit move 
 upon the great deep of our fallen nature, and sow 
 the seed of eternal life in our souls ! Otherwise, 
 we shall fall miserably short of heaven ; for it is a 
 standing maxim of the Bible, that without holiness 
 no man shall see the I^ord. True holiness consists 
 in a growing conformity to the mind and will of 
 God, whereby a believer is distinguished from an 
 ungodly world, and is neither actuated by their
 
 159 
 
 sinful principles and precepts, nor governed by 
 their foolish maxims and customs. Dear reader, 
 let me exhort thee to begin this year with self-ex- 
 amination. Examine thyself whether thou art in 
 the faith; prove thine ownself Cry mightily to 
 God with David, and say, " Search me, O God, 
 and know my heart: try me, and know my 
 thoughts : and see if there be any wicked way in 
 me, and lead me in the way everlasting." 
 
 Thus may you be enabled to begin the new year 
 with God; and may he fill you with all joy and 
 peace in believing, that you may abound in hope 
 through the power of the Holy Ghost ! May the 
 Lord crown this year with his goodness, by giving 
 you to experience all the graces of his Holy Spirit, 
 that you may glorify him by pressing forward to 
 the heavenly Jerusalem; and hereafter an entrance 
 shall be ministered unto you abundantly, into the 
 everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 THE END.
 
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