thy anguish be stilled! Peace! wailing Mispeh ! for seest thou not how the spiritual Dove flingeth a halo around the sweet temples of this fair sacrifice! The doomed and beautiful being folded her arms softly over her pale bosom, and raised her holy young face to heaven. Her soft, dark eyes floated in serene and solemn light--a radiance unearthly and inspired emanated from her fair brows. The stricken man looked upon her till he was almost comforted-so powerful was the influence of her resigned and sweet expression-so peaceful was the glory of her form. The serpent who had laughed-ha!--ha! when the mighty man of valor bowed himself to the earth, and cast his helmet from him, and rent his armor-the serpent looked and quailed. There was a presence that that terrible spirit could not endure-and he saw it now, floating and smiling around the young girl, and the triumph of his hideous laugh was turned to the shrinking of cowardly fear; he spit his venom upon the gay flowers blooming back of the rich tent of the leader; and writhing with disappointed hate, fled away from the sight of the pure magnificence guarding the fated maiden. DAILY MIRACLES. They lie beneath our feet, and the rude clown In an essay, remarkable at once for the originali-, ty of its views, and the practical good sense which it contains, John Foster recommends the propriety of every man writing memoirs of himself, not as an exercise of ingenuity-not as a means of drawing the world's regard--but to fix in a man's own mind a sense of the progress he has made in moral and intellectual ideas, to mark the change in his sensations which a prolonged experience of life produces, and to excite a feeling of gratitude for those many providential interpositions which the most careless observer can scarcely fail to recognize as exercised in his behalf. Considered in this latter point of view, few processes of mind can be more interesting than this retrospect which a thoughtful person is apt to take at certain seasons of his past life. The trite observation, that man is the creature of circumstances, is in one sense strikingly illustrated; but in a higher and more important meaning, he will feel that "There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Why he is in this position rather than in that, is to him a moral puzzle; and as he runs his memory along the thread of circumstances--many of which at the time appeared trifling and insignifi. cant, but which are now discerned to have exercised a deep and important influence upon his fate-he cannot but feel that his destinies are in the hands of a higher power than his own will; and that, though far from being altogether powerless in the battle of life, he is acting under superior orders, mysteriously but unerringly conveyed to him; and that he cannot, if he would, separate his lot from that grand scheme of universal providence which binds in one the whole complicated, involved, and apparently irreconcilable interests of the universe. Is such a survey of the past, calmly and reverently pursued, likely to conduct a man to the conclusion of sitting down in despair, or even of careless apathy, as if his destinies were in no sense in his own hands, or as if, a mere atom in the immensity of creation, no account were to be taken of him? By no means. It is more likely to elevate him in the sense of his own dignity, and to stimulate him to put forth more vigorous effort. True, he can neither foresee the future, nor control those elements that make it- the varied current of events in the present and the past; but while he feels that he is not self-sufficient, that he cannot separate himself from that mighty whole of which he is a part, his self-love may well be satisfied by the compensating thought, that of that whole he is no insignificant, no uncared-for portion. This is proved with the power of demonstration, by the fact of the care that is taken for his preservation, as well as by the influence, gentle as irresistible, with which he is impelled along the course of action. He is evidently no vulgar instrument in the hands of the universal Agent; for the motives which are addressed to his nature, mighty as they are, are seen only in their effects. So secretly, so softly, so delicately are they applied to the springs of his volition, that he is unconscious of their existence, and he moves with a freedom and an elasticity as complete as if the sources of his action were all his own. Neither dragged as an inanimate piece of matter, nor goaded like a wild beast, the influence exercised over him is aptly and felicitously described in Scripture as "the cords of love." In all cases his reason has full scope for action; and though he cannot see the important consequences which may hang upon his decision even in matters of comparatively insignificant moment, yet to the extent of its range he has full permission to go, as well as a course of duty laid down, kindly meant to assist his limited vision, and in adhering to which he is infallibly assured, that, whether for time or for eternity, "he that walketh uprightly walketh surely." He is thus not only comprehended in the incomprehensible schemes of a universal providence, but he is farther honored in being permitted in some humble but yet important degree to take an intelligent and rational part in their accomplishment. True, it is but little of their nature, a mere point in their extent, that he can discern; but he sees enough to satisfy him as to their general scope and design; and as he discerns those influences of 360 DAILY MIRACLES. divine power ceaselessly but noiselessly at work, exerting themselves in him as well as everywhere around him, he feels himself impressed with the overwhelming thought that in this sense he is “a fellow-worker with God." And not only is our observer sensible of the operations of a universal providence, in which he bears a part; he will also feel that along with this there is at the same time a providence particularly interested in his own behalf, as tender, as minute, as careful, as if there were no being in the universe but himself, no interests requiring attention but his own. It may safely be affirmed that there is no man living who has pursued the course and arrived at the position which on his first setting out in life he had proposed for himself. In every case some thwarting influence has been exerted, traversing his schemes, or pushing him beyond what he had designed; but whether in the one case or the other, forcing upon him the conclusion that his own strength or sagacity has had little to do with the position which he now occupies. He has been led gently but irresistibly along the course which he has come, often against his own will, seldom with the motives which actuated him at his first setting out; and the place he occupies, if he ever thought of it in the beginning of his course, has been reached by paths which he never would have voluntarily trod in. ticipated are found to diminish as he advances They gie the wit of age to youth, The real guid and ill." Or take another case. A man steadily pursuing his course, following on in the path of duty, is met by unexpected, and, as it seems at the time, by insuperable obstacles, which stretch across his line of vision like some Alpine chain, that frown upon his path and seem to forbid his approach; and yet, if he proceed, nothing daunted by these threatening