BIBLE SKETCHES. be its altitude-yet most of the volumes included in his catalogue, or, at least, nearly as good substitutes, are within the reach of families of middling competence; and no very considerable annual appropriation would, in a few years, place in any such family this invaluable intellectual furniture-a source of most salutary influence, of delightful entertainment, and purest joy to all its members. BIBLE SKETCHES. BY REV. THOMAS FOX. CREATION. 71 Soon the spirit moved upon the inert mass, and gave to it vitality-gave to it, if we may use the expression, mineral life. Probably this was the commencement of motion, that mysterious something, which equally proves the existence and power of a great First Cause. Again the fiat went forth, and the principle of light, and, also, probably of heat, was ushered into existence. And here, as elsewhere, we perceive the correspondence between the sacred record and true philosophy. Revelation informs us that light existed before the sun took his place in the firmament; and that this luminary was subsequently appointed merely as a "light-bearer." How exactly does this accord with matter of fact! Philosophy teaches us that there is latent light pervading all substances; and that the sun is in itself a dark body surrounded by a luminous appendage, WHAT Scenes of deep and thrilling interest must have been unfolded to angels as they lingered around the morning of creation? And could they leave their lofty habitation and commune with mortals, with what delight should we listen to their instruc-making it emphatically a light-bearer to surrounding tions-with what pleasurable emotions would we gather around them as they related the genesis of time as they described those progressive acts of the great Jehovah when he called this universe into being! worlds. Earth now received its diurnal motion, by which day and night succeed each other. But how wonderful is this motion! Who can account for it? Have we not here a striking display of the continued and pervading energy of the great I Am? The work went on. Ocean's capacious bed was formed, and filled with the yielding wave. Rills, and brooks, and rivers commenced their meandering course, and murmured forth the praise of Him who bade them flow. While the dry land which now peered in majesty above the watery flood gradually acquired a suitable consistency for its destined use. The surrounding firmament, clarified from vapors and exhalations, became a proper medium for the transmission of light, and for the operation of those great laws by which the machinery of the material universe was to be governed. But though this privilege is denied us-though no ancient one, "whose hoary locks have swept the feet of Deity," may break the silence that encompasses the past, yet we may turn to the oracles of truth, and from their silent yet responsive pages read, in miniature, the world's history. Here we learn that "the things which are seen were not made of things that do appear." There was not merely a remodeling of previously existing matter, but a creation in the proper sense of the term. God, by his omnific word, spake, and matter from nonentity appeared. What exalted ideas of the Supreme does this suggest! Who else can create? All the men and angels in the universe could not produce one particle of matter. How sublimely grand is the Almighty's reference to this fact when addressing astonished Job out of the whirlwind, "Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding. Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it? Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who hath laid the corner-stone thereof: when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy."heavenly visitants, as they flitted through the ama But matter was produced only in its elementary state. Other attributes of Jehovah, besides omnipotence, were to be exhibited in the workmanship of his hands. Wisdom and goodness were to be blended with power in this visible display of his glory. Chaos first appeared, or, in the language of one of the heathen poets, among whom traces of Bible truth are frequently found, As yet no vegetation appeared-no trees, nor plants, nor flowers, adorned the hills, or decked the plains. Another act was now unfolded in the mighty drama-another kingdom was added to creation's domain-another step was taken in the ascending scale of Jehovah's works. At the Almighty's bidding, grass, and herbs, and trees sprang into being, and robed with more than vestal loveliness the virgin world. What scenes of beauty were now revealed to the ranthine bowers, or perched on the life-imparting trees of Eden! But still the work was incomplete: another department was requisite to finish the scheme. Amid all this variegated fragrance, and grandeur, and beauty, there were none to enjoy-none to adore. Earth was not the home of angels; another and higher form of life was now wakened into being. The seas were filled with sportive tribes