sense.

a modified, or subordinate sense. The argument from the ascription of Divine attributes to him, I found to rest in mistake; there is no ascription of either of these attributes to him in the absolute The argument from the ascription of Divine works to him failed also; because these works, though truly Divine, were performed, not in his own strength, but by the power of God given or communicated to him for the purpose. The argument from the ascription of worship to him was equally inconclusive, because it no where appears that supreme worship was ever claimed by him, or given to him; the worship to which he is entitled is modified, or subordinate. And the argument from his equality with God, which is based on two passages, I found it necessary to reject, the one containing a false charge by the Jews, and the other a mistranslation. Thus the whole superstructure was undermined. And I became, about six years ago, a decided Antitrinitarian, and have so remained ever since, without a doubt. Blessed be God for the light which I have received.

J. C.

A SABBATH MORNING AT PASCAGOULA,

ON THE GULF OF MEXICO.

PASCAGOULA is the favorite watering-place of the Mobilians, and lies on a bay which is separated from the Gulf of Mexico by an island called Horn Island, sixteen miles long and only half a mile broad. In summer time a certain mysterious music is often heard there, which has been ascribed to various sources. Some suppose

it to come from the drum-fish, others from a rock under the sea, others from a certain conformation of the shores, and some love to fancy it the murmur of an Indian ghost. I have never myself had the felicity of hearing it with my bodily ears, though I have listened under what seemed to me must be the most favorable circumstances. The evening on which I was rowed across the bay on my return was one of the most pure, balmy, heaven-breathing hours I ever spent with Nature, and as I looked up to the brilliant,

star-crowded sky, and down into a second, seemingly separated from it only by a thin transparent film, and we seemed in our little skiff to hang in the centre of one vast circumambient aërial sphere, I said to myself, Ah, I have caught the secret of the mysterious music

6

'Tis but the music of the spheres

Made audible to mortal ears.'

Sweet, sweet Pascagoula! so lovely and lone!

Fain would I, at parting, breathe back one faint tone
Of the witching, wild music that floats round thy shore,
And will float through my memory till memory 's no more.
Fair hours! with what peace o'er my musings ye steal,
Too deep to confess, yet too dear to conceal!

O Nature! thy Sabbath-I spent it with thee,

In the still, solemn woods-by the silent, glad sea.
As sweet to my ear was the hymn of that morn
As if angels were singing Creation just born.

And angels were singing; thine angels, O Thou,

To whom winds and waves chant and the trembling leaves bow.
Though no hunan priest's accents arose on the air,

Yet the presence, O God! of thy spirit was there.
The pine with its ocean-like, spirit-like tone-

How plainly it told that I was not alone!

And was not that green, old, moss-garlanded tree
Arrayed in its robes as a priest unto Thee?

And did not a sweet choral melody rise

From woodland and waters, from shore and from skies?
And on the far marge of each sandy, green isle

Did not the calm spirit of gratitude smile?

And with her own lips did not Peace kiss the strand,

As the wave glided silently up o'er the sand?

Sweet scenes! Happy hours! I must bid you farewell!
Yet aye in my memory your spirits shall dwell.
And often at eve, when the moon of young May
Beams down on my own Northern waves far away;
And often at morn, when the breeze and the light
Draw the curtain away from the dreams of the night;
And often at noon, when the birds and the bees
Hum a drowsy, sweet tune in the grass and the trees,
In the dim, solemn woods-by the silent, glad sea,
Sweet, sweet Pascagoula, I'll still think of thee!

C. T. B.

THE CHRISTIAN LIFE NOT AN EASY LIFE.

THE life of the Christian, the life of piety, purity, self-denial and benevolence, is not that easy, sunshiny and untroubled life it is sometimes represented to be; a life in which there are no obstacles to be surmounted, no enemies to be resisted, no dangers to be avoided; a life that glides smoothly and almost imperceptibly onward, and ends at last in a glorious rush of light that presages the rise of an eternal day. He who would attain to the summit of Christian excellence, and would fit himself for the duties and enjoyments of the spiritual world, has a work to perform which will task to the utmost every energy of his soul, and call for the exercise of untiring perseverance, unshaken fortitude and invincible courage. The difficulties that attend upon the Christian course are neither few nor small; it is vain to overlook them, and useless to think of avoiding them.

