sacrifices to uprightness and the public good; that an oath is unheard in heaven; that secret crimes have no witness but the perpetrator; that human existence has no purpose, and human virtue no unfailing friend; that this brief life is every thing to us, and death is total, everlasting extinction: once let men thoroughly abandon religion, and who can conceive or describe the extent of the desolation which would follow?

3. We hope, perhaps, that human laws and natural sympathy would hold society together. As reasonably might we believe, that, were the sun quenched in the heavens, our torches could illuminate, and our fires quicken and fertilize, the creation. What is there in human nature to awaken respect and tenderness, if man is the unprotected insect of a day? and what is he more, if atheism be true! Erase all thought and fear of God from a community, and selfishness and sensuality would absorb the whole man. Appetite, knowing no restraint, and poverty and suffering, having no solace or hope, would trample in scorn on the restraints of human laws. Virtue, duty, principle, would be mocked and spurned as unmeaning sounds. A sordid self-interest would supplant every other feeling, and man would become, in fact, what the theory of atheism declares him to be, a companion for brutes.

1.

LESSON XCVIII.

RELIANCE ON GOD.- CASKET.

If thou hast ever felt that all on earth
Is transient and unstable; that the hopes

Which man reposes on his brother man
Are oft but broken reeds; if thou hast seen
That life itself" is but a vapor" spring

From time's up-heaving ocean, decked, perhaps,

2.

3.

With here and there a rainbow, but full soon
To be dissolved and mingled with the vast
And fathomless expanse that rolls its waves
On every side around thee; if thy heart
Has deeply felt all this, and thus has learned
That earth has no security; then go

And place thy trust in God.

The bliss of earth

Is transient as the colored light that beams
In morning dew-drops. Yet a little while,
And all that earth can show of majesty,
Of strength, or loveliness, shall fade away
Like vernal blossoms. From the conqueror's hand,
The scepter and the sword shall pass away;
The mighty ones of earth shall lay them down
In their low beds, and death shall set his seal
On beauty's marble brow, and, cold and pale,
Bloomless and voiceless, shall the lovely ones
Go to the "congregation of the dead."

Yea, more than this; the mighty rocks that lift
Their solemn forms upon the mountain heights,
Like time's proud citadels, to bear the storms
And wreck of ages, these, too, shall decay,
And Desolation's ivy hand shall wave

O'er all that thou canst see,-blot out the suns
That shed their glory o'er uncounted worlds,—
Call in the distant comets from their wild
And devious course, and bid them cease to move,
And clothe the heavens in darkness. But the
Of God, his goodness, and his grace, shall be
Unchanged, when all the worlds that he has made
Have ceased their revolutions. When the suns

power

That burn in yonder sky have poured their last,
Their dying glory o'er the realms of space,

Still, God shall be the same,

In majesty, in mercy: then rely

the same in love,

In faith on him, and thou shalt never find
Hope disappointed, or reliance vain.

1.

2.

3.

LESSON XCIX.

SPEAK NOT TO HIM A BITTER WORD.-ANON.

Wouldst thou a wanderer reclaim,

A wild and restless spirit tame,—

Check the warm flow of youthful blood,

And lead a lost one back to God?

Pause, if thy spirit's wrath be stirred,
Speak not to him a bitter word,—
Speak not, that bitter word may be
The stamp that seals his destiny.

If widely he hath gone astray
And dark excess has marked his way,
'Tis pitiful, but yet beware,—
Reform must come from kindly care.
Forbid thy parting lips to move

But in the gentle tones of love.
Though sadly his young heart hath erred,
Speak not to him a bitter word.

The lowering frown he will not bear;
The venomed chiding, will not hear;

The ardent spirit will not brook

The stinging tooth of sharp rebuke;

Thou wouldst not goad the restless steed;

To calm his fire or check his speed,

4.

Then let no angry tones be heard,—
Speak not to him a bitter word.

Go kindly to him, make him feel
Your heart yearns deeply for his weal;

Tell him the dangers thick that lay
Around his widely devious way;

So shalt thou win him,— call him back
From pleasure's smooth, seductive track.
And warnings thou hast mildly given,
May guide the wanderer to Heaven.

LESSON C.

FROM THE POOR GENTLEMAN.-COLMAN. [Characters-FREDERICK, SIR ROBERT BRAMBLE, HUMPHREY DOBBINS.] Frederick. Oh, my dear uncle, good morning! your park is nothing but beauty.

Sir R. Who bid you caper over my beauty! I told you to stay in-doors till I got up.

Fred. So you did, but I entirely forgot it.

Sir R. And pray, what made you forget it.
Fred.

The sun. Sir. R. The sun!

believe.

you're mad!. -you mean the moon, I

Fred. Oh, my dear uncle, you don't know the effect of a fine spring morning upon a fellow just arrived from Russia. The day looked bright, trees budding, birds singing, the park was so gay, that I took a leap out of your old balcony, made your deer fly before me like the wind, and chased them all around the park to get an appetite for breakfast, while you were snoring in bed, uncle.

Sir R. Oh, oh! So the effect of English sunshine upon

a Russian, is to make him jump out of a balcony and worry my deer.

Fred. I confess it had that influence upon me.

Sir R. You had better be influenced by a rich old uncle, unless you think the sun likely to leave you a fat legacy.

Fred. I hate legacies.

Sir R. That's mighty singular. They are pretty solid tokens, at least.

Fred. Very melancholy tokens, uncle; they are posthumous dispatches affection sends to gratitude, to inform us we have lost a gracious friend.

Sir R. How charmingly the rogue argues!

Fred. But I own my spirits ran away with me this morning. I will obey you better in future; for they tell me you are a very worthy, good sort of a gentleman.

Sir R. Now, who had the familiar impudence to tell you that?
Fred. Old rusty, there.

Sir R. Why, Humphrey, you didn't.

Hum. Yes, but I did though.

Fred. Yes, he did; and on that score I shall be anxious to show you obedience; for 't is as meritorious to attempt sharing a good man's heart, as it is paltry to have designs upon a rich man's money. A noble nature aims its attentions full-breast high, uncle; a mean mind levels its dirty assiduities at the pocket.

Sir R. [Shaking him by the hand.] Jump out of every window I have in the house; hunt my deer into high fevers, my fine fellow! Ay, that's right. This is spunk and plain speaking. Give me a man who is always flinging his dissent to my doctrines smack in my teeth.

Fred. I disagree with you there, uncle.

Hum. And so do I. But come, let us go to the business of the morning.