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Shall He who built yon mighty arch on high, And hung its concave round with living flames, On mortal man or angel's aid rely,

How bright soe'er their wit, or great their names?

A beauteous rainbow shining through a shower, Is man, in all his pomp and power sublime; Learning, though fair, is but a transient flowerWhere are the erudite of olden time?

Upon a diamond rock His church is built!
The Rock of ages, man's eternal Friend;
Who for it, on the Cross his life-blood spilt,
Will find it agents to the chapter end.

The gates of Hades never shall prevail,
Though prophets, seers, apostles, martyrs, die;
Another race shall crowd the Church's pale,
And catch the mantle falling from the sky.

Think you, when men like gifted DREW demise,
The cause of truth and piety may fail?
Can the eternal counsel of the skies
Need the security of human bail?

The Spirit's residue is in His hand,
Wit, wisdom, eloquence, and holy lore;
He gives the word, and at His high command,
Ten thousand publish it on every shore.

Why then should we deplore the Church's loss,
The Galilean Pilot rules the helm:
Though stormy winds may roar and billows toss,
The ship shall safely reach the heavenly realm.

DREW, fare thee well, my tried, my honour'd friend;
We meet again around the jasper throne;
Where saints in love a ceaseless Sabbath spend,
And valedictions are a sound unknown!

Walsall, April 4, 1833.

THE SABBATH MORN.

BY W. PRESCOTT SPARKS.

SWEET is the Sabbath morn, when Nature seems
Cheer'd with serener skies and holier beams,
When in each flowery dale, and sunny plain,
Celestial peace and hallow'd silence reign:
The herds have ceas'd their lowing on the hill,
Beside the brook the shepherd's pipe is still;
The woodman's axe rings thro' the grove no more,
And for awhile the harvest work is o'er;
The village church sends forth its warning bell,
And leaves its echo still by stream and dell,

Old men and youths have left their sports and care,
And journey, free of heart, to seek the house of prayer!
Onward to travel in the heavenly road,

To lift the soul, and give the day, to God!

Each bird that warbles on the flowery spray,
Seems to sing sweeter on this sacred day;
Each wind that murmurs in the leafy trees,
Seems like the whisper of a heaven-sent breeze;
Each tree that waves its green arms in the air,
Seems bending downward in its morning prayer!
And every blessed thing seems doubly blest
Beneath the sunshine of this day of rest!

But, though in every scene can nature please,
Yet there are pleasures greater far than these:
Enter yon fabric on the rising ground,

And taste the joys which only there are found;
There Christians throng with quick and willing feet,
And on each Sabbath-day in close communion meet,
To pray, and praise, and hear salvation's word,
Within the dwelling of their much-lov'd Lord.
There, as each bosom glows with filial love,
Blessings unnumber'd from the heaven above,
Gently, like dews upon the herb, distil,
And every heart in rich diffusion fill!

There wearied souls from all their trouble cease,
And sorrowing mourners find the paths of peace,
And hearts, where sin, with all its legions strove,
Are made the temples of the heavenly Dove!

The loads of care which crush'd the burden'd breasts
Are there exchanged for hours of sacred rest.
Breaks the hard heart, and bends the stubborn knee,
And pride pours forth the tear of meek humility!
Sweet is the Sabbath-morn!-Oh may I ne'er,
When Christ's disciples meet, be absent there;
But with them all his faithfulness make known,
His sufferings plead, and all his mercies own;
Still looking upward to that bright hill's crest,
Where all is love, and every soul is blest:
Eternal Sabbath and perpetual morn,

And light and life, that happy land adorn,-
Christ to that land went up, upon the Sabbath-morn!

April 3, 1833.

SONG FOR THE SABBATH EVE.

EY W. PRESCOTT SPARKS.

SLOWLY beneath the western hills, hath sunk the Sabbath sun,

Oh swiftly thus! oh swiftly thus, life's waning moments run!

Gone is another day of grace, its beams will ne'er again

Shine on the place which gave them birth. Has it been spent in vain ?

Now, when the silver evening-star hath lit her trembling fire,

We'll strike the chords with louder strains, and raise our voices higher,

We'll praise the Lord of heaven and earth, for ever, ever blest,

Who in the Sabbath of his love ordain'd this day of rest!

Oh! thou Almighty Lord of All! assist our feeble tongues

To catch the notes which angels raise, and emulate their songs,

While from the ground of every heart united thanks we pay

For all thy mercies, and the rites of this thy sacred day.

