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EXERCISE CXXXIV.

CHRIST IN THE TEMPEST.- Emma C. Embury.

Midnight was on the mighty deep,

And darkness filled the boundless sky,
While mid the raging wind was heard
The sea-bird's mournful cry;

For tempest clouds were mustering wrath
Across the seaman's trackless path.

It came at length: one fearful gust
Rent from the mast the shivering sail,
And drove the helpless bark along,
The plaything of the gale;

While fearfully the lightning's glare
Fell on the pale brows gathered there.

But there was one o'er whose bright face
Unmarked the vivid lightnings flashed:
And on whose stirless, prostrate form,
Unfelt the sea-spray dashed;

For mid the tempest fierce and wild,
He slumbered like a wearied child.

Oh! who could look upon that face,
And feel the sting of coward fear?
Though hell's fierce demons raged around.
Yet heaven itself was here;

For who that glorious brow could see,

Nor own a present Deity?

With hurried fear they press around
The lowly Saviour's humble bed,
As if his very touch had power

To shield their souls from dread;
While cradled on the raging deep,
He lay in calm and tranquil sleep.

Vainly they struggled with their fears;
But wilder still the tempest woke,
Till from their full and o'erfraught hearts
The voice of terror broke:

Behold! we sink beneath the wave;
We perish, Lord! but thou canst save.'

Slowly he rose ; and mild rebuke
Shone in his soft and heaven-lit eye:
D ye of little faith,' he cried,

'I not your master nigh?

Is not your hope of succor just?
Why know ye not in whom ye trust ? '

He turned away; and conscious power
Dilated his majestic form,

As o'er the boiling sea he bent,
The ruler of the storm:

Earth to its centre felt the thrill,

As low he murmured, 'Peace! Be still!'

Hark to the burst of meeting waves,
The roaring of the angry sea!
A moment more, and all is hushed
In deep tranquillity;

While not a breeze is near to break
The mirrored surface of the lake.

Then on the stricken hearts of all
Fell anxious doubt and holy awe,

As timidly they gazed on him

Whose will was nature's law:

'What man is this,' they cry, 'whose word
Even by the raging sea is heard?'

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Without intending to institute any invidious comparison between different branches of industry, it may be said, that in importance, agriculture stands preeminent. It is the great fountain from which animal life derives its support: it supplies the materials on which almost every other species of

labor is employed; and it furnishes to man the occupation most favorable to his happiness and his moral elevation.

To give a country the highest degree of wealth and power which it is capable of attaining, agriculture must be sustained by commerce and manufactures; but it may dispense with both the latter, and yet retain its prosperity. The condition of the United States is favorable to all these pursuits; but, whatever may be the fate of our commerce and manufactures, we must, as an agricultural country, rank among the first nations of the earth.

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In this field of labor, we fear no competition. The productions of our agriculture have but one limit, the demand for them. Centuries must elapse before they will be limited, as in the densely populated states of Europe, by the powers of the soil. We have not only the ability of expanding, to an immense degree, by means of our vast unoccupied domain beyond the lakes and the Mississippi; but we have the ability of increasing, to an indefinite extent, upon the surface we now оссиру.

With these prospects before us, the importance of our agricultural industry cannot be overrated. The estimate, in which it is now held, falls far short of its true value. Just opinions have made, and are still making, some progress; but agriculture cannot attain its true rank, until it shall be regarded, like the learned professions, as one of the direct avenues to honor and wealth.

In a country like our own, in a course of most rapid developement, the temptations and excitements, which are presented to the young and sanguine, in the pursuit of fortune, prove, unhappily, an overmatch for the sober occupations of agricultural industry, and its slow but certain rewards. The healthful labors of the field are too often abandoned for the confinement of the counting-room and the lawyer's office, or for hazardous pecuniary enterprise.

Yet how many a merchant who has fallen a victim to an overstrained credit; how many a lawyer who ekes out a scanty subsistence for himself and family, by a plodding, laborious profession; how many an adventurer in speculation, who has seen his air-built fabrics fall, one by one, to the ground, would have improved his condition, in regard to health, respectability, and fortune, by devoting himself to the pursuits of agriculture!

EXERCISE CXXXVI.

THE PATRIARCHAL AGE.-J. G. Percival.

Oh! for those early days, when patriarchs dwelt
In pastoral tents, that rose beneath the palm,
When life was pure, and every bosom felt

Unwarped affection's sweetest, holiest balm;
And like the silent scene around them, calm,
Years stole along in one unruffled flow:

Their hearts aye warbled with devotion's psalm;
And as they saw their buds around them blow,
Their keenly glistening eye revealed the grateful glow.

They sat at evening, when their gathered flocks
Bleated and sported by the palm-crowned well,
The sun was glittering on the pointed rocks,
And long and wide the deepening shadows fell:
They sang their hymn; and in a choral swell
They raised their simple voices to the Power

Who smiled along the fair sky: they would dwell
Fondly and deeply on his praise: that hour

Was to them, as to flowers that droop and fade, the shower

He warmed them in the sunbeams, and they gazed
In wonder on that kindling fount of light;
And as, hung on the glowing west, it blazed
In brighter glories, with a full delight

They poured their pealing anthem; and when night
Lifted her silver forehead, and the moon

Rolled through the blue serenity, in bright

But softer radiance, they blessed the boon
That

gave those hours the charm without the fire of noon.

Spring of the living world, the dawn of nature,
When man walked forth the lord of all below,
Erect and godlike in his giant stature,

Before the tainted gales of vice 'gan blow;
His conscience spotless as the new-fallen snow, -
Pure as the crystal spouting from the spring,
He aimed no murderous dagger, drew no bow,
But at the soaring of the eagle's wing,

The gaunt wolf's stealthy step, the lion's ravening spring.

With brutes alone he armed himself for war:
Free to the winds his long locks dancing flew;
And at his prowling enemy afar,

He shot his death shaft from the nervy yew;
In morning's mist his shrill-voiced bugle blew,
And with the rising sun on tall rocks strode;

And, bounding through the gemmed and sparkling dew, The rose of health that in his full cheek glowed,

Told of the pure, fresh stream that there enkindling flowed.

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This was the age when mind was all on fire,
The day of inspiration — when the soul,
Warmed, heightened, lifted, burning with desire
For all the great and lovely, to the goal
Of man's essential glory rushed; then stole
The sage his spark from heaven, the prophet spake
His deep toned words of thunder as when roll,
The peals amid the clouds,— words that would break
The spirits leaden sleep, and all its terrors wake.

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Behold the governor. Down! down! and beg

For mercy!

Ges. Does he hear? - Thy name ?

Tell. My name?

It matters not to keep it from thee now:

My name is Tell.

Ges. Tell!-William Tell?

Tell. The same.

Ges. What! he so famed 'bove all his countrymen

For guiding o'er the stormy lake the boat?

And such a master of his bow, 't is said

His arrows never miss!

-[Aside.] Indeed! — I'll take

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