LESSON XXIII. Incentives to Devotion. - H. K. WHITE. Lo! the unlettered hind, who never knew To raise his mind excursive, to the heights. Of abstract contemplation, as he sits On the green hillock by the hedge-row side, What time the insect swarms are murmuring, And marks, in silent thought, the broken clouds, That fringe with loveliest hue, the evening sky, Feels in his soul the hand of nature rouse The thrill of gratitude, to Him who formed The goodly prospect; he beholds the God Throned in the west; and his reposing ear Hears sounds angelic in the fitful breeze, That floats through neighboring copse or fairy brake, Or lingers, playful, on the haunted stream. Go with the cotter to his winter fire, When o'er the moors the loud blast whistles shrill, And the hoarse ban-dog bays the icy moon; Mark with what awe he lists the wild uproar, Silent, and big with thought; and hear him bless The God that rides on the tempestuous cloud, For his snug hearth, and all its little joys. Hear him compare his happier lot, with his Who bends his way across the wintery wolds, A poor night-traveler, while the dismal snow Beats in his face, and dubious of his paths, He stops, and thinks, in every lengthening blast, He hears some village mastiff's distant howl, And sees far streaming, some lone cottage light; Then undeceived, upturns his streaming eyes, And clasps his shivering hands, or overpowered, Sinks on the frozen ground, weighed down with sleep From which the hapless wretch shall never wake. Thus the poor rustic warms his heart with praise And, blind to all but arrogance and pride, And openly contemn the Lord of Hosts ? A weary journey to the furthest verge Of the big world, to kiss that good man's hand, Of the gray morn before the Even as the mists That pass away and perish. LESSON XXIV. Ode to Sickness. The following ode was written by a young lady in the north of England, who, for many years, had been oppressed with a hopeless consump. tion. Nor to the rosy maid, whom former hours The melancholy lyre: no more I seek Thou art no tyrant waving the fierce scourge O'er unresisting victims- but a nymph Of mild though mournful mien, upon whose brow Patience sits smiling, and whose heavy eye, Though moist with tears, is always fixed on heaven. Thou wrapp'st the world in clouds, but thou canst tell Of worlds where all is sunshine, and, at length, When through this vale of sorrow thou hast led Thy patient sufferers, cheering them the while With many a smile of promise, thy pale hand Unlocks the bowers of everlasting rest; Where Death's kind angel waits to dry their tears, And crown them with his amaranthine flowers. Yet have I known thee long, and I have felt The narrow bounds of time, and fix its hopes Meanwhile, even in this transitory scene, Of what hast thou deprived me? Has thy hand That unconfined philanthropy, which feels Which, feeling all the nothingness of earth, Of agonizing pain, can fill the eyes With tears of ecstasy, As angels love to shed. - such tears, perhaps, These are thy gifts, O Sickness! these to me Along whose path Prosperity has strewed Her gilded toys? Ah! let them still pursue Call to the flowers, the young and bashful flowers They see not, at the shadowy hour of ve, Descending spirits, who, on silver wings, Drop on their golden harps a pitying tear. strain! Prosperity! I court thy gifts no more, I lay my aching head! and, as I mark LESSON XXV. Reply to the Address of a Missionary at a Council of the Chiefs of "the Six Nations," in 1805,- by Sagnyn Whathah, alias Red Jacket. - PHILANTHROPIST. Friend and Brother: Ir was the will of the Great Spirit, that we should meet together this day. He orders all things; and has given us a fine day for our council. He has taken his garment from before the sun, and caused it to shine with brightness upon us. Our eyes are opened that we see clearly; our ears are unstopped, that we have been able to hear distinctly the words you have spoken. For all these favors we thank the Great Spirit, and him only. There was a time when Brother! Listen to what we say. our forefathers owned this great island. from the rising to the setting sun: the Great Spirit had made it for the use of the Indians. He had created the buffalo, the deer, and other animals for food. He had made the bear and the beaver; their skins served us for clothing. He had scattered them over the country, and taught us how to take |