of delighted existences; the groves were vocal with richly plumed songsters, while the forests and valleys teemed with animated life. Still the climax was wanting: an 72 MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. AN EPITAPH. intelligent being to govern and to adore, as well as to enjoy. To summon such a being into existence a council of the Trinity was held, denoting the important work about to be executed. "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness." This compound being composed of matter and spirit wondrously united, was the connecting link between earth and heaven-between the material and spiritual world. His very nature designated him for higher enjoyments and nobler employments than earth could afford. It proved him designed for the companionship of angels, and of God. Man stood forth at the head of creation as God's vicegerent upon earth, "made a little lower than the angels, and crowned with glory and honor." God surveyed the finished work, and pronounced it very good. It was good in the abstract, and good in the concrete. Every part was appropriate, and adapted to the end for which it was designed; and the whole presented one harmonious and beautiful unity, speaking forth the invisible glories and eternal Godhead of the great Original. MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. - BY MRS. SARAH A. HOBART. GRAVE, where those moldering relics lie, Which once a mother's heart enshrined, Thou art the dearest spot to me That in earth's wilderness I find. Oft when amidst life's varied woes, Oppressed with grief the heart has bled, Pensive I've sought thy blest repose, The lone and silent tear to shed. But when on memory's page I trace What thou hast been in life to me, O, then, all minor woes are lost In that one grief of losing thee. I muse upon thy tender care, Thy deep, untiring, watchful love, Which it was once my joy to share, Ere yet thy spirit soar'd above. Friendship's fair flowers may bloom for me, And I a brilliant wreath may twine, And gems of consanguinity May in the rosy chaplet shine; But that bright link, a mother's love, I ne'er may hope its bliss to prove, Thine was the heart of sympathy, And in the cup of misery, Ever some cordial drop would throw. And thine the patient faith that still And bowed submissively to God. Oft I have sought thy silent bed The star of eve its radiance threw, Through grace, thy child may hope to be, Perchance the office may be thine, To guard me by thy ministry. Though dead, thou hast a language still, Which e'en the inmost soul can reach, As well as if its mystic thrill Was borne upon the wing of speech. It bids me raise my thoughts above Earth's anxious cares and empty toys, To that bright atmosphere of love That's beaming with celestial joys. Thy grave shall be the hallowed shrine, Where oft to Heaven my prayer shall rise; And may that blessedness be mine At last to meet thee in the skies. AN EPITAPH ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT, DYING THE DAY IT WAS BORN. BY EOLIA. THERE sleeps beneath this marble tomb, For came the giant wizard, Death, It was a gentle little thing, Within some pleasant meadow. It gently smil'd a time or two, But not on earthly sorrow. We wept not o'er its flow'ry bier: Why should we shed a single tear, That it had flown to heaven? Its mother lost an evening star: DOING GOOD. BY REV. R. W. ALLEN. "Who went about doing good." - DOING GOOD. In redeeming a promise made to the readers of the Repository some months since, we must notice several considerations for doing good. Among these, we urge, 73 Would you, then, present to the world the surest test of genuine piety, labor to do good. Would you convince the world of the honesty and sincerity of your motives, "always abound in the work of the Lord." Would you stand acquitted before the last tribunal, "be not weary in well-doing." Remember that it is by "patient continuance in well-doing, we seek for glory, honor, eternal life," and that "blessed are they that keep his commandments, that they may have a right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city." 2. We are furnished with means and seasons for doing good. How numerous are the means placed within the reach of every Christian for this purpose! "To him the sea rather unites than separates the various portions of the globe; the forests of a thousand hills are ready to furnish barks to convey him to the ends of the earth, the fibres of plants to form his canvas, and the mystic powers of the magnet to direct his course." All our powers are instruments for doing good. These are numerous, and are capable of great usefulness. Every power of mind, such as reason, judgment, will, memory, and imagination-every power of the body, the senses, the eye, the ear, the tongue-these may all be made to do much for the good of the world. Says a very excellent writer, "Every man has some power to be useful in doing good, either to contrive plans of benevolence, or to labor