Loud hath the Gospel trumpet blown; may multitudes around

Shake off the bonds of sin, and flock together at the sound;

May saints go on rejoicing in the fulness of thy grace,

And sinners learn to make the Lord their hope and righteousness.

Sweet consolation, oh! impart to each afflicted soul,

Plant holy love in every heart, and now create the whole;

Whatever heavenly seed is sown in temples here below,

Water it with thy Spirit's dew, and make it bud and grow.

While tens of thousands bend their course, ah little do they know !

Down the broad road to sin's wide gate, the gate of endless woe,

Be with us, Lord, for evermore, and grant us all,

we pray,

To feel the sunbeans of thy love, which gild the narrow way!

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STANZAS.

By the red lightning rent and riven,
And stretched along the plain,
Can the tall oak extend to heaven
Its gay green boughs again?
Or, when a star hath lost its track,
And faded from on high,

Can aught restore the lost one back
To glory and the sky?

No! the tall oak no more can spread
Its green leaves to the blast,
Nor can the meteor which hath fled
Recall its splendour past!

Can man, deep sunk by guilty care,
And crush'd by human ill,
O, can he triumph o'er despair
And find a solace still?
Yes, He, who for our ransom bled,
Holds back th' avenging rod,

When meek contrition bows her head,
Repenting, to her God.

Tho' dark the sin-tho' deep the heart
Be sunk in guilt and pain;
Yet mercy can a balm impart,
And raise it up again!

SUMMER NIGHT. THE quiet Summer winds Sleep on the flowery hill, Or breathe among the trees In murmurs low and still. In shady forests deep,

Retired from human sight, Sits holy Solitude

C. M.

Conversing with the night.
How sweet thro' glen and grove
To roam in thoughtful mood,
To fly the haunts of man

And mix with solitude.
To hear the young bird's voice
Borne by an echo dim,
Preluding to the stars

Her pensive evening hymn!
O, in that hour serene,

The solemn noon of night,
When thoughtful fancy wings
Her far and heavenward flight;
When slumber o'er the earth
Her balmy robe hath flung,
O! then the spirit wakes,

And silence hath a tongue!
Silence on dusky wing

Recalls the dim years fled,
And wakes with holy awe

Remembrance of the dead.
And memory wanders back
On time's unceasing stream,
To seek some pleasant spot
To linger and to dream!

Silence awakens hope,

That kind consoling light, Whose gentle aspect cheers

The gloom of sorrow's night.

Whose often promised joys
Atone for pleasures fled,
And dry the bitter tears

Which memory might have shed!

SACRED MELODIES.

I.

C. M.

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II.

God of thine ancient Israel,
Stretch forth a mighty hand,
And bring thy people forth again
From the Chaldean's land;
Break thou, the proud oppressor's yoke,
And let thy children come

With singing and triumphant shouts
Unto their fathers' home.

Beside the captive waters

We sit with sorrow down,

And mourn our iron bondage, and
Our pleasant lands o'erthrown;
We think upon thee, Zion,

And our breasts with grief are wrung; Our tuneful harps neglectedly

Are on the willows hung.

The wonders of thine arm, to us
Our fathers oft have told,
Arise, stand up for our defence,
Thou Mighty One of old,

Throw wide the two-leaved gates of brass,
Break down our foes' defence;
And in the strength of Thy right arm,
O Lord, conduct us hence!

III.

Children of Judah, the might of the Lord

Hath broken the buckler, the bow, and the sword, The proud towers are fallen, the tyrant is slain, And the arm of Jehovah hath triumph'd again. Where is the great one that mock'd at our grieving, Where is the proud one that scoff'd our believing: The scourge of the nations, a pale livid form, Leaves his crown and his robes to the moth and the worm.

We will go to our palm trees, and vallies of shade,
Where we have repos'd and our fathers are laid,
By the banks of our Jordan again will we stand,
And strike the bold harp with our libertied hand.
The trumpet shall sound and the banner shall flow,
And the song of our hosts shall be heard as we go:
Let us haste o'er the desart, nor rest on the plain,
Till we sit in the land of our fathers again.

Wake, wake thee, O Judah; ye captives, arise,
For the clamours of triumph are heard in the skies;
The God of your fathers in strength hath arisen,
And wrought ye release from the bonds of your
prison.

REFLECTIONS ON MY OWN BEING.

My being came from Thee!
My heart's pulsation,
Proves a God's creation;
Yet still involv'd in mystery;
As known alone by Thee!

