but they are not.” Forbid it, my countrymen; forbid it, Heaven.

8. I call upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors, by the dear ashes which repose in this precious soil, by all you are, and all you hope to be, resist every project of disunion, resist every encroachment upon your liberties,resist every attempt to fetter your consciences, or smother your public schools, or extinguish your system of public instruction.

9. I call upon you, mothers, by that which never fails in woman, the love of your offspring, teach them, as they climb your knees, or lean on your bosom, the blessing of liberty. Swear them at the altar, as with their baptismal vows, to be true to their country, and never to forget or to forsake her.

10. I call upon you, young men, to remember whose sons you are, whose inheritance you possess. Life can never be too short, which brings nothing but disgrace and oppression. Death never comes too soon, if necessary in defense of the liberties of your country.

11. I call upon you, old men, for your counsels, and your prayers, and your benedictions. May not your gray hairs go down in sorrow to the grave, with the recollection that you have lived in vain. May not your last sun sink in the west upon a nation of slaves.

LESSON LXXVIII.

THE VALUE OF THE BIBLE.

ROBERT HALL.

1. On casting a survey over the different orders into which society is distributed, I am at an utter loss to fix on any description of persons, who are likely to be injured by the most extensive perusal of the word of God.

2. The Bible is the treasure of the poor, the solace of the sick, and the support of the dying; and, while other books may amuse and instruct in a leisure hour, it is the peculiar triumph of that book, to create light in the midst of darkness; to alleviate the sorrow which admits of no other alleviation; to direct a beam of hope to the heart, which no other topic of consolation can reach; while guilt, despair, and death, vanish at the touch of its holy inspiration.

3. There is something in the spirit and diction of the Bible, which is found peculiarly adapted to arrest the attention of the plainest and most uncultivated minds. The simple structure of its sentences, combined with a lofty spirit of poetry, its familiar allusions to the scenes of nature, and the transactions of common life, the delightful intermixture of narration with the doctrinal and preceptive parts, and the profusion of miraculous facts, which convert it into a sort of enchanted ground, its constant advertence to the Deity, whose perfections it renders almost visible and palpable, unite in bestowing upon it an interest which attaches to no other performance, and which, after assiduous and repeated perusal, invests it with much of the charm of novelty, like the great orb of day, at which we are wont to gaze with unabated astonishment, from infancy to

old age.

4. What other book, beside the Bible, could be heard in public assemblies, from year to year, with an attention that never tires, and an interest that never cloys? With few exceptions, let a portion of the sacred volume be recited in a mixed multitude, and though it has been heard a thousand times, a universal stillness ensues; every eye is fixed, and every ear is awake and attentive. Select, if you can, any other composition, and let it be rendered equally familiar to the mind, and see whether it will produce this effect.

1.

LESSON LXXIX.

HOPE TRIUMPHANT IN DEATH.-CAMPBELL.

Unfading Hope! when life's last embers burn,
When soul to soul, and dust to dust return,
Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour!
Oh! then thy kingdom comes! Immortal Power!
What though each spark of earth-born rapture fly
The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eye!
Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey
The morning dream of life's eternal day;
Then, then, the triumph and the trance begin!
And all thy Phenix a spirit burns within!

2. Oh! deep-enchanting prelude to repose,
The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes!
Yet half I hear the parting spirit sigh,
It is a dread and awful thing to die!
Mysterious worlds, untraveled by the sun!
Where Time's far-wand'ring tide has never run,
From your unfathomed shades, and viewless spheres,
A warning comes, unheard by other ears.

3.

"T is Heaven's commanding trumpet, long and loud,
Like Sinai's thunder, pealing from the cloud!
While Nature hears, with terror-mingled trust,
The shock that hurls her fabric to the dust;
And, like the trembling Hebrew, when he trod
The roaring waves, and called upon his God,
With mortal terrors clouds immortal bliss,
And shrieks and hovers o'er the dark abyss!

Phenix, a fabulous bird, which is said to exist single, and to rise again from its own ashes; but here used as an emblem of immortality.

4.

5.

6.

Daughter of Faith! awake, arise, illume The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb! Melt, and dispel, ye specter doubts, that roll Cimmerian darknessa on the parting soul! Fly, like the moon-eyed herald of dismay, Chased on his night-steed by the star of day! The strife is o'er, the pangs of nature close, And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her woes.

Soul of the just! companion of the dead! Where is thy home, and whither art thou fled? Back to its heavenly source thy being goes, Swift as the comet wheels to whence he rose; Doomed on his airy path awhile to burn,

And doomed, like thee, to travel, and return. Hark! from the world's exploding center driven, With sounds that shook the firmament of heaven, Careers the fiery giant, fast and far,

On bickering wheels and adamantine car.

From planet whirled to planet more remote, He visits realms beyond the reach of thought; But, wheeling homeward, when his course is run, Curbs the red yoke, and mingles with the sun! So hath the traveler of earth unfurled

Her trembling wings, emerging from the world; And, o'er the path by mortal never trod, Sprung to her source, the bosom of her God!

a Cimmerian darkness, see p. 63.

LESSON LXXX.

PREVALENCE OF POETRY.- PERCIVAL

1

The world is full of poetry,

the air

Is living with its spirit; and the waves
Dance to the music of its melodies,

And sparkle in its brightness. Earth is veiled,
And mantled with its beauty; and the walls,
That close the universe with crystal in,
Are eloquent with voices, that proclaim
The unseen glories of immensity,
In harmonies, too perfect, and too high,
For aught but beings of celestial mold,
And speak to man in one eternal hymn,
Unfading beauty, and unyielding power.

2. The year leads round the seasons, in a choir Forever charming, and forever new,

Blending the grand, the beautiful, the gay,
The mournful, the tender, in one strain,

Which steals into the heart, like sounds, that rise
Far off, in moonlight evenings, on the shore
Of the wide ocean, resting after storms;
Or tones that wind around the vaulted roof,
And pointed arches, and retiring aisles
Of some old, lonely minster, where the hand,
Skillful, and moved with passionate love of art,
Plays o'er the higher keys, and bears aloft
The peal of bursting thunder, and then calls,
By mellow touches, from the softer tubes,
Voices of melting tenderness, that blend
With pure and gentle musing, till the soul,