THE MESSIAH.

Original.

THE MESSIAH.

BY REV. S. A. LATTA.

107

its subduing influence. The fabled lyre of Orpheus, it is said, moved the surrounding rocks, and enchanted the listening trees with its enrapturing minstrelsy. But David's harp was brought to soften the haughty spirit of a man forsaken of his God, and given up to the hard- WHILE first-born prophets looked through distant time, ness of his own heart. It was a wondrous task. If And future years before them swiftly pass'd, the youthful minister often trembles beneath the cross, Nations with pomp and kingly pride came forth, what must have been the feelings of the young shepherd To rule the world, then sunk into the tombas he entered the royal apartments, and appeared before || And other nations rose, and slept in death. the throne! Hitherto he had touched his harp amid Far down in time, like ocean's wandering waves, embowering groves, or in the shepherd's tent-did he New kings commenced their reign, new poets sungnot turn pale as he gazed on the troubled countenance || New prophets lived—and birds and beasts were slain, of the fallen king? See, he lifts his eyes to heaven, To testify the death of Him "to come." and brings down his hand upon the wires of his well Like one who on the shore of ocean stands, tried harp-he touches its finest chords and brings forth When the blue wave lies still, and pendent stars notes of sorrow. They vibrate along the excited nerves At twilight gild the main; till the pale moon, of the stricken monarch, and reach the fount of feeling With broader beams, comes forth on the deep sea, in his bosom. The imprisoned tears gush forth and And last of all the sun lights up the day— roll in burning streams down the warrior's cheek, and So ancient seers look'd out on time's broad sea. the rebel king sits convicted, overwhelmed, and subdued. First, in the shadowy distance, scarcely seen, What gave to the harp of David its wondrous power? While age on age, like wave on wave, flowed on, was it merely the tones of the instrument, or was it the They just discerned, through mists of centuries, power of song? Doubtless both were used with effect; The "promised seed"—the appointed Shiloh crowned. but it was the inspiration of Heaven which gave to Tracing the opening vista they beheld that harp its victory-doubtless, as his hand struck its An era of increasing light and joy; sounding strings, his lips were touched with hallowed fire.

O, what is music from a cold heart and thoughtless tongue! "Give us thoughts that breathe and words that burn," and souls on fire with celestial love, and then give us harmony, and melody, and concert, and emphasis; and then, indeed, we may "sing unto the Lord, and make a joyful noise unto the Rock of our salvation"'—we may come before him with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto him with psalms; and the blessed effect will even surpass the wondrous triumph of the harp of David.

Original.

VITAL SPARK.

BY MISS BAKER.

THE closing eyes were dim and dark,
Life's taper faded fast-

I look'd, and lo! its latest spark
Was quench'd by death's cold blast.

No ray of light was glimmering there,
The form was cold and dead;
Then turning, sad, I ask'd me where
The vital spark had fled.

Did the bright beam of heavenly light,
That gave dust life before,
Decline in shades of endless night,
To rise and shine no more?

O, no! it shines with purer light,
Beyond the gloom of death's dark night.

|| Beyond, far down, an age of darkness lay-
An age of terror and the reign of death.
Few prophets lived-few poets sung-few fires
Were burning on the altar of the Lord,
And they but dimly, till like oil-less lamps,
Their beams expired and left the world in night.
Intently through the years of fearful gloom,
They traced long shadows, reaching down-half down
The day of time; at length, like morning clouds
Before the sun, they vanished in the light
Of Bethlehem's Star, which shed his effluent beams
O'er the world's gloom, gilding the hoary locks
Of coming years with hues like those which crown
Angelic forms in the bright realms of bliss.
At length, the day long promis'd and desir'd
Arriv'd, fulfilling ancient prophecies.
Earth slept, unconscious of its destiny,
Not knowing the Messiah was at hand.
Calm was the air, serene the cloudless heaven,
When rose in brilliancy the star whose beams
The wise men guided to the infant King.
Mute was the shepherd throng and prostrate, while
They wondered and adored. Silent their flocks-
And silent all, except the vocal spheres,
Where angels, with loud, bursting melodies,
In strains of rapture sung, "Good will to man,
On earth be peace and universal joy;

