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own soul!

Sensual philosopher, supreme sensualism was his last desire in his agony! Contemplate Madame Roland, the strong-hearted woman of the Revolution, on the cart that conveyed her to death. Not a glance toward Heaven! Only one word for the earth she was quitting: "O Liberty, what crimes in thy name are committed!" Approach the dungeon door of the Girondins. Their last night is a banquet, their only hymn the Marseillaise! Hear Danton on the platform of the scaffold: "I have had a good time of it; let me go to sleep." Then, to the executioner: "You will show my head to the People; it is worth the trouble!" His faith, annihilation; his last sigh, vanity!

Behold the Frenchman of this latter age! What must one think of the religious sentiment of a free People, whose great figures seem thus to march in procession to annihilation, and to whom death itself recalls neither the threatenings nor the promises of God! The Republic of these men without a God was quickly stranded. The liberty, won by so much heroism and so much genius, did not find in France a conscience to shelter it, a God to avenge it, a People to defend it, against that Atheism which was called glory. All ended in a soldier, and some apostate republicans travestied into courtiers. An atheistic Republicanism cannot be heroic. When you terrify it, it yields. When you would buy it, it becomes venal. It would be very foolish to immolate itself. Who would give it credit for the sacrifice, the People ungrateful, and God non-existent? So finish atheistic Revolutions!

27. THE SAVIOUR'S REPLY TO THE TEMPTER.-John Milton. Born, 1608; died, 1674.
THOU neither dost persuade me to seek wealth
For empire's sake, nor empire to affect
For glory's sake, by all thy argument.
Extol not riches, then, the toil of fools,
The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare; more apt

To slacken Virtue, and abate her edge,

Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise.
What if, with like aversion, I reject
Riches and realms? Yet not, for that a Crown,
Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns,
Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights,—
For herein stands the virtue of a King,
That for the public all this weight he bears:
Yet he, who reigns within himself, and rules
Passions, desires and fears, is more a King!
This, every wise and virtuous man attains,
And who attains not, ill aspires to rule
Cities of men, or headstrong multitudes,—
Subject himself to anarchy within!
To know, and, knowing, worship God aright,

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Is yet more kingly: this attracts the soul,
Governs the inner man, the nobler part;
That other o'er the body only reigns,
And oft by force, which, to a generous mind,
So reigning, can be no sincere delight.

They err who count it glorious to subdue
Great cities by assault. What do these worthies
But rob and spoil, burn, slaughter and enslave,
Peaceable Nations, neighboring or remote,
Made captive, yet deserving freedom more
Than those their conquerors, who leave behind
Nothing but ruin wheresoe'er they rove,
And all the flourishing works of peace destroy;
Then swell with pride, and must be titled Gods,
Great benefactors of mankind, deliverers,
Worshipped with temple, priest, and sacrifice?
One is the son of Jove, of Mars the other;
Till conqueror Death discover them scarce men,
Rolling in brutish vices, and deformed,—
Violent or shameful death their due reward!
But, if there be in glory aught of good,
It may by means far different be attained,
Without ambition, war, or violence;
By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent,
By patience, temperance.

Shall I seek glory, then, as vain men seek,
Oft not deserved? I seek not mine, but His

Who sent me; and thereby witness whence I am!

28. NOBILITY OF LABOR.-Rev. Orville Dewey.

I CALL upon those whom I address to stand up for the nobility of labor. It is Heaven's great ordinance for human improvement. Let not that great ordinance be broken down. What do I say? It is broken down; and it has been broken down, for ages. Let it, then, be built up again; here, if anywhere, on these shores of a new world, of a new civilization. But how, I may be asked, is it broken down? Do not men toil? it may be said. They do, indeed, toil; but they too generally do it because they must. Many submit to it as, in some sort, a degrading necessity; and they desire nothing so much on earth as escape from it. They fulfil the great law of labor in the letter, but break it in the spirit; fulfil it with the muscle, but break it with the mind. To some field of labor, mental or manual, every idler should fasten, as a chosen and coveted theatre of improvement. But so is he not impelled to do, under the teachings of our imperfect civilization. On the contrary, he sits down, folds his hands, and blesses himself in his idleness. This way of thinking is

the heritage of the absurd and unjust feudal system, under which serfs labored, and gentlemen spent their lives in fighting and feasting. It is time that this opprobrium of toil were done away. Ashamed to toil, art thou? Ashamed of thy dingy work-shop and dusty laborfield; of thy hard hand, scarred with service more honorable than that of war; of thy soiled and weather-stained garments, on which mother Nature has embroidered, midst sun and rain, midst fire and steam, her own heraldic honors? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity? It is treason to Nature, it is impiety to Heaven, it is breaking Heaven's great ordinance. TOIL, I repeat- TOIL, either of the brain, of the heart, or of the hand, is the only true manhood, the only true nobility!


