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CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.
To the thoughtsul and wise all seasons and occurrences are capable of suggesting trains of pleasing or profitable reflection. Nature with her varying garb is to them no dumb pageant. All above, beneath, and around them, the earth, the air, and viewless flight of time, utter voices for them. Days speak, and months and years impart instruction.
At the present moment, the past and the future naturally rise up before us—the year that is gone, and the year which is to come. The former can now benefit us only by its admonitions and warnings. With whatever sunny vestments, or garments of funereal sadness it has been clad, it now lives only in memory. Its joys and its sorrows have been tasted; its fears and hopes are ended; and its opportunities are past. Our thoughts and actions have been given in to the record
VOL. I.-N0. 1.
ing angel, and are placed in the book of God's remembrance.
What are some of the reflections, feelings, and emotions which a review of the past is fitted to awaken? In the first place, it should have the effect of exciting our gratitude. The monuments of God's care and goodness every where meet our eye. We have but to pause and consider, to look within and about us, to be convinced that our debt of gratitude and love to him is vast, is “endless.” Our life is a mystery in its origin, its continuance, and its end. Dangers press around us at every step. Hosts of diseases stand ready to convey us to the tomb. Yet our Heavenly Father has preserved us. He has borne us up in the arms of his love, and his invisible hand has scattered unnumbered blessings in our path.
To his original appointment we are to ascribe those great laws and processes of nature, to which, and not to ourselves, primarily, we owe our comforts and happiness. We look to the earth for those supplies, without which we must soon perish; but are these supplies called forth by our industry and skill alone? Can we send forth temperate airs? Can we recal the sun to dissolve the frost, and expel the gloomy train of winter? Can we moderate the summer heats? When the ground, on which we tread, is as ashes, and vegetable nature sickens and languishes, can we collect the vapors and disperse them in gentle showers? Can we scatter abroad the gems of morning dew? Are the seasons subject to our power? Can we waken the