in their execution—either to encourage them by his influence, or to support them by his contributions-either to assist them by his example, or to further them by his prayers. Every man is of value in proportion to the use to which he can be put, or to the good which he can do. Jesus Christ went about doing good, and the good which he accomplished in his short career was immense. Yet the powers which he had, as instruments for doing good, were just such as we have. When he went about doing good, he was in the likeness of sinful flesh-his body having the same infirmities as ours, his feet as liable to weariness as ours, his heart as liable to be distressed as ours, his sense of hunger and thirst as enfeebling as ours, his feel 1. That doing good is a test of Christian character. Some profess to be good, while they seem to think nothing of doing good: they seem to suppose that real goodness may be possessed without furnishing any evidence of its possession in the life. Such are greatly mistaken-" not knowing the Scriptures." They are building on a wrong foundation-their superstructure will fall; and, whatever goodness they may imagine they have, they will utterly fail in obtaining the reward of the "good and faithful servant." In order to be made "ruler over many things," we must be "faithful over a few things." Eternal joys are suspended on our fidelity—a fidelity for life. A profession, if it is what it ought to be, is good. We ought thus to profess; but that we possess what we profess, must be demonstrated in the life. 66 By their fruits ye shall know them." How illustrative and striking the figure! "Every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit." Here, then, is the test of Christian character-one fixed by the Savior himself-a test demonstrative of the wisdom of God, and highly beneficial and honorable to the universe. The Christian character, then, will be known. Its "fruits," or a course of well-doing, will declare it. "A man's works," says one, the tongue of his heart, and tell honestly whether he is inwardly corrupt or pure." Some may have mistaken the true test, and substituted for it the common standard of piety in some given place, or the views and opinions of others respecting them, or their own views respecting themselves; but all these will not avail, for "by their fruits"—such fruits as God requires they shall be known. These will speak, and they will speak so as not to be misunder-ings under opposition, reproach, and pain as keen as stood. From them a verdict will be rendered, and that, in most cases, will be correct. Look at the lives of Wesley, Howard, Wilberforce, Martin, Mrs. Fletcher, and a host of others, whose praise is in all the Churches. How strikingly did their lives exhibit the genuineness of their piety! They were devoted to the good of their fellow-men-to the welfare of the race. They were benefactors of mankind. Their character was not misunderstood, though efforts may have been made to destroy or shade it. Yet even these may have contributed to its more full development, and to a greater exhibition of its glory. Their abundant labors for the good of mankind will be referred to as evidence of their pietytheir love to God and man through all coming time. VOL. VII.-10 "are ours; and yet what large amount of good did he achieve with such powers as we have! Why cannot we employ our bodies and minds like him? The same powers which we employ in amassing wealth, in attaining rank, or procuring fame, he employed in doing good. Were we to employ our present powers as he did, we would do good as he did, and we would walk, even as he walked,' in labor and usefulness." In the revolutions of Providence we are furnished with seasons for usefulnesss. These seasons are abundant. Perhaps they are furnished by national prosperity or adversity-by the political movements of nations-by the loss or acquisition of property by individuals-by the sickness and death of ac{quaintances, and by the various calamities with which we are often visited, which bring great distress upon families, communities, and sometimes upon the country. Providence is now opening doors of usefulness before us. Will we enter them? Such is the present state of society, that access may be had to almost all countries, and communities, with benevolent efforts. Nearly every condition of man may be reached, and a salutary influence exerted over all classes. Here is abundant room for the exercise of every power of mind and body in doing good. Here we may put forth all our energies with the prospect of a glorious success. But these opportunities for usefulness will not always exist. With some of us, they will soon be passed. We should seize them with avidity, lest they pass neglected, or misimproved. "Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in thy hand to do it. Say not unto thy neighbor, go, and come again, and to-morrow I will give, when thou hast it by thee." By thus neglecting to do good in the