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1846.]

Merits of the Work.

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his nature, must of course be true. We believe in its truth, just as we do in the truth of the system of astronomy which explains and harmonizes all the planetary motions.

The second conclusion is, that taking into view the connection of the moral precepts of Christianity with the religious truths which enforce them, the character of the system as a whole, the character and claims of Christ, and the circumstances by which he was surrounded, we are compelled to admit that it had the supernatural origin and authority which it claims.

We have not attempted to give even an abstract of the argument presented by Dr. Hopkins. Our purpose has been, merely to indicate the general tenor of a portion of it, in the hope thereby of commending the volume to our readers.

The concluding Lectures, which treat of the external evidences, contain a clear statement of the points to be proved and of the evidence for them. But on the whole, they strike us as inferior to those on the internal evidence. They add nothing to what might be found in many other volumes. They lead us to think that the lecturer was pressed for time, or did not personally feel any strong interest in this part of his work, but added them for the purpose of making the statement of evidences more complete. His heart is evidently in those Lectures which treat of the adaptation of Christianity to the nature and wants of man. Notwithstanding all that has been written on the subject, no treatise occurs to us which presents this branch of Christian evidences more clearly and forcibly. If there be nothing absolutely novel in the view which is taken, it is presented with so much freshness and vigor and felicity of statement, that it seems to us a real addition to our theological literature.

The external evidences require much more space than President Hopkins could give to them, and for this reason as well as the one suggested above, and because in an age of universal publication we want only a man's best thoughts, we think that the volume would be better if all were omitted except what relates to the internal evidences. It would make a complete treatise by itself, and one which we should be glad to place as a first book on Christian Evidences in the hands of any one who was desirous

of candidly investigating the grounds of belief. Still we ought to say, that President Hopkins's volume is better suited to animate the faith of a disciple than to convince the skeptic. He takes his position within the Church, and writes for the benefit of those of whose sympathies he is already sure, rather than for the satisfaction of those who stand without the circle of Christian brotherhood. And in regard to the external evidences, we should prefer that the believer, having examined the first part of President Hopkins's labors, should then read some writer who has treated this department of the subject more elaborately.

E. P.

ART. VII. POETRY.

1. HYMN OF WORSHIP.

"The sea is mighty, but a Mightier sways
His restless billows."- BRYANT.

GREAT is the Lord.

God of earth's empires, and her nations all!
To him alone be our deep homage paid;
Let us bow down and worship him alone!

The mountains that rear up their awful heads
Into the clouds, tremble when He is near.
The sea, in all its billowy might, is stilled

When He doth speak. The broad, blue arch of heaven
Was fashioned by his thought;-Orion, and the Bear,
And the broad belt of stars that spans the universe,
And all that stud night's sparkling turban, sprang
Existent at His will. The sons of Earth,

Whose millions, clothed with life, dwell on the land,
Or plough the ocean in ten thousand ships,
And those uncounted multitudes that sleep
In the pale realms of Death, are His creation.
Angel and high archangel, that around
His throne lift up their voices in eternal praise,
Came thronging from the drear abyss of Nought,
Through His omnipotence. The golden sun

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That lights the day, and lovelier moon that shines
So calmly through the watches of the night,
He placed on high.

His presence fills all space:-
As well the starless void, as where the throng
Of sparkling planets roll:- as well the forest
Where timid silence dwells, as the dense mart
Where nation trades with nation. His path is laid
In the lone wastes that round the Pyramids,
And Tadmor's mouldering columns, stretch away
Beyond the horizon's verge. The eternal snows

That rest on Himmaley, list to His footsteps.
The isles that on the bosom of the waters
Are, rose from their ancient depths to smile
For Him. The strong leviathan that sports
Amid the tempest, cleaving with his sides
The mightiest wave, the huge behemoth,
Trampling the cedars, each obey His voice.
The forked lightnings terrible, that dart
Through the cleft heavens, are messengers
Of Him; the thunder, frighting the stunned earth,
Is but His whisper. The Lord is mighty!
All things are His! He made, and holdeth all!

-

The eagle mounting with unfaltering wing
To pierce yon purple cloud, or reach the height
Where on the lonely crags he builds his home,
Is yet no more the object of God's care,
Than the weak sparrow fluttering in the vale.
He giveth to the lion sustenance,

And for the hare he bids the clover bloom.

The weary ox, panting from recent toil,

Drinks from His brooks, and from His bounty feeds.
The Lord is good! He loveth all his works!
The loftiest seraph, whose resplendent eye
Pierces eternal mysteries, the idiot boy,
That wanders on the hills without a thought,
And scarcely knows the name men call him by,-
Both rest within the bosom of His love.
The wretched poor who want for daily bread,
Ask not in vain of Him. The mourner's tear,
Wrung from a heart of anguish at the graves

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Of loved ones, He perceives, and giveth balmy hope Of immortality.

The wild tornado,

Wrenching the strongest pines from their firm roots, And hurling them abroad in terrible wrath,

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The earthquake heaving with its awful strength
Whole continents, are emblems of his might;
Yet he doth guard the pelican's young brood
While she is absent at the far-off pools,

And granteth strength to her returning wing.
Great is his might, and great his goodness! Let
One swelling hymn of adoration rise,

From all that on the land hath habitude,
And all that liveth in the ocean's deeps,
To Him who ruleth from eternity!

R. H. B.

II. LINES ON THE DEATHS OF LITTLE CHILDREN.

I.

I CAME where, in its snow-white shroud,
The form of little Willie lay; -
How my heart ached! I wept aloud -
For anguish I could scarcely pray.
"Oh God! and is this all," I cried,
"That's left of little Willie now?"
And bending down by his bedside,

I kissed that cold and stony brow.
I looked again; -"How calm," I said,
"He slumbers there in sculptured grace!
Peace visits now that weary head,

And pain has fled that placid face!"
Dear Willie! what a weight of grief,
What agony I've borne for thee!
But oh, unspeakable relief!

To feel, thy spirit now is free :

To feel that thou art safe and well
From pangs that rend mortality;
That thou art gone, sweet lamb! to dwell
'Mid the pure pastures of the sky.

1846.]

Deaths of Little Children.

And yet we do not deem thee far,

Though, from yon world of cloudless bliss,
Thy spirit beckons like a star *

To us, frail sojourners in this:

For He is present everywhere,

Whose arms of love enfold thee round,-
Draws near and whispers, in our prayer;
"Behold, the child ye lost, is found!"

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II.

"T WAS in the time of early spring,
When the small rain falls soft and fast,
When the first vernal warblers sing,

In hope that winter's hour is past;

"T was then our darling's grave we made,
Where earth was moist with nature's tears;
And there, in silent sorrow, laid

The blighted hope of future years.

The blighted hope? Oh, say it not!

There came no "voice of words" from Heaven;
Yet, to the listening heart, methought,
A sign of peace from God was given.

Though stillness brooded o'er the land,
And but the pattering rain was heard,
Yet, out of sight, but near at hand,
Carolled a solitary bird.

So sadly sweet, so sweetly wild,

The fitful, solemn, cheerful note,

Above the grave of that dear child,

Gushed from the little songster's throat;

Methought her own pure spirit might,

E'en at that hour, be hovering near,
From God's all-present world of light
Whispering the mourner holy cheer.

Shelley's Monody on Keats.

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