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but it is only because the eye of faith has wandered, or become dim; the voice of prayer has waxed feeble, and the hand of dependance has loosened its hold on the staff of promise. Let these, by divine aid, resume their vigour, and all shall again be well. Set out for the heavenly Canaan, under such a commander, to the heavenly Canaan they shall assuredly come. Do the fierce rays of temptation, darted from the sun of prosperity, descend on their throbbing temples? He, beneath whose watchful eye they move, will call forth a seasonable cloud to intercept its scorching rays. Are they ready to faint under the toilsome journey, and the conflict with their spiritual enemies?-He will lead them to the shadow of a great rock, even in that weary land. Do the storms of adversity gather round them?-they shall find a hiding-place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest. Can the immortal soul meet with nothing in this dry and barren land to satisfy its thirst?— streams shall be opened in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert, for the refreshment of its languid powers. Should the little ones of this favoured flock exclaim, "How can our feeble strength be equal to the arduous task, or our tender feet bear us in the rough and thorny path ?"-behold the eye of Immanuel is fixed on them with peculiar love. Pointing towards them, he issues his commands throughout the armies of the redeemed. "Suffer the little children to come unto me;" and all who own his authority feel bound to help them forward in their spiritual course; while to themselves he says, in tones of tenderness, "I will gather the lambs with mine arm, and carry them in my bosom. Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." Nor does he forget those who, advanced to maturity, are sustaining the burden and heat of the day: "Fear not, for I am with thee," is his language, "My grace is sufficient for thee; and soon shall it be said of the enemies that thou seest to-day, thou shalt see them again no more for ever:" while to the aged pilgrim, tottering beneath the weight of years, he declares, "Even to your old age I am he; and even to hoary hairs will I carry you; I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry and will deliver you." Thus does the voice of the incarnate Saviour direct and encourage his people, under every variety of character and of VOL. II. 3d SERIES,


circumstance; and when, with simple heart and single eye, they follow him, how often does the wilderness rejoice around them; the desert blooms as Eden, the garden of the Lord; the voice of singing is heard therein, thanksgiving, and the sounds of melody. Hark to the strain which, in some favoured moments, bursts from one portion and another of the goodly company.Salvation, Lord, is present,

Thy people feel its truth;
The wilderness is pleasant-
The thorny path is smooth.
The sun of glory's breaking;

Earth's darkest night shall cease ;
The voice of God is speaking,

Its stormy winds to peace.

But is the journey to last for ever? Can we not discover the termination of this wilderness? Methinks I hear the roar of mighty waters, and looking thitherward, behold a dark deep. river, rolling its impetuous waves between the advancing host and their land of promised rest. The fearful gusts of anticipation often dash around them the foam of its bitter waters. Many a trembling ear listens-many a timid eye shrinks back from that appalling flood, while one whispers to another, saying, “Ifin this land of our pilgrimage, we have been wearied, how shall we contend with the swellings of Jordan?" A look of intense anxiety is fixed upon their leader; and lo, the body of Immanuel-that living temple of God omnipotent-stands» upon the brink of the river of death; he extends towards his children the arms of his mercy, pronounces over them his solemn benediction, and disappears from their view, plunging in the awful stream. O, with what dire dismay do the foremost ranks witness his departure! "We trusted that it had been he who should have redeemed Israel," was their sorrowful exclamation. Peace, mistaken mourners! He whose loss you are deploring has no sooner touched the threatening wave, than the billows are cut off, to return no more, till every pilgrim of that ransomed host is safely landed on the heavenly shore. Ye happy bands! press on; and in that wondrous, that decisive triumph, behold your own deliverance! Hail, with a burst of joyous exultation, your conquering Redeemer, as he rises, with brightened glory, from the depth of his abasement! Hark,

my soul, to the spontaneous harmony in which, with one accord, they celebrate his praise!

Thy way is in the waters,

Thy footsteps are unknown;
Let Adam's sons and daughters
Confide in thee alone.

Through the wild sea thou ledest
Thy chosen flock of yore;

Still on the wave thou treadest,

And thy redeemed pass o'er.*

They pause-and then, in notes more sacred, resume their grateful hallelujahs, triumphantly challenging their oncedreaded enemies-"O Death, where is thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ."

