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workshop, and anticipating the work of riper years. In a passionate apostrophe of sympathy, the poet calls him "the best philosopher"—an eye among the blind, “reading the eternal deep" -a "mighty prophet"-a "blessed seer," over whom his "immortality broods like the day." In anticipation of the sorrows which years would bring, and of the eclipse of the morning vision, he mournfully asks—

"Why with such earnest pains dost thou invoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife ?"

We have here another pause. The action of the poem is again suspended, and the poet wrapped in contemplation. Twice he had ascended to the sources of human life-to the summits of the heaven-kissing mountains where the child makes his first appearance on earth wrapped in the splendors and beatitudes of heaven. Twice had he traced this river of God down to the lower regions; twice had he seen the "trailing cloud of glory" stripped of its flame-paintings and heavenly rainbows, and become a thunder-cloud, instinct with lightning-passions and the elements of strife. Is this the history of humanity? Has it no other and better aspect? It has; and the poet proceeds to point it out. Awaking from his revery, he exclaims

"Oh joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live-
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!"

But why this exclamation, if the remembrance of the past only imbitters the present? But it is not so. The deep philosophy of the poem, the meaning and import, the sacred use of those delightful memories which linger in the bosom of all men, the "babbling of green fields," the moral use and purpose of the pure and beautiful, now begin to be developed, or at least indicated. We look too narrowly, too superficially at those things. We gaze wistfully at the morning lights from a low point of observation, and fail to perceive that they shoot overhead, far above the clouds which envelop us in the valley of humiliation, and gild a far-off spot, the portal of another world. Remembering "what was fugitive" from this Pisgah-height, the poet exclaims

"The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction."

This blessing and blessed mood is not induced solely or principally by the remembrance of the delight and liberty," and "simple creed" of childhood. He raises his song of praise for the

"For those first affections,

Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,

Are yet the fountain-light of all our day-
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing,
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal silence."

In the light and strength of these truths and emotions, which he declares to be perennial and indestructible, the poet is wrapt and endowed with "the vision and the faculty divine;" and

"In a season of calm weather,

Though inland far we be,

Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,

Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the children sport upon the shore,

And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore."

These truths bring peace to the poet. They link the past to the future; they bridge the chasm of time, which lies between the two eternities; and shed a divine illumination upon the pathway of human life. Life is no longer an accident-a foam-bubble on the tide of the ages, sparkling for a moment, and then sinking for ever. It is a stream from the infinite fountain of being, never to be dried up; it is a star which knows no setting. The world is no longer the empire of Ahrimanus-no longer an old, wornout world, but fresh as it was to the heart of childhood. It may be true that

"Nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;" yet in a closing apostrophe to his beloved nature -to fountains, meadows, hills, and groves-the poet can say―

"Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might,
I only have relinquish'd one delight—
To live beneath your more habitual sway.'

He concludes his song upon the key-note which vibrates through all its cadences:

"Thanks to the human heart, by which we live

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears!
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."

You have marked the calm and silent ways, and sublime processes of nature. Sad and solemn is the desolation of winter. Earth lies spellbound in the chains of frost and snow; storm and

tempest hold undisputed sway. But silently, gradually, almost imperceptibly the days lengthen, and gain upon the domain of night. Mild breezes spring up from the south and west; the northern blasts muster their forces against the gentler influences; but the day god rises higher and higher in his course, silently, majestically. The genial southern breezes, like the spirit of meekness, return, and at last gain the ascendant. The spring showers fall, the south winds blow, the dews distill through the ambient air, the sunlight spreads its warm mantle upon the tender grass and rising flower-buds: slowly, silently, almost imperceptibly, the fields are covered with verdure; the buds develop into flowers. We have the "joyous freshness of May," "the leafy month of June;" in due time the full maturity of the golden autumn. Great transformation! glorious consummation! But whence and how? We trace it to the skyey influences, to the contact and communion of earth with heaven, to the mystic power of nature in her on-goings of beauty and purity, silently insinuating her vitality into the organic forms of matter, and assimilating them to her own likeness. But the transforming power did not formally proclaim itself. The spring showers and breezes, the summer dews and sunshine, did not previously announce that their mission was to crown the year with plenty. Earth, also, like a trusting, loving child, happy in the light of a father's eye and mother's tenderness, never asked the skyey powers (if we might use the bold figure), “Can ye make me beautiful and fruitful?" but was well content to grow daily in beauty and fruitfulness.