For unto you is born a Savior, who

Is Christ the Lord-whose reign shall never end-
Whose name shall be, Immanuel-God with us."
They, listening, not in vain, but full of faith,

With joyful haste to Bethlehem repair,
Approach the manger and the lowly couch,
Where, with rich gifts, they bow themselves before
The infant Majesty of earth and heaven.

Original.

CLOSE THOUGHT.*

BY REV. E. THOMSON.

| barrister of one of our eastern cities is said to employ a style which is the personification of simplicity, and yet he is perhaps more studious and laborious in his preparations for the bar than all his competitors. A 2. It has often been remarked that original discov- little tract sometimes costs more labor than a volume. ery—original thought, is generally accidental. It may The perfected composition, like the finished edifice, is be so apparently, but not really. Two facts may satisfy the result of double toil, labor in erecting, and labor in us of this. Ignorant men are not discoverers. New removing the scaffolding, and scraping away the traces truths are revealed only to patient observers, and bold of the tools. It is said of Pericles, "who lightened, and persevering inquirers. Who discovered the circu- thundered, and astonished Greece,” that he never spake lation of the blood? Not the ignorant, thoughtless extempore, nor even ventured to deliver an opinion butcher; but the scientific, reflecting anatomist. Who without ample preparation. Virgil occupied ten years discovered the asteroids? They who by years of re-in writing six books of the Ænead. Not a single page flection and observation were led to suspect their exist- of fine writing was ever produced without much intelWho revealed the laws of the heavens? He lectual effort; a solitary sentence may express the result who, for a life-time, had laid his head in intense and of years of thought. The harvest may be gathered in untiring thought about them. The least exertion may a day, but ploughing and planting and growth require be sufficient to make a fortunate discovery, when a time. If inspiration may be relied on, why does it not mind is filled with the rich results of long reflection; operate upon the indolent as well as the active, the fool whereas the same reflection on the part of an unfur- as well as the wise man? He, who, too idle to think, nished mind may be utterly unproductive-as the weight sits and sighs, and invokes the Muses, will drink the of a grain may turn a scale-beam against a ton, after Lethean, sooner than the Pierian spring. nearly twenty hundred weight have been put into the opposite dish.

ence.

It frequently happens that discoveries are made simultaneously in different parts of the world; but rarely is a discovery made in advance of the age. Roger Bacon is the only remarkable example of a mind outstripping the race by ages, and the Pope excommunicated him and imprisoned him ten years for supposed dealings with the devil. The human mind, during the dark ages, scarce ever shot a spark into the regions of science; but when the intellectual night receded, the beams of a thousand stars mingled their light for the illumination of Europe, and each nation had her constellation. Simultaneous discoveries are the legitimate offspring of the times. The discoveries do not illustrate the age, but the age develops the discoveries. They are the necessary results of the accumulations of generations of excitement, and ages of progressive thought.

