fying. It is your province and wisdom, if you understand and approve the views I present, to embrace them as your own, to feel their influence, and follow their illumination.

Again I ask, why do you assemble in the house of your Father? Not only to give him worship and glory,-not only to ascertain the direction of this pathway of blessing; much more remains to be done, before you are blessed in your deed. You retire from the hearing of the divine word to tread that pathway of blessing; otherwise you continue as unblessed as you were: it may be, you become more unblessed. That pathway of exertion, and that alone, leads to the rest of heaven. Gladly would the ambassador of Christ reveal to you,-gladly would he secure for himself, a less arduous ascent to glory. But to employ the vigorous comparison of a man of genius, in applying to an ambassador of the Messiah, you "choose a chamois-hunter for your guide. Your guide will, indeed, take you the shortest way; will save you many a wearisome and perilous wandering, and warn you of many a mock-road, that had formerly led himself to the brink of chasms and precipices, or, at best, in an idle circle to the spot from whence he started. But he cannot carry you on his shoulders: you must strain your sinews as he has strained his ; and make firm footing on the smooth rock for yourselves, by the blood of toil from your own feet.”*

My friends, would you be successful in your Christian enterprise, superior to the trials and adversities of life?

Coleridge's "Friend."

Exemplify the vigor and faithfulness of men who are in earnest. Be not forgetful hearers, but active performers, of duty. If, in this temple of the Most High, you attain to views of eternal moment, go to your homes and your pursuits to observe and enjoy them. Every day look into the gospel, that perfect law of liberty, that faithful mirror of a true christian,and whatever features of truth you discover there, fail not to be guided by their influence. Thus hearing, thus examining, and thus doing, you attain to your Maker's blessing; and what is a consideration of momentous import, these are the only medium of promise which he has been pleased to reveal. O then, my friends, if you would promote the welfare of your noble nature, listen to the voice from heaven; remember its miraculous power; devote yourselves, heart and hand, to all the duties of a Christian it enjoins; and as he who cannot lie is true, you shall be blest in their performance. Be watchful and given to prayer: then, whatever temptations may assail your peace, you will be enabled, through the favour of the Almighty, to rise superior to their power.

THE SEA.

Emblem of Everlasting Power!—I come
Into thy presence !-as an awe-struck child
Before its teacher. Spread thy boundless page,
And I will ponder o'er its characters,
As erst the glad disciple sought the lore
Of Socrates or Plato. Yon old rock

Hath heard thy voice for ages, and grown grey
Beneath thy smitings,—and thy wrathful tide
Even now is thundering 'neath its cavern'd base.
Methinks it trembleth at thy stern rebuke :-
Is it not so?-

Speak mildly, mighty Sea!

I would not know the terrors of thine ire-
That vex the gasping mariner-and bid
The wrecking argosy to leave no trace,

Or bubble, where it perished. Man's weak voice,
Though wildly lifted in its proudest strength,
With all its compass-all its volumed sound-
Is mockery to thee.

Earth speaks of man,

Her level'd mountains, and her cultur'd vales,
Town, tower, and temple, and triumphal arch,
All speak of him, and moulder why they speak!
-But of whose architecture and design
Speak thine eternal fountains, when they rise
To combat with the cloud, and when they fall?-
Of whose strong culture tell thy sunless plants,
And groves and gardens, which no mortal eye
Hath seen and lived?

What chisel'd skill hath wrought

Those choral monuments, and tombs of pearl,

Where sleeps the sea-boy 'mid a pomp that earth
Ne'er showed her buried kings?

Whose science stretch'd

The simplest line to curb thy monstrous tide,
And graving 'Hitherto,' upon thy sand,

Bade thy mad surge respect it? From whose loom
Came forth thy drapery, that ne'er waxeth old,
Nor blancheth, 'neath stern Winter's direst frost?
Who hath thy keys, thou Deep?-Who taketh note
Of all thy wealth?-Who numbereth the host
That find their rest with thee?-What eye doth scan
Thy secret annal, from creation lock'd

Close in those dark, unfathomable cells,

Which he who visiteth, hath ne'er returned
Among the living?

Still but one reply?

Do all thine echoing depths, and crested waves,
Make the same answer ?-Of that one dread name,
Which he who deepest plants within his soul,
Is wisest, though the world doth call him fool.
Therefore I come a listener to thy lore,
And bow me at thy side, and lave my brow
With thy cool billow,-if perchance, my soul,
That fleeting wanderer on the shore of Time,
May, by thy voice instructed,-learn of GOD!

GOD IS LOVE.

I cannot always trace the way,

Where thou, Almighty One! dost move; But I can always-ever say

That God is love.

When Fear her chilling mantle flings,
O'er earth, my soul to heaven above,
As to her sanctuary springs,

For God is love.

When mystery clouds my darkened path,
I'll check my dread, my doubts reprove;
In this my soul sweet comfort hath,
That God is love.

The entanglement which restless thought,
Mistrust, and idle reasonings wove,
Are thus unravelled and unwrought,
For God is love.