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29. LABOR IS WORSHIP.-Frances S. Osgood. Born, 1812; died, 1850.
Laborare est orare-To labor is to pray.

PAUSE not to dream of the future before us;

Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us;
Hark, how Creation's deep, musical chorus,
Unintermitting, goes up into Heaven!

Never the ocean wave falters in flowing;
Never the little seed stops in its growing;
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing,
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.
"Labor is worship!"- the robin is singing;
"Labor is worship!"- the wild bee is ringing:
Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing

Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart.
From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower;
From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower;
From the small insect, the rich coral bower;

Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part.
Labor is life! 'Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness eyer despaireth, bewaileth;

Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth;
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labor is glory! the flying cloud lightens;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens ;

Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune!
Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us,
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us,
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us,
Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill.
Work-and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;
Work-thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow;

Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping-willow!
Work with a stout heart and resolute will!
Labor is health! Lo! the husbandman reaping,
How through his veins goes the life-current leaping!
How his strong arm, in its stalwart pride sweeping,

True as a sunbeam, the swift sickle guides!
Labor is wealth-in the sea the pearl groweth ;
Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth ;
From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth;
Temple and statue the marble block hides.

Droop not, though shame, sin and anguish, are round thee'
Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee!
Look to yon pure Heaven smiling beyond thee;

Rest not content in thy darkness—a clod!
Work-for some good, be it ever so slowly;
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly;
Labor! all labor is noble and holy;

Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God!

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30. MORAL AND PHYSICAL SCIENCE FRIENDLY TO FREEDOM.—Rev. E. H. Chapin. No cause is so bound up with religion as the cause of political liberty and the rights of man. Unless I have read history backward, unless Magna Charta is a mistake, and the Bill of Rights a sham, and the Declaration of Independence a contumacious falsehood, unless the sages, and heroes, and martyrs, who have fought and bled, were impostors, unless the sublimest transactions in modern history, on Tower Hill,' in the Parliaments of London, on the sea-tossed Mayflower, - unless these are all deceitful, there is no cause so linked with religion as the cause of Democratic liberty.

And, Sir, not only are all the moral principles, which we can summon up, on the side of this great cause, but the physical movements of the age attend it and advance it. Nature is Republican. The discoveries of Science are Republican. Sir, what are these new forces, steam and electricity, but powers that are levelling all factitious distinctions, and forcing the world on to a noble destiny? Have they not already propelled the nineteenth century a thousand years ahead? What are they but the servitors of the People, and not of a class? Does not the poor man of to-day ride in a car dragged by forces such as never waited on Kings, or drove the wheels of triumphal chariots? Does he not yoke the lightning, and touch the magnetic nerves of the world? The steam-engine is a Democrat. It is the popular heart that throbs in its iron pulses. And the electric telegraph writes upon the walls of Despotism, Mené, mené, tekel upharsin! There is a process going on in the moral and political world, like that in the physical world, crumbling the old Saurian forms of past ages,

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and breaking up old landmarks; and this moral process is working under Neapolitan dungeons and Austrian Thrones; and, Sir, it will tumble over your Metternichs and Nicholases, and convert your Josephs into fossils. I repeat it, Sir, not only are all the moral principles of the age, but all the physical principles of nature, as developed by man, at work in behalf of freedom.

Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind

Powers that will work for thee; earth, air, and skies;
There's not a breathing of the common wind,
That will forget thee; thou hast great allies;

Thy friends are exultations, agonies,

And love, and Man's unconquerable mind.

81. THE ORDER OF NATURE.-Alexander Pope. Born, 1688; died, 1744

ALL are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body nature is, and God the soul;

That, changed through all, and yet in all the same,
Great in the Earth, as in the ethereal frame,
Warms in the Sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees,
Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent ;
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect, in vile Man that mourns,
As the rapt Seraph that adores and burns:
To Him, no high, no low, no great, no small;
He fills, He bounds, connects, and equals all.

Cease, then, nor ORDER Imperfection name, -
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point: This kind, this due degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heaven bestows on thee.
Submit;-in this, or any other sphere,
Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear,
Safe in the hand of one Disposing Power,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
All Nature is but Art, unknown to thee;
All Chance, Direction, which thou canst not see;
All Discord, Harmony not understood;
All partial Evil, universal Good:
And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite,
One truth is clear: WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.

32. FUTURE EMPIRE OF OUR LANGUAGE.-Rev. George W. Bethune.

THE products of the whole world are, or may soon be, found within our confederate limits. Already there had been a salutary mixture of blood, but not enough to impair the Anglo Saxon ascendency. The

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