It is so also in the spiritual world. Its ways and processes are even more slow and silent than those of nature. It is emphatically said, "It

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cometh not with observation." The influences which move, and change, and build up a rational spirit, are more subtle than those of the sun and atmosphere, of magnetism or gravitation. Reading the lesson of nature in the outer world in this light, we here pause, and leave whatever of vital force or beauty is in these extracts to find its way to the heart and intellect of our readers. "For you the muse," says the author of them in one of his sonnets

"For you she wrought; ye only can supply The life, the truth, the beauty."

Most readers will probably be at a loss to find how or at what point the ode bears upon the question of the soul's immortality. We think we have discovered the point of contact, and could make it clear to our readers; but as the logical argument is by no means our purpose in this paper, we prefer rather to recommend repeated perusals of our abstract, and of the poem in its entireness, to as many as can lay hands on it. We venture to hope that thus a higher and happier feeling than that which springs from the most logical conclusions of which moral and spiritual truths are capable, will be generated—that the mind and heart, which, by contemplation and calm meditation meet and mingle, and hold communion with the profound truths and lofty imaginings of the poet, will grow in strength and beauty, not less certainly than the fields and forests under the natural influences of spring and summer. This is our philosophy of life, and growth, and development; and it is our conviction that higher aim can no priest or teacher propose than to bring the truths of the moral and spiritual kingdom to bear in their sublimities and beatitudes upon the human soul.

Joy's a sweet, yet fragile, flower;
It loves bright lands and sunny skies;
When days are dark, when tempests lower,
It droops to earth, and fades, and dies.

Hope brightest blooms amidst the storm!

Its verdure owns not Fate's control: Joy comes array'd in mortal form,Hope dwells a portion of the soul.—w. L. e.

Is what consists the elevation and happiness of a nation? Not in the splendor of its government. Not in the grandeur and superior refinement of its rulers. Not in the wealth and luxury of a privileged and noble class. Not in the security and efficient control of a pampered aristocracy. Not in the strength and glory of its armies and navy. These may all be had, as history has proved, and yet the great mass of the people be oppressed, degraded, corrupt, and little of domestic peace and tranquillity be known.

The elevation and happiness of society can only be secured by the elevation and happiness of the different families and members composing that society. Nothing can be effectual for this end, which does not enter the household and the heart, and contribute to produce and promote intelligence, order, contentment, and industry. These form the main elements of national prosperity. Wherever they exist diffusely among the mass, there must be both national happiness and national aggrandizement. We say nothing of the tendency of Christianity to elevate and bless, as it makes the subject of its influence aspire to the society of God, of the spirits of just men made perfect, of the angels who kept their first estate, the loftiest intelligences-the best society in the universe,-as it thus, of necessity, expands and strengthens the mind, and as it throws in the radiance of hope and joy, by unfolding the prospect of future scenes, of high and ennobling immortality; but we speak only of its improvement of men's temporal condition.

Let the appropriate influence of religion find its way into the different families that compose a community, and there you will see the most ef fectual restraints imposed on discord and strife, and the most powerful incentives to promote order, intelligence, contentment, and industry. For he that is actuated by religion is affected by the fear of God, and the fear of God is a much more powerful principle than the fear of human laws, or of the authorities intrusted with the execution of those laws. The ignorant and impoverished are apt to feel, that the laws and the government are their enemies, or at any rate, that,

while society owes them a subsistence, it does by these means throw obstacles in the way of their receiving it. So far from having respect to the general order and happiness of society, they are willing to sacrifice all to their selfishness, and to prevent confusion and mischief, rapaciousness and crime, the strong hand of power, with all the accompaniments of courts and jails, penitentiaries and military force, must inspire terror.

