ity of decoration we discover in the universe is most intimately associated with the very highest interests of the soul. It is through the symbolic language of the universe that the Grand Master of all speaks to his children, and whence come those spiritual influences which disengage the soul from the trammels of matter, and exalt it to a oneness with God. Were the beauty which shines in the universe— beauty which has no perceivable connection with our physical utility or temporal interest-extinguished, the medium of communication between God and the soul would be closed up, the soul would perish, and man would fall to the level of the brutes. But, thanks to the wise Creator, he has not only made the world, and richly replenished it with what is necessary for our temporal convenience, he has also created it beautiful, and thus provided for the soul's wants.

Probably all of one half of our moral growth— one half certainly of whatever perfection we possess, may be attributed to that wonderful influencescarcely recognized, because so uniform and quiet— which Nature, through her beauty, exercises upon all men. No man can give himself up to a communion with the beautiful, without feeling himself wonderfully moved by a mysterious attraction, and hurried away, as it were, from the visible and ma terial universe, toward some invisible centre-some diviner sphere. His heart beats in sympathy with

the soul of Nature; all that is particular, individual, selfish, vanishes, and the current of universal being sweeps through his soul; he is conscious of the presence of a Purity, a beauty superior to his. The most fortunate of the English poets expresses the same sentiment in the following beautiful lines :

"How often we forget all time, when lone,
Admiring Nature's universal throne,

Her woods, her wilds, her waters, the intense
Reply of hers to our intelligence.

Live not the stars and mountains?

Are the waves

Without a spirit? Are the dropping caves

Without a feeling, in their silent tears?

No, no, they woo and clasp us to their spheres,
Dissolve this clod and clog of clay before

Its hour, and merge the soul in the great shore !
Strip off this fond and false identity-

Who thinks of self when gazing on the sky?"

So long, therefore, as the Creator is so prodigal of decoration, let not the partisans of utility accuse us of folly for employing regalia, and other decorations, as instrumentalities of good! The world itself goes in regalia, and does not disdain a collar and apron ;-a collar of silver clouds, gemmed with stars and broidered with rainbows; an apron curiously wrought with symbolic devices in flowers and foliage!—and thus sets us an example worthy of imitation.

CHAPTER IX.

The Lesson of Xnitiation.

IT teaches the neophyte that he is to labor unceasingly to perfect his nature, and employing the faculties God has given him to accomplish well the mission he is sent into this world to achieve. As the human body is nourished by those physical elements which, by a law of nature, become a part of its own substance, so the soul is expanded, it is perfected and glorified by inspiring those divine influences which God-the source of all science, art, beauty, wisdom, goodness-is perpetually communicating to his intelligent creatures. At each step which man advances in knowledge and goodness, a new and higher revelation of truth and beauty is made to his soul. It is the capacity for improvement, the power to aspire to what is beyond and above him, that is to say, to the infinite, which give to man the exalted rank he holds in the universe. Hence the duty which is imposed upon him of approaching unceasingly nearer to the divine perfection, through the right exercise of all his faculties.

We cannot but perceive the wisdom of this arrangement, and its eminent adaptation to the nature of man, and to the conditions of his existence. He commences his career on earth feeble, helpless, and ignorant. Blind, in darkness and in chains, he wanders through many a gloomy way. He is bound to the world and to his fellow-men by a multitude of relations, all which require an enlightened judgment and a well-disciplined mind. He is born, too, to a heritage of sorrow and grief, liable to disappointments and misfortunes. Hence the necessity of seeking that wisdom, those comforts and supports, and of cultivating those affections which will raise him above the vicissitudes of time, enable him to master the storm and overcome the world, and bind him in strong and close alliance with the invisible and eternal.

Life's chief work or duty is to sacrifice the brief interests of time and self to immortality and God. And to disengage the soul from the trammels of sense, to exalt it, to perfect it by making it as one with God, is the end which religion proposes, and should be the object of all science, literature, and art. For these are but parts of one vast, universal religion, which speaks not to one of our sentiments only, but to the entire of our faculties; that is, to the Soul, which is the centre and source of all.

To labor to achieve one's destiny in the earth, is to labor for wisdom, goodness, truth. It is to culti

vate generous affections, holy and trustful thought, and heavenly aspirations. And you will observe that all this implies labor, struggle, combat. It is plain that a being who is created for a perpetual progress upward, must be subject to the necessity of toil. Born weak and ignorant, but with the infinite heavens shining above him, he must advance, do battle with the foes which obstruct his way, and overcome the world, the flesh, and the devil, which seek to oppose his heavenward march. Thought can fix no limits to the possible progress of the soul, nor calculate the measure of its perfection.

The first step to be taken in this great work is to overthrow all selfishness, and subjugate the passions and senses to the dominion of the soul. In their appropriate sphere, and under a wise direction, the passions give a charm to existence, and are the ministers of incalculable good. But they are prone to rebel, and often bind the soul with an iron chain. They are useful as domestics, but when they usurp the mastery, are the most pitiless of tyrants. In the one case they are like a gently-flowing river, which gives beauty to the landscape and fertility to the soil. In the other they are like the sweeping storm or the crushing avalanche, the ministers of desolation and woe. Overborne by their clamors, man is hurled to earth, and sees no more the sunny heavens which arch above him, and invite him to soar. Truth, wisdom, virtue, charm him not; he