obstacles, he usually finds that, in the very heart of them, a narrow path is found. Some pass through the hills, which, winding here and there, present a course, But a retrospect of a man's life supplies food for farther reflection still. It is not only that the general course of events has been different from that which the man expected, or which he intend-rugged indeed, steep and adverse, but yet such as ed to bend to his will, though that alone might convince him that he is in higher hands than his own; but there are abundance of illustrations of the same general principle to be derived from particular incidents, with which the experience of every man will supply him. How often do we meet with cases where a man commences life with the most brilliant prospects, which he pursues with exemplary patience and unwavering perseverance, yet ever as he advances the gay scene seems to elude his grasp; gradually the clouds gather, the views darken, until at length the whole disappears like the illusion of a dream, and the individual, instead of basking in the prosperity which on reasonable grounds he had promised to himself, finds that he has to struggle against a succession of adverse circumstances, which drive him out of his course, and impel him into new scenes and different associations which he had never before contemplated, or thought of only to avoid! And yet it is usually found that, as he enters along this new and undescried path, its gloom gradually lightens and its ruggednesses smooth. The difficulties which he an will enable him to make way, and finally extricate him from the hindrances which at first seemed impenetrable. So common are these occurrences, so much is the history of every individual life made up of them, that we are too apt to pass them by as things of course. And yet can there be plainer indications of a divine guidance than these facilities of access, opened so unexpectedly, and always at the right time, afford to every thinking mind-indications so plain and marked, that the pillar of cloud and fire which led the chosen people in ancient days are hardly less miraculous? True, there is not the visible putting forth of the Almighty arm which so frequently signalizes the inspired records, but is it not as palpable and as decided Miracles, indeed! To one who thinks aright of the course of man's history, the interference with the course of nature, as indicated by the parting of the Red Sea waves and the daily supply of manna, are but (to speak it with reverence) mere clumsy contrivances, compared with the higher and finer manifestation of power and wisdom which consists in so arranging the order of nature that its general rules THE HONEST HEART. 361 shall all be made to work for the good of indi. viduals, and the immensely complicated concerns of individuals are cared for with the utmost precision and minuteness by the same instrumentality that guides and regulates the general welfare of the whole. It is to be observed, too, that, whether in prosperity or in adversity, no man has any assurance that his position will be the same for any length of time. This is so obvious and so trite, that the ceaseless mutations of fortune have formed the theme of poets and moralists in all ages, and many are the complaints that have been issued by both of the instability of human affairs. We are not about to dispute the correctness of these complaints; but at the same time it is well to remark that, viewed in another light, this arrangement of Providence is another instance of the principle we are endeavoring to illustrate. For what is it but this, that God reserves man's affairs in his own hands, and deals out to him the incidents of his life only in the most minute particles at a time? The blessings that make man's life worth living for may be regarded as laid up in a vast treasury or storehouse, of which the keeper is God himself, and to him must man come for each and all of them. But it is worth notice, that he can carry away no more at each application than will serve him for the present time. Man may come as often as he will the oftener the more welcome -- and he is never denied a supply; but yet, even in the most profuse distribution of these favors, there is this presiding economy observed, that nothing is given to him beyond that which is needful for the present demand. In this respect every man's life resembles the condition of the Israelites, when their supplies of food lasted only for a day, and every returning morning required a renewed supply. It is not intended to insinuate here that men are not sometimes fa vored with blessings more than they need for the present, or that opportunities never occur when a man may say, like him of old, "Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years." Such an idea is of course contradicted at once by every man's experience; but, on the other hand, it will not be denied that such provision often proves illusory and disappears, so that, even while hoarded in earthly storehouses, the owner of them has in reality no certain pos. session. "Riches often make to themselves wings and fly away," or health fails, and with it the power of enjoying them; or, lastly, that dread event comes, which happened in the parable already referred to-" the soul is required" -and all earthly possessions are left behind. This latter consideration reminds us, that uncertain as earthly possessions are held, the tenure of life is no surer. The possession of both, indeed, depend upon precisely the same security. We cannot call our blessings our own beyond the instant we are enjoying them; we have no hold upon life beyond the moment we retain it. Life and the means of living are dispensed together in the minutest particles, as if to impress us at once with a sense of our own dependence, and of the never ceasing fullness, as well as the neverwearying care, of Him on whom we depend. In realizing this exquisite arrangement, at once bountiful to prodigality in the amount, while economical to niggardliness in the duration, the heart is left calm and humble in prosperity, brave and hoping in adversity, and in both freed from a load of cares with regard to its worldly interests, while it calmly and resolutely pursues its prescribed duty, so that it may enter into the language of the poet "Knowest thou yesterday, its care and sorrow? Hast thou rightly weighed the duty of to-day? THE HONEST HEART. In the first bloom of life, when all things wear O then 'tis sweet, unchained by any care, Did we in our maturer age retain The freshness of the young, unfettered mind, Still some there be, who with a gentle love, THE MAIDEN'S BURIAL. BY C. A. M. W. AN ancient village stood embowered in trees, And close beside the orchard trees stretched forth Grand in its own simplicity. The aged pastor, good and gracious man, A chaplet of white roses hung suspended When showers of violets cast into the grave Perfumed the air-as this soft chant they sang : She is saying hallelujahs-in her far-off home of light, She would not return again-tho' earthly lures were e'er so bright; Mourn not for her-the young--the pure-cast the sweets upon her bed- Happy spirit! to her Saviour she in faith, in trust, hath fled, Our gentle dove hath flown away to her native place of rest, With her plumage all unruffled, to the mansions of the blest. Guard the living, strew their path with sweet celestial flowers |