4. The privileges of the University will not supply the want of thought; but strong, continuous thought, will atone for the want of them. I hope that this remark will neither be misunderstood, nor misrepresented. I trust I am as deeply impressed with the value of classical studies as any man ought to be; though I regard them not as education itself, but as its instruments. Their chief value results from the mental discipline which they afford. How sadly mistaken, then, is he, who relies upon his literary privileges merely, for future greatness. He selects the best University, matriculates regularly, carelessly cons his lessons, but slurs over every difficult passage; relies much upon the aid of his superior classmates, and places his head upon the recitation bench in the vain hope that the intellects of others operating upon his passive soul, will mold him into a genius, as the hammer of the blacksmith shapes the iron upon his anvil into a horse-shoe. Verily such an 3. It may be objected that the happiest productions one has his reward—a sheep-skin. But can the drone in the department of taste, at least, are often the sudden thus purchase mental power with his father's gold. effusions of moments of inspiration. Granting that an No. Nature spurns the insulting proposition, and says, extraordinary genius may take happy flights in unpre- "Thy money perish with thee." Better for such an pared moments, is that any reason why ordinary minds one that he had never opened a page of Virgil or of should wait for poetic breathing? In judging of the|| Homer-that the temple of science had for ever closed labor expended upon any given production, an unprac-its gates against him. At the termination of his colleticed composer may be deceived. That which smells giate course, the University clothes him with its honors; most of the lamp is not really the most elaborate. A the world expects him to stand "a man;" the father celebrated critic pronounced the finest writing to be such fondly looks to him for a realization of the delusive as a reader would imagine exceedingly easy to equal, dream he had indulged concerning his cherished idol. and yet such, that whoever should attempt to imitate, He enters upon the duties of active life; but, lo! perwould perspire over his task. It is the half-finished haps in the very first collision with the vigorous mind production which leaves the marks of labor. of the self-taught woodsman, he is demonstrated to be a learned fool. He deserves the sting of scorpions; but his mortification is keener than the lash of an exterminating angel. This is no fancy sketch. It has many prototypes in real life. Nor is it much to be wondered at; but it is strange, passing strange, that so many of the modern "improvements" in the plan of education

A distinguished clergyman of my acquaintance, whenever he preached a long, and learned, and involved sermon, generally apologized by saying that he had not time to prepare a short and simple one. A celebrated

*Concluded from page 83.

should be based upon a similar delusion. I refer to in- || soul were a tea-kettle, and you could fill it up, and setterpretations, interlinear translations, &c., &c., by it over the fire, and produce the breathings of genius which thought is superseded, and the very purpose for which the classics ought to be valued is frustrated. When the ancient poet Eschylus drew a picture of a great man, (a picture which, presented in the theatre, caused all the audience to turn to Aristides, as he whom it precisely suited,) he painted a field deeply ploughed, and therefore richly productive.

Βαθεῖαν ἄλικα διὰ φρενὸς καρπούμενος.

ad libitum. To such a father I would say, beware, lest thy son prove an intellectual epicure-a dreaming fool. Such a caution is more necessary at this period, because much of our reading matter is worthless. It must be admitted that literature is increased, but is it not also diluted? Authors are multiplied, but is genius advanced? Every thing now is done by steam. Books are written and read in a hurry. There is evidently a de

The following is a literal translation of this part of the generacy in the producing mind. Books seem to make description:

"Reaping in mind the produce of the deep furrow." It is because the precious mental fruit springs from the deep furrow, that the classics are so valuable-they are the plough-share. To render them easy, by injudicious aids, is to grind your plough-share into dust, and scatter it over moral turf. The mere information they communicate is of little consequence.

There have been men who have arisen to eminence without classical attainments; but they acquired by other means, that habit of thought which the classics are so peculiarly calculated to confer. As examples, take Franklin and Cobbett, the one an American philosopher, the other a British statesman-one was the glory of a former age, the other the glory of the present. What was the secret of their eminence?

up in size what they lack in sense, and often, a grain of the solid gold of an old author is hammered into a flimsy octavo, to be called a "new book." The eccentric John Randolph once remarked in Congress, that he wished there were but two books in the world, "the Bible and Will Shakspeare." Although I demur, in part, to the selection of that erratic genius, I acknowledge the wisdom on which the suggestion is founded. Books are needed to convey information, and to stimulate the mind. When used for these purposes, they are legitimately employed; but when they are used for amusement instead of instruction, or to relieve the mind instead of assist it in cogitation, their tendency is pernicious. Equally so, when they fill up all the attention, and leave no time or motive for thought. The mind always flowing in the track of borrowed ideas is weak-inactive-dependent. It has no tendency to observe, no curiosity to inquire, no capacity to produce. It is destitute of original conceptions, of lofty thought, of elevated purpose.