I feel my life within me move,

Yet cannot by my reason prove

It's great machinery.

From out my heart my blood propels,
And in its circulation,

It health diffuses, while it tells,

I'm well by it's pulsation.

And yet I cannot of myself have pow'r ;
For kept by Thee I live from hour to hour,
Shouldst thou but touch one string, I'm out of

tune;

My healthful faculties decay as soon

As does the withering flow'r. Bestowments such as these do give, I thank Thee, as from Thee I live; "Tis thou who fashionedst my frame, I thank and praise thy holy Name: But should'st thou say

The word, Return:

We then to clay

Our bodies turn.

H. W.

REVIEW.-Lives of Eminent Missionaries. By John Carne, Esq. 2 Vols. post 8vo. Fisher, Son, & Co. London. 1833. CHRISTIAN MISSIONARIES are a class of men entitled, for various reasons, to high esteem. The motives which induce them to abandon the delights of home, and visit barbarous climes, challenge the admiration of the world. While others explore heathen lands for the acquisition of wealth, or the gratification of curiosity, their object is purely disinterested. "The love of Christ constrains them ;" and, in obedience to his command, they " go into all the earth, to preach the gospel to every creature." Theirs is an employment so contrary to the natural inclinations of the human mind, that the very name of Missionary suggests the idea of a man raised above the influence of selfish passions. To those, even, who cannot comprehend the claims of a Missionary, as such, to extraordinary admiration, who can see no philanthropy in the diffusion of Christianity, he will still appear to merit renown as the herald of civilization to untutored savages. He must have overlooked altogether an important part of the world's recent history, who is not prepared to attribute the wide-spread knowledge of the arts of cultivated society among heathen nations, to the indefatigable, self-denying efforts of Christian Missionaries. It is impossible, indeed, to calculate the amount of temporal good which has been, and which will be, effected by their instrumentality-much more to estimate the infinitely valuable results of their labours, in the rescue of souls from everlasting perdition. That men like these should have been attacked by the censorious, will hereafter be numbered among things unaccountable; but it is nevertheless true, that their characters have been maligned, their motives misrepresented, their objects derided, and their labours laughed to scorn. For their own sakes, no less than for the edification of those who have the grace to appreciate their worth, and for the encouragement of such as may be moved to imitate their example, it was to be desired that their eventful histories should be collected and recorded by some one sensible enough to perceive, and honest enough to avow, their merits. Such a chronicler has appeared in the talented and industrious compiler of the interesting volumes which lie before us.

In opening the first, our attention has been arrested by the history of ELIOT, "the apostle to the Indians;" from which, therefore, we will take our illustrations of its 2D. SERIES, NO. 29.-VOL. III,

contents. On leaving Cambridge, where he formed a friendship with some of the remarkable men of his age, he became the assistant of the Rev. Thomas Hooker, who, having been ejected from his living, had opened a school at Little Baddow, in Essex. Under this excellent man's roof, Eliot added to his other acquirements the solid attain. ment of personal religion; and, his thoughts having been directed to the ministry, he made the bold choice of going to America. He arrived at Boston in the month of November, 1631. In the following year he became pastor of some emigrants, who settled at Roxbury, in the interior. He was likewise speedily rejoined by a young lady, to whom he had been betrothed, and with whom he was at length united. For many years his ministerial labours were confined to the church at Roxbury; but in the mean time he was diligently preparing, by the painful study of the difficult and unenticing Indian tongue, for preaching to the aboriginal tribes. He succeeded so far as to reduce it to method, and published a grammar. As a pastor, he was indefatigable and affectionate. His charity, like Fletcher's, knew no bounds, except such as were fixed by the prudence and vigilance of his wife. His weakness in this respect was so notorious, that, one day, the parish treasurer, having paid him his salary, put it into a handkerchief, and tied it into as many hard knots as he could make, to prevent him from giving it away before he reached his own house. The object of this contrivance, however, was defeated. his way, he called upon a poor family, and told them that he had brought them some relief. He then began to untie the knots; but, not succeeding, he gave the handkerchief to the woman of the house, saying, "Here, take it: I believe Heaven designs it all for you." It was while doing deeds like this, and enjoying the respect which resulted from them, that he received a visit from his friend Hooker, who came to lay his bones in America. In the course of time, five sons and a daughter were born to him; the former of whom, he dedicated all to the ministry. These attractions, however, were not sufficient to prevent him from attempting his long-projected mission; and on the 28th of October, 1646, he set out with three friends for the nearest Indian settlement. Mr. Carne, in allusion to the length of time which Eliot suffered to elapse between his arrival in America and his preaching to the Indians, observes, "He did not rush, like many others, from the bosom of comfort and civilization, with no aid save a naked enthusiasm." But,