Thus far had Charlotte, in meditation, accompanied the happy throng, to which she humbly hoped she was spiritually united. The hours had passed rapidly away, borne on the wings of holy contemplation, and she was surprised to see the bright rays of the morning sun, cheerfully gleaming through the lattice. Her countenance beamed with animation, as she replied to the waking voice of her friend; for she had enjoyed a song in the night, as when an holy solemnity is kept, and gladness of heart, as when one goeth with a pipe, to come unto the house of the Lord; therefore her soul was refreshed, and she felt strengthened to fulfil the duties, and meet the events, of the coming day.

And now, my young friends, comrades through this wilderness, permit me to ask, Do you know any thing of these high and heavenly enjoyments? If you have, indeed, cast in your lot among the redeemed of the Lord, happy are you all things are yours-every real blessing by the way, and everlasting glory at the end. But ah! should you be a stranger to this happy company, and to their glorious Leader, how can I suffi ciently commiserate your state? Wandering in a trackless desert, a land of drought, where are the old lion, the viper, and the fiery flying serpent, how can you discover your way, or escape the dangers which surround you? And oh! when you

• Montgomery.

come to the awful river of death, far from that blessed spot where its waters are divided, how will you shrink back, yet shrink in vain, from the appalling passage! for the divine decree is gone forth-you must plunge, where the depth can never be fathomed, because its boiling waves roar over the pit of endless perdition.

To-day, then, hear ye the voice of heavenly mercy; harden not your hearts, but rather pray for the softening influence of divine grace, before your feet stumble on the dark mountains, or you sink into that abyss of horror, from whence the voice of deliverance and of hope are banished for ever.

S. S. S.


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I HAPPENED, not long since, to be one of a large party, in which old and young, grave and cheerful, were happily associated, and which was enlivened by the conversational talent, and intellectual resources, of several literary men. After tea, the conversation, which hitherto had been carried on in small groups, became more general, and, in consequence, more interesting. The subject of Poetry was started by a young man asking an elderly gentleman, whose physiognomy was remarkably pleasing, if he had read a late poetical work. "No, Sir," replied the old gentleman, smiling, "I am almost too old to read poetry now." Oh, surely!" exclaimed a young lady, with a suppressed emotion of horror," time cannot destroy the power of enjoying poetry!" "The power of time is illimitable," replied the old gentleman, with affected gravity, "however, in this instance, I cannot say I have felt its effects. I can still relish the beauty of true poetry, and my feelings tell me there is yet a chord which answers the touch of the poet's finger; but, at three score, it may be as well to relinquish the pleasures of imagination for the more sober enjoyment of reason and reflection." "It would be well for the present generation," said a middle-aged man, whose countenance was rather that of a Stoic philosopher than a poet, "if poetry were abandoned by the young also, and those pursuits followed more, which would strengthen rather than enervate the mind; we should then meet with more sound sense, and less romance,

than at present." Several dissentient voices were heard amongst the young people, and a lady who sat opposite the gravelooking gentleman interposed for them. "I imagine, Sir, that you must refer to an indiscriminate reading of poetry without any regard to its merit: you would not, surely, condemn all poetry as enervating." "I certainly do consider, Madam," said the gentleman, "that all poetry acts upon the imagination, and, by raising its power, weakens that of the judgment." "That remark may certainly apply to much poetry that is published, but it appears to me that the works of our great standard poets, far from weakening, rather tend to the improvement of the reasoning powers: there is an originality and a sublimity in their ideas, which, though it may excite the imagination, certainly raises its tone; and, even allowing it does not actually strengthen the judgment, it furnishes it with materials to work upon." "I am rather inclined to doubt that, Madam. It is no difficult matter to raise the imagination, and it is seldom that, when raised, it does not gain the ascendancy over the more solid faculties; and the reason is obvious-it requires but little effort to bring the former into action, and the mind is thus able to exercise itself, while in a state of comparative idleness, totally incompatible with the deep research, and diligent consideration, necessary for the latter. But I cannot explain myself better than by referring to what we generally find the inclinations of young people to be: introduce a subject in which you give room for the inagination to work, and they will go into ecstacies, will quote poetry, or give poetry in discordant prose; but if you by chance enter on a metaphysical subject, in which the exercise of reason and thought is required, they are unable to follow, and their minds, ever accustomed to view only the glittering outside, become dark and confounded when they attempt to look within."

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I certainly cannot deny this to be the case," replied the lady, but that appears to me to be the effect of the present general style of education, which, from its superficial character, leaves the mind totally uncultivated, while it attends to the more showy accomplishments. To such a mind, poetry may undoubtedly be hurtful, by adding romance to ignorance, and

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