tions of this present life, which Paul says is but for a moment, and which the best of saints cannot escape. The Scriptures testify that the wicked are not plagued as other men. Of this I really think you have need to be ashamed, But you say, 66 the doctrine of ceaseless misery is a heart rending doctrine." This I confess is a solemn fact; and well might it teach us to "rend our hearts and not our garments," and use all our exertions to escape the damnation of hell.

I have no apologies to make for any strong language I have used, since I am not conscious that I have exceeded the example you have set me. I will now conclude with the words of our Lord Jesus Christ: "He that shall blaspheme against the Holy Ghost hath never forgiveness, but is in danger of eternal damnation." Respectfully yours,

WM. STILLMAN.

The following lines were delivered at the close of a Temperance Lecture, and afterwards spoken at a political meeting, at the time of the great strife to get General Harrison chosen President.. Who was the original author of them I do not know:

"The form of our government is to others what the grand invention of the illustrious Fulton is to those other vessels that have long rode on the waters: we can pass proudly by them, in our beauty, strength and speed: but remember, if that irresistible force that bears us forward in our wild career, springs from the boiler of vice, and is fed with the fuel of iniquity, that boiler will one day burst, and tremendous will be the explosion.

"Yes, O! my country! shouldst thou scorn the God,
By whom our sires the pathless ocean trod;
By whom their freeborn children rose and broke
The tyrant's chain, the tyrant's galling yoke;
Shouldst thou, when all this kindness is forgot,
Then say, who is the Lord? I know him not:
Oh! thou shalt sink like lead in judgment's deep,
And the red waves of ruin o'er thee sweep.

F

As when on proud Niagara's far famed flood,
While thousands gazed, a toilworn vessel rode;
Down the smooth stream awhile she calmly passed,
Then 'midst the foaming rapid rushed at last;
Made one rash leap, and midst the eternal roar
Of falling water, sunk to rise no more:

So on the stream of vice, all wild and dark,
Should our republic launch fond freedom's bark;
Oh! then behold her downward dash in scorn
Of all that warn her, all that strive to warn.
Millions of aching eyes on her are bent,
Millions of bursting hearts with anguish rent,
And frantic freedom shrieks, no help is near,
Onward she plunges in her mad career,
And rushes down the rapids, none can stay
Her mournful course, or drive her doom away.
Then, then the last cold chill pale freedom feels,
And while mid reefs of death her vessel reels,
Winds her weak arm around her trembling mast,
Rolls down the gulf, and dies in shame at last.
Loud as Niagara's roar swells our despair,
And tyrants spread their gaudy rainbow there.
Oh! that thou wouldst in this thy glorious day,
Land of my birth and pride, thy God obey;
Shun with a holy scorn each vicious haunt,
And high on virtue's hill thy standard plant.
There let thine eagle rise and soar and rest,
There climbs no tyrant, there no foes molest;
For in that hill a nation's wealth is hid,
There freedom rears her children's pyramid,
And Truth, reclining on her couch of moss,
Beside that fount which springs beneath the cross,
Bids thee, Columbia, let thy children join
To seek their God and kneel before his shrine;
And while from every eye warm tears shall start,
Leave there thy gift, a contrite nation's heart;
Then let the anthem peal; their song should be,
Of all the songs that burst from land or sea,
Foremost and loudest. Where in this wide earth
Lives there a race that boasts a nobler birth?

Could Greece or Rome? they sought to screen their youth

By fabulous tales: our glory is the truth.
Could Europe? no! from her best realms the hand
Of persecution culled that valliant band

By which the ship that bore our sires was manned.
And when at length that worn and wearied flock,
Exulting sprang on Plymouth's revered rock;
Then when the first thanksgiving song was sung
With which the western wilds had ever rung,
Loud were the notes even then, but still more strong
From age to age hath swelled the holy song;
And Oh! shall we who tread where once they trod,
Forget our fathers' song, our fathers' God?
No! rise Columbia, wake that voice again,
Let every rolling year renew the strain,
And as each song swells louder than the last,
Cleave to thy fathers' God forever fast.
Then shalt thou be exalted, noble land,

And midst the wreck of nations thou shalt stand
Unhurt, unshaken; and from thee shalt flow
Freedom's broad stream, to bless the world below,
And thou shalt shine, until in splendor o'er
This ransomed world melennial glories pour,
And not one star wax dim upon thy banner,

'Till heaven and earth shall blend their loud hosannah.
But hark! what voice in tones of wrath and spite,
Still mocks these dreams of glory and delight?
Behold the haggard wretch! in her dark cave,
With all her satelites, digging thy grave.
My country! O my country! wouldst thou know
Her hateful name? 'tis vice, thy deadliest foé.
O trust her not, but turn for once and trace
Her footsteps in the annals of our race.

