of the argument, against which we are now contending. But, about the time of its invention, another instrument was formed, which laid open a scene no less wonderful, and rewarded the inquisitive spirit of man with a discovery, which serves to neutralize the whole of this argument. This was the microscope. The one led me to see a system in every star. The other leads me to see a world in every atom. The one taught me, that this mighty globe, with the whole burden of its people, and of its countries, is but a grain of sand on the high field of immensity. The other teaches me, that every grain of sand may harbour within it the tribes and the families of a busy population. The one told me of the insignificance of the world I tread upon. The other redeems it from all its insignificance; for it tells me that in the leaves of every forest, and in the flowers of every garden, and in the waters of every rivulet, there are worlds teeming with life, and numberless as are the glories of the firmament. The one has suggested to me, that beyond and above all that is visible to man, there may lie fields of creation which sweep immeasurably along, and carry the impress of the Almighty's hand to the remotest scenes of the universe. The other suggests to me, that within and beneath all that minuteness which the aided eye of man has been able to explore, there may be a region of invisibles; and that could we draw aside the mysterious curtain which shrouds it from our senses, we might there see a theatre of as many wonders as astronomy has unfolded, a universe within the compass of a point so small, as to elude all the powers of the microscope, but where the wonder-working God finds room for the exercise of all his attributes, where he can raise another mechanism of worlds, and fill and animate them all with the evidences of his glory.

Now, mark how all this may be made to meet the argument of our infidel astronomers. By the telescope they have discovered, that no magnitude, however vast, is beyond the grasp of the Divinity. But by the microscope, we have also discovered, that no minuteness, however shrunk from the notice of the human eye, is beneath the condescension of his regard. Every addition to the pow ers of the instrument, extends the limit of his visible dominions. But, by every addition to the powers of the other instrument, we see each part of them more crowded than before, with the wonders of his unwearying hand. The one is constantly widening the circle of his territory. The other is as constantly filling up its separate portions, with all that is right, and various, and exquisite. In a word, by the one I am told that the Almighty is now at work in regions more distant than geometry has ever measured, and among worlds more manifold than numbers have ever reached But, by the other, I am also told, that, with a mind to comprehend the whole in the vast compass, of its generality, he has also a mind to concentrate a close and a separate attention on each and on all of its particulars; and that the same God, who sends forth an upholding influence among the orbs and the movements of astronomy, can fill the recesses of every single atom with the intimacy of his presence, and

travel, in all the greatness of his unimpaired attributes, upon every one spot and corner of the universe he has formed.

They, therefore, who think that God will not put forth such a pow'er, and such a goodness, and such a condecension, in behalf of this world, as are ascribed to him in the New Testament, because he has SO many other worlds to attend to, think of him as a man. They confine their view to the informations of the telescope, & forget altogether the informations of the other instrument. They only find room. in their minds for his one attribute of a large and general superintendence, and keep out of their remembrance, the equally impressive proof we have for his other attribute of a minute and multiplied attention to all that diversity of operations, where it is he that worketh all in all. And then I think, that, as one of the instruments of philosophy has heightened our every impression of the first of these attributes, so another instrument has no less heightened our impression of the second of them-then I can no longer resist the conclusion, that it would be a transgression of sound argument, as well as a daring of impiety, to draw a limit around the doings of this unsearchable God-and should a professed revelation from heaven, tell me of an act of condescension, in be half of some separate world, so wonderful that angels desired to look into it, and the Eternal Son had to move from his seat of glory to carry it into accomplishment, all I ask is the evidence of such a revelation; for, let it tell me as much as it may of God letting himself down for the benefit of one single province of his dominions, this is no more than what I see lying scattered, in numberless examples, before me; and running through the whole line of my recollections; and meeting me in every walk of observation to which I can betake myself; and, now that the microscope has unveiled the wonders of another region, I see strewed around me with a profusion which baffles my every attempt to comprehend it, the evidence that there is no one portion of the universe of God too minute for his notice, nor too humble for the visitations of his



As the end of all these illustrations, let me bestow a single paragraph on what I conceive to be the precise state of this argument.

