had spoken unto her. Still, "they believed not." It seemed too good to be true. How was it that they did not remember his words, which even the chief priests and Pharisees repeated to Pilate, as a reason for posting a guard around the tomb, "After three days, I will rise again." The terrible shock of the crucifixion must have so stunned their faith, and distracted their thoughts, that what they afterward remembered so clearly, was either forgotten, or not comprehended.

THE PURPOSES OF CHRISTIANITY.

F. WAYLAND.

OUR object will not have been accomplished till the tomahawk shall be buried for ever, and the tree of peace spread its broad branches from the Atlantic to the Pacific; until a thousand smiling villages shall be reflected from the waves of the Missouri, and the distant valleys of the West echo with the song of the reaper; till the wilderness and the solitary place shall have been glad for us, and the desert has rejoiced and blossomed as the rose. Our labors are not to cease until Africa shall have been enlightened and redeemed, and Ethiopia, from the Mediterranean to the Cape, shall have stretched forth her hand unto

God.

How changed will then be the face of Asia! Brahmins, and sooders, and castes, and shasters, will have passed away, like the mist which rolls up the mountain's side before the rising glories of a summer's morning; while the land on which it rested, shining forth in all its loveliness, shall, from its numberless habitations, send forth the high praises of God and the Lamb. The Hindoo mother will gaze upon her infant with the same tenderness which throbs in the breast of any Christian mother; and the Hindoo son will pour into the wounded bosom of his widowed parent the oil of peace and consolation.

In a word, point us to the loveliest village that smiles upon a Scottish or New England landscape, and compare it with the filthiness and brutality of a Caffrarian kraal, and we tell you that our object is to render that Caffrarian kraal as happy and as gladsome as that Scottish or New England village. Point us to the spot on the face of the earth, where liberty is best understood and most perfectly enjoyed, where intellect shoots forth in its richest luxuriance, and where all the kindlier feelings of the heart are constantly seen in their most graceful exercise; point us to the loveliest and happiest neighborhood in the world on which we dwell; and we tell you that our object is to render this whole earth, with all its nations, and kindreds, and tongues, and people, as happy, nay, happier than that neighborhood.

CHRISTIAN MOTIVES.

GEORGE F. PIERCE.

THE relative duties of life are performed not to gratify a native generosity, or eke out a dubious popularity, but as part of the service and homage due his Maker. Over the whole circumference of his engagements-in the bosom of his family-the busy marts of tradethe retirement of the closet-the worship of the sanctuary-the citizenship of the world-there presides a solemn recognition of the divine presence, his being and his empire, and every step is taken in reference to him as a witness and a judge. I know that many profess and seem to be religious on lower principles. Public opinion-consistency-ease of conscience, to shun hell, to gain heaven, all operate, and they supersede and dethrone the higher law in the text. Not that these motives are illegitimate, but partial and inferior. They ought not to become principal and paramount; and they cannot without a deleterious unhingement of character, and a transfer of our duty from the ground of what is divine and authoritative, to that which is human and self-pleasing. The motive in the text is comprehensive, embracing all lower endsharmonizes all, yet subordinates them all to its own sovereign sway. Like a conqueror at the head of his battalions, it marches forth to subdue the insurgent elements that would dispute its dominion. It is the "stronger man" keeping his goods in peace. Without it, there can be no consecration, and with it no compromise of duty. The failure to recognise and adopt this great principle of morality, has fearfully diluted the experience of the church, and embarrassed every department of Christian service. "I will run in the way of thy commandments, when thou shalt enlarge my heart," said the Psalmist. No man can rise above the constraining considerations which spring from interest, feeling, safety, pleasure, in reference to all minor questions of duty, save as he resolves religion into some great general principles and purposes, from the decisions of which there is no appeal.

one.

SONGS IN THE NIGHT.

C. H. SPURGEON.

THE world hath its night. It seemeth necessary that it should have The sun shineth by day, and men go forth to their labors; but they grow weary, and nightfall cometh on, like a sweet boon from heaven. The darkness draweth the curtains, and shutteth out the light, which might prevent our eyes from slumber; while the sweet, calm stillness of the night permits us to rest upon the lap of ease, and there forget awhile our cares, until the morning sun appeareth, and an angel puts his hand upon the curtain, and undraws it once again, touches our eye

lids, and bids us rise, and proceed to the labors of the day. Night is one of the greatest blessings men enjoy; we have many reasons to thank God for it. Yet night is to many a gloomy season. There is "the pestilence that walketh in darkness;" there is "the terror by night;" there is the dread of robbers and of fell disease, with all those fears that the timorous know, when they have no light wherewith they can discern objects. It is then they fancy that spiritual creatures walk the earth; though, if they knew rightly, they would find it to be true, that

"Millions of spiritual creatures walk this earth,

Unseen, both when we sleep, and when we wake,"

and that at all times they are round about us-not more by night than by day. Night is the season of terror and alarm to most men. Yet even night hath its songs. Have you never stood by the seaside at night, and heard the pebbles sing, and the waves chant God's glories? Or have you never risen from your couch, and thrown up the window of your chamber, and listened there? Listened to what? Silencesave now and then a murmuring sound, which seems sweet music then. And have you not fancied that you heard the harp of God playing in heaven? Did you not conceive, that yon stars, that those eyes of God, looking down on you, were also mouths of song-that every star was singing God's glory, singing, as it shone, its mighty Maker, and his lawful, well-deserved praise? Night hath its songs. We need not much poetry in our spirit, to catch the song of night, and hear the spheres as they chant praises which are loud to the heart, though they be silent to the ear-the praises of the mighty God, who bears up the unpillared arch of heaven, and moves the stars in their courses.

