SPRING.

And when the twilight, deepened into night,
Calls them within, close to the house she comes,
And on its dark side, haply on the step
Of unfrequented door, lighting unseen,
Breaks into strains articulate and clear,
The closing sometimes quickened as in sport.
Now, animate throughout, from morn to eve
All harmony, activity, and joy,

Is lovely Nature, as in her blessed prime.
The robin to the garden or green yard,
Close to the door, repairs to build again
Within her wonted tree; and at her work
Seems doubly busy for her past delay.
Along the surface of the winding stream,
Pursuing every turn, gay swallows skim,
Or round the borders of the spacious lawn
Fly in repeated circles, rising o'er

Hillock and fence with motion serpentine,
Easy, and light. One snatches from the ground
A downy feather, and then upward springs,
Followed by others, but oft drops it soon,
In playful mood, or from too slight a hold,
When all at once dart at the falling prize.
The flippant blackbird, with light yellow crown,
Hangs fluttering in the air, and chatters thick
Till her breath fail, when, breaking off, she drops
On the next tree, and on its highest limb,
Or some tall flag, and gently rocking, sits,
Her strain repeating. With sonorous notes
Of every tone, mixed in confusion sweet,
All chanted in the fulness of delight,
The forest rings: where, far around enclosed
With bushy sides, and covered high above
With foliage thick, supported by bare trunks,
Like pillars rising to support a roof,
It seems a temple vast, the space within
Rings loud and clear with thrilling melody.
Apart, but near the choir, with voice distinct,
The merry mocking-bird together links
In one continued song their different notes,
Adding new life and sweetness to them all.
Hid under shrubs, the squirrel that in fields
Frequents the stony wall and briery fence,
Here chirps so shrill that human feet approach
Unheard till just upon him, when, with cries
Sudden and sharp, he darts to his retreat
Beneath the mossy hillock or aged tree;
But oft a moment after reappears,
First peeping out, then starting forth at once
With a courageous air, yet in his pranks
Keeping a watchful eye, nor venturing far
Till left unheeded. In rank pastures graze,
Singly and mutely, the contented herd;
And on the upland rough the peaceful sheep;

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Regardless of the frolic lambs, that close
Beside them, and before their faces prone,
With many an antic leap and butting feint,
Try to provoke them to unite in sport
Or grant a look, till tired of vain attempts,
When gathering in one company apart,
All vigor and delight away they run,
Straight to the utmost corner of the field,
The fence beside; then wheeling, disappear
In some small sandy pit, then rise to view;
Or crowd together up the heap of earth
Around some upturned root of fallen tree,
And on its top a trembling moment stand,
Then to the distant flock at once return.
Exhilarated by the general joy,

And the fair prospect of a fruitful year,
The peasant, with light heart and nimble step,
His work pursues, as it were pastime sweet.
With many a cheering word, his willing team,
For labor fresh, he hastens to the field

Ere morning lose its coolness; but at eve,

When loosened from the plough and homeward turned,
He follows slow and silent, stopping oft
To mark the daily growth of tender grain
And meadows of deep verdure, or to view
His scatter'd flock and herd, of their own will
Assembling for the night by various paths,
The old now freely sporting with the young,
Or laboring with uncouth attempts at sport.

MYSTERY, REASON, FAITH.

BY Ꭱ Ꭼ Ꮩ . EPHRAIM

PEABODY.

MYSTERY Reason

- Faith. These three subjects are closely connected together. One runs into the other, and the understanding of one may help us to understand the other.

There are a thousand allotments of Providence which are covered with darkness. We cannot comprehend them. But aided by experience and revelation, reason is sufficient to make us feel that they are kindly and wisely ordered. Reason is not sufficient to penetrate the future and see the wisdom and goodness of those allotments, but it is sufficient to bring us to the footstool of our Heavenly Father, and to make us say with unlimited trust and submission, "Thy will be done. Do thou my Father guide me." Thus reason prepares the way for faith, and faith binds the soul to God in immortal bonds.

