4

The Sabbath came, and then the people came together to listen once more to the voice of their former pastor, the venerable Mr. Rodgers. But not in the old church: the time-honored, hallowed house of God, that had so often been shaken with his trumpet voice: where the Holy Spirit had often triumphed over the hearts of men, when the Gospel in its majestic power had come down from heaven, and been heard as the message of life to the perishing: the old church that was the church of my childhood, and about which cluster all the tenderest recollections of early religious impressions under the preaching of the word. That old house was never painted on the inside, and the aisles were never covered with carpets, nor its square pews with cushions, nor its windows with shades, but for all that it was a house that God loved, and where he loved to come and meet with his people, and make his word glorious. Now it had given place to a statelier structure, with all the modern improvements. An organ, yes, my incredulous reader, an organ poured its rich tones on the ears of the silent assembly as I entered, and it was evident instantly that this was not the "Old White Meeting House." Alas! how changed. The fathers, where are they? Two or three venerated heads, white as the almond-tree in bloom, are here, and they were here as long ago as I can remember; but the most of them are gone. The old graveyard has the most of the congregation that lis tened to Mr. Rodgers when he was pastor. But he was here now, and he was heard for the sake of their fathers, and doubtless the memories of childhood were revived in many hearts as they heard the words of salvation from his lips.

His text was beautiful and appropriate: “Thy statutes have been my song in the house of my pilgrimage." He showed them, that life was a pilgrimage: we have no continuing city nor abidingplace on earth: we are seeking a country, a heav enly but this is not a dreary, cheerless place, there are joys to be had while hastening on to higher joys that are yet to be ours. There are songs in the house of our pilgrimage, and these songs express the pilgrim's joy. Its source is the

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word of God, the precious revelation of His grace which the believer hath with him in all his jour ney: a never-failing source of pleasure to him who loves to drink the pure waters of eternal life. And as he set before the mind the blessedness of those who sought and found refreshment at these living springs, it was natural to believe that he was speaking his own sweet experience, and that he was commending to others the fountain where he had often and delightfully quenched the thirst of his own soul. Then he called upon thoseto come and taste, who had never found refreshing waters in the Gospel of Christ, and with earnestness and tears he besought them to turn unto Him who only could be their hiding place in the day of the Lord.

And when he came down from the pulpit they gathered round him and grasped his hands, and spoke of their long memory of him and their joy to see his gray hairs once more, and to hear the voice that had fallen on their ears so often in the house of God. The children were now gathered together: those who had never seen him before: and he spoke to them with the tenderness of a father and the patriarchal form that stood before them, and the words of holy counsel from his lips, will be remembered by this, the third generation, in the parish that has heard the voice of Mr. Rodgers.

In the afternoon they indulged their friend, the writer of this, with the privilege of preaching the word of life in the same place. But it was not the old church, and I felt less at home than I had hoped to feel. There was scarcely a familiar face in the house: the old people were dead, and the young people had grown up and out of recollection. I delivered the message as if it were my last, and surely felt that it might be; and then, when the Sabbath was over, hastened away from the scenes that once were very dear, and now had lost so many of their charms.

But it had been a joy to come back to these haunts: there were some who had loved me and whom I had loved, yet living and loving, and it was sweet to renew the associations of early years, to talk of days long gone by, and live them over again as if we were not growing old.

Tis hope that animates the breast, And cheers the drooping soul— Points forward to the better times, And strains for glory's goal.

Should hope, best charmer, cease her song,
Or fly from earth below,

Life then would be a bootless theme,
And bliss itself were woe.

THE inspired descriptions of the New Jerusalem are very general. In this, as in other respects, they form a bold contrast to the seventh heaven, or paradise, of Mohammed. The false prophet, in unfolding the luxuries which await his followers, is very minute and particular. But the inheritance of the saints so far exceeds the comprehension of those who dwell in houses of clay, that it is set forth under material objects, as symbols to assist our conceptions. Paul, when caught up from earth, "whether in the body or out of the body he could not tell," says nothing concerning what he saw, nor indeed of what he heard, except that they were "things unutterable." In describing, therefore, this celestial city, we must use, as far as possible, the language employed by the Holy Spirit. How, then, may be described that " city prepared as a bride adorned for her husband," sought by Christians here upon the earth, and into which all the redeemed will be finally gathered, and God dwell with them and be their God? The two last chapters of the Apocalypse, incomparable for sublimity and splendor, are chiefly written to convey some notion of it to our minds. From these we learn that it is a city which hath foundations, and these foundations garnished with all manner of precious stones; that its dimensions are exceedingly spacious; its walls of jasper, its buildings of pellucid gold; its gates of living pearls, and its very streets of gold, like unto clear glass. In the midst of it is the throne of God: proceeding out from this throne is the river of life; on either side of it trees of immortality sweat out their balsams, and furnish vernal fruits. There is no night there, and they need no candle, neither light of the moon nor of the sun, for the Lord God giveth them light.