It is a wonderful thing that God should be so unincumbered by the concerns of a whole universe, that he can give a constant attention to every moment of every individual in this world's population. But, wonderful as it is, you do not hesitate to admit it as true, on the evidence of your own recollections. It is a wonderful thing that he whose eye is at every instant on so many worlds, should have peopled the world we inhabit with all the traces of the varied design and benevolence which abound in it. But, great as the wonder is, you do not allow so much as the shadow of improbability to darken it, for its reality is what you actually witness, and you never think of questioning the evidence of observation. It is wonderful, it is passing wonderful, that the same God, whose presence is diffused through immensity, and who spreads the ample canopy of his administration over all its dwelling-places, should, with an ener



gy as fresh and as unexpended as if he had only begun the work of creation, turn him to the neighbourhood around us, and lavish, on its every hand-breadth, all the exuberance of his goodness, and crowd it with the many thousand varieties of conscious existence. But, be the wonder incomprehensible as it may, you do not suffer in your mind the burden of a single doubt to lie upon it, because you do not question the report of the microscope. You do not refuse its information, nor turn away from it as an incompetent channel of evidence. But to bring still nearer to the point at issue, there are many who never looked through a microscope, but who rest an implicit faith in all its revelations; and upon what evidence, I would ask? Upon the evidence of testimony-upon the credit they give to the authors of the books they have read, and the belief they put in the record of their observations. Now, at this point I make my stand. It is wonderful that God should be so interested in the redemption of a single world, as to send forth his well-beloved Son upon the errand, and he, to accomplish it, should, mighty to save, put forth all his strength, and travail in the greatness of it. But such wonders as these have already multiplied upon you; and when evidence is given of their truth, you have resigned every judgment of the unsearchable God, and rested in the faith of them. I demand, in the name of sound and consistent philosophy, that you do the same in the matter before us--and take it up as a question of evidence and examine that medium of testimony through which the miracles and information of the Gospel have come to your door -and go not to admit as argument here, what would not he admitted as argument in any of the analogies of nature and observation —and take along with you in this field of inquiry, a lesson which you should have learned upon other fields-even the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God, that his judg ments are unsearchable, and his ways are past finding out.

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It was on the 10th of August; the day already darkened in the Jewish calender, by the destruction of the former temple by the king of Babylon: it was almost passed. Titus withdrew again into the Antonia, intending the next morning to make a general assault. The quiet summer evening came on; the setting sun shone for the last time on the snow-white walls and glistening pinnacles of the temple roof. Titus had retired to rest, when suddenly a wild and terrible cry was heard, and a man came rushing in, announcing that the temple was on fire. Some of the besieged, notwithstanding their repulse in the morning, had sallied out to attack the men who were busily employed in extinguishing the fires about the cloisters. The Romans not merely drove them back, but, entering the sacred space with them, forced their way to the door of the temple. A soldier, without orders, mounting on the shoulders of one of his

comrades, threw a blazing brand into a gilded small door on the north side of the chambers, in the outer building, or porch. The flames sprung up at once. The Jews uttered one simultaneous shriek, and grasped their swords, with a furious determination of revenging and perishing in the ruins of the temple. Titus rushed down with utmost speed; he shouted, he made signs to his soldiers to quench the fire: his voice was drowned, and his signs unnoticed in the blind confusion. The legionaries either could not, or would not hear; they rushed on, trampling each other down in their furious haste, or, stumbling over the crumbling ruins, perished with the enemy. Each exhorted the other, and as each hurled to his work of carnage. The unarmed and defenceless people were slain in thousands, they lay heaped, like sacrifices, round the alter the steps of the temple ran with streams of blood, which washed down the bodies that lay about.


