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The forest fell before its force,
The rocks were shivered in its course:
God was not in the blast;

'T was but the whirlwind of his breath,
Announcing danger, wreck, and death.

It ceased. The air grew mute,—a cloud
Came, muffling up the sun,

When, through the mountain, deep and loud,
An earthquake thundered on;
The frighted eagle sprang in air,
The wolf ran howling from his lair;
God was not in the storm:

'T was but the rolling of his car,
The trampling of his steeds from far.

'T was still again, and Nature stood
And calmed her ruffled frame;
When swift from heaven a fiery flood
To earth devouring came;

Down to the depth the ocean fled,-
The sickening sun looked wan and dead;
Yet God filled not the flame;

'T was but the terror of his eye,

That lightened through the troubled sky.

At last, a voice all still and small,
Rose sweetly on the ear;

Yet rose so shrill and clear, that all
In heaven and earth might hear;
It spoke of peace, it spoke of love,
It spoke as angels speak above;
And God himself was there;
For Oh! it was a father's voice,

That bade the trembling heart rejoice.

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LESSON CLXV.-DAME NATURE'S CHARMS.-WM. C. LODGE.

I love to pause, in life's cold rugged way,
And muse on Nature in her various forms;
Divest her of that seeming dark array,

And thus expose to view her fairest charms:
For she is ever beautiful and bright,

When rightly seen, in wild or calmer mood,

In sunny day, or sable garb of night,
In busy haunts, or quiet solitude.

Oh! my delight has ever been to roam,

A feather, tossed on fortune's fickle wave, 5 Away from friends, from kindred, and from home, The cold repulses of the world to brave. And when by life's attending ills oppressed, Dear Nature, I would ever turn to thee, For in thy smiles the troubled find a rest, A soothing cordial in thy harmony. I've danced upon the trackless ocean wave, When wild winds held unfettered revelry, And heaven's loud peals the thundering chorus gave To the rude tempest's dirge-like minstrelsy.

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15 Then wings the soul its airy flight along,

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Like lightning glancing o'er the jewelled spray,
And leaps to join the revel and the song,

And cast the thoughts and things of earth away.
And I have wooed her in her sober hours,
Amid her native wilds of solitude,
When twilight has revealed its mystic powers,
And cast its spells o'er river, vale, and wood;
'Tis this resolves the passions into thought,
And tinges reason with a purer flame,

25 And shows proud man that all his art is nought,
His boasted honors but an empty name.

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The sunny south, the clime of fruits and flowers,
In one eternal vesture of sweet smiles,

Where laughing streamlets leap 'midst shady bowers,
And wild birds' song the sportive breeze beguiles;
And the bare mountains of the north, where storms,
And the rude storm-king, hold a fearful sway,
Have all their fierce or soul-subduing charms,

To cheer life's path, and drive its cares away. 35 Man often clouds with vain or fancied ills,

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His narrow span, when Nature's stainless light
Dispenses only happiness, and fills

The world with things so beautiful and bright;
Her plains, her mountains, and her valleys, teem
With living verdure in the fairest dress;
And ocean, river, lake, and singing stream,
Combine to harmonize her loveliness.

LESSON CLXVI. -NIGHT IN EDEN.-MRS. E. H. EVANS.

'T was moonlight in Eden! Such moonlight, I ween,
As never again on this earth shall be seen,-
So soft fell the radiance, so wondrously blue
Was the sky, with its star-enthroned angels in view!

5 How bright was the bower where the fair-fingered Eve, The blossoming garlands delighted to weave;

While the rose caught its blush from her cheek's living dye,
And the violet its hue from her love-lighted eye.

There, lulled by the murmurs of musical streams,
10 And charmed by the rainbow-winged spirit of dreams,—
The eyes softly closed that so soon were to weep,—
Our parents reposed in a bliss-haunted sleep.

But other forms gazed on the grandeur of night, And beings celestial grew glad at the sight; 15 All warm from the glow of their amber-hued skies, How strange seemed the shadows of earth to their eyes!

There, azure-robed beauty, with rapture-lit smile, Her golden wings folded, reclined for a while; And the Seraph of Melody breathed but a word, 20 Then listened entranced at the echoes she heard:

From mountain and forest an organ-like tone,
From hill-top and valley a mellower one;

Stream, fountain, and fall, whispered low to the sod,
For the word that she spoke was the name of our God!

