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Seven times, O Lord, I 've pardoned them ; seven times they 've sinneu

again; They practise still to work me woe, and triumph in my pain; But let them dread my vengeance now, to just resentment driven! * Forgive!” the voice in thunder spake," or never be forgiven!”

77. TRUE SCIENCE OUGIIT TO BE RELIGIOUS. - President Hitchcock

I Am far from maintaining that science is a sufficient guide in religion. On the other hand, if left to itself, as I fully admit,

“It leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind.” Nor do I maintain that scientific truth, even when properly appreciated, will compare at all, in its influence upon the human mind, with those peculiar and higher truths disclosed by Revelation. All I contend for is, that scientific truth, illustrating as it does the divine character, plans and government, ought to fan and feed the flame of true piety in the hearts of its cultivators. He, therefore, who knows the most of science, ought most powerfully to feel this religious influence. He is not confined, like the great mass of men, to the outer court of Nature's magnificent temple; but he is admitted to the interior, and allowed to trace its long halls, aisles and galleries, and gaze upon its lofty domes and arches; nay, as a priest he enters the penetralia, the holy of holies, where sacred fire is always burning upon the altars; where hovers the glorious Schekinah; and where, from a full orchestra, the anthem of praise is ever ascending. Petrified, indeed, must me his heart, if it catches none of the inspiration of such a spot. He ought to go forth from it, among his fellow-men, with radiant glory on his face, like Moses from the holy mount. He who sees most of God in His works ought to show the stamp of Divinity upon his character, and lead an eminently holy life.

Yet it is only a few gifted and adventurous minds that are able, from some advanced mountain-top, to catch a glimpse of the entire stream of truth, formed by the harmonious union of all principles, and flow. ing on majestically into the boundless ocean of all knowledge, the Infinite mind. But when the Christian philosopher shall be permitted to resume the study of science in a future world, with powers of investigation enlarged and clarified, and all obstacles jemoved, he will be able to trace onward the various ramifications of truth, till they unite into higher and higher principles, and become one in that cenice of centres, the Divine Mind. That is the Occan from which all truth originally sprang, and to which it ultimately returns. To trace out the shores of that shoreless Sea, to measure its measureless extent, and to fathom its unfathomable depths, will be the noble and the joyous work of eternal ages. And yet eternal ages may pass by, and see the work only begun

These may

78. TRIUMPLIS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. – Rev. J. G. Lyons. Now gather all our Saxon bards, let harps and hearts be strung, To celebrate the triumphs of our own good Saxon tongue! For stronger far than hosts that march, with battle-flags unfurled It goes with FREEDOM, Thought and TRUTH, to rouse and rule the

world. Stout Albion hears its household lays on every surf-worn shorc, And Scotland hears its echoing far as Orkney's breakers roar; It climbs New England's rocky steeps as victor mounts a throne, Niagara knows and greets the voice, still mightier than its own. It spreads where Winter piles deep snows on bleak Canadian plains; And where, on Essequibo's banks, eternal Summer reigns. It tracks the loud, swift Oregon, through sunset valleys rolled, And soars where California brooks wash down their sands of gold. It kindles realms so far apart, that while its praise you sing,

be clad with Autumn's fruits, and those with flowers of

Spring It quickens lands whose meteor lights fiame in an Arctic sky, And lands for which the Southern Cross hangs orbit fires on high. It goes with all that Prophets told, and righteous Kings desired; With all that great Apostles taught, and glorious Greeks admired; With Shakspeare's deep and wondrous verse, and Milton's lofty mind; With Alfred's laws, and Newton's lore, to cheer and bless mankind. Mark, as it spreads, how deserts bloom, and Error flees away, As vanishes the mist of night before the star of day! Take heed, then, heirs of Saxon fame, - take heed, nor once disgrace, With recreant pen or spoiling sword, our noble tongue and race! Go forth, and jointly speed the time, by good men prayed for long, When Christian States, grown just and wise, will scorn revenge and

wrong; When earth's oppressed and savage tribes shall cease to pine or roam, All taught to prize these English words:- FAITH, FREEDOM HEAVEN

and HOME

19. THE WATER-DRINKER - E. Johnson

O, WATER for me' bright water for me,
And wine for the tremulous debauchee.
Water cooleth the brow, and cooleth the brain
And maketh the faint one strong again;
It comes o'er the sense like a breeze from the sea
All freshness, like infant purity;
O, water, bright water, for me, for me!
Give wine, give wine, to the debauchee'