THE DANGER OF DELAY.

J. C. YOUNG.

THE danger of deferring the service of God is further evinced by the fact, that, the impressions produced upon you, by his truths, have a natural tendency to become weaker. They become weaker, in accordance with the general laws of our nature. Thus we find, that impunity, in any course, produces in us insensibility to its danger. The young soldier, when, for the first time, he enters the field of battle, is almost always agitated and alarmed; when he first hears the shock, the shout, the groans of war, his heart sinks within him. But each successive conflict, from which he escapes unharmed, hardens his heart against fear; and when he has become a veteran-when he has been long accustomed to such sights and sounds, the roar of artillery, the flash of sabres, and the clash of bayonets, cease to produce their former

impressions upon his mind. Even so it is with the soul, in view of those truths which God presents before us in his word, to alarm us, and urge us to repentance. Their tendency to impress us and awe us from ways of sin, is diminished by each successive presentation, when that presentation fails to produce in us any amendment. Even in diseases of the body, we usually find, that the more frequently a remedy is applied to a disorder, without effecting a decided and favorable change, the less prospect there is of its ultimate success. The remedy seems to become weaker on each successive application. The system appears to gain, from every failure, a greater capacity of resisting its effects. Thus we find it to be with the soul, in its resistance to these truths, which are furnished to us, by God, as the remedies for the disease of sin. When they are often presented without producing a change of life, they become familiar, and cease to excite any emotion. Are they denunciations of the wrath of God against sin, or descriptions of the woes to be endured in the dungeons of despair? They are heard, as we hear the howlings of a stormy blast, from which we apprehend no personal danger. Are they proclamations of mercy-invitations from our heavenly Father, to us wandering and needy prodigals, to return and enjoy the rich blessings he is ever ready to bestow; or are they descriptions of the love, the sufferings, and the glory of our divine, yet condescending Redeemer? They are listened to, as we "listen to the song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and playeth well upon an instrument;" or perhaps the tale has been so often heard, that all its novelty and interest are gone, and it falls upon dull and listless ears.

From "Sermon before the Judges."

THE UNIVERSAL EMPIRE OF DEATH.

D. S. DOGGETT,

CONTEMPLATE for a moment the nature of that event which puts the limit to human life, whether conditionally or otherwise. And, here, we cannot forbear a reflection, upon the universality of this awful curse. It has smitten with blasting and mildew every earthly object. The whole assemblage of living beings, originally designed to luxuriate in the vigor, and to sparkle in the glories of uninterrupted existence, is doomed to die. The glow-worm must extinguish his little spark in the night of death. The myriads of insects that crawl upon the earth, or float upon the atmospheric wave, must die. Quadrupeds, fishes, fowls, must die. Vegetation must die. And, last of all, man himself must die: and the world, instead of being a living temple, animated and adorned with harmonious orders of rejoicing creatures, must become their common vortex, one vast sepulchre, the tomb of all that hath life.

Here, death reigns in dark and dismal dignity, from age to age, and from pole to pole. In all probability, ours is the only spot over which his dread dominion extends. In other places, existence, beyond a doubt, yet glitters in primeval beauty. The angel of death has never visited their healthful abodes, to pour his vial on the air, to scatter over them the seeds of consumption, and to wake from their happy population the wail of lamentation and of woe. Here we breathe the infected atmosphere of a loathsome hospital, and while we witness the havoc which appals us, we expire in our turn.

From" A Sermon."

NATIONAL ERROR.

T. P. AKERS.

WHATEVER may be the lot of those to whom error is an inheritance, woe be to the people by whom it is an adoption. If America, free above all nations, sustained amidst the trials which have covered the earth with burning and slaughter, and enlightened by the fullest knowledge of the Divine will, refuse fidelity to the compact by which those matchless privileges have been given, her condemnation will neither be distant nor delayed. But, if she faithfully repel this deepest of all crimes, and refuse to place Popery, side by side, with Christianity, there may be no bound to the sacred magnificence of her preservation. The coming terrors and tribulations of the earth may but augment her glory. Even in the midst of thunderings and lightnings, which appal the tribes of earth, she may be led up, like the prophet, to the Mount, only to behold the Eternal Majesty; and when the visitation has past, the world may see her coming forth from the cloud, her brow blazing, and her hands holding the "commandments" of mankind.

THE GREAT PRICE.

J. II. NEWMAN.

CHRIST died, not in order to exert a peremptory claim on the divine justice, if I may so speak,- -as if He were bargaining in the marketplace or pursuing a plea in a court of law, but in a more loving, generous, munificent way, He shed that blood, which was worth ten thousand lives of men, worth more than the blood of all the sons of Adam heaped together, in accordance with His Father's will, who, for wise reasons unrevealed, exacted it as the condition of their pardon.