THE WILL OF GOD. Ir two archangels came from heaven, and one was ordered to sweep the streets of London, and the other, to be prime minister of England; there would not be a moment's hesitation in the choice of their employments. The will of God would be their pleasure.-Newton. WORLDLY ENJOYMENTS. Ir all the enjoyments in the world were to be sold together in one lot, they would not be worth even the labour of a man's opening his mouth to say, "I will not buy them."-Dr. Arrowsmith. FIVE FACTS. A SCRIPTURAL faith is the best divinity; a holy life is the best philosophy; a clear conscience is the best law; honesty is the best policy; and temperance the best medicine. The Enquirer. (To the Editor of the Youth's Magazine.) DEAR SIR.-The question of your correspondent,‘Hannah,' like most others which perplex the Christian, finds an easy solution in the word of God. If by "darkness of soul" an unregenerate state be intended, the enquiry answers itself, since it is not possible for an unbeliever to express "triumphant faith.” It seems, however, more probable that your querist refers to those feelings of temporary desertion and despondency which have been experienced by the good in all ages; and if so, the book of Psalms will prove her best directory. She will find that David frequently commences his sacred songs under the most overwhelming darkness of soul, but finds before the close of them that the oil of joy has been exchanged for mourning, and the garment of praise, for the spirit of heaviness. See particularly, Psalm xiii; xl, 1—3; xlii, 6-11; lxi; lxix; and cxlii. Your's &c. FIDES. To the Editor. DEAR SIR.-In reply to the query of your correspondent 'Hannah,' I beg to remark that if the mere feelings of public worshippers were to be consulted, it would be difficult to frame prayers or compose hymns, or read parts of the word of God that would suit every variety of experience. In the case alluded to, of darkness of soul, I would advise the party to pray earnestly and secretly, while singing, for the disposition of triumphing in faith. To be silent is to yield to unbelief, and to gratify the Tempter who will distress when he cannot destroy. Where darkness of soul exists, the cause should be searched out, that the person may discover what prevents him from ascertaining his claim as one of the children of God, and rejoicing in hope of everlasting glory. The apostle says, “rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice." July 1843. I would begin my life with praise, QUESTION XVI.-Debating Societies. (To the Editor of the Youths' Magazine) L. L. DEAR SIR,-As your pages are expressly devoted to the instruction of British youth, I have deemed it advisable to apply for some advice and instruction respecting a subject which has lately excited much of my attention, as also that of others about my own age. A society has been recently established in our neighbourhood, having for its object the mutual improvement of its members, by means of public discussions upon different subjects, embracing theology, mathematics, geography, astronomy, &c. &c. The society is likely under an improper management to be the source of evil as well as good results, if excited feelings lead us to manifest an unlovely spirit, and we suffer our passions to gain the mastery of our judgment. Whilst true knowledge teaches us the art of governing our tempers and controlling our judgment, the existence of this society, which will call us to defend with a natural predilection our favorite opinions, will bring these principles to the test of experience. Advice and counsel, therefore, from yourself, or any other judicious source, is sought for, and will meet with a grateful reception. The members of this society belong to pious families, and many of them have identified themselves with the people of God. I am your sincere Friend, R. B. 286 POETRY. THE REFUSAL. TUNE--"Charlestown." TAKE back the gaudy bait Never; no never! Once I was quite content, Pleasure possessing; Flowers their odours blent Fragrant in blessing: I thought the world was made My happiness to aid, And that its joys would fade Never; no, never! There came a gloomy day An "aching void" was left Vainly I sought for peace, Care's wrinkles smoothing, Earth could not give me ease, False in its soothing: Hushed was the voice that sung, Mute was the eager tongue, The spirit's harp unstrung, Ever; for ever! Brighton. I heard a voice of love, Peace which Christ's blood had bought; Mingled with bitter thought Never; no, never! Dried was the falling tear, Nay--do not proffer me, World, of thy treasure! Sadly I've proved thee Thy honey has a sting; Take back the gaudy bait, World so ensnaring, Even though bitter hate I have no heart for thee, Mine shall thy fetters be Never; no never! W. M. W. THE SLAVE'S DREAM. Beside th'ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair Was buried in the sand. Again in the mist and shadow of sleep, Wide through the landscape of his dream's Beneath the palm-trees on the plain Once more, a king he strode; He saw, once more, his dark-eyed queen Among her children stand; They clasped his neck, they kissed his cheeks, They held him by the hand! -A tear burst from the sleeper's lids And fell into the sand. And then at furious speed he rode Along the Niger's bank ; His bridle reins were golden chains, And, with a martial clank, At each leap he could feel his scabbard of steal Smiting his horse's flank. Before him like a blood-red flag The bright flamingoes flew; From morn till night, he followed their flight, O'er the plains where the tamarind grew, Till he saw the roofs of Caffre huts, And the ocean rose to view. At night he heard the lion roar, And the hyæna scream, And the river-horse, as he crushed the reeds Beside some hidden stream; And it passed like a glorious roll of drums Through the triumph of his dream. The forests with their myriad tongues Shouted for liberty; And the blast of the desert cried aloud With a voice so wild and free, That he started in his sleep, and smiled At their tempestuous glee. No more he felt the driver's whip, Nor the burning heat of day; For Death closed o'er the captive's sleep, A worn-out fetter, that the soul Had broken, and thrown away ! Longfellow. |