"I learned grammar (says Cobbett) when I was a private soldier, on the pay of sixpence a day. The edge of my berth, or that of my guard-bed, was my seat to study in; my knap-sack was my book-case, and a bit of board lying on my lap was my writing-table. In To excite the mind, and supply it with ideas, go winter time it was rarely that I could get any evening rather to nature than to books. The heavens and the light but that of the fire, and only my turn, even of that. earth offer food to the soul. Would you have pure and To buy a pen or a sheet of paper, I was compelled to original thoughts? Go to the only pure and original forego some portion of food, though in a state of half || fountain of ideas-nature. There lie on all her pages, starvation. I had no moment of time that I could call the beautiful and the sublime. Go send your soul to my own; and I had to read and write amidst the talk-pillow herself upon the green earth, or enthrone herself ing, laughing, singing, whistling, and bawling of at least half a score of the most thoughtless of men, and that, too, in the hours of freedom from all control." Here was discipline. Here was the habit of self-control of close, patient, vigorous thought.

5. There are some who have fallen into the sad mistake, that reading is a substitute for thinking." This has been the curse of thousands. The age is emphatically a reading one. We read in infancy, in childhood, in manhood and old age; literally, we read ourselves from the cradle to the tomb. Scarce has an infant time to open its eyes upon the world, before it is tied to a stool to learn its book; and a man is considered an ignoramus, unless he has read a line of pages large enough to reach from the earth to the moon. It often happens that a father congratulates himself upon the genius of his son, and the sure omens of his future eminence, simply because he is fond of reading. He seems to think the mind a repository, and that the process of making a great man consists in filling it up with books, and then putting it into some important situation in life to give occasion to its operations; as though the

upon the heavens; bid her sail upon the whirlwind, step into the terrific tempest; place her ear to the thunder, and open her eye upon the lightning's path. She shall meet with ideas of beauty and of grandeur, and hold fellowship with Him who maketh the earth his footstool, the heavens his throne, the thunder his voice, the clouds his chariot, and whose footsteps are on the wings of the wind. What is the secret of success in medicine, in law, in divinity, in oratory? Thought. Who is the distinguished doctor? lawyer? divine? He who is given to patient observation and reflection. Show me the philosopher who was more fond of books than of nature. Was it Aristotle, who gave laws to Europe for more than thirteen centuries? Was it Bacon, who poured such a flood of light upon the fields of philosophy? Was it Newton, who unraveled the laws of the universe? Was it Locke, who applied the principles of the inductive philosophy to mind? Was it Bichat, who carried the same principles into the physiological sciences? No, no.

How did the ancient poet do? Homer had no books-and yet, for his image, the temple of fame opens

edge of the inmost workings of his hearers' hearts: "As face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man to man." The audience sit in mute astonishment. The stillness (like that of death) is interrupted only by the falling tear, or the half-suppressed sigh. No wonder. An unseen hand goes forth from the preacher into each bosom, and searches it; every one is conscious, that for the time, he is a prisoner chained by the heart. It is almost as though one rose from the grave.

What gave to Shakspeare his power? Surely he knew little of books. He read scarce any thing but human nature. Hence he drew whatever of sublimity, of fire, of elegance, of sweetness, inspired his songand hence he derived that indescribable charm, which is spread over all his pages. O that it had been sanctified!

