below, which we quote from it, is one of the most intensely powerful in the English language:

"Where shall I find a parallel with men who will do such a deed-do it in Boston? I will open the tombs and bring up most hideous tyrants from the dead. Come, brood of monsters, let me bring you up from the deep damnation of the graves wherein your hated memories continue for all time their never-ending rot. Come, birds of evil omen! come, ravens, vultures, carrion crows, and see the spectacle! come, see the meeting of congenial souls! I will disturb, disquiet, and bring up the greatest monsters of the human race! Tremble not, women; tremble not, children; tremble not, men! They are all dead! They cannot harm you now! Fear the living, not the dead!"

"Come hither, Herod, the wicked. Thou that didst seek after that young child's life, and destroyedst the innocents! Let me look on thy face! No, go! Thou wert a heathen! Go, lie with the innocents thou hast massacred. Thou art too good for this company!

"Come, Nero! thou awful Roman emperor, come up! No, thou wast drunk with power! schooled in Roman depravity. Thou hadst, besides, the example of thy fancied gods. Go, wait another day. I will seek a worser man.

"Come hither, St. Dominic! come, Torquemada !-fathers of the Inquisition! merciless monsters, seek your equal here. No; pass by. You are no companions for such men as these. You were the servants of atheistic popes, of cruel kings. Go to, and get you gone. Another time I may have work for you,

-now, lie there, and persevere to rot.

You are not yet quite

wicked and corrupt enough for this comparison. Go, get you gone, lest the sun turn back at sight of ye!

"Come up, thou heap of wickedness, George Jeffries! thy hands deep purple with the blood of thy murdered fellow-men. Ah! I know thee, awful and accursed shade! Two hundred years after thy death, men hate thee still, not without cause. Look me upon thee! I know thy history. Pause and be still while I tell it to these men. Come, shade of a ju

dicial butcher. Two hundred years, thy name has been pilloried in face of the world, and thy memory gibbeted before mankind. Let us see how thou wilt compare with those who kidnap men in Boston. Go, seek companionship with them. Go, claim thy kindred, if such they be. Go, tell them that the memory of the wicked shall rot; that there is a God; an eternity; ay, and a judgment, too, where the slave may appeal against him that made him a slave, to Him that made him a

man.

These

"What! Dost thou shudder? Thou turn back! not thy kindred! Why dost thou turn pale, as when the crowd clutched at thy life in London street? It is true, George Jef fries and these are not thy kin. Forgive me that I should send thee, on such an errand, or bid thee seek companionship with such-with Boston hunters of the slave! Thou wert not base enough! It was a great bribe that tempted thee! Again, I say, pardon me for sending thee to keep company with such men! Thou only struckest at men accused of crime; not at men accused only of their birth! Thou wouldst not send a man into bondage for two pounds! I will not rank thee with

men, who, in Boston, for ten dollars, would enslave a negro now! Rest still, Herod! Be quiet, Nero! Sleep, St. Dominic, and sleep, O Torquemada, in your fiery jail! Sleep, Jeffries, underneath the altar of the church' which seeks, with christian charity, to hide your hated bones!"

6

In one of Mr. Parker's sermons on "Immortal Life," occurs the following beautiful passage:

"I would not slight this wondrous world. I love its day and night. Its flowers and its fruits are dear to me. I would not willfully lose sight of a departing cloud. Every year opens new beauty in a star; or in a purple curtain fringed with loveliness. The laws, too, of matter seem more wonderful the more I study them, in the whirling eddies of the dust, in the curious shells of former life, buried by thousands in a grain of chalk, or in the shining diagrams of light above my head. Even the ugly becomes beautiful, when truly seen. I see the jewel in the bunchy toad. The more I live, the more I love this lovely world; feel more its Author in each little thing; in all that is great. But yet, I feel my immortality the more. In childhood, the consciousness of immortal life buds forth feeble, though full of promise. In the man, it unfolds its fragrant petals, his most celestial flower, to mature its seed throughout eternity. The prospect of that everlasting life, the perfect justice yet to come, the infinite progress before us, cheer and comfort the heart. Sad and disappointed, full of self-reproach, we shall not be so forever. The light of heaven breaks upon the night of trial, sorrow, sin; the sombre clouds which over

hung the east, grown purple now, tell us the dawn of heaven is coming in."

The last quotation which we will make, is full of a sad eloquence. The preacher is speaking of the heroes of the present day, those men who have the courage and the principle to advocate unpopular reforms:

"I know their trials, I see their dangers, I appreciate their sufferings, and since the day when the Man on Calvary bowed his head, bidding persecution farewell with his 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,' I find no such saints and heroes as live now! They win hard fare, and hard toil. They lay up shame and obloquy. Theirs is the most painful of martyrdoms. Racks and fagots soon waft the soul to God, stern messengers but swift. A boy could bear that passage, the martyrdom of death. But the temptation of a long life of neglect, and scorn, and obloquy, and shame, and want, and desertion by false friends; to live blameless, though blamed, cut off from human sympathy, that is the martyrdom of to-day. I shed no tears for such martyrs. I shout when I see one; I take courage, and thank God for the real saints, prophets and heroes of to-day. In another age, men shall be proud of these puritans and pilgrims of this day. Churches shall glory in their names, and celebrate their praise in sermon and in song."

One of the greatest sermons preached by Mr. Parker-that upon the death of Daniel Webster-is so widely known that we will but mention it here as one

of the most brilliant sermons.ever delivered from the American pulpit. The land was full of adoration of the dead statesman, and it required a profound courage to face it with the truth. The sermon met with opposition, in some places bitter opposition, but the country at large hailed it as a great, searching, and profound review of the character of one of the idols of the American people.

Whatever charges may be sustained against Theodore Parker, as a theologian, no man will accuse him of ever fawning before the powerful and the despoticno man will accuse him of deserting the weak and oppressed. He is faithful to his brother-men-let him at least have all honor for this.