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gradually to resolve. The world, in which they are placed, opens with all its wonders upon their eye; their powers of attention and observation seem to expand with the scene before them; and, while they see, for the first time, the 5 immensity of the universe of God, and mark the majestic simplicity of those laws by which its operations are conducted, they feel as if they were awakened to a higher species of being, and admitted into nearer intercourse with the Author of Nature.
It is this period, accordingly, more than all others, that determines our hopes or fears of the future fate of the young. To feel no joy in such pursuits; to listen carelessly to the voice which brings such magnificent instruction; to see the veil raised which conceals the counsels of 15 the Deity, and to show no emotion at the discovery, - are symptoms of a weak and torpid spirit, — of a mind unworthy of the advantages it possesses, and fitted only for the humility of sensual and ignoble pleasure. Of those, on the contrary, who distinguish themselves by the love of 20 knowledge, who follow with ardor the career that is open to them, we are apt to form the most honorable presages. It is the character which is natural to youth, and which, therefore, promises well of their maturity. We foresee for
them, at least, a life of pure and virtuous enjoyment, and 25 we are willing to anticipate no common share of future usefulness and splendor.
In the second place, the pursuits of knowledge lead not only to happiness but to honor. "Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left are riches and honor." It 30 is honorable to excel even in the most trifling species of
knowledge, in those which can amuse only the passing hour. It is more honorable to excel in those different branches of science which are connected with the liberal professions of life, and which tend so much to the dignity 35 and well-being of humanity.
It is the means of raising the most obscure to esteem
and attention; it opens to the just ambition of youth some of the most distinguished and respected situations in soci ety; and it places them there, with the consoling reflection; that it is to their own industry and labor, in the provi5 dence of God, that they are alone indebted for them. But, to excel in the higher attainments of knowledge, to be distinguished in those greater pursuits which have commanded the attention and exhausted the abilities of the wise in every former age, - is, perhaps, of all the dis 10 tinctions of human understanding, the most honorable and grateful.
When we look back upon the great men who have gone before us in every path of glory, we feel our eye turn from the career of war and ambition, and involuntarily rest upon 15 those who have displayed the great truths of religion, who have investigated the laws of social welfare, or extended the sphere of human knowledge. These are honors, we feel, which have been gained without a crime, and which can be enjoyed without remorse. They are honors also 20 which can never die, which can shed lustre even upon the humblest head, and to which the young of every succeeding age will look up, as their brightest incentives to the pursuit of virtuous fame.
LXXI. - HYMN AT THE CONSECRATION OF A CEMETERY.
[This beautiful hymn was sung at the consecration of a cemetery belonging Do the city of Cambridge, in October, 1854. It was written by the Rev. WIL*IAM NEWELL, a graduate of Harvard College of the class of 1824, and pastor of the First Congregational Church in Cambridge. Dr. Newell has published very little; but this poem shows him to be capable of giving beautiful expres sion to genuine religious feeling.]
CHANGING, fading, falling, flying
From the homes that gave them birth,
Autumn leaves, in beauty dying,
2 Soon shall all the songless wood Shiver in the deepening snow, Mourning in its solitude,
Like some Rachel in her woe.
3 Slowly sinks yon evening sun,
4 So on many a home of gladness
Falls, O Death, thy winter gloom; Stands there still in doubt and sadness, Many a Mary at the tomb.
5 But the genial spring, returning,
6 So shall God, His promise keeping,
7 Light from darkness! Life from death!
8 Father, when the mourners come With the slowly moving bier, Weeping at the open tomb
For the lovely and the dear,
Breathe into the bleeding heart
THE CONQUEROR'S GRAVE.
(This poem, which appeared originally in "Putnam's Magazine," is one of the most beautiful compositions that ever were written; admirable in sentiinent, admirable in expression. From such poetry we learn how much we owe to those poets whose genius is under the control of moral feeling; who make the imagination and the sense of beauty ministering servants at the altar of the highest good and the highest truth.]
WITHIN this lowly grave a conqueror lies;
And yet the monument proclaims it not,
Nor round the sleeper's name hath chisel wrought
Ivy and amaranth in a graceful sheaf
To the great world unknown,
Is graven here, and wild flowers rising round,
2 Here, in the quiet earth, they laid apart
Timidly shrinking from the breath of blame;
Yet at the thought of others' pain, a shade
3 Nor deem that when the hand that moulders here
Gray captains leading bands of veteran men
Through that long strife her constant hope was staid
4 She met the hosts of sorrow with a look
That altered not beneath the frown they wore ;
And rent the nets of passion from her path.
5 Her glory is not of this shadowy state,
Glory that with the fleeting season dies;
And He who, long before,
Pain, scorn, and sorrow bore,
What joy was radiant in celestial eyes!
How heaven's bright depths with sounding welcomes rung
And flowers of heaven by shining hands were flung!