proper season, the favorable opportunity may slip, and when once gone, perhaps gone for ever. What fearful risks we often run by neglects of this kind! We are taught to "do good as we have opportunity." Whenever an opportunity presents itself, then is the time to work. One maxim of Him who "went about doing good" was, "I must work the works of Him that sent me while it is day, for the night cometh in which no man can work." And the wise man instructs us to do with our "might whatsoever our hand findeth to do." 3. Doing good is the special work of the Christian. The sun was created to shine, the rivers to flow; but it is equally true, that the Christian is "created unto good works." For what did the Savior give himself for us? The answer is given by an inspired apostle: "Who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works." And we are further divinely taught, that "we are not our own, but bought with a price; therefore, we should glorify God in our body and spirit, which are his." Doing good is the peculiar and characteristic work of the Christian. To this he should direct all his energies. Having unreservedly consecrated all his time and talents to the good of man, he feels that to sacrifice, to suffer, to labor, either at home or abroad, in heathen lands or in the fields, already, to some extent, enriched by the blessings of the Gospel, is his greatest delight. His lips, as if touched with sacred fire, speak forth the Redeemer's praise. His works, steady, consistent, and persevering, declare that his great business is to do good; that this is his proper individuality; that to bless his family, his kindred, to alleviate the sufferings of the distressed, to scatter the blessings of peace and happiness among his fellow-men generally, and to spread the triumphs of the cross in the world, is the all-moving interest of his soul. Like a highly useful minister now in the itinerant ranks, and occupying an important post of usefulness, he can exclaim, "Let me live to do all in my power to give this world one turn round to God!" Labor on, then, fellow-Christian, though storms and trials severe await you. Let your watchword like that of Napoleon's general, be, onward! Grace shall be given you equal to your day, and when your work is done, how peaceful the issue! The odor of your name shall then be sweet, and your memory shall be blessed! With another communication on the subject, kind readers, I will dismiss the theme for the present, hoping it may be resumed by abler hands. MY MOTHER. BY WILLIAM BAXTER. MOTHER, what pure, what hallowed associations linger around thy name! Thou wert the joy of my life, ere thou departed; and even now thou hast a sure abiding place in the halls of memory. Years may change all things else-time may consign them to the dark chambers of oblivion-the remembrance of friends may become dim, and every vestige of many whom we have known and loved may be effaced from the tablet of memory; but thy dear image will never depart. At the call of busy fancy, it will start up with life-like vividness before meyears vanish as by some magic spell-the cares and toils of manhood are all forgotten-I live no longer in the present; but I dwell in the bright, the sunny past-I become again a creature of pure feelings and impulses-a very child. Mother, it was thy voice which, in infancy, hushed me to rest, before the stain of sin had fallen on my soul, or guilt had sullied the purity of my young spirit. It was at thy side I first learned to lisp forth my infantile prayer, to clasp the hand, to bow the knee, and, with child-like simplicity and sincerity, to take into my mouth the holiest words. Thy lips taught me those lessons of virtue, which all the waywardness of after years has failed wholly to efface; for when temptation spread around me her blandishments, when folly, in its myriad forms, presented itself before me, the remembrance of thy teaching, like a guardian angel, would waken the better feelings of my heart, and lead me, even when partially estrayed, from sin and folly to repentance and tears. Yet she has departed. The light of her eye has faded, and the music of her gentle voice has been hushed in the silence of the tomb. But, though dead, she still speaks; and, even now, there is no name on earth which can raise in my bosom such varied emotions. Her reproofs, while living, have often melted me into tears; and yet the remembrance of any unkindness, or youthful waywardness of mine, will cast a gloom over my spirit. But far more powerful than her living words are those which seem at times to rise from the dwelling place of the dead-words which strike not the outward ear, but which are heard in the inmost recesses of the heart. I have heard those words stealing over my spirit, amid the sounds of mirth and revelry, when my heart was elate with joy-when I had almost yielded to the syren voice of pleasure, and, intoxicated with delight, had nearly become her willing captive. I have then