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the heritage of the absurd and unjust feudal system, under which serfs labored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and feasting. It is time that this opprobrium of toil were done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou? Ashamed of thy dingy work-shop and dusty laborfield; of thy hard hand, scarred with service more honorable than that of war; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which mother Nature has embroidered, midst sun and rain, midst fire and steam, her own heraldic honors? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity? It is treason to Nature, it is impiety to Heaven, it is breaking Heaven's great ordinance. TOIL, I repeat — TOIL, either of the brain, of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true manhood, the only true nobility!

29. LABOR IS WORSHIP.-Frances S. Osgood. Born, 1812; died, 1850.
Laborare est orare-To labor is to pray.

PAUSE not to dream of the future before us;

Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us;
Hark, how Creation's deep, musical chorus,
Unintermitting, goes up into Heaven!
Never the ocean wave falters in flowing;
Never the little seed stops in its growing;
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing,
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.

"Labor is worship!"- the robin is singing;
"Labor is worship!"-the wild bee is ringing:
Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing

Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart.
From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower;
From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower;
From the small insect, the rich coral bower;

Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part.
Labor is life! "Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth;

Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth;
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labor is glory!the flying cloud lightens;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens ;

Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune!
Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us,
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us,
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us,
Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill.
Work-and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;
Work-thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow;

Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping-willow!
Work with a stout heart and resolute will!

Labor is health! Lo! the husbandman reaping,
How through his veins goes the life-current leaping!
How his strong arm, in its stalwart pride sweeping,

True as a sunbeam, the swift sickle guides!
Labor is wealth-in the sea the pearl groweth;
Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth ;
From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth;
Temple and statue the marble block hides.

Droop not, though shame, sin and anguish, are round thee'
Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee!
Look to yon pure Heaven smiling beyond thee;

Rest not content in thy darkness –
-a clod!
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly;
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly;
- all labor is noble and holy;


Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God'

30. MORAL AND PHYSICAL SCIENCE FRIENDLY TO FREEDOM.-Rev. E. H. Chapin. No cause is so bound up with religion as the cause of political liberty and the rights of man. Unless I have read history backward, unless Magna Charta is a mistake, and the Bill of Rights a sham, and the Declaration of Independence a contumacious falsehood, unless the sages, and heroes, and martyrs, who have fought and bled, were impostors, - unless the sublimest transactions in modern history, on Tower Hill, in the Parliaments of London, on the sea-tossed Mayflower, unless these are all deceitful, there is no cause so linked with religion as the cause of Democratic liberty.

And, Sir, not only are all the moral principles, which we can summon up, on the side of this great cause, but the physical movements of the age attend it and advance it. Nature is Republican. The discoveries of Science are Republican. Sir, what are these new forces, steam and electricity, but powers that are levelling all factitious dis tinctions, and forcing the world on to a noble destiny? Have they not already propelled the nineteenth century a thousand years ahead? What are they but the servitors of the People, and not of a class? Does not the poor man of to-day ride in a car dragged by forces such as never waited on Kings, or drove the wheels of triumphal chariots? Does he not yoke the lightning, and touch the magnetic nerves of the world? The steam-engine is a Democrat. It is the popular heart that throbs in its iron pulses. And the electric telegraph writes upon the walls of Despotism, Mene, mené, tekel upharsin! There is a process going on in the moral and political world, like that in the physical world, — crumbling the old Saurian forms of past ages,

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and breaking up old landmarks; and this moral process is working under Neapolitan dungeons and Austrian Thrones; and, Sir, it wil tumble over your Metternichs and Nicholases, and convert your Josephs into fossils. I repeat it, Sir, not only are all the moral principles of the age, but all the physical principles of nature, as developed by man, at work in behalf of freedom.

Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind

Powers that will work for thee; earth, air, and skies;
There's not a breathing of the common wind,
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;
Thy friends are exultations, agonies,
And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.

81. THE ORDER OF NATURE.-Alexander Pope. Born, 1688; died, 1744
ALL are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body nature is, and God the soul;
That, changed through all, and yet in all the same,
Great in the Earth, as in the ethereal frame,
Warms in the Sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees,
Lives through all life, extends through all extent
Spreads undivided, operates unspent ;
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect, in vile Man that mourns,
As the rapt Seraph that adores and burns:
To Him, no high, no low, no great, no small
He fills, He bounds, connects, and equals all.


