How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well: The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well: The moss-covered bucket, that hangs in the well. 120.-TRUE SCIENCE AND RELIGION. I am far from maintaining that science is a sufficient guide in religion. On the other hand, if left to itself, as I fully admit, It leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind. Nor do I maintain that scientific truth, even when properly appreciated, will compare at all, in its influence upon the human mind, with those peculiar and higher truths disclosed by Revelation. All I contend for is, that scientific truth, illustrating as it does the Divine character, plans and government, ought to fan and feed the flame of true piety in the heart of its cultivators. He, therefore, who knows the most of science, ought most powerfully to feel this religious influence. He is not confined, like the great mass of men, to the outer court of Nature's magnificent temple; but he is admitted to the interior, and allowed to trace its long halls, aisles and galleries, and gaze upon its lofty domes and arches; nay, as a priest, he enters the penetralia, the holy of holies, where sacred fire is always burning upon the altars; where hovers the glorious Shekinah; and where, from a full orchestra, the anthem of praise is ever ascending. Petrified, indeed, must be his heart, if it catches none of the inspiration of such a spot. He ought to go forth from it among his fellow-men, with radiant glory on his face, like Moses from the holy mount. He who sees most of God in His works ought to show the stamp of Divinity upon his character, and lead an eminently holy life. Yet it is only a few gifted and adventurous minds that are able, from some advanced mountain-top, to catch a glimpse of the entire stream of truth, formed by the harmonious union of all principles, and flowing on majestically into the boundless ocean of all knowledge, the Infinite Mind. But when the Christian philosopher shall be permitted to resume the study of science in a future world, with powers of investigation enlarged and clarified, and all obstacles removed, he will be able to trace onward the various ramifications of truth, till they unite into higher and higher principles, and become one in that centre of centres, the Divine Mind. That is the ocean from which all truth originally sprang, and to which it ultimately returns. To trace out the shores of that shoreless Sea, to measure its measureless extent, and to fathom its unfathomable depths, will be the noble and the joyous work of eternal ages. And yet eternal ages may pass by, and see the work only begun! 121.-MILITARY SUPREMACY DANGEROUS. HENRY CLAY. Recall to your recollection the free nations which have gone before us. Where are they now? Gone glimmering through the mist of things that were, And how lost they their liberties? If we could transport ourselves to the ages when Greece and Rome flourished in their greatest prosperity, and mingling in the throng should ask a Grecian if he did not fear that some daring military chieftain covered with glory-some Philip or Alexander-would one day overthrow the liberties of his country, the confident and indignant Grecian would exclaim: "No! no! we have nothing to fear from our heroes; our liberties will be eternal." If a Roman citizen had been asked if he did not fear that the conqueror of Gaul might establish a throne upon the ruins of public liberty, he would have instantly repelled the unjust insinuation. Yet Greece fell; and Cæsar passed the Rubicon. We are fighting a great moral battle, for the benefit not only of our country but of all mankind. The eyes of the whole world are in fixed attention upon us. One, and the largest, portion of it is gazing with contempt, with jealousy, and with envy; the other portion, with hope, with confidence, and with affection. Everywhere the black cloud of Legitimacy is s pended over the world, save only one bright spot, which breaks out from the political hemisphere of the West, to enlighten, and animate, and gladden the human heart. Observe that, by the downfall of liberty here, all mankind are enshrouded in a pall of universal darkness. To us belongs the high privilege of transmitting, unimpaired, to posterity, the fair character, the liberty of our country. Do we expect to execute this high trust by trampling down the law, justice, the Constitution, and the rights of the people? by exhibiting examples of inhumanity, and cruelty, and ambition? Let us beware, then, how we give our fatal sanction to military insubordination. Greece had her Alexander, Rome her Cæsar, England her Cromwell, France her Bonaparte, and we must avoid the mistakes which these nations made, if we would escape the rock on which they met their doom. 122.-ROLL-CALL. N. G. SHEPHERD. "Corporal Green!" the Orderly cried; This time no answer followed the call; There they stood in the failing light, These men of battle, with grave, dark looks, While slowly gathered the shades of night. The fern on the hill-sides was splashed with blood. For the foe had crossed from the other side "Ezra Kerr!"—and a voice answered, "Here!" "Hiram Kerr!"-but no man replied, They were brothers, these two; the sad winds sighed, “Ephraim Deane !"—then a soldier spoke: I paused a moment and gave him drink; For that company's roll, when called at night, 123.-BATTLE OF WATERLOO. LORD BYRON. There was a sound of revelry by night, The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! Did ye not hear it?—No! 'Twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet But hark!-that heavy sound breaks in once more, If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! they come! they come!" Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve, in Beauty's circle proudly gay; The midnight brought the signal sound of strife, The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent 124.-THOU WILT NEVER GROW OLD. E. C. HOWARTH. Thou wilt never grow old, Nor weary, nor sad, in the home of thy birth. In a clime that is purer and brighter than earth. O holy and fair! I rejoice thou art there, In that kingdom of light with its cities of gold, Where the air thrills with angel hosannas, and where Thou wilt never grow old, love, Never grow old! I am a pilgrim, with sorrow and sin Haunting my footsteps wherever I go; Life is a warfare my title to win; Well will it be if it end not in woe. Pray for me, sweet: I am laden with care; Never grow old! Now canst thou hear from thy home in the skies |