Naught seemed to be just the thing it shouldMost comfortless beds and indifferent food! My tastes misunderstood!

I set my heart upon sounding fame :

Hurrah!

And lo! I'm eclipsed by some upstart's name;
And ah!

When in public life I loomed up quite high,
The folks that passed me would look awry;
Their very worst friend was I.

And then I set my heart upon war:

Hurrah!

We gained some battles with éclat :

Hurrah!

We troubled the foe with sword and flameAnd some of our friends quite fared the same.—

I lost a leg for fame.

Now I've set my heart upon nothing, you see: Hurrah!

And the whole wide world belongs to me:

Hurrah!

The feast begins to run low, no doubt;

But at the old cask we'll have one good bout:Come, drink the lees all out!

-Translation from GOETHE.

DWIGHT, TIMOTHY, an American clergyman and teacher, born at Northampton, Mass., May 14, 1752; died at New Haven, Conn., January 11, 1817. His mother was a daughter of Jonathan Edwards. At the age of thirteen he was admitted to Yale College, graduated in 1769, and two years afterward became a tutor in the college. He retained this position for six years. In 1777 he was licensed to preach, and in the same year became a chaplain in the American army. In 1783 he was ordained. minister at Greenfield, Conn., where he also successfully conducted an academy. In 1795 he was elected President of Yale College, and Professor of Divinity. He remained at the head of the college until his death, twenty-one years later. His poem, Columbia, written about 1778, while serving as chaplain in the army, was very popular at the time. His other works are, The History, Eloquence, and Poetry of the Bible, an address (1772); The Conquest of Canaan, an epic poem (1785); Greenfield Hill, a poem (1794); Theology Explained and Defended (1818), consisting of 173 sermons; and Travels in New England and New York, a series of letters written during his college vacations, and published in 1821. He also published a large number of separate sermons.

COLUMBIA.

I.

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world, and the child of the skies!

Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold,
While ages on ages thy splendors unfold.
Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time,
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime;
Let the crimes of the East ne'er encrimson thy name,
Be Freedom, and Science, and Virtue, thy fame.

II.

To conquest and slaughter, let Europe aspire:
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire:
They heroes the rights of mankind shall defend,
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend.
A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws,
Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause;
On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise,
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies.

III.

Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar,
And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star.
New bards, and new sages, unrivalled shall soar
To fame unextinguish'd when time is no more ;
To thee, the last refuge of virtue design'd,
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind;
Here, grateful to neaven, with transport shall bring
Their incense, more fragrant than odors of spring.

VI.

Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread,
From war's dread confusion I pensively strayed-
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired;
The winds ceased to murmur; the thunders expired;
Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along,
And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung :
"Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world, and the child of the skies!"

THE IMMUTABILITY OF GOD.

By his Immutability, God is possessed of immeasurable dignity and greatness; and fitted to be entirely feared, loved, honored, and obeyed, by all his rational

creatures. The humble and imperfect dignity of created beings is entirely dependent for existence on stability of character. Infinite dignity cannot belong to a character which is not literally unchangeable. Created dignity is completely destroyed by fickleness: the least mutability would destroy that which is uncreated. The least possible change will be a change from perfection to imperfection; a change infinite in itself, and infinitely for the worse. God, if changed at all, would cease to be God, and sink down from his infinite exaltation of being and character toward the humble level of imperfect creatures. How differently, in this case, would his nature, his laws, his designs, and his government appear to us! Were the least change to commence, who can divine its consequences, or foresee their progress and their end? Who can conjecture what would be its influence on his character, his designs, or his conduct? Who can foretell the effects which it would produce on the empire which he has created, and on the innumerable beings by which it is inhabited? Who does not see, at a glance, that God could no longer be regarded with that voluntary and supreme veneration, now so confessedly his due, because he had descended from his own infinite dignity, and was no longer decked with majesty and excellency, nor arrayed in glory and beauty? Who does not feel, that a serious apprehension of such a change would diffuse an alarm through all virtuous beings, and carry terror and amazement to the most distant regions of the universe?

By his Immutability, God is qualified to form, and to pursue, one great plan of Creation and Providence; one harmonious scheme of boundless good; and to carry on a perfect system, in a perfect manner, without variableness or shadow of turning. An Immutable God, only, can be expected to do that, and nothing but that, which is supremely right and desirable; to make every part of his great work exactly what it ought to be; and to constitute of all the parts a perfect whole. In this immense work one character is thus everywhere displayed; one God; one Ruler; one Son of Righteousness, enlightening, warming, and quickening the innumerable beings, of which it is composed. Diversities,

indeed, endless diversities, of his agency exist throughout the different parts of this work; but they are mere changes of the same light; the varying colors and splendors of the same glorious Sun.

Without this uniformity, this oneness of character, supreme dignity could not exist in the great Agent. Without this consistency, safety could not be found; reliance could not be exercised, by his creatures. God is the ultimate object of appeal to intelligent beings; the ultimate object of confidence and hope. However injured, deceived, or destroyed, by his fellow-creatures, every rational being still finds a refuge in his Creator. To him, ultimately, he refers all his wants, distresses, and interests. Whoever else may be deaf to his complaints, he is still assured that God will hear. Whoever else withholds the necessary relief of his sufferings, or the necessary supplies of his wants, still he knows that God will give. This consideration, which supports the soul in every extremity, is its last resort, its final refuge. Could God change, this asylum would be finally shut; Confidence would expire; and Hope would be buried in the grave. Nay, the immortal Mind, itself, unless prevented by an impossibility, inherent in its nature, would languish away its existence, and return to its original Nothing.- Theology Explained and Defended.

THE BEACH OF TRURO AND PROVINCE TOWN.

From Truro to Province Town our road lay chiefly on the margin of a beach, which unites it with Truro. The form of this township, exclusively of Long Point, is not unlike that of a chemical retort: the town lying in the inferior arch of the bulb, and Race Point on the exterior, and the beach being the stem. Immediately before the town is the harbor, commonly styled Cape Cod Harbor; the waters of which extend round the north end of Truro a considerable distance into the last mentioned township. Between this marsh and the waters of Province Town harbor on one side and the Atlantic on the other, runs the beach. From observing it in various places along the road from Eastham I was induced to believe that it borders the ocean from Race Point to the Elbow, and perhaps reaches still farther.