This divine residence is elsewhere represented as a place of "rest.” "There remaineth a rest to the people of God." "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, for they rest from their labors." To the way worn, careworn, and sorrowing pilgrim, there is a great deal of meaning in that word rest. Fatigued by long, severe, and exhausting labors, distracted with a multiplicity of cares, facing tempestuous winds, melting in the sun, and broken with discouragements-there is

a meaning rich and solid in the word rest. Such a rest is the portion of the inhabitants of this city. Rest from the miseries and toils of life. There is no more sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain." Rest from the being and indwelling of sin. The fountain of evil in the human heart is dried up; an army with two banners is no longer there; the fierce conflict between the old man and the new is over, and the new man is triumphant; the body, no longer fleshly, and a clog to the soul, is spiritual, and ministers to its felicity. Rest eternal from the accusations and abuse of the ungodly. Those tongues, once armed against them, are silenced; the "den of lions and the mountain of leopards” are at an inapproachable distance; "there is a great gulf fixed." Rest forever from the assaults of Satan. He worries and affrights no longer; the hissing serpent comes not into the bowers of that paradise. Such, briefly, is the New Jerusalem.

Then as to the employment of its citizens. Though this city is a place of rest, where fatigue is unknown, it is not a state of absolute quiescence; its citizens are engaged. As among these engagements, we may consider contemplation, meditation, converse, and worship.

"The works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein." Through the medium of these, God displays the depths of his power, wisdom, and goodness to created intelligences, and the study of these is the proper employment of rational beings. The Christian philosopher, in whom knowledge and piety meet, finds in the material kingdom sources of admiration and delight. This earth, "hung upon nothing," its oceans, mountains, valleys and landscapes, impart to the mind attempered to divine contemplation, the most exquisite enjoyment. Think of heaven, then, in this view-Jehovah's illimitable universe the field to explore—and intellectual endowments adequate to this purpose. We are apt to think that all the faculties of the mind are developed here; but mind may have other and nobler faculties that we know not of. We have all that are necessary for the present stage of our existence; but at another stage other faculties may be needed-faculties which now sleep in embryo, which can be unfolded and ri

pened only in the atmosphere and glory of heaven. This conjecture harmonizes with analogy. The child has no conception of what it will be. Where was Newton's mind when he lay a helpless infant in the cradle? But all our continuance here is an infancy; we are but babes. Reason is only in its bud; hereafter it is to bloom and mature. What varieties, then, of beauty, grandeur, and sublimity, will be seen in heaven by minds invested with new powers of discernment! How will this vast storehouse of means, all fitted, all operating to the production of the best ends, call forth rapturous emotions! Who can tell the happiness of that soul, before whom the God of immensity spreads out all his riches? If the “morning stars sang together" on simply beholding this planet reduced from chaos to order and loveliness, what songs will break from the believ er's lips, as his mind roves over all God's handiworks, in their infinitely various forms of glory! The children of Israel, on reaching the land flowing with milk and honey, were commanded to "remember the way in which the Lord had led them through the wilderness." This command accords with the sentiments of nature. We naturally contrast the present with the past, and when there is an evident improvement in ourselves or circumstances, this appears thus more striking, and furnishes increased cause for congratulation. The parent, on reaching his fireside, after a protracted tour, loves to recall to mind and tell to the household circle, the labors and perils of his way. The Psalmist, when his “feet were taken from the horrible pit," on looking back to it says, "I will take the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord." Christians, in their cheerful frames, favored with the manifestations of divine love, revert to what they once were when "without hope," and the reflection is sweet and refreshing. This feeling will go with them to the "city of habitation." they experienced during their pilgrimage, the conflicts they had, and the hills they climbed will be subjects of frequent and pleasing thought. They will consider their wretched condition before conversion-apostates, voluntary aliens from their God, and nuisances to his creation. Possessed of superior vision, they will retrace " the way" in which they have been led along. When they stumbled, and were ready to fall, they will see how "ministering angels had charge concerning them," and held them up. When they were blessed with the influences of the Spirit, they will see how important, at just that season, And even when they see

this visitation was.

