"God hath made of one blood all nations of men!" Strange, startling, obnoxious truth! which mercy lit at the Eternal Throne, and cast all burning with the oil of heaven into the midst of the warring world. The principalities and powers of darkness have leagued with men from age to age to put out that light, which the tyrant could not bear. Put out that light! has been the watchword of war; and, like the apocalyptical dragon John saw, it has deluged the earth with blood to quench that heaven-lit

censer.

"God hath made of one blood all nations of men!" Christians, hear it! hear it in the harmonies of the universe and the voices of visionless things, that commune like whispering angels Iwith the human soul. Hear it in the music of the birds, that never lose a note to settle any disputed territory in mid air. Hear it! night's winds sigh, that have fainted beneath the burdens they have borne from the battle fields and scenes of human butchery. Hear it! whisper the summer breezes, that go out by moonlight a-wooing the blushing flowers of every zone, and sing the same song of love over boundaries that alone make enemies of nations. Bend your ear to the lily and the rose and hear it there; for the gentle spirit of the summer flowers is the breath of angels, and it comes up from every daisy that lifts its yellow petals to the stars, and pleads

the divinity of this lesson. Read it! for it is the autograph of every sunbeam, written at dawn and dewy eve on every inch of the firmament above. Every rain-drop distilled from the ocean, that patters against your window or glitters on the rose beneath, is sent to you with this special message of love. Elihu Burritt.

WHOSOEVER has not charity, cannot have the smallest portion of faith. Charity is the very ground in which faith is implanted; it is the heart whence faith derives its existence and life; wherefore the ancients compared love and charity to the heart, and faith to the lungs, both of which have their seat in the breast. The comparison is most just, since for any one to endeavor to form to himself a life of faith without charity, is like endeavoring to continue bodily life by the lungs alone without the heart, the impossibility of which is obvious to every Swedenborg.

one.

THE POET AND THE CAGED TURTLE

DOVE.

As often as I murmur here

My half-formed melodies,

Straight from her osier mansion near,

The turtle-dove replies:

Though silent as a leaf before,
The captive promptly coos;
Is it to teach her own soft love,
Or second my weak muse?

I rather think the gentle dove
Is murmuring a reproof,
Displeased that I from lays of love
Have dared to keep aloof;
That I, a bard of hill and dale,
Have caroll'd, fancy free,
As if nor dove nor nightingale
Had heart or voice for me.

If such thy meaning, O forbear,
Sweet bird! to do me wrong;
Love, blessed love, is everywhere
The spirit of my song:

'Mid grove and by the calm fireside,

Love animates my lyre

That coo again! 'tis not to chide,

I feel, but to inspire.

Wordsworth.

QUEL architecte a enseigné aux oiseaux à choisir un lieu ferme, et à bâtir sur un fondement solide? Quelle mère tendre leur a conseillé à couvrir le fond de matiéres molles et délicates, telles que le duvet et le coton? et lorsque ces matiéres manquent, qui leur a suggèré cette ingenieuse charité qui les porte à s'arracher avec le bec autant de plumes de

l'estomac qu'il en faut pour preparer un berceau commode à leurs petits? Est-ce pour les oiseaux tout de miracles qu'ils ne connoissent point? Est ce pour les hommes qui n'y pensent pas ? Est ce pour des curieux qui se contentent de les admirer sans remonter jusqu'a vous, Seigneur? et n'est il pas visible que votre dessein a été de nous rappeler à vous, par un tel spectacle, de nous rendre sensible à votre Providence, et votre sagesse infinie, et de nous remplir de confiance en votre bonté si attentive et si tendre pour des oiseaux, dont un couple ne vaut qu'une abole.

Chateaubriand.

FRAGMENT TO SYMPATHY.

THE eye of sympathy alone can trace
The kindred feelings beaming in the face;
Whose ever nicely true expression tells,
The strong emotions which the bosom swells;
That warms the rapid current in the vein,
Or chills the sensate heart with mortal pain;
That gives the fluttering pulse its sudden beat
And re-illumes the heart's extinguished heat;
Those finer lines that shun the careless eye
Those fleeting tints that scarcely live to die,
Those fragile fibres which connecting find,
The quick successive shadowy tribes of mind:
The transient blush to rapt'rous feelings true,
The pallid cast of disappointed hue.
The glance which emanates the anxious mind,
In restless search its kindred sense to find;

D

The flow and ebb of bliss still sure to roll
Its glowing tide, warm from the sentient soul,
The tender glance that melts within the eye,
Th' unconscious smile, the scarcely breathed sigh,
The silent tear, the thought but half express'd,
The sudden heave that lifts the feeling breast;
No look, no word escapes the anxious eye
Of secret, sacred, heaven-born sympathy.

ALMS without mercy are like prayers without devotion, or religion without humility.

Jeremy Taylor.

THE end of religion is moral virtue, and the perfection of theory is practice.

Rev. P. Pyle.

YES, it was the mountain echo,
Solitary, clear, profound,

Answering to the shouting cuckoo,
Giving to her sound for sound!

Unsolicited reply

To the babbling wanderer sent,

Like her ordinary cry,

Like-but oh, how different!

Hears not also mortal life!

Hear not we, unthinking creatures!
Slaves of folly, love, or strife-

Voices of two different natures?