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A blameless joy afford; and their good works,
Whilst in the grave they sleep, shall still survive. These great men however passed away, and the succeeding race was not worthy the immortality of glory which their progenitors had attained. Luxury with its torpedo touch prevented the exertion of reason. Bigotry paralyzed all human effort, and superstition waved in triumph her unholy banner. Darkness covered the earth, and gross darkness the people. At length the Morning Star of Truth diffused a cheering brilliancy over the nations, those who had hitherto sat in darkness perceived its exhilarating beams, and the Sun of Christian knowledge commenced its majestic circuit through the heavens. Warmed and enlightened by its rays, numbers bowed themselves before the only Lord God Almighty, and thousands of hearts glowed with benevolence to their fellow men. The Gospel went forth conquering and to conquer, uniting all hearts, invigorating every mind. But it was speedily corrupted. False philosophy mingled its abstruse speculations with its simple and pure directions. Power raised it into an engine to curse where it was meant to bless, to destroy where it was intended to save, to pollute the affections its native simplicity would have purified, and to drive to gloom and to despair, instead of lighting up the eye with rapture and filling the heart with gladness. Then followed the sleep of the human intellect, a sleep so profound, an appearance so like unto death, that many an individual of whom the world was not worthy, almost doubted of its power to awaken again even to sensation, much more to activity. But “how great a matter a little fire kindleth!” “ There was seen a cloud, in appearance no bigger than a man's hand,” and its diminutive size secured it from the attacks of the priests and tyrants of the earth. Its security was their destruction. From that moment their doom was fixed and irrevocable. A single corner of the earth in which it might freely exert
its power would be abundantly sufficient to secure the salvation of man. “That palladium of liberty, that giant foe of oppression, the thought of which blanches the cheek of the tyrant, and brightens the eye of the patriot and the philanthropist”-the Press, that, my friends, is in my judgment, the all in all. Such it has already proved itself to be, and such will continue to be the manifestations of its might. Roused by its voice, the human mind burst its searments, the charnel-house of despotism has been laid open to the view and the contempt of man, the secrets of the prison of superstition have been disclosed, man again walks erect in all the dignity and majesty of his nature. Knowledge on almost every subject has diffused itself with astonishing celerity, the prophetic language of Scripture has literally been fulfilled, “The Gentiles have come to the light, and even kings to the brightness of its rising."
THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.
It was a summer's evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done,
Was sitting in the sun;
She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
In playing there had found;
Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh“'Tis some poor fellow's scull,” said he, “ Who fell in the great victory!
“ Now tell us what 'twas all about,”
Young Peterkin he cries; And little Wilhelmine looks
up With wonder-waiting eyes; “ Now tell us all about the war, And what they kill'd each other for ?”
“ It was the English,” Kaspar cried,
“ Who put the French to rout; But what they kill'd each other for,
I could not well make out: But every body said," quoth he, “ That 'twas a famous victory!
· My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by;
And he was forced to fly:
“ With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide;
And many a childing mother then,
And new-born baby died !-
• They say, it was a shocking sight
After the field was won;
Lay rotting in the sun!
“Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
And our good Prince Eugene.”
Said little Wilhelmine.
“ And every body praised the Duke,
Who this great fight did win.”
Quoth little Peterkin.
The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low
Whose flowers the waters like a gentle nurse
King David's limbs were weary. He had fled
up in heaven, he knelt among them there, And bow'd his head upon his hands to pray. Oh, when the heart is full-when bitter thoughts Come crowding thickly up for utterance, And the poor common words of courtesy Are such a very mockery—how much The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer! He pray'd for Israel; and his voice went up Strongly and fervently-he pray'd for those Whose love had been his shield; and his deep tones Grew tremulous! But oh for AbsalomFor his estranged, misguided AbsalomThe proud, bright being who had burst away In all his princely beauty, to defy The heart that cherish'd him,-for him he pour’d, In agony
that would not be controllid, Strong supplication, and forgave him there Before his God, for his deep sinfulness.
The pall was settled. He who slept beneath