Where now are Babylon, and Tyre? where now
Egypt and Carthage? once as strong as thou:
All, all are gone, and mournfully they tell
The power of vice; by vice alone they fell.

Where now are Greece and glorious Rome? for whom
Earth seemed too small: 'twas vice that built their tomb.
And Oh! shall we, while yet before our eyes
The warning ghosts of ruined nations rise;
Shall we permit the wretch with all her train

Our land to ruin? shall it be in vain
That here for Zion's sake the Pilgrims fled?
That here for us our fathers fought and bled?
No! rise ye sons of freedom, let your hand
Scourge the vile monster from this blood-bought land;
Let every heart with grateful ardor glow,
From every eye let deep repentance flow;
And God will hear, our God will not forget
This land of lands, and we for ages yet
Shall sing the song that joyous freedom sings-
We have no monarch but the King of Kings.

QUERIES AND REFLECTIONS ON WATTS' GLORIES OF

CHRIST.

Wherein he assumes that the human soul of Christ had a pre-existent state prior to all other created beings, and endeavors to point out many advantages arising from such a conclusion; especially that of rendering the Scriptures more intelligible, and much less perplexing.

It is not my design in these remarks to contradict the Dotor's theory which he has assumed, but to make some queries respecting the system he has advanced. And first, the question arises, if the pre-existent soul of Christ was human, or a created being of any kind whether human or angelic, would not that soul be not only inferior to butalso dependent on its author or progenitor? Although it might possess powers of intellect far superior to men or angels, could that have rendered him independent? And however nearly or closely united to or with its great author, would he not still be as dependant as ever? To talk about a human soul being so united to God as to render it the very eternal God himself, seems to me to be straining our conceptions quite beyond their abilities. To teach for doctrine, things utterly inconceivable, seems calculated to perplex rather than happify the human mind, and I should think it more for the advancement of human happiness if we could avoid teaching any doctrine that is based on an inconceivable hypothesis; unless such doctrine is in

dispensible to salvation, which the Doctor acknowledges is not the case with his theory.

When the Doctor devises or prescribes a kind of unitation of this human soul with deity, so as to render it God himself, I confess such a thing is entirely beyond the reach of my powers of conception. I cannot conceive how that would constitute the soul a God, any more than Paul or Peter being united to God would constitute either of them a deity. This theory of considering the origin of the personality of Christ to be a human soul in a pre-existent state, seems to be resorted to for the purpose of rendering the language of the New Testament more congenial with common sense, than it could be by the ancient Trinitarian system, (an object surely worthy of consideration); and his inconceivable method of rendering this human soul a God, by a kind of unitation with deity, I did not know but he might have adopted for the purpose of retaining something in the appearance of Orthodoxy; for to jump out of that at one leap you know, would make a man look rather slim in the eyes of many.

But, after all, the Doctor seems to be somewhat puzzled to know how to understand Christ's prayer, recorded in the 17th chapter of John, when he prayed " to be glorified with the same glory that he had with his father before the world was;" because he cannot conceive that the divine nature of Christ could ever have parted with any of its glory, either essential or manifestive. On the whole, I think he comes to the conclusion that it was not the whole of the person that made this prayer, but that it was only a small part of the person, viz: his human nature that prayed thus to be restored to its original glorified condition: thus leaving us in a labrynth of perplexity how to conceive of one part of a person praying to another part of the same person, or one part of a person praying, while the other part lies dormant as it were, in a state of insensibility; and if we could at last persuade ourselves that such a thing might be, the idea must be altogether forced and strained, and distant from any natural idea that occurs to the mind of any person who is not previously biased with man-made mysteries. The pronoun I, naturally and uniformly denotes the whole of the person speaking, and not merely some small part of the person. In this particular seems to consist a considerable part of the imperfection of the Doctor's theory; for he says he thinks that when Christ said he did not know the day and hour when the Son of man should come, he did not mean that no part