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surely, there were circumstances which accounted for his delay; and the comparison instituted is uncalled for, and invidious. One fruit of his long and diligent preparation, however, was, that, as it is beautifully phrased, he "approached the Indians with his translation of the scriptures, like a calumet of peace, in his hand." The impressions produced by his instructions during this first visit, were, notwithstanding the soothsayers had threatened the people with death if they listened to him, very favourable: as far as Waubon, the chief, was concerned, they were never effaced. But, says Mr. Carne, "Eliot saw that they must be civilized, ere they could become christianized." The truth of this remark is questionable, and it is contradicted by the very facts of the case by which it was suggested. It is contradicted also by Mr. Carne himself:-"Could any influence less than a divine one," he justly asks, "induce them to yield the love of ravage, of war, of cruelty?" The first step, at all events, was towards Christianity: they "begged that they might be educated in the Christian faith," before he had attempted to teach them any one of the arts of civilized society. However, he obtained for them a grant of land, on which he assisted them to build a town, within which they resided under the government of equal laws. The very willingness with which the savages, to whom regular industry was a strange thing, applied themselves to their new work, was a proof that some degree of christianization had preceded this preliminary step towards civilization. The next step was to teach the inhabitants of Nonanetum, (for that was the name of the town,) the women to spin, and the men to cultivate the soil. By Eliot's skilful management, they made such rapid advances in "the more excellent way" which he shewed to them, that, in less than a year, he ventured to set aside their ancient customs in the burial of the dead, and to contradict their superstitious notions concerning the employments of the future state. A sachem, from Concord, who attended one of his lectures, was so struck with it, that he went home, and of his own accord effected many reforms which were by this means suggested to him. He created a desire among his people to copy the example of Nonanetum; and, by the end of 1647, the laws of Concord prohibited intemperance, impurity, and gambling; threatened murder and adultery with death; enjoined neatness, cleanliness, industry, and the payment of debts.

The next point to which Eliot di

rected his attention was a fishing-place near the falls of the Merrimack river, where he effected the conversion of Passaconway, a powerful chief, and his sons. Though it was his policy to confine his converts within walled towns, he never ceased to journey into the savage parts of the country, occasionally revisiting his church and family. But his path among the Indians was not always smooth. Besides the perils from tempest and flood, his death was plotted by some of the chiefs who were adverse to his labours :

"They plainly see,' he says, 'that religion will make a great change among them, and cut them off from their former tyranny. This temptation much troubled Cutshamoquin, a powerful chief: his anger was raised to such a height, that, after the lecture, he openly contested with me. When he did so carry himself, all the Indians were filled with fear, their countenances grew pale, and most of them slunk away a few staid, and their looks towards me were changed,-and I was alone. But it pleased God to raise up my spirit, not to passion, but to a bold resolution: I told him there was One

mightier with me; that I feared not him, or all the sachems in the country; that I was resolved to go on, do what they would: and his spirit sunk before me. I did not aim at such a matter, but the Lord carried me beyond my own thoughts and wont.'"-p. 30.

The opposition of the priests, if not so violent, was more enduring than that of the sachems. Fearing for their influence, that crafty order long made use of the common belief in the malice of evil spirits, to thwart Eliot's designs.

Several extraordinary accounts are given; some of which seem to imply a real satanic agency. All these hinderances, however, "the unfruitful works of darkness,” vanish. ed before the light of eternal truth; and, amid incessant translation into the Indian tongue, and incessant preaching and travelling, Eliot saw the pleasure of the Lord prosper in his hands. His labours having attracted the attention of the English parliament, he was assisted by contributions from his native land, in prosecuting a work, the expenses of which he had himself hitherto defrayed. By this means he was enabled to enlarge his plans for the education of the Indian youth, and for instruction in mechanical arts, and, finally, to build the town of Naticke. It was now that, for the first time, he gathered the Indians into a regular Christian church, and administered the sacraments. The governor of the colony came to inspect his labours. According to his own words, it "was one of the happiest journeys he had ever made;" and the fame of Eliot's proceedings now began to spread far and wide. Indeed, they attracted the notice of Cromwell himself; and here Mr. Carne indulges in a little quiet mirth at what he deems the hypocritical professions of the

