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95 shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God, who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. 100 If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of' Boston! (0) The war is inevitable—and let it come !—-I repeat it, sir, let 105 it come!

It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. may cry, peace, peace—but there is no peace. is actually begun!

The next gale, that sweeps from the north, will bring

110 to our ears the clash of' resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle! \Vhat is it that gentlemen wish? what would they home? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? (o) Forbid it, Almighty

115 God—I know not what course others may take, but, as For me, give me liberty, or give me death!”

He took his seat. N o murmur of' applause was heard. The effect was too deep. After the trance of'a moment, several members started from their seats. The cry,

120 “to arms,” seemed to quiver on every lip, and gleam from every eye! Richard H. Lee arose and supported Mr. Henry, with his usual spirit and elegance. But his melody was lost amidst the agitations of' that ocean, which the master spirit of the storm had lifted up on

125 high. That supernatural voice still sounded in their ears and shivered along their arteries. They heard, in every pause, the cry of' liberty or death. They became impatient of speech—their souls were on fire for action.

Gentlemen
The war

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Exancrsn 121. The discontented Pendulum—JANE TAYLOR.

An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a farmer’s kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summer’s morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this, the dial

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35 for an instant, to look out at it.

5 plate (if we may credit the fable,) changed countenance with alarm; the hands made a vain effort to continue their course; the wheels remained motionless with surprise; the weights hung speechless; each member felt disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the

10 dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the

stagnation, when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, protested their innocence. .

But now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum, who thus spoke:—-“ I confess myself to be the

15 sole cause of the stoppage! and I am willing, for the

general satisfaction, to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking.” Upon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged, that it was on the very point of striking.

20 “Lazy wire!” exclaimed the dial plate, holding up

its hands. “_ Very good!” replied the pendulum, “it is vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every body knows, set yourself up above me,—-it is vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of

25 laziness! You, who have had nothing to do all the days

of your life, but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes on in the kitchen! Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and to wag back

30 wards and forwards, year after year, as I do.”

“As to that,” said the dial, “is there not a window in your house, on purpose for you to look through?”—“ For all that,” resumed the pendulum, “ it is very dark here; and, although there is a window, I dare not stop, even Besides, I am reall tired of my way of life; and if you wish, I’ll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. I happened this morning to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course of only the next twenty-four

40 hours; perhaps some of you, above there, can give me

the exact sum.”

'The minute hand, being quick at figures, presently replied, “ Eighty-six thousand four hundred times.” “ Exactly so,” replied the pendulum. “Well, I appeal to

45 you all, if the very thought of this was not enough to

fatigue one; and when I be an to multiply the strokes of one day, by those of meat s and years, really it is no

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wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect; so, after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, I ’ll sto .”

The pdial could scarcely keep its countenance during this harangue; but resuming its gravity, thus replied: “Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious person as yourself, should have been overcome by this sudden action. It is true, you have done a great deal of work in your time; so have we all, and are likely to do; which although it may fatigue us to think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do. Would you now do me the favour to give about half a dozen strokes to illustrate my argument?”

The pendulum complied, and ticked six Limes in its usual pace. “ Now,” resumed the dial, “ may I be allowed to inquire, if that exertion was at all fatiguing or disagreeable to you?” “ Not in the least,” replied the pendulum, “ it 15 not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions.” “ Very good,” replied the dial; “ but recollect that though you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to execute

' but one; and that, however often you may hereafter have

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to swing, a moment will always be given you to swing
in.” “ That consideration staggers me, I confess,” said v
the pendulum. “ Then I hope,” resumed the dial-plate,
“ we shall all immediately return to our duty; for the
maids will lie in bed if we stand idling thus.”

Upon this the weights, who had never been accused of light conduct, used all their influence in urging him

. to proceed; when, as with one consent, the wheels began

to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began to swing, and to its credit, ticked as loud as ever; while a red beam of the rising sun that streamed through a hole in the kitchen, shining full u on the dial plate, it brightened up, as if nothing had been the matter.

When the farmercame down to breakfast that morning, upon looking at the clock, he declared that his watch had gained half an hour in the night.

MORAL.

A celebrated modern writer says, “ Take care of the minutes, and the hours will take care of themselves.”

This is an admirable remark, and might be very season-
ably recollected when we begin to be “ weary in well-

90 doing,” from the thought of having much to do. The
present moment is all we have to do with, in any sense;
the past is irrecoverable, the future is uncertain; nor is
it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next.
Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof. If we

95 had to walk a hundred miles, we should still have to set but one step at a time, and this process continued, would infalliny bring us to our journey’s end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always increased, by calculating in a minute the exertion of hours.

100 Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses at once. one moment comes laden with its own little burdens, then flies, and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last—

105 if one could be home, so can another and another.

It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to-day, merely because we forget that when to-morrow comes, then will be now. Thus life passes with many, in resolutions for the future, which the present never fulfils.

110 It is not thus with those, who, “by patient continw ance in well-doing, seek for glory, honour, and immortality.” Day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appointed task, to which the requisite measure of time and strength is proportioned; and thus, having worked

115 while it was called day, they at length rest from their labours, and their works “follow them.” Let us then, “whatever our hands find to do, do it with all our might, recollecting that now is the proper and accepted time.”

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Sung by the Senior Class, at the close of the Anniversary Exercises in the Theological Seminary, Andover, Sept. 1829.

" 1 Beautiful upon the mountains
~ Are the messengers of peace,
Publishing the news of pardon,
Through a Saviour’s righteousness;

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Jesus, we obey thy summons,
See thy servants waiting stand;
When our song of praise is ended,
We will go at thy command.
Great Redeemer!
Guide us by thine own right hand. ‘

Scenes of love and sacred friendship,
\Ve will bid you all farewell.
O’er the earth’s wide face we wander,
News of Jesus’ love to tell.
\Ve forever
Now must part, and say, Farewell.

Often have we joined these voices,
In our songs of social praise,
And around our altar bending,
Prayer at morn and evening rais’d.‘
We shall never
Here again unite in praise.

Brethren, may we meet together
On the mount of God above;
Then our rapturous hosannas '
Will be full of Jesus’ love. M
Saviour, bring us
Safely to thy home above.

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