turned away from the gay throng to hide the feelings which were busy at my heart, and the tear that was trembling in my eye. I have left such scenes as at an angel's bidding-from the noise of revelry, to think on the lessons that my mother once taught me. I have heard those low, soft tones come stealing upon me, at the solemn hour of midnight, filling my mind with pure and holy thoughts-my heart with emotions too deep for utterance. At such moments, I have looked forth on the quiet face of heaven, studded with its innumerable stars, which, though silent, seemed speaking to me of peace and purity, and which, by their distance from this sin-stained earth, appeared fit abodes for spirits like hers. With tearful eye I have often turned from a scene like this, with my feelings purified and my heart made better, by this secret and silent communion. I could not repress the thought, that, if happy spirits can look down on the abodes of guilt and sorrow, hers, at such a moment, would cast a look from its radiant sphere, and whisper to my spirit to meet her among the blest, where the blighting influences of sin and sorrow are for ever unknown-where peace and purity have their eternal abode. HUMAN HAPPINESS. BY DELTA. THE great object of pursuit at the present day is happiness, and after it the world has, as it were, gone mad. The young especially, as is natural, are the most eager and persevering in the race. We may well pause for a moment or two to inquire what it is they have in view; for many, as they grasp the phantasy of their imagination, discern naught but a horrid skeleton, and turn away with lothing and disgust, or, maddened by long delay, rush recklessly on, and sink into the debauchee's, the criminal's, or the drunkard's grave. We may succeed in delineating a few of the features of this creature of fancy, and in tracing its aspect when stripped of its outward habiliments; then turn to a fairer object, and picture a fairer scene. Where do we find the so-called pleasure of the world? Ask the ambitions man of the origin of his enjoyment. He will point you to the thousands who have been plunged, by the musket's or cannon's dread messenger, by the glistening bayonet, or the sweeping charge of the heavy cavalry, in a moment, from this world to another. Whether they met an angry or a smiling Judge concerns not him. Suppose you point him to the vast crowd of widows and orphans, made such by the death of those who marched to battle at his command-he laughs you to scorn, and only replies that the blood of those so earnestly lamented has formed a stream large and deep enough to waft his vessel of fame to the desired haven. Alas! why will men erect trophies and monuments to ambitious men, and reckon up, with eager zeal, the number of their slain? Is it because they regard not the cry of wounded, disgraced, and suf{fering humanity? Mother, though departed, thy grave is to me a silent monitor. It bids me remember the lessons thou hast taught-to practice the virtues thy example placed before me-to follow on to the bright world which is now the home of thy spirit. Mother! watcher of my helpless infancy! dear counselor of {thy enjoyment?" He will point you to the slave my riper years! the remembrance of thee shall never depart no pursuit, however dear-honor, wealth, or fame, shall ever cause me to forget; but, amid fortune's smiles, or the chill blasts of adversity, flushed by bright hopes, or depressed by "corroding cares," thou shalt ever be a resting-place, on which memory shall often delight to linger. Mother! dearest name on earth! name ever to be cherished while life shall last, as thy name was first uttered by my lips in infancy, in the final hour, my last look shall be up to God-my last thought of heaven and thee. SOMETHING SINGULAR. · It is a singular fact, which we have never seen referred to, that the word truth does not occur in Richardson's great dictionary, on which more than one man spent his life. Put the question to the rich man, “ Whence springs ship, laden with miserable human beings, whose souls are as immortal as his own, and the offerings of whose hearts are, we may safely imagine, far more acceptable in the eye of an avenging Deity. He will point you to the miner's humble cot, where scarcely can the necessaries of life be procured, and the luxuries which superabound in his halls, are never seen. He will show you the sot, who spends his all to gratify the fiendish appetite to which he ministers. Go to the man of pleasure, who avows as his only object in life the pursuit of worldly enjoyment. "What is the origin and end of thy happiness?" Can you not discern the halls of the fashionable drinking establishment? Do not the soft and tender note of the lute, and the delicious melody of the guitar inwrap your senses, and blind you to the past, the present, and the future? Do not the palaces and villas, adorned with the productions of every clime, and embellished with the finest efforts of art and |