Cease, then, nor ORDER Imperfection name,
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: This kind, this due degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heaven bestows on thee.
Submit;-in this, or any other sphere,
Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear,-
Safe in the hand of one Disposing Power,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;
All Chance, Direction, which thou canst not see;
All Discord, Harmony not understood;
All partial Evil, universal Good:

And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite,
One truth is clear: WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.


THE products of the whole world are, or may soon be, found within our confederate limits. Already there had been a salutary mixture of blood, but not enough to impair the Anglo Saxon ascendency. The

Nation grew morally strong from its original elements. The great work was delayed only by a just preparation. Now, God is bringing hither the most vigorous scions from all the European stocks, to make of them all one new man;- not the Saxon, not the German, not the Gaul, not the Helvetian, but the American. Here they will unite as one brotherhood, will have one law, will share one interest. Spread over the vast region from the frigid to the torrid, from the Eastern to the Western Ocean, every variety of climate giving them choice of pursuit and modification of temperament, the ballot-box fusing together all rivalries, they shall have one national will. What is wanting in one race will be supplied by the characteristic energies of the others; and what is excessive in either, checked by the counter action of the rest. Nay, though for a time the newly-come may retain their foreign vernacular, our tongue, so rich in ennobling literature, will be the tongue of the Nation, the language of its laws, and the accent of its majesty. Eternal God, who seest the end with the beginning, Thou alone canst tell the ultimate grandeur of this People!

Such, Gentlemen, is the sphere, present and future, in which God calls us to work for Him, for our country, and for mankind. The language in which we utter truth will be spoken on this Continent, a century hence, by thirty times more millions than those dwelling on the island of its origin. The openings for trade on the Pacific coast, and the railroad across the Isthmus, will bring the commerce of the world under the control of our race. The empire of our language will follow that of our commerce; the empire of our institutions, that of our language. The man who writes successfully for America will yet speak for all the world.


O BLEST of Heaven, whom not the languid songs
Of Luxury, the Siren! not the bribes

Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils
Of pageant Honor, can seduce to leave

Those ever-blooming sweets, which from the store
Of Nature fair Imagination culls

To charm the enlivened soul! What though not all
Of mortal offspring can attain the height
Of envied life; though only few possess
Patrician treasures or imperial state;
Yet Nature's care, to all her children just,
With richer treasures and an ampler state
Endows at large whatever happy man
Will deign to use them. His the city's pomp,
The rural honors his! Whate'er adorns
The princely dome, the column, and the arch,
The breathing marbles, and the sculptured gold,

Beyond the proud possessor's narrow claim,
His tuneful breast enjoys! For him, the Spring
Distils her dews, and from the silken germ
Its lucid leaves unfolds: for him, the hand
Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch
With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn.
Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings;
And still new Beauties meet his lonely walk,
And Loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze
Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes
The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain
From all the tenants of the warbling shade
Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake
Fresh pleasure, unreproved: nor thence partakes
Fresh pleasure only for the attentive mind,
By this harmonious action on her powers,
Becomes herself harmonious. — Thus the men
Whom Nature's works can charm, with God Himself
Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day,
With His conceptions, act upon His plan,
And form to His the relish of their souls.

34. THE GREAT DISTINCTION OF A NATION. — W. E. Channing. B. 1780; d. 1842.

THE great distinction of a Nation- the only one worth possessing, and which brings after it all other blessings is the prevalence of pure principle among the Citizens. I wish to belong to a State in the character and institutions of which I may find a spring of improvement, which I can speak of with an honest pride; in whose records I may meet great and honored names, and which is fast making the world its debtor by its discoveries of truth, and by an example of virtuous freedom. O, save me from a country which worships wealth, and cares not for true glory; in which intrigue bears rule; in which patriotism borrows its zeal from the prospect of office; in which hungry sycophants throng with supplication all the departments of State; in which public men bear the brand of private vice, and the seat of Government is a noisome sink of private licentiousness and public corruption.

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Tell me not of the honor of belonging to a free country. I ask, does our liberty bear generous fruits? Does it exalt us in manly spirit, in public virtue, above countries trodden under foot by Despotism? Tell me not of the extent of our country. I care not how large it is, if it multiply degenerate men. Speak not of our prosperity. Better be one of a poor People, plain in manners, reverencing God, and respecting themselves, than belong to a rich country, which knows no higher good than riches. Earnestly do I desire for this country, that, instead of copying Europe with an undiscerning

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