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many fishes

sport in its waters! How does it form a lodging-place for the Amazon, the Mississippi, the Danube, the Rhine, the Ganges, the Lena, and the Hoang Ho!

How piercing are these pure, limpid drops! How do they find their way into the depths of the earth, and even the solid rock! How many thousand streams, hidden from

our view by mountain masses, are steadily pursuing their 5 courses, deep from the surface which forms our standing

place for a few short days! In the air, too, how it diffuses itself! Where can a particle of air be found, which does not contain an atom of water?

How much would a famishing man give for a few of these pure, limpid drops of water! And where do we use it in our daily sustenance ? or rather, where do we not use it ? Which portion of the food that we have taken during our lives did not contain it? What part of our body, which limb,

which organ, is not moistened with this same faithful ser6 vant ? How is our blood, that free liquid, to circulate through our veins without it?

How gladly does the faithful horse, or the patient ox, in his toilsome journey, arrive at the water's brink ! And the faithful dog, patiently following his master's track-how eagerly does he lap the water from the clear fountain he meets in his way!

The feathered tribe, also_how far and how quick their flight, that they may exchange the northern ice for the

same common comfort rendered liquid and limpid by a 7 southern sun !

Whose heart ought not to overflow with gratitude to the abundant Giver of this pure liquid, which his own hand has deposited in the deep, and diffused through the floating air and the solid earth? Is it the farmer, whose fields, by the gentle dew and the abundant rain, bring forth fatness ? Is it the mechanic, whose saw, lathe, spindle and shuttle, aro moved by this faithful servant? Is it the merchant, on his return from the noise and the perplexities of business, to

the table of his family, richly supplied with the varieties 8 and the luxuries of the four quarters of the globe, produced

by the abundant rain, and transported across the mighty but yielding ocean? Is it the physician, on his administering to his patient some gentle beverage, or a more active healer of the disease which threatens ? Is it the clergyman, whose profession it is to make others feel—and that by feeling himself—that the slightest favor and the richest blessing are from the same source, and from the same abundant and constant Giver ? Who, that still has a glass of water and a crumb of bread, is not ungrateful to complain?


Extract from a Discourse by the celebrated French Orutor

Massillon. ] There is not, perhaps, a person present who cannot

say of himself, “ I live as the multitude—those of my own rank, my own age and condition in life ; and am I lost if I die thus ?” What more proper to alarm a soul which has any concern for its own salvation ? Nevertheless, it is the multitude that tremble not, and feel no alarm. It is only a sinall number of just persons, who work out alone their salvation with fear and trembling: all the rest are calm and unconcerned. Convinced that the impenitent multitude

must die in their sins, each individual flatters himself, that 2 after having lived with the multitude, he shall be distin

guished from them at death; puts himself in the case of a preposterous exception, and dreams that for him all will be safe. It is for this reason, my brethren, that I address myself

who are here assembled. I speak not of the rest of mankind, but direct my view to you alone, as if you were the only beings on earth. Behold the thought which occupies and appals my spirit. I fancy that your final hour has come, and the end of the world—that the heavens 3 are about to open above your heads-Jesus Christ to ap

pear in glory in this temple—and that you are here assembled but to await, as trembling criminals, his sentence of pardon or eternal death : for it is in vain to flatter yourselves, such as you are to-day, such you will die. Those desires of change which now amuse, will continue to amuse you to the bed of death : it is the experience of all ages. All of change that you will then find, will be an account somewhat larger, perhaps, than you would have to render 10-day. By what you would be, were you to be judged this



4 very moment, you may almost certainly decide what will be your final doom. I ask you, then,-struck with dismay I ask it, not separating my own lot from yours, but placing myself in the same predicament, -I ask you, if Jesus Christ were to appear in this temple, in the midst of this assembly, in judgment, and separate the sheep from the goats, think you the larger portion of us here present would be placed on the right? Think you there would be half ? Do you believe there would be simply ten righteous, which God once did not find in five entire cities? I ask

you, 5 you know not. I too am ignoranı : Thou only, oh God!

knowest who are thine. But if we know not who belong to God, we are at least certain that the wicked do not. Who, then, are the righteous in this assembly? Titles, and rank, and riches, must be reckoned as nothing ; you will all be stripped of them in the presence of Jesus Christ. Who, then, are here? Many sinners who will not be converted : a still larger number who would, but delay their conversion: some who repent but to relapse again into

sin ; and many who think they have no need of conver6 sion—These are the classes of the reprobate. Retrench

these four sorts of sinners from this holy assembly,—they will be retrenched at the great day of accounts. Stand forth now, ye righteous! Where are ye? Remnant of Israel, pass to the right! Wheat of the Lord, separate from this chaff, destined to unquenchable fire! Oh, my God! where are thine elect, and what remains for thy portion!

St. Paul, addressing himself to Christians of all grades and classes, even down to menial servants, exhorts them to be courteous. Courtecusness nust mean, therefore, a something which is within the reach of all sorts of people, and, in its primary and best sense, is exactly such a behavior as spontaneously springs from a heart warm wih benevolence, and unwilling to give needless pain, or ineasiness to a fellow-being.

We have no more right, wantonly or carelessly to wound the mind, than to wound the body of a fellow-being; and, in many instances, the former is the more cruel of the two

Brief Remarker.

Since trifles make the sum of human things,
And half our misery from our foibles springs;
Since life's best joys consist in peace and case,
And few can save or serve, but all can please ;
Oh! let the ungentle spirit learn from hence,
A small unkindness is a great offence.—More.


Hymn to the Deity.--BOWRING.

“There is no sound or language where their voice is not heard." 1 The heavenly spheres to thee, O God, attune their even

ing hymn ; All-wise, All-holy, thou art praised in song of seraphim ; Unnumbered systems, suns, and worlds, unite to worship

thee, While thy majestic greatness fills space-time-eternity.

2 Nature—a temple worthy of thee-beams with light and

love, Whose flowers so sweetly bloom below, whose stars re

joice above; Whose altars are the mountain cliffs, that rise along the

shore, Whose anthems, the sublime accord of storm and ocean's


3 Her song of gratitude is sung by spring's awakening

hours ; Her summer offers at thy shrine its earliest, loveliest

flowers; Her autumn brings its ripened fruits, in glorious luxury

given; While winter's silver heights reflect thy brightness back

to Heaven !

4. On all thou smilest:-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, Lord,

by thee, Its spirit to thy arms shall spring--to life-to liberty.

“ Allthy works praise thee.” When spring unlocks the flowers, to paint the laughing

soil, When summer's balmy showers refresh the mower's toil, When winter binds, in frosty chains, the fallow and the

flood, In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns her Maker good. The birds that wake the morning, and those that love tho

shade.--The winds that sweep the mountain, or lull the drowsy

glade, The sun, that, from his amber bower, rejoiceth on his

The moon and stars their Maker's name, in silent pomp,

Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky,-
Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise deny ?
No! let the year forsake his course, the seasons cease to be,
Thee, Maker, must we always love, and, Savior, honor

The flowers of spring may wither, the hope of summer

fade, The autumn droop in winter, the birds forsake the shade, The winds be lulled, the sun and moon forget their old

decree; But we, in nature's latest hour, O Lord, will cling to thee.


LESSON LXXIII. Mortality and Immortality.---Mrs. BARBAULD. 1 Child of mortality, whence comest thou ? why is thy

countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping ? I have seen the rose in its beauty ; it spread its leaves to

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