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would probably have been carried, if such warnings had not been commissioned perpetually to remind you of your duty. Bear your tribulation, whatever it may be, patiently. Rejoice in it as the appointment of the wisdom and mercy of God. Rejoice in it as a lesson of faith and righteousness and true holiness.

You are flourishing in the vigor of youth. Shall the tree withhold from the planter the prime of its fruit? When wilt thou serve thy God, if not now? Dost thou count on years to come, thou who art a passing shadow, a dewdrop of the morning, a flame which an instant may extinguish? I have seen a young man 'in great power, and spreading himself like a green bay tree. Yet he passed away, and lo! he was not; yea, I sought him, but he could not be found.' Dost thou postpone the remembrance of thy Creator unto the evil days of old age? Hear thou the language of thy thoughts. 'O God! I love thee not. Power I love, riches I love, pleasure I love. To these objects I have devoted my heart; to these, I would willingly dedicate my whole life. But on that resolution, I dare not venture. Though I love thee not, I am afraid of thee. I will take a middle path. The noon of life I will give to my darling pursuits. And when declining years shall strip indulgence of its relish, I will assign a portion of my time to thee.' Dost thou recoil from

such baseness? Dost thou tremble at such ingratitude? Set the Lord thy God before thee. Honor him with his own gifts. Consecrate to him the best of thy strength. Consecrate to him the whole of thy strength. Be thou like a green olive tree in the house of God, that bringeth forth its fruit in its season.

But age has already stampt its characters upon thee. Does the ancient tree count on length of years? Does it refuse to its owners the scanty produce, which it still has energy to supply? Its summit is bare; its branches are sapless; its trunk is hollow; its roots are decayed. The earliest blast may lay it low. Even sooner it may perish by the sentence, 'Cut it down; why cumbereth it the ground.' Planted in the christian church, the garden of God, hast thou been wilfully barren during the fulness of thy vigor, and art thou wilfully barren still? Or, if hitherto productive, dost thou at length refuse thy God the tribute, which his nurturing grace even yet enables thee to offer? Remember the Lord thy rock, and the High God thy redeemer. Let it suffice that youth deludes itself with distant prospects. Thou art about to put off thy tabernacle; the time of thy departure is at hand. The night cometh ; work while it is called to-day. In the grave, there is no repentance; seek mercy while yet it may be found.



WHERE can I go from thee,
All present Deity!

Nature, and time, and thought thine impress bear;
Through earth, or sea, or sky,
Though far afar I fly,

I turn and find thee present with me there.

The perfuine of the rose,

And every flower that blows,

All mark thy love, in clusters of the vale;
The corn that crowns the fields,
The fruits the garden yields,

Proclaim the bounties that can never fail.

The vapor, and the cloud,
The thunder bursting loud,

Speak of thy majesty in words of flame;
The ocean as it roars,

Lashing the rocks and shores,

Declares from what a mighty hand it came.

The vasty globes that roll,
Each on its own firm pole,

Through all the boundless fields of space alone,

Prove that indeed thou art

The life wheel, and the heart

Of systems to our little world unknown.

From thee I cannot fly;
Thine all observing eye,
Marks the minutest atom of thy reign;
How far soe'er I go,

Thou all my path wouldst know,
And bring the wanderer to this earth again.

But why should I depart?
'Tis safety where thou art;
And could one spot thy being hold,
I, poor, and vain, and weak,
That sacred spot would seek,

And dwell within the shelter of thy fold.



SUCH a blessing had the celebrated teacher Rabbi Mier found. He sat during the whole of one sabbath day in the public school, and instructed the people. During his absence from his house, his two sons, both of them of uncommon beauty and enlightened in the law, died. His wife bore them to her bedchamber, laid them on the marriage bed, and spread a white covering over their bodies.

Towards evening, Rabbi Mier came home. 'Where are my beloved sons,' he asked, 'that I may give them my blessing?'

"They are gone to the school,' was the reply.

'I repeatedly looked round the school,' he replied, ' and did not see them there.'

She reached him a goblet; he praised the Lord at the going out of the sabbath, drank, and again asked, 'Where are my two sons, that they may drink of the cup of blessing?'

"They will not be far off,' she said, and placed food before him that he might eat.

He was in a gladsome and genial mood, and when he had said grace after the meat, she thus addressed him; 'Rabbi, with thy permission, I would fain propose to thee one question.'

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