25 With blushes like Eden's own rose in its bloom,
Her censor slow wafting ambrosial perfume,-
With soft-veiling tresses of sunny-hued hair,
The spirit of fragrance breathed sweet on the air.

Then first on the ears of the angels of light,
30 Rose the singing of birds that enchanted the night,-
For the breezes are minstrels in Heaven, they say,
And the leaves and the flowers have a musical play.

Each form of creation with joy was surveyed,
From the gentle gazelle to the kings of the glade ;

35 And lily-crowned Innocence gazed in the

eyes

Of the thunder-voiced lion, with smiling surprise.

All night, as if stars were deserting their posts, The heavens were bright with the swift-coming hosts! While the sentinel mountains, in garments of green, With glory-decked foreheads, like monarchs were seen. 5 0 Eden, fair Eden! where now is thy bloom? And where are the pure ones that wept o'er thy doom? Their plumes never lighten our shadowy skies,

Their voices no more on earth's breezes arise.

But joy for the faith that is strong in its powers,— 10 A fairer and better land yet shall be ours;

When Sin shall be vanquished, and Death yield his prey,
And earth with her nations Jehovah obey.

Then, nobler than Adam,—more charming than Eve,—
The Son of the Highest his palace shall leave,—

15 While the saints who adored Him arise from the tomb, At the triumph-strain, telling "His Kingdom is come!"

LESSON CLXVII.-THE PRESENT AGE.-DANIEL WEBSTER.

Events so

We live in a most extraordinary age. various and so important, that they might crowd and distinguish centuries, are, in our times, compressed within the compass of a single life. When has it happened 5 that history has had so much to record, in the same term of years, as since the 17th of June, 1775? Our own revolution, which, under other circumstances, might itself have been expected to occasion a war of half a century, has been achieved; twenty-four sovereign and indepen10 dent states erected; and a general government established over them, so safe, so wise, so free, so practical, that we might well wonder its establishment should have been accomplished so soon, were it not far the greater wonder, that it should have been established at all.

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Two or three millions of people have been augmented to twelve; and the great forests of the west prostrated beneath the arm of successful industry; and the dwellers on the banks of the Ohio, and the Mississippi, become the fellow-citizens and neighbors of those who cultivate the 20 hills of New England. We have a commerce that leaves no sea unexplored; navies, which take no law from superior force; revenues, adequate to all the exigencies of

government, almost without taxation; and peace with all nations, founded on equal rights and mutual respect.

Europe, within the same period, has been agitated by a mighty revolution, which, while it has been felt in the 5 individual condition and happiness of almost every man, has shaken to the centre her political fabric, and dashed against one another thrones which had stood tranquil for ages. On this, our continent, our own example has been followed; and colonies have sprung up to be nations. 10 Unaccustomed sounds of liberty and free government, have reached us from beyond the track of the sun; and, at this moment, the dominion of European power, in this continent, from the place where we stand, to the south pole, is annihilated forever.

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In the meantime, both in Europe and America, such has been the general progress of knowledge; such the improvements in legislation, in commerce, in the arts, in letters, and, above all, in liberal ideas, and the general spirit of the age, that the whole world seems changed.

There is, indeed, in the fate of these unfortunate beings, much to awaken our sympathy, and much to disturb the sobriety of our judgment; much which may be urged to excuse their own atrocities; much in their characters, 5 which betrays us into an involuntary admiration. What can be more melancholy than their history? By a law of their nature, they seem destined to a slow, but sure extinction. Everywhere, at the approach of the white man, they fade away. We hear the rustling of their footsteps, like 10 that of the withered leaves of autumn; and they are gone forever. They pass mournfully by us, and they return no

more.

Two centuries ago, the smoke of their wigwams, and the fires of their councils, rose in every valley, from Hud15 son's Bay to the farthest Florida, from the ocean to the Mississippi and the lakes. The shouts of victory and the war-dance, rung through the mountains and the glades. The thick arrows and deadly tomahawk, whistled through the forests; and the hunter's trace, and the dark encamp20 ment, startled the wild beasts in their lairs.

The warriors stood forth in their glory. The young