Is fragrant with a humbler vow ;

Where birds and brooks from leafy dells
Chime forth unwearied canticles,

And vapours magnify and spread
The glory of the Sun's bright head,
Still constant in her worship, still
Conforming to th' eternal Will,
Whether men sow or reap the fields,
Divine monition Nature yields,
That not by bread alone we live,
Or what a hand of flesh can give;
That every day should leave some part
Free for a sabbath of the heart:
So shall the seventh be truly blest,
From morn to eve, with hallow'd rest.

THE INSPIRATION OF THE BIBLE.

EDWARD WINTHROP.

SUCA is the intrinsic excellence of Christianity that it is adapted to the wants of all, and it provides for all, not only by its precepts and by its doctrines, but also by its evidence.

The poor man may know nothing of history, or science, or philosophy; he may have read scarcely any book but the Bible; he may be totally unable to vanquish the skeptic in the arena of public debate; but he is, nevertheless, surrounded by a panoply which the shafts of infidelity can never pierce.

You may go to the home of the poor cottager, whose heart is deeply imbued with the spirit of vital Christianity; you may see him gather his little family around him. He expounds to them the wholesome doctrines and principles of the Bible, and, if they want to know the evidence upon which he rests his faith of the divine

origin of his religion, he can tell them upon reading the book which teaches Christianity he finds not only a perfectly true description of his own natural character, but in the provisions of this religion a perfect adaptation to all his needs.

It is a religion by which to live, a religion by which to die; a religion which cheers in darkness, relieves in perplexity, supports in adversity, keeps steadfast in prosperity, and guides the inquirer to that blessed land where "the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest."

We entreat you, therefore, to give the Bible a welcome, a cordial reception; obey its precepts, trust its promises, and rely implicitly upon that Divine Redeemer whose religion brings glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace and good-will to men.

Thus will you fulfill the noble end of your existence, and the great God of the Universe will be your father and your friend; and, when the last mighty convulsion shall shake the earth and the sea and the sky, and the fragments of a thousand barks, richly freighted with intellect and learning, are scattered on the shores of error and delusion, your vessel shall in safety outride the storm, and enter in triumph the haven of eternal

rest.

BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

BREAK, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O, well for the fisherman's boy,

That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor-lad,

That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on

To their haven under the hill;

But, O, for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

GOD.

DERZHAVIN.

O THOU eternal One, whose presence bright
All space doth оссиру, all motion guide;
Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight!
there is no God beside!

Thou only God,

Being above all beings! mighty One,

Whom none can comprehend and none explore; Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone,

Embracing all, supporting, ruling o'er;
Being whom we call God, and know no more!

In its sublime research philosophy

May measure out the ocean deep, may count The sands or the Sun's rays; but, God! for Thee There is no weight nor measure; none can mount Up to Thy mysteries; Reason's brightest spark, Though kindled by Thy light, in vain would try To trace Thy counsels, infinite and dark;

And thought is lost ere thought can soar so high, Even like past moments in eternity.

Thou from primeval nothingness didst call
First chaos, then existence; Lord, on Thee
Eternity hath its foundation; all

of light, joy, harmony,

Sprung forth from Thee,
Sole origin, all life, all beauty Thine;

Thy word created all, and doth create;
Thy splendour fills all space with rays divine;
Thou art and wert and shalt be!
Light-giving, life-sustaining Potentate!

Glorious! Great!

Thy chains th' unmeasured universe surround,
Upheld by Thee, by Thee inspired with breath!
Thou the beginning with the end hast bound,

And beautifully mingled life and death!
As sparks mount upward from the fiery blaze,

So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from Thee; And, as the spangles in the sunny rays

Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry Of heaven's bright army glitters in Thy praise.

A million torches, lighted by Thy hand,
Wander unwearied through the blue abyss;
They own Thy power, accomplish Thy command,
All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss.
What shall we call them? Piles of crystal light,
A glorious company of golden streams,
Lamps of celestial ether burning bright,

Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams?
But Thou to these art as the noon to night.

Yes, as a drop of water in the sea,

All this magnificence in Thee is lost:

What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee? And what am I then? Heaven's unnumber'd host, Though multiplied by myriads, and array'd

In all the glory of sublimest thought,

Is but an atom in the balance, weigh'd

Against Thy greatness, is a cipher brought Against infinity! What am I then? Nought!

Nought! but the effluence of Thy light divine,
Pervading worlds, hath reach'd my bosom too;
Yes, in my spirit doth Thy spirit shine

As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew.
Nought! but I live, and on hope's pinions fly
Eager toward Thy presence; for in Thee
I live and breathe and dwell; aspiring high,
Even to the throne of Thy divinity.

I am, O God! and surely Thou must be.

Thou art

directing, guiding all

-Thou art!

Direct my understanding then to Thee; Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart; Though but an atom 'midst immensity, Still I am something, fashion'd by Thy hand: I hold a middle rank 'twixt Heaven and Earth, On the last verge of mortal being stand,

Close to the realms where angels have their birth, Just on the boundaries of the spirit-land!

The chain of being is complete in me,

In me is matter's last gradation lost, And the next step is spirit,

Deity!

I can command the lightning, and am dust! A monarch and a slave, a worm, a god!

Whence came I here, and how? so marvellously Constructed and conceived? unknown! this clod Lives surely through some higher energy; For from itself alone it could not be !

Creator, yes: Thy wisdom and thy word

Created me; Thou source of life and good:

Thou spirit of my spirit, and my Lord,

Thy light, Thy love, in their bright plenitude Fill'd me with an immortal soul, to spring