The Scriptures uniformly represent the religious life, not as a life of ease and inaction, but as a struggle, a contest, a warfare, in which all our powers of resistance, all the might of virtuous principle and all the energy of an indomitable spirit, will be called into exercise. They declare that the path which leadeth to heaven is a narrow and thorny path, in which there are no couches of silk nor beds of roses for the weary traveller to repose on and lose in dreams the object of his exertions, a path whose steep and rugged ascent tries the strength of the strong and discourages the feeble and fainting spirit. The Christian's crown of glory, they tell us, is a crown of thorns, a crown that is to be won, if won at all, not by a few aimless, desultory exertions, much less by folding the arms in indolence and indifference, or by trusting wholly in the aid of God's spirit to gain for us the prize without any effort on our part; but by long continued and strenuous endeavors, by making many costly sacrifices and enduring many hard privations, by surrending all earthly pleasures and pursuits when they come into competition with higher objects and nobler occupations, by submitting willingly, if need be, to obloquy, insult and persecution, by taking up the cross of our Master and following him through evil report and through good report, through

perils innumerable, through the most severe and afflicting trials, through loss of property, loss of friends, and loss of all but God's favor, through the dark valley of the shadow of death, to the glorious world beyond, the endless peace and bliss of heaven. How full are the Scriptures of instruction and exhortation on this subject. With what earnestness do they command us to labor not for the perishing things of earth, but for the eternal realities of heaven, to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, to clothe ourselves in the whole armor of the Gospel, to watch and pray and press continually onward. They do not tell us that we can do nothing for the salvation of the soul; but that, with the Divine aid, we must do every thing. They tell us that there is a battle to be fought, a victory to be won, before the prize of eternal glory can be ours; that we must be tried, as gold is tried in the furnace; that we must count all things as worthless, "if so be we may win Christ and be found in him ;" that we must be armed and thoroughly furnished for the great work of regenerating the character, and fight valiantly the battles of truth against all the powers of evil. They inform us of the nature of the work we are to do and the contest in which we are to engage. They point out to us the assistance we may hope for in God's all-powerful spirit, the promises, motives and warnings that are provided for us in his word, the honor and reward that will follow success, and the misery and suffering that attend upon defeat. They tell us of the bad habits that must be rooted out, and the good habits that must be established, of the temptations to be resisted and overcome, of the perils to be met and subdued, of the sacrifices to be made, and the pleasures to be given up, and the labors to be undergone, and the wrong steps to be retraced, and the follies to be lamented, and the sins to be repented of. In a word, they impart to us all the instruction we need in the accomplishment of the great work of life, they hold out to us all the motives which ought to influence us, as rational and immortal beings, faithfully and thoroughly to perform it, and they promise us all necessary assistance for our support and encouragement. Is it not clear from these declarations of Scripture, that the Christian life is not that easy life which some have imagined it to

be? Unless difficulties and obstacles encumbered it, the Scriptures would not have been full of such exhortations to work, to watch and to pray against temptation, such commands to contend long and earnestly against foes without and foes within, to fight the good fight of faith and conquer in the glorious contest. If there was no toil to undergo, why command men to work; if no trials to pass through, why exhort men to patience and resignation; if no afflictions to be endured, why offer consolation; if no enemies to be conquered, why point out the means of defence and victory? It cannot be an easy thing to live up faithfully to our Christian profession, if we believe the declarations of the Scriptures.

The nature and essential characteristics of the Christian's life show that it cannot be an easy life. For what is this life? What is it to be a Christian? What are the duties, the sacrifices, the labors which a profession of faith in Jesus implies? It implies, first, sincere penitence for all our sins, with a renunciation of them and a determination to live henceforth according to that divine law which hath been graciously given for our guidance. And this is no easy thing. It is not an easy thing, to feel that deep sorrow for our transgressions which shall lead to reformation. It is not an easy thing, to tear off that veil which hides from our gaze our true characters and behold our abuses of God's favors, our ingratitude and sinfulness, in their proper light. It is not an easy thing, to feel remorse for a crime which perhaps has increased the amount of our treasures, gained for us the applause of the world, or satisfied some importunate passion or some craving appetite. Or, even if that remorse is awakened in our breast, it is difficult so to restrain and conduct it that it may work out for us reformation of character. Indeed when we consider all that is involved in the idea of Christian repentance-how it implies the most deep and unfeigned regret for our repeated transgressions, how it enjoins upon us restitution when it is in our power, how it commands the renunciation of our besetting and most deeply cherished propensities, and will not suffer one evil habit or passion to nestle in our breast-we cannot admit that the life whose very first step is penitence and reformation can be an easy life, unaccompanied with pain, unencumbered by sorrow.