The sorrows

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doned, endured, and brought them to heaven. They will see how "every thing" has "worked together for their good;" how the most untoward occurrences, the most gloomy events, were the appointment of Him who loved them better than they loved themselves, and best knew how to advance their welfare. Nor will their thoughts be confined here. God's goodness to their relatives, their companions, and the church; the connection between civil revolutions and its purity and pros. perity, will furnish materials for delightful meditation. This view of the past, removing every doubt and fear respecting the future," peace passing all understanding" will be the portion of their souls, throughout the endless ages of duration.

In this city will be also society and converse. "They shall come from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south, and shall sit down with Abraham, and isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of God." Abel is among its citizens, for "he obtained witness that he was righteous, God testifying of his gifts." Elijah, too, is one of them, for he was translated thither in a chariot of fire. Moses, likewise, for he appeared on the mount of transfiguration. The twelve apostles are there, for our Saviour promised that they shsuld "be with him where he was." Those who were born again under the preaching of the apostles, are there; for when St. John wrote his revelations, he tells us, he "beheld of all nations, and kindreds, and peoples, and tongues, a great multitude, which no man could number." There, also, is an "innumerable company of angels." Nor will the companionable principle be extinguished. It will live. Social feelings will be as strong there as they are here, and there will be no distrust, as here, to prevent their exercise. Every one will have unmingled confidence in every other, and find it as blessed to impart knowledge as to receive it. The different generations of the righteous will have something to tell, as well as something to be told. They all, indeed, traveled through the same wilderness, but the same scenes were not witnessed by all, nor were all subjected to the same dispensations. Happy they who mingle with these once the "excellent of the earth," but of whom the world was not worthy; who are permitted to walk hand in hand with patriarchs and prophets, and listen to their history! But there are higher orders of beings, with whose fellowship and friendship its citizens will be favored. Angels desire to look into" those mysteries of redemption with which saints are conversant; and if they "learn through the church the manifold wisdom of God," they in turn will

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Hence

In worship, the inhabitants of Mount Zion will assuredly engage. Heaven is styled “the Temple of God;" Christians, elsewhere styled "priests unto God," will there offer pure and fragrant oblations. Where there is any elevated emotions there is a tendency to song. It is the spontaneous product of joyful hearts. heaven is represented as a city, whose inhabitants, mutually kindling with devotion and ecstasy, are employed in adoration and praise. held," said John, "and lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, stood before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes and with palms in their hands, and cried with a loud voice, Salvation to our God, who sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb.

"I be

And

all the angels stood round about the throne and about the elders, and the four living ones; and fell before the throne on their faces, and worshiped God, saying, Amen: blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and might, be unto our God, forever and ever, amen." There was also a new song sung," and we are left in no doubt as to who united in it, for it was "Unto Him who loved, and washed us

from our sins in His own blood; to Him be glory and dominion." "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing."

What a city, this! Who would not enter it and be numbered among its citizens? How beautifully Bunyan describes it, when in his dream he saw Christian and Faithful enter it, and as they entered, behold them transfigured, and their raiment shining like gold! 'Now, just as the gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and behold, the city shone like the sun; the streets also were paved with gold; and in them walked many men with crowns upon their heads palms in their hands, and golden harps, to sing praises withal."

"There were also of them that had wings; and they answered one another without intermission, saying, 'Holy, holy, holy is the Lord.' And after that they shut up the gates, which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them." No wonder, did. We all would enter this Bunyan, that you abode of God's highest spiritual creation. Each one for himself can say:

"Would I were with them! they behold

Their Saviour glorious and divine:
They touch the cups of shining gold,

And in his kingdom drink new wine.
How flash, like gems, their brilliant lyres
Along the sparkling walls of heaven,
When from his radiance, catching fires,

The song of songs to Christ is given !"

Yes, this is a place worth wishing for, and striving for. And as it can be reached only by effort-strenuous, unremitting effort-let us "not be slothful, but followers of them who, through faith and patience, inherit the promises."

WITH the careless laugh of childhood Still ringing in mine ear,

I wander'd in the wild-wood

When leaves were few and sear-
When autumn gales were sweeping
Amid the branches bare,
And a dank mist was creeping
O'er all things bright and fair.

