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we ought to think. Conscience and truth speak, and will be heard. Truly the night-season is a suitable time to catechize ourselves. Whence came I? Where am I? and, Whither shall I go? are, in the night-season, questions which sink into our souls.

We have troubles that are known only to ourselves and to Him who knoweth all things; and in the night-season we spread them before the Lord. We supplicate his aid, feelingly, fervently, and vehemently, and make our vows unto him. We say, “Lord, if thou wilt give me the thing I desire,” or, “Lord, if thou wilt remove the thing that I fear, then will I turn unto thee with full purpose of heart; then will I be thy servant forever.' The night-season is often an humbling season, an outpouring season for the soul, a season of mourning, of relief, of consolation and joy.

We have most of us lost some that we have loved; it may be a beloved son, in whom we have rejoiced, or a dear daughter, in whom we delighted, or both; and in the night-season we commune with them in our minds. We remember them as they were, and indulge our affections; we think of them as they are, and we stretch forward into an eternal world, rending the vail that separates us, and realize that day when we hope, nay, trust, again to be united to them. In the midst of our tearful reminiscences we take heart: “I know that



deemer liveth” comes to our relief, and the words, also, “I am the Resurrection and the Life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die :" John xi. 25, 26.

True it is that in the night-season we have often strange dreams. We get into situations of danger and circumstances of overwhelming trouble. We appear to be so cast into the horrible pit and the miry clay that there is no hope for us.

We are down, and we can never rise up again; but then, in the season of our extremity, we awake, and behold! it is a dream.

The season of night defends us from so many evils, and confers upon us so many blessings, that we cannot be sufficiently grateful for so invaluable a gift. In that blessed world which is to come, it will not be required; there will be no night there. In the presence of the Lord there will be fulness of joy and pleasures for evermore. "Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, forever and ever :" Rev. v. 13.


Now breathes the ruddy morn around

Her health-restoring gales,
And from the chambers of the east

A flood of light prevails.

Is there a God? yon rising sun

An answer meet supplies; Writes it in flame upon the earth,

Proclaims it round the skies.

The pendent clouds, that curtain round

The sublunary ball,
And firmament on high, declare

A God that governs all.

The warbling lark, in realms of air,

Has trill'd her matin lay;
The balmy breeze of morn is fled

It is the noon of day.

Is there a God ? hark! from on high

His thunder shakes the poles; I hear his voice in every wind,

In every wave that rolls.


I read a record of his love,

His wisdom, and his power, Inscribed on all created things

Man, beast, and herb, and flower.

The sultry sun has left the skies,

And day's delights are flown; The owlet screams amid the shade,

And night resumes her throne.

Is there a God? With sacred fear

I upward turn mine eyes; There is, each glittering lamp of light

There is! my soul-replies.

If such convictions to my brain

His works alone impart,
Oh, may the wisdom of his word

Inscribe them on my heart!

That, while I ponder on his deeds,

And read his truths divine, Nature may point me to a God, And grace may make him mine.


“How do you get on?” is a very commonplace inquiry; we have all asked it and answered it again and again. But commonplace as is the question, it is an important one, and capable of a very extended application. True it is that the phrase belongs more to low life than to the more refined circles of society; yet is it not on this account to be passed by. He who would get wisdom must both climb and stoop to attain it, as the botanist gathers his plants from the highest hills and the lowest valleys.

Most of us learn much more from low life than from high life-—at least I do; and for this simple reason—it is easier to get at. Where I speak once to a nobleman, I speak many times to a poor man; and for every ride I have in a carriage-and-four, I have at least a hundred in an omnibus.

“How do you get on ?” said a ruddy-faced man to one habited in a great-coat, whose cheeks were thin and pale. “Very slowly," replied the invalid. “ This ague that has laid hold of me has almost brought me to death's door. Last week I shook till my teeth chattered in my head, and yesterday I was in a high fever, with hot skin, full pulse, furred

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