LESSON CVI.-REFORM IN MORALS.-DR. BEECHER.

The crisis has come. By the people of this generation, by ourselves, probably, the amazing question is to be decided, whether the inheritance of our fathers shall be preserved or thrown away; whether our Sabbaths shall 5 be a delight or a loathing; whether the taverns, on that holy day, shall be crowded with drunkards, or the sanctuary of God, with humble worshippers; whether riot and profaneness shall fill our streets, and poverty our dwellings, and convicts our jails, and violence our land, or 10 whether industry, and temperance, and righteousness, shall be the stability of our times; whether mild laws shall receive the cheerful submission of freemen, or the iron rod of a tyrant compel the trembling homage of slaves. Be not deceived. Human nature in this state is like human 15 nature everywhere. All actual difference in our favor is adventitious, and the result of our laws, institutions, and habits. It is a moral influence, which, with the blessing of God, has formed a state of society so eminently desirable. The same influence which has formed it, is indis20 pensable to its preservation. The rocks and hills of New England will remain until the last conflagration. But let the Sabbath be profaned with impunity, the worship of God be abandoned, the government and religious instruction of children neglected, and the streams of intemperance 25 be permitted to flow, and her glory will depart. The wall of fire will no more surround her, and the munition of rocks will no longer be her defence.

If we neglect our duty, and suffer our laws and institutions to go down, we give them up forever. It is easy to 30 relax, easy to retreat, but impossible, when the abomination of desolation has once passed over New England, to rear again the thrown down altars, and gather again the fragments, and build up the ruins of demolished institutions. Another New England, nor we, nor our children, 35 shall ever see, if this be destroyed. All is lost irretrievably, when the land-marks are once removed, and the bands which now hold us, are once broken. Such institutions, and such a state of society, can be established only by such men as our fathers were, and in such cir40 cumstances as they were in. They could not have made a New England in Holland. They made the attempt, but failed.

The hand that overturns our laws and altars, is the hand of death, unbarring the gate of Pandemoniumn, and letting loose upon our land the crimes and the miseries of hell. If the Most High should stand aloof, and cast 5 not a single ingredient into our cup of trembling, it would seem to be full of superlative woe. But He will not stand aloof. As we shall have begun an open controversy with Him, He will contend openly with us. And never, since the earth stood, has it been so fearful a thing for nations 10 to fall into the hands of the living God. The day of vengeance is in His heart, the day of judgment has come; the great earthquake which sinks Babylon is shaking the nations, and the waves of the mighty commotion are dashing upon every shore. Is this then a time to remove 15 foundations, when the earth itself is shaken? Is this a time to forfeit the protection of God, when the hearts of men are failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth? Is this a time to run upon His neck and the thick bosses of His buckler, 20 when the nations are drinking blood, and fainting, and passing away in His wrath? Is this a time to throw away the shield of faith, when His arrows are drunk with the blood of the slain? To cut from the anchor of hope, when the clouds are collecting, and the sea and the waves are roar25 ing, and thunders are uttering their voices, and lightnings blazing in the heavens, and the great hail is falling from heaven upon men, and every mountain, sea, and island is fleeing in dismay, from the face of an incensed God?

LESSON CVII.—THE CHILD OF THE TOMB;—A STORY OF NEW BURYPORT.-WM. B. TAPPAN.

The following fact is found in Knapp's "Life of Lord Dexter."
Where WHITEFIELD sleeps, remembered, in the dust,
The lowly vault held once a double trust;
And PARSONS, reverend name, that quiet tomb
Possessed, to wait the day of weal and doom.
5 Another servant of the living God,

PRINCE, who, (bereft of sight,) his way had trod,
Unerringly and safe, life's journey through,-
Now sought admittance to these slumberers too.
As earth receded, and the mansions blest
10 Rose on his vision,-"Let my body rest

With Whitefield's," said he, yielding up his breath,
In life beloved, and not disjoined in death.
Obedient to his wish, in order then

Were all things done; the tomb was oped to ken
Of curious eyes,-made ready to enclose
Another tenant in its hushed repose:

And, lighted with a single lamp, whose ray
Fell dimly down upon the mouldering clay,
Was left, prepared, to silence as of night,
10 Till hour appointed for the funeral rite.

It chanced, the plodding teacher of a school,-
A man of whim, bold, reckless, yet no fool,—
Deemed this an opportunity to test

How far the fears of spirits might infest
15 The bosom of a child. A 'likely' boy,
The choicest of his flock, a mother's joy,
He took, unscrupulous of means, if he
His ends might gain, and solve the mystery.

Both stood within the mansion of the dead,
20 And while the stripling mused, the teacher fled,
Leaving the child, where the dull cresset shone,
With the dumb relics and his God alone.
As the trap-door fell suddenly, the stroke,
Sullen and harsh, his solemn revery broke.
25 Where is he?-Barred within the dreadful womb
Of the cold earth,—the living in the tomb!
The opened coffins-showed Death's doings, sad,—
The awful dust in damps and grave-mould clad.
Though near the haunt of busy, cheerful day,
30 He, to drear night and solitude the prey!

Must he be watcher with these corpses!-Who

Can tell what sights may rise? Will reason then be true?
Must he, a blooming, laughter-loving child,—

Be mated thus?—The thought was cruel, wild!

35 His knees together smote, as first, in fear,
He gazed around his prison;-then a tear
Sprang to his eyes in kind relief; and said
The little boy, "I will not be afraid.
Was ever spirit of the good man known
40 To injure children whom it found alone?"
And straight he taxed his memory, to supply
Stories and texts, to show he might rely

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Most safely, humbly, on his Father's care,-
Who hears a child's, as well as prelate's, prayer.
And thus he stood,-on Whitefield's form his glance
In reverence fixed,—and hoped deliverance.

Meanwhile, the recreant teacher, where was he? Gone in effrontery to take his tea

With the lad's mother!-Supper done, he told The feat that should display her son as bold. With eye indignant, and with words of flame, 10 How showers that mother's scorn, rebuke, and shame And bids him haste! and hastes herself, to bring Him froin Death's realm, who knew not yet its sting: And yet believed,—s -so well her son she knew,The noble boy would to himself be true :

15 He would sustain himself, and she would find Him patient and possessed, she trusted well his mind.

The boy yet lives, and from that distant hour Dates much of truth that on his heart hath power ;And chiefly this,-whate'er of wit is wed

20 To word of his,-to reverence the dead.

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LESSON CVIII-LOVE AND FAME.-H. T. TUCKERMAN.

Give me the boon of Love!

I ask no more for fame;

Far better one unpurchased heart

Than Glory's proudest name.

Why wake a fever in the blood,

Or damp the spirit now,

To gain a wreath whose leaves shall wave
Above a withered brow?

Give me the boon of Love!

The path of Fame is drear,

And Glory's arch doth ever span
A hill-side cold and sere.

One wild flower from the path of Love,

All lowly though it lie,

Is dearer than the wreath that waves

To stern Ambition's

eye.

Give me the boon of Love!

The lamp of Fame shines far,

But Love's soft light glows near and warm,—

A pure and household star.

One tender glance can fill the soul

With a perennial fire;

But Glory's flame burns fitfully,-
A lone, funereal pyre.

Give me the boon of Love!

Fame's trumpet-strains depart,

But Love's sweet lute breathes melody

That lingers in the heart;

And the scroll of fame will burn,

When sea and earth consume;

But the rose of Love, in a happier sphere,
Will live in deathless bloom!

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