Titus found it impossible to check the rage of the soldiery; he entered with his officers; and surveyed the interior of the sacred edifice. The splendour filled them with wonder; and as the flames had not yet penetrated to the holy place, he made a last effort to save it; and springing forth, again exhorted the soldiers to stay the progress of the conflagration. The centurian, Liberalis, endeavoured to force obedience with his staff of office; but even respect for the emperor gave way to the furious animosity against the Jews, to the fierce excitement of battle, and to the insatiable hope of plunder. The soldiers saw every thing around them radiant with gold, which shone dazzingly in the light of the flames; they supposed that incalculable treasures were laid up in the sanctuary. A soldier, unperceived, thrust a lighted torch between the hinges of the door: the whole building was in flames in an instant. The blinding smoke and fire forced the officers to retreat; and the noble edifice was left to its fate.

It was an appalling spectacle to the Roman: what was it to the Jew? The whole summit of the hill which commanded the city, blazed like a volcano. One after another the buildings fell in with a tremendous crash, and were swallowed up in the fiery abyss. The roofs of cedar were like sheets of flame; the gilded pinnacles shone like spikes of red light; the gate towers sent up tall columns of flame and smoke. The neighbouring hills were lighted up; and the dark groupes of people were seen watching in horrible anxiety the progress of the destruction. The walls and heights of the upper city were crowded with faces, some pale with the agony of despair; others scowling unavailing vengeance. The shouts of the Roman soldiery, as they ran to and fro, and the howlings of the insurgents who were perishing in the flames mingled with the roaring of the conflagration, and the thundering sound of the falling timbers. The echoes of the mountains replied, or brought back the shrieks of the people on the heights: all along the walls resounded screams and wailings: men who were expiring with famine, rallied their remaining strength to utter a cry of anguish and desolation.--Milman.


Some important changes have recently occurred in this institution, which we have been requested to notice, for the information of our readers. The Rev. George B. Miller, formerly assistant teacher, was unanimously chosen by the Board of Trustees, at their last annual meeting, to fill the vacancy occasioned by the resignation of the Rev. Doct. Hazelius, as Principal and Professor of Theology. The Rev. Christian B. Thummel, was also unanimously chosen to the office of Assistant Teacher, in both departments.

From our personal knowledge of the religious and literary qua. lifications of these gentlemen, we feel gratified in being enabled to state, that both are eminently fitted for the respective stations to which they have been called. Professor Miller has been long engaged as an instructor of youth in our literary institutions, and wherever he has had an opportunity of exercising his talents as a literary and theological teacher, he has given universal satisfaction. The Rev. Mr. Thummel received his classical and theological education at the University of Bonn,.in Germany, and was recently engaged as adjunct professor in the Polytechny at Chittenango, where he discharged his official duties with merited approbation. We can, therefore, safely say, that Hartwick Seminary is, at present, in a condition as favorable to its future prosperity, as at any former period. Both the principal and assistant teacher possess qualifications which entitle them to the patronage of the public, and the entire confidence of the church. We have no doubt, that, under their government and direction, the Seminary will, with the divine bles. sing, continue to flourish, and preserve the character which it has hitherto sustained.

We have always regarded our Theological Seminary, as a pure nursery of the evangelical priniples of our church ; and as we were desirous of seeing those principles cherished and preserved amongst us, we have always felt a deep interest in the welfare of this institution. We have sincerely rejoiced in its prosperity; because we have viewed it as inseparably connected with the interests of her church in this section of the country. We still view it as such-and especially since the changes which it has recently undergone, have not reduced its standing, nor altered its character, we feel the more encouraged in our devotion to its interests, and our labors for its prosperity.-Lutheran Magazine.

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If there be any duty which our Lord Jesus Christ seems to have considered as more indispensably necessary towards the formation of a true Christian, it is of prayer. He has taken every opportunity of impressing on our minds the absolute need in which we stand of the divine assistance, both to persist in the paths of righteousness, and to fly from the allurements of a fascinating, but dangerous life;


Vol. V. No. 11.

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