This fear is not effectual; the fear of God, however, is. It accompanies the man affected by it into all the intercourse of life, and sheds its controlling influence over all his conduct. When true religion enters the cottage of the thief or drunkard, or the palace of the proud oppressor, it brings its own peculiar energies to bear upon their inmates. It starts no philosophical discussions about public morals, the comforts of sobriety, the advantages to be derived from holding sacred the rights of property, or the necessity of civil government for the general weal. It takes a much more direct method to accomplish its ends. It asserts and exalts the law of God, which requires, “As ye would that others do to you, do ye even so to them." It requires that each man regard and love his neighbor and his brother, as himself. It pours out the denunciation of Heaven on high and low, who dare to violate its high behests. It imparts a few simple and salutary principles, and engraves them on the tablets of the heart, so that its subject can never plead ignorance, but carries with him, through all the varieties of human condition, and complicated human relations, his guide and instructor in the path of duty; "teaching us to deny all ungodliness and worldly lusts, and to live soberly, righteously and godly, in this present evil world;""to be subject to principalities and powers, to obey magistrates," to render unto all men their dues, "tribute to whom tribute is due, custom to whom custom, fear to whom fear, honor to whom honor, to owe no man, but to love one another;" "to put away all anger and malice," envy and revenge, those stormy passions, which keep society agitated and unsettled, and to abstain from all lying, and backbiting,

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and reviling. It is obvious that nothing possesses half so much intrinsic power, or is so admirably and universally adapted to diffuse throughout the community a love of order, a respect for the laws, the spirit of contentment and goodwill, and the diligent efforts of a healthful industry, the very elements of public prosperity.

Religion meets man in the lowest depths of his degradation and misery, and, speaking in the soft tones of heavenly mercy, words of peace and encouragement, inspires him with hope, and prompts him to commence a thorough renovation of his life. It meets him in his helplessness, and when through conscious weakness, and fear of temptation, he scarcely dares to form a resolution to change, it proffers its aid, directs him to the treasures of wisdom, and of strength laid up for him in Jesus Christ, and persuades him to hope and believe there is salvation for him. It meets him in his ignorance, and when he knows not where to look, what to do, in whom to trust, or from whom to take counsel, presents, as the friend and companion of his steps, the mighty Son of God, on whom to lean, and through whom to escape from every fear and foe. It meets him in his different relations, as parent, husband, child, brother, friend, neighbor and subject, and vouchsafing its counsel and safe conduct through all the different and difficult circumstances of his condition, assists him in the discharge of every duty, and moulds his character after the graces of the Spirit of God, "against which there is no law." It meets him in his different trials and afflictions; the difficult passes through life, and administers courage and consolation, wiping away the tears of his sorrow, dissipating his anxiety about his own and his family's welfare, soothing him on the bed of sickness, comforting him in his afflictions, supporting him in his trials, fortifying him for disappointments, lifting him up in his despondency, exciting him with the hope of future good, dispelling the fear of death, throwing around him in his dying moments the arms of everlasting love, and pressing his spirit beloved to the bosom of his Heavenly Father.

ner of his cares sinking under the pressure of their trials. There is nothing which can so soften the rugged, polish the rude, enlighten the ignorant, sustain under heavy pressure, and direct under circumstances fraught with perplexity. Where was there ever such a magic power brought to bear upon a people to improve the condition of the poor?-to expel discontent and gloom?-to substitute peace for anxiety, confidence for fear, hope for despondency, joy for sorrow, purity for pollution-Nothing can equal it, nothing compensate it. It is this, and this alone that can equalize the allotments of Providence, and place every man in a condition to rise to respectability and happiness.

Talk not of agrarian laws, or the equal distribution of property, to improve the condition of society! Suppose you could fill the land with families of opulence, you could not fill those families with happiness, not even with contentment. Wealth has no power to relieve from care, and fill the home and heart of its possessor with bliss. But introduce the religion of Jesus Christ among the people,-let it enter the households of the poor, and inspire the tenants of the humble cottage, with the hope of that inheritance which is "incorruptible, undefiled, and which fadeth not away;" and teach them how their trials, which are comparatively but for a moment, work out for them "a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory," yea, that their very poverty is proof of His favor, who hath chosen them "rich in faith and heirs of the kingdon," and you do more than all the legislation, wisdom and philosophy of man, and the resources of governments, can accomplish, to fill the land with contented and happy families, and ensure the greatest amount of happiness consistent with a state of moral discipline.