We see this in a good man when called on to discharge painful duties. He may not be able to look through to the end and see how all shall terminate, but reason aids him in ascertaining the duty, and when ascertained, lays a foundation for an undoubting faith that its performance must result in good. All becomes clear. The scoffs and scorn and persecution of a world are not able to shake his equal mind, or to turn him from the right. Reason has introduced him into the region of faith, and faith leans on God and receives strength from Him.

We see this connexion between reason and faith in cases of affliction. A parent is called to part with a child. The bereavement is shrouded in gloom. The reason of the

parent cannot discern, it can hardly meditate on, the beneficent uses and purposes of this affliction. Yet reason has seen enough and learned enough, to give the conviction that all the doings of God are good. Reason cannot see the way itself clearly, but it can lead the parent to Him who does see the way clear, and can cause him to bow before that being in complete trust and submission. It can give origin to a faith so strong and entire, that the parent, even in the hour and anguish of bereavement, when his heart seems breaking within him, were the power given him to stay the flight of the departing spirit, even in that hour, he would not say, Come back, my child, come back, — but rather in the midst of his tears, does he say "The Lord gave, the Lord taketh away, blessed be his holy name."

Man's reason is but a feeble thing. Without revelation to aid it, this earth with the sky bending over it, were a dungeon with scarce a beam of light struggling in. And when in God's mercy these walls are rent, and the light of revelation streams in from the world beyond, all things are not revealed. We but know in part. We see through a glass darkly. A thousand anxious questions rise up to which we have no answer. But enough is revealed to reason to lay the broad foundation of faith.

There is a case which furnishes a good illustration of this whole subject, and in which men are constantly and habitually acting upon and acting out the principles that have been stated.

Night comes down over a ship at sea, and a passenger lingers hour after hour alone on the deck. The waters plunge and welter, and glide away beneath the keel. Above, the sails tower up in the darkness, almost to the sky, and their shadow falls as it were a burden on the deck below. In the clouded night no star is to be seen, and as the ship changes her course, the passenger knows not which way is east or west, or north or south. What islands, what sunken rocks may be on her course course is or where they are, he knows

not.

or what that

All around,

MYSTERY, REASON, FAITH.

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to him, is Mystery. He bows down in the submission of utter ignorance.

But men of science have read the laws of the sky. And the next day this passenger beholds the captain looking at a clock and taking note of the place of the sun, and with the aid of a couple of books, composed of rules and mathematical tables, making calculations. And when he has completed them, he is able to point almost within a hand's breath to the place at which, after unnumbered windings, he has arrived in the midst of the seas. Storms may have beat and currents drifted, but he knows where they are, and the precise point where, a hundred leagues over the waters, lies his native shore. Here is Reason appreciating and making use of the revelations (if we may so call them) of science.

Night again shuts down over the waste of waves, and the passenger beholds a single seaman stand at the wheel and watch, hour after hour, as it vibrates beneath a lamp, a little needle, which points ever, as if it were a living finger, to the steady pole.

This man knows nothing of the rules of navigation, nothing of the courses of the sky. But reason and experience have given him Faith in the commanding officer of the ship faith in the laws that control her course faith in the unerring integrity of the little guide before him. And so without a single doubt he steers his ship on, according to a prescribed direction, through night and the waves. And that faith is not disappointed. With the morning sun, he beholds far away the summits of the gray and misty highlands, rising like a cloud on the horizon; and as he nears them, the hills appear, and the lighthouse at the entrance of the harbor, and, sight of joy! the spires of the churches and the shining roofs among which he strives to detect his own.

Mystery Reason - Faith; - mystery is the lowest, faith is the highest of the three. Reason has done but half its office till it has resulted in faith. Reason looks before and after. It not only ponders the past, but becomes prophetic of the future.