I thought upon all creatures
That joyous are and free-
On the smile-illumined features

Of those most dear to me-
Of the balm, the bloom, the beauty
That glad the summer hours-
Of acts of love and duty-

And of man's lofty powers.

And I said, "Life hath its changes:
'Twixt the cradle and the tomb,
Full oft the footstep ranges
From sunshine into gloom;
But as in sunny beamings

There are shadows that affright, So there are hopeful gleamings E'en in the darkest night."

We pass from careless childhood
To manhood's life of care,
And age, like autumn's wild-wood,
Is often bleak and bare:
Yet are there mem'ries pleasant,
High thoughts, and hopes divine,
To cheer and glad the present,
And make the future shine.

THE Revolution swept onward like a gulf streain. In one night the venerable privileges of ages had been overwhelmed. Mirabeau had ascended a throne raised for him by the people, and having exercised almost imperial power, had descended into a grave over which he commanded "Eternal sleep" to be written. "Sea green Robespierre," released from the overshadowing genius of him of the "boar's head," was rapidly acquiring notoriety. The splendid Maury, also, no longer feared to declaim in behalf of royalty. Danton was snatching after the execution-sceptre of the revolution. Marat was shrieking for blood, and "Père Duchesne" was emulating his patron saint. Paris seemed a vast caldron filled with the seething elements of contention.

Among the notables of that day we must rank the brilliant but unfortunate Girondists. The names of Brissot, Guadet, Ducos, Gensonné, Roland, Buzot, and, more admired than all his peers, Vergniaud, filled the visions of Frenchmen. Mirabeau alone excepted, in the tribune they had no equals. They were the most skillful of destructionists, but had neither the genius nor the power to construct system out of chaos. Had they but Danton, the lion-hearted, resistless as a thunderbolt, to execute for them, Jacobinism itself might have been worsted. But no; him they had driven away from them, because their beautiful divinity, the only one they truly acknowledged, Madame Roland, had commanded them.

The toils are about them, and although eloquence never had more splendid exhibitions than from them, yet they were only as the bright blaze of a consuming building, brightest as its beams and rafters rush down into one heap of ruins. The poor king was on trial, and these men, menaced with death, had assented to the league which sent Louis to the scaffold. Events thicken, and fling dark shadows on the path of these men, for is it not written, "They that take the sword shall perish with the sword?"

Plots of assassination are whispered about, and the more cautious of the Girondists fled; but such as Vergniaud did not and would not flee. Death was preferable to ignominy. At last, on September 3d, 1793, those who had not fled went to the Assembly, and found it guarded with sol

diers. A few moments revealed the cause. Jacobinism, triumphant, could not breathe freely so long as Vergniaud, and men like him, lived. A hurried accusation, passed in a tremendous tumult, sent more than a hundred to prison. The leaders formed a distinct band, and numbered twenty-two. The most of them were not forty years of age. It is of these we are now to write.

The Twenty-two had been confined in one prison together, and all acquitted themselves becomingly but one. Boileau, the only weak one, plead with abject servility for life. The rest, while they were not destitute of the liveliest sensibilities, met their fate like heroes. Their heroism was inscribed on the very walls of their prison, in pithy aphorisms, and sentences replete with wit. Among these blood-written characters one from Vergniaud was pre-eminent, “I prefer death to baseness !"

The trial came on, after a rigid imprisonment of two months had done its work. The Jacobin leaders rather desired to spare than to kill their fallen enemies; but the rabble shouted as new scaffolds were daily crimsoned with blood, "Why are our enemies spared?" Death was inevitable. Paris rocked with excitement, and yet the Girondists openly said, "Only let us plead our own cause, and we shall triumph!" Nor was it an empty boast.

The greatest man among them was Vergniaud. Nature had lavished every splendid endowment on him save one--that was executive energy. He was a sluggard, whom the goad of necessity alone could rouse, but when roused, all men were spellbound. Since the death of Mirabeau France had no such orator. And now, completely as he was in their power, his enemies dared not permit that genius to blaze out, even at a packed revolutionary tribunal. The trial lasted a week, and the Committee of Safety closed it by a special order which shut the prisoners from a public defence, and the infamous jury declared them guilty.

At first, the prisoners uttered a cry of horror, and one of them, Valzaé, drove a dagger into his own breast, and died. His body was guillotined with his companions, the next day-as though he were alive—to satiate the fury of the people. It was this catastrophe which summoned back their