Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath,
And stars to set-but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh! Death.

LESSON LXX.

Skepticism.-CAMPBELL.

OH! lives there, Heaven! beneath thy dread expanse,
One hopeless, dark Idolater of Chance,
Content to feed, with pleasures unrefin'd,
The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind;
Who, mould'ring earthward, 'reft of every trust,
In joyless union wedded to the dust,
Could all his parting energy dismiss,

And call this barren world sufficient bliss?—
There live, alas! of Heav'n-directed mien,
Of cultur'd soul, and sapient eye serene,
Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of a day,
Spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay!
Frail as the leaf in Autumn's yellow bower,
Dust in the wind, or dew upon the flower!
A friendless slave, a child without a sire,
Whose mortal life, and momentary fire,
Lights to the grave his chance-created form,
As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm;
And, when the gun's tremendous flash is o'er,
To Night and Silence sink for ever more!—

Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim,
Lights of the world, and demi-gods of Fame?
Is this your triumph-this your proud applause,
Children of Truth, and champions of her cause?
For this hath Science search'd, on weary wing,
By shore and sea-each mute and living thing?

Launch'd with Iberia's pilot from the steep,
To worlds unknown, and isles beyond the deep?
Or round the cope her living chariot driv'n,

And wheel'd in triumph through the signs of Heav'n?
Oh! star-ey'd Science, hast thou wander'd there
To waft us home the message of despair?
Then bind the palm, thy sage's brow to suit,
Of blasted leaf, and death distilling fruit !
Ah me! the laurel'd wreath that murder rears,
Blood-nurs'd, and water'd by the widow's tears,
Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread,

As waves the night-shade round the skeptic head.
What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain?
I smile on death, if Heav'n-ward Hope remain!
But, if the warring winds of Nature's strife
Be all the faithless charter of my life,

If Chance awak'd, inexorable pow'r!
This frail and fev'rish being of an hour,
Doom'd o'er the world's precarious scene to sweep,
Swift as the tempest travels on the deep,
To know Delight but by her parting smile,
And toil, and wish, and weep, a little while;
Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain
This troubled pulse, and visionary brain!
Fade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my doom!
And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb!
Truth, ever lovely, since the world began,
The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man,-
How can thy words from balmy slumber start
Reposing Virtue, pillow'd on the heart!
Yet, if thy voice the note of thunder roll'd,
And that were true which Nature never told,
Let wisdom smile not on her conquer'd field;
No rapture dawns, no treasure is reveal'd!
Oh! let her read, nor loudly, nor elate,
The doom that bars us from a better fate;
But, sad as angels for the good man's sin,
Weep to record, and blush to give it in!

LESSON LXXI.

Saturday Evening.-TRENTON EMPORIUM.

THERE is something peculiarly solemn in the eve of the Sabbath, in the return of labourers, and the preparation for rest, and the general feeling of enlargement. And even where we do not observe the eastern custom of commencing our Sabbath on Saturday evening, yet the Lord's day seems to dawn, and the cessation of cares to betoken something peaceful, and the expectation of approaching solemnities to calm the soul; so that the man must be peculiarly volatile, or peculiarly stupid, who is not, of necessity, thrown out of the common rout of his giddy, or his busy thoughts, when the ruddy streaks of the west are beginning to grow dusky, and the week seems fading away.

And what are the thoughts which a conscientious person would have, and which, of course, we all ought to have, at such a time?-A week is past; let my thoughts run through its business; and let conscience pass a faithful sentence. Am I a better man, a better husband, a better wife, a better neighbour, or whatever be my calling, and whatever the duties which it lays upon me? Am I more satisfied with my conduct, than I was the week before? If I am not, I have lived in vain. What have I done for the good of the neighbourhood? what for the public good? How have I been prospered in business; and how have I shown my thankfulness by administering to the necessities of those around me ?

Are no sick, afflicted strangers in my vicinity? If not, is not this the most favoured spot under heaven? And if there are, what have I done for their relief? If in none of these things, I have been improving, I am living for myself, a selfish niggard, unworthy of the name of man or Christian. Am I better prepared for dying, than I was last week? And when I look forward, how am I going to spend the next week; and what new project for improvement have I in mind? And how am I about to sanctify the Sabbath? And what can I do for the good of others?

LESSON LXXII.

The Sabbath.-WILCOX.

WHO scorn the hallowed day, set heaven at naught.
Heav'n would wear out whom one short sabbath tires.
Emblem and earnest of eternal rest,
A festival with fruits celestial crown'd,
A jubilee releasing him from earth,
The day delights and animates the saint.
It gives new vigour to the languid pulse
Of life divine; restores the wandering feet,
Strengthens the weak, upholds the prone to slip,
Quickens the lingering, and the sinking lifts,
Establishing them all upon a rock.

Sabbaths, like way-marks, cheer the pilgrim's path,
His progress mark, and keep his rest in view.
In life's bleak winter they are pleasant days,
Short foretastes of the long, long spring to come.
To every new-born soul, each hallowed morn
Seems like the first when every thing was new.
Time seems an angel come afresh from heav'n,
His pinions shedding fragrance as he flies,
And his bright hour-glass running sands of gold.
In every thing a smiling God is seen.
On earth his beauty blooms, and in the sun
His glory shines. In objects overlooked
On other days he now arrests the eye.
Not in the deep recesses of his works,
But on their face he now appears to dwell.
While silence reigns among the works of man,
The works of God have leave to speak his praise
With louder voice, in earth, and air, and sea.
His vital Spirit, like the light, pervades
All nature, breathing round the air of heaven,
And spreading o'er the troubled sea of life
A halcyon calm. Sight were not needed now
To bring him near, for Faith performs the work,
In solemn thought surrounds herself with God,
With such transparent vividness, she feels
Struck with admiring awe, as if transform'd
To sudden vision. Such is oft her power

In God's own house, which in th' absorbing act
Of adoration, or inspiring praise,

She with his glory fills, as once a cloud
Of radiance filled the temple's inner court;
At which display she cries with trembling awe
How dreadful is this place! while love responds,
How amiable thy courts, my King, my God!

LESSON LXXIII.

The Importance of the Sabbath, considered as merely a Civil Institution.-W. JAY.

A SLIGHT view of the comparative influence of human laws, and religious sentiment, in correcting the evils, and promoting the happiness of society, will afford abundant evidence of the superior efficacy of the latter. Human laws forbid only the commission of crimes: they presume not to take cognizance of thoughts and intentions. Religion, on the contrary, erects her throne in the heart, sways its affections, controls its passions, and directs its motives. Before the magistrate can enforce the sanctions of his laws, the offender must be discovered, and his guilt established by proof: and the fear of punishment is often counteracted by the possibility and the hope of eluding detection.

But the votary of religion knows that he serves a master, whose omniscience and omnipotency render escape hopeless, and punishment inevitable. So conscious are all governments of the inefficacy of penalties to secure obedience to their law, that in a great variety of cases, they call in the aid of religious obligation, and bind their subjects by oaths, to the performance of their duties. Human laws trust solely to the influence of terror, while religion addresses herself to the hopes as well as the fears of mankind, and offers rewards as rich and glorious, as her punishments are awful and appalling.

If we reflect for a moment what a vast proportion of mankind are doomed to daily labour for their subsistence, we shall be sensible that multitudes are necessarily deprived of all opportunity of acquiring religious information, except such as the Sabbath affords. Were the scriptures universally distributed, there would still be