her "holy of holies," and sends up the sweetest incense || on vantage ground. He has obtained a perfect knowlthat ever exhaled from her altars. His soul kept house in the universe. The scenery of his native land supplied him with ideas, and like the widow's cruse of oil, was never exhausted or diminished by the using. The naked rocks of the Ægean fired his mind. His heart, like the Eolian harp, was responsive to the passing breeze. "Sublimity covered him all the day long, and dwelt beneath his shoulders." He was blessed for the precious things of heaven, for the dew, and for the deep that coucheth beneath, and for the precious things brought forth by the sun, and for the precious things put forth by the moon, and for the chief things of the ancient mountains, and for the precious things of the lasting hills. The mind can scarcely fail to bring good tidings when its feet are upon the mountains. It is not, however, by an idle ramble that nature's beauties can be perceived. These are hidden from every eye that But you inquire, if poets and orators have gone to hath not been taught to dwell upon them. It was a nature for ideas, may we not go to them? Go rather beautiful idea of the ancients, that the heavens and the to the substance than the shadow. Go to the pure founearth are an allegorical representation, under the exter-tain, not the polluted stream. Think not so meanly of nal form of which are couched ideas which the wise your soul as to suppose it unworthy, or incompetent, only can read. The soul formed to contemplation sees to receive a thought fresh from its source. To you, the a thousand charms never revealed to the untutored universe opens its rich and abundant fields of thought. mind. Before it, the wilderness breaks forth into sing- If you would know their native fragrance and sweeting, and the solitary place buds and blossoms as the ness, you must gather them with your own hand. But To such a mind the universe is like Anacreon's if ideas could be derived from books, fresh and green lyre, which, whatever was the poet's theme, or however as we receive them from nature, there would yet be a he swept its chords, sounded out love only from its reason why we should rely upon our own efforts. The strings. strength, and health, and happiness of the soul, is dependent upon the proper exercise of its faculties.

rose.

O let me listen to the ravished mind that has been musing on the fields! "Her lips drop as the honeycomb; honey and milk are under her tongue, and the smell of her garments, is like the smell of Lebanon."

Whence does the metaphysician draw his ideas? By turning his mind's eye inward, surveying the faculties, and their operations, tracing the thought through its stages-studying the laws of memory, imagination, judgment-making the soul the theme of its own observations. Thus was Locke, Reid, Brown, Stewart, Cousin, taught.

6. Rhetoric and logic have been supposed, by some, to be substitutes for thought. I quarrel not with these sciences. They have a beneficial influence on the mind, and are to be ranked high among elevated studies. But so far from being substitutes for thought, thought is a substitute for them. They may be serviceable, but they are not essential to the poet or orator. They did not go before, to dig the channel in which the stream of genius should flow forth; they merely followed to observe its direction, and map the tributaries which swell the sweeping tide.

With all the logic and rhetoric of Aristotle, a man could never produce an original thought, any more than a surveyor, with his compass, could call into existence the mountain he surveys.

Think-if you would be eloquent; think-and the brain will send down its influence upon the heart, and the heart will pour up its heated, reddened current to the brain; and the brain will radiate afresh its exciting influence upon the heart-and then, the tongue cannot avoid eloquence. She will come down, and seat herself upon the lips.

Who is the successful minister? The book-worm? Nay-the diligent student of his own heart. It was from his own bosom, next to the Bible, that Massilon drew his eloquence, Whitefield his power, Wesley his charm. Here, in the mysterious workings of the bosom, as in a mirror, you may behold the secret springs of human action, the various phases of human character, the deformity, and hideousness, and devilishness of depraved humanity. Here you may examine the excuses of the sinner, and his refuges of lies; here, see his fears and forebodings, his hopes and doubts; here trace the silent, melting, mellowing energies of the Divine Spirit, and the hellish suggestions of the invisible foe. Does the excited heart need direction as to the manner O there are wells of inspiration in each human bosom, of its pulsations? As well teach the earth how to whence angel souls might draw! Here is the true Cas-move in her orbit. You cannot, if you would, direct. talian fountain. Drink, drink deep, and then trust your As well attempt to give laws to the earthquake, or the pen, or tongue, for vivid delineations of burning volcano, or learn the exploding magazine how it shall thought. Inspired by communion with his own heart, expand. The excited heart scorns to think of rhetoric the minister cannot but be eloquent. He comes forth or logic. They dare not speak to her; but sit mute