light of our sober, solemn Christian teachings. The dark cloud sometimes overshadows it; the storm sweeps through its pleasant valleys; the thunder smites its everlasting hills; and the holy record hath said, "Thorns and thistles shall it bring forth to thee." It has been said that all the to use the musical phrase · tones in nature are on the minor key. That is to say, they are plaintive tones. And although the fact is probably somewhat exaggerated, when stated so strongly and unqualifiedly, yet to a certain extent it is true. It is true, that that tone always mingles with the music of nature; in the winds that stir the mountain pine, as well as in the wailing storm; in the soft-falling shower, and in the rustling of the autumn leaves; in the roar of ocean, as it breaks upon the lonely sea-beach; in the thundering cataract, that lifts up its eternal anthem amidst the voices of nature; and so, likewise, in those inarticulate interpretations of nature, the bleating of flocks, the lowing of herds, and even in the song of birds, there is usually something plaintive, something that touches the sad and brooding spirit of thought. And the contemplation of nature in all its forms, as well of beauty as of sublimity, is apt to be tinged with melancholy. And all the higher musings, the nobler aspirations, of the mind possess something of this character. I doubt if there were ever a manifestation of genius in the world, that did not bear something of this trait. It can scarcely be the part of wisdom, then, to refuse to sympathize with this spirit of nature and humanity. And it can be no argument against a contemplation of this world, as having its abode sanctified by the memory of the departed, as having its brightness softly veiled over by the shadow of death, it can be no argument against such contemplation, that it is somewhat sober and sad. I feel, then, that the dead have conferred a blessing upon me, in helping me to think of the world thus rightly; in thus giving a hue of sadness to the scenes of this world, while, at the same time, they have clothed it with every glorious and powerful charm of association. This mingled spirit of energy and humility, of triumph and tenderness, of glorying and sorrowing, is the very spirit of Christianity. It was the spirit of Jesus, the conqueror and the sufferer. Death was before him; and yet his thoughts were of triumph. Victory was in his view; and yet what a victory! No laurel crown was upon his head; no flush of pride was upon his brow; no exultation flashed from his eye; for his was a victory to be gained over death, and through death. No laurel crown sat upon his head, but a crown of thorns; no flush of pride was on his brow, - but meekness was enthroned there; no exultation flashed from his eye, · - but tears flowed from it: "Jesus wept." Come, then, to us, that spirit, at once, of courage and meekness; of fortitude and gentleness; of a life hopeful and happy, but thoughtful of death; of a world bright and beautiful, but passing away! So let us live and act, and think and feel; and let us thank the good providence, the good ordination of Heaven, that has made the dead our teachers. III. But they teach us more. They not only leave their own enshrined and canonized virtues for us to love and imitate; they not only gather about us the glorious and touching associations of the past, to hallow and dignify this world to us, and to throw the soft veil of memory over all its scenes; but they open a future world to our vision, and invite us to its blessed abodes. They open that world to us, by giving, in their own deaths, a strong proof of its existence. The future, indeed, to mere earthly views, is often "a land of darkness, as darkness itself; and of the shadow of death, without any order, and where the light is as darkness. Truly, death is "without any order." There is in it such a total disregard to circumstances, as shows that it cannot be an ultimate event. That must be connected with something else, that cannot be final, which, considered as final, puts all the calculations of wisdom so utterly at defiance. The tribes of animals, the classes and species of the vegetable creation, come to their perfection, and then die. But is there any such order for human beings? Do the generations of mankind go down to the grave in ranks and processions? Are the human, like the vegetable, races suffered to stand till they have made provision for their successors before they depart? No; without order, without discrimination, without provision for the future, or remedy for the past, the children of men depart. They die, the old, the young; the most useless and those most needed, the worst and the best, alike die; and if there be no scenes beyond this life, if there be no circumstances nor allotments to explain the mystery, then all around us is, as it was to the doubting spirit of Job, "a land of darkness, as darkness itself." The blow falls, like the thunderbolt beneath the dark cloud; but it has not even the intention, the explanation, that belongs to that dread minister. The stroke of death must be more reckless than even the lightning's flash; - yes, that solemn visitation, that cometh with so many dread signs, - the body's dissolution, the spirit's extremity, the winding up of the great scene of life, — has not even the meaning that belongs to the blindest agents in nature, if there be no reaction, no revelation hereafter! Can this be? Doth God take care for things animate and inanimate, and will he not care for us? How beautiful was Let us look at it for a moment. I have seen one die, the delight of his friends, the pride of his kindred, the hope of his country but he died! that offering upon the altar of death! kindled in his eye; the generous affections of youth mantled in his cheek; his foot was upon the threshold of life; his studies, his preparations for honored and useful life, were completed; his breast was filled with a thousand glowing, and noble, and never yet expressed aspirations : but he died! He died; while another, of a nature dull, coarse, and unrefined, of habits low, base, and brutish, of a promise that had nothing in it but shame and misery, such an one, I say, was suffered to encumber the earth. Could this be, if there were no other sphere for the gifted, the aspiring, and the approved, to act in? Can we believe that the energy just trained for action, the embryo thought just bursting into expression, the deep and earnest passion of a noble nature, just swelling into the expansion of every beautiful virtue, should never manifest its power, should never speak, should never unfold itself? Can we believe that all this should die; while meanness, corruption, sensuality, and every deformed and dishonored power, should live? No, ye goodly and glorious ones! NO. 230. VOL. XIX. 2 ye godlike in youthful virtue!-ye die not in vain; ye teach, ye assure us, that ye are gone to some world of nobler life and action. I have seen one die; she was beautiful; and beautiful were the ministries of life that were given her to fulfil. Angelic loveliness enrobed her; and a grace, as if it were caught from heaven, breathed in every tone, hallowed every affection, shone in every action, invested, as a halo, her whole existence, and made it a light and blessing, a charm and a vision of gladness, to all around her: but she died! Friendship, and love, and parental fondness, and infant weakness, stretched out their hand to save her; but they could not save her and she died! What did all that loveliness die? Is there no land of the blessed and the lovely ones for such to live in! Forbid it reason, religion! - bereaved affection, and undying love! forbid the thought! It cannot be that such die in God's counsel, who live even in frail human memory for ever! I have seen one die, in the maturity of every power, in the earthly perfection of every faculty; when many temptations had been overcome, and many hard lessons had been learned; when many experiments had made virtue easy, and had given a facility to action, and a success to endeavour; when wisdom had been learnt from many mistakes, and a skill had been laboriously acquired in the use of many powers; and the being I looked upon had just compassed that most useful, most practical, of all knowledge, how to live, and to act well and wisely: yet I have seen such an one die! Was all this treasure gained, only to be lost? Were all these faculties trained, |