Fill to the brim ! fill, fill to the brim;
Let the flowing crystal kiss the rim !
For my hand is steady, my eye is true,
For I, like the flowers, drink nothing but dew.
O, water, bright water 's a mine of wealth,
And the ores which it yieldeth are vigor and health.
So water, pure water, for me, for moi
And wine for the tremulous debauchee
Fill again to the brim,- again to the brim !
For water strengtheneth life and limb !
To the days of the agéd it addeth length,
To the might of the strong it addeth strength;
It freshens the heart, it brightens the sight,
'T is like quaffing a goblet of morning light!
So, water, I will drink nothing but thee,
Thou parent of health and energy!
When over the hills, like a gladsome bride,
Morning walks forth in her beauty's pride,
And, leading a band of laughing hours,
Brushes the dew from the nodding flowers,
0! cheerily then my voice is heard
Mingling with that of the soaring bird,
Who flingeth abroad his matin loud,
As he freshens his wing in the cold, gray

cloud.
But when evening has quitted her sheltering yen,
Drowsily flying, and weaving anew
Her dusky meshes o'er land and sea,
How gently, 0 sleep, fall thy poppies on me!
For I drink water, pure, cold, and bright,
And my dreams are of Heaven the livelong night.
So hurrah for thee, Water! hurrah! hurrah !
Thou art silver and gold, thou art riband and star
Hurrah for bright water! hurrah! hurrah!

SO. TIIE DAYS THAT ARE GONE. Charles Mackay Who is it that mourns for the days that are gone, When a Noble could do as he liked with his own ? When his serfs, with their burdens well filled on their backs Never dared to complain of the weight of a tax? When his word was a statute, his nod was a law, And for aught but his “order” he cared not a straw? When each had his dungeon and racks for the poor, And a gibbet to hang a refractory boor? They were days when the word settled questions of right And Falsehood was first to monopolize might ;

When Law never dreamed it was good to relent,
Or thought it less wisdom to kill than prevent;
When Justice herself, taking Law for her guiae,
Was never appeased till a victim had died;
And the stealer of sheep and the slayer of men
Were strung up together, again and again.
They were days when the Crowd had no freedom of speech,
And reading and writing were out of its reach;
When Ignorance, stolid and dense, was its doom,
And Bigotry swathed it from cradle to tomb;
When the Few thought the Many mere workers for them,
To use them, and when they had used, to contemn;
And the Many, poor fools! thought the treatment their due
And crawled in the dust at the feet of the Few!
No! The Present, though clouds o'er her countenance roll,
Has a light in her eyes, and a hope in her soul ;
And we are too wise like the Bigots to mourn
For the darkness of days that shall never return.
Worn out and extinct, may their history serve
As a beacon to warn us, whenever we swerve,
To shun the Oppression, the Folly and Crime,
That blacken the page of that Record of Time.
Their chivalry lightened the gloom, it is true,
And Honor and Loyalty dwelt with the Few;
But small was the light, and of little avail,
Compared with the blaze of our Press and our Rail;
Success to that blaze! May it shine over all,
Til Ignorance learn with what grace she may fall,
And fly from the world with the sorrow she wrought.
And leave it to Virtue and Freedom of Thought.

$1. TIIE WORK-SIIOP AND THE CAMP. - For a Mechanic Celebration

The Camp has had its day of song:

The sword, the bayonet, the plume,
Have crowded out of rhyme too long

The plough, the anvil, and the loom !
O, not upon our tented fields

Are Freedom's heroes bred alone
The training of the Work-shop yields

More heroes true than War has known'
Who drives the bolt, who shapes the steel,

May, with a heart as valiant, smite,
As he who sceg a foeman reel

In blood before his blow of might'

The skill that conquers space and time,

That graces life, that lightens toil,
May spring from courage more sublime

Than that which makes a realm its spoil.
Let Labor, then, look up and see

His craft no pith of honor lacks ;
The soldier's rifle yet shall be

Less honored than the woodman's axe!
Let Art his own appointment prize;

Nor deem that gold or outward height
Can compensate the worth that lies

In tastes that breed their own delight.
And
may

the time draw nearer still,
When men this sacred truth shall heed.-
That from the thought and from the will

Must all that raises man proceed !
Though Pride should hold our calling low,

For us shall duty make it good;
And we from truth to truth shall go,

Till life and death are understood.

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82. THE WISE MAN'S PRAYER.- Dr. Samuel Johnson

INQUIRER, cease ! petitions yet remain
Which Heaven may hear; — nor dcem religion vain
Still raise for good the supplicating voice,
But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice
Safe in His power, whose eyes discern afar
The secret ambush of a specious pray'r ;
Implore His aid, in His decisions rest,
Secure, whate'er He gives, He gives the best.
Yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires,
And strong devotion to the skies aspires,
Pour forth thy fervors for a healthful mind,
Obedient passions, and a will resigned:
For love, which scarce collective man can fill;
For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill;
For faith, that, panting for a happier seat,
Counts death kind Nature's signal for retreat:
These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain ;
These goods lle grants who grants the power to gain
With these, celestial Wisdom calms the mind,
And makes the happiness she does not find.

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