protector, of feeling a real interest in such a work. Eliot, writing to the virtual king, had said, in his simplicity, "The design of God in these days is double: first, to raise up his own kingdom, in the room of the earthly powers which he doth cast down; se. condly, to make the world subject to be ruled in all things by the word of his mouth." Language like this, however sincere, would have the effect of flattery on Cromwell's mind, while it might possibly recall the time when, unambitious, he desired only to take refuge in the wilds of America, satisfied if he could but secure the true enjoyment of his religious rights. When the translation of the Bible was complete, Cromwell had disappeared below the political horizon, and the star of Stuart was once more in the ascendant. It was too ludicrous a scene to be mentioned seriously even by the anti-republican author of these volumes, when the commissioners of the united colonies presented to his volatile majesty, king Charles the Second, the Indian scriptures. "The colonies of the Spanish nation," they remarked, "have sent home much gold and silver; but we pre. sent this, upon a true account, as much better than gold, as the souls of men are more worth than all the world."

"It may be imagined," says Mr. Carne, (rarely so sarcastic,)"how sincerely Charles admired this diffusion of truth, in preference to a few piles of gold laid at his feet! That excellent professor, Oliver," he continues, with a nice discrimination between the king and the protector, "would have shed tears of joy at the news, and written a touching letter on the occasion." It is a question, after all, whether the gaiety of Charles was more substantial than the solemnity of Cromwell.

his converts, were drawbacks on his satisfaction. A greater disappointment ensued in the failure of his efforts in the classical education of the native youth, to whom the study of Greek and Latin was more irksome than that of their guttural gibberish had been to him; and they were without his motives to perseverance. Considerable labour, as well as money, was thrown away in these vain attempts to make the folds of the toga sit gracefully upon the restless huntsman. Most of those with whom the experiment succeeded best, died early, "as if," says Mr. Carne, in his occasionally strong way, "the languages wore out their hearts.' One only lived to graduate at Harvard college; but, when our author endeavours to excite a smile at the expense of this Indian's subscription to his academical exercises, "Cheesecaumuk, Senior Sophista," he ought to be reminded, that this cacophonous cognomen might easily have been matched in the onomatology of Holland, when the finest scholars were among her sons.

The experiment of Greek and Latin was succeeded by that of theology and logic; and it was found, that the Indians could reason much better than remember. Their minute and constant conversance with natural objects, also, qualified them to appreciate the simple grandeur of the scrip

tures:

"Never," says Mr. Carne, getting on to a familiar theme, 'never did the impassioned descripterrible, as when we read them in the deserts of tions of the prophets appear to us so bright or Syria or Palestine. Were they not inspired there? And when the sun fell redly on the hushed sands beauty, it is strange how the words of hope, or of and precipices, or the night was there in all her gloom, with their awful imagery, rose to the memory, amidst the solitudes of Paran or Sinai! And when the Arabs came, as they did sometimes, to the walled city, to listen to the Missionary, he art

It must have been gratifying to Baxter, fully chose the bold and figurative style of scripture,

that a man like Eliot passed from the Bible to his works, in the labour of translation. From Baxter's reply to this intelligence, it would seem, that nothing but the difficulty of the Indian tongue restrained many in England from joining "the apostle" in his labours. Eliot, however, became an Indian poet as well as prosaist, and his converts were anon taught to sing metrical versions of the psalms of David. Originally, the Indians had no sense of harmony; the being enabled to sing in companies, and in various tunes, consequently yielded them much delight.

After having passed fourteen years in these various labours, Eliot, on looking back, had to mourn as well as to rejoice. The opposition of the English, the storm and flood, and the backsliding of some of

in which to clothe his message, and spoke of sin like the blast in the desert, withering as it passed; and that the love of Christ was like the shadow of a great rock in a weary land,' or the shelter of the palm beside the lonely fountain; the men's attention was instantly riveted, and their eyes kindled, as images so dear and familiar were brought home to them."-pp, 49, 50.

This is undoubtedly the case; and hence, in our large and level towns, discourses are ill understood, or not appreciated, by the commonalty, unless they be illustrated by references to objects with which they are familiar, or, at least, to which they are not strangers. The Oriental style, the mechanical townsman despises as bombast; just as the Arab would declare an illustration from the steam-engine incomprehensible.

The sons of Eliot all arrived to man's estate; his daughter also became a woman. Three of the former lived to enter the mi

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