And robbed of all I did possess,

By men more fierce by far than they.
Nor canst thou ease my burdened sigh,
Nor cool the fever at my heart,
Though to the zephyrs passing by
Thou dost thy balmy sweets impart.
Yet he that formed thee, little plant,
And bade thee flourish in this place,
Who sees and feels my every want,

Can still support me by his grace.

Oft has his arm, all strong to save,
Protected my defenceless head
From ills I never could perceive,

Nor could my feeble hand have stay'd.
Then shall I still pursue my way

O'er this wild desert's sun burnt soil,
To where the ocean's swelling spray
Washes my long'd for native isle.

THOUGHTS FOR A NEW YEAR.

THE wise often feel themselves called on, and the most unthinking are sometimes compelled, by various occasions and events, to reflect with seriousness on the great objects and duties of life. Some are easily excited, while others are hardly to be roused; but there are few, or none, who have not their sober, or it may be, sad moments, in which they are brought to acknowledge that life is a trust, and to resolve that it shall be improved, or weep that it has been abused.

The circumstances are not to be numbered, which in this changing world, are the causes of serious thought to thinking men. A withered leaf, or a faded flower, the waning moon, or the setting sun, a public calamity or a private sorrow, the careless gaiety of childhood, and the faltering step of age, magnificence and misery, a splendid pageant, a solitary tear, a baptism, a funeral, accident, sickness and death, have all a voice, a moral, and a warning.

The seasons of the year, too, speak in almost human language; and men have been fond of tracing, in their various phenomena, resemblances to their own existence, feelings,

and pursuits. Youth and spring have been joined together with bands of flowers; the fruits of summer have imaged our maturity; our decline is foretold by the brown hues of autumn; and winter has lent to age its hoar-frost and its snows.

The notice so generally taken of the day which has been fixed upon to commence our years, is proof that it is connected with many human sympathies. How, indeed, can we help being affected by the silent marks which measure out our lives, and serve as stated boundaries to the mysterious progression of time?

Religion gives a deep interest to notices like these, and leads us to value and improve them, and raises our thoughts from the divisions and events of time, to Him who is without beginning, and without end.

If we feel in a proper manner our dependence on God, and the responsibility of our actions, we shall often look back on the experience of the past, and forward to the promises and requisitions of the future. At the commencement of a new year, especially, we shall be disposed to think on what the last has received and returned, and on what the coming one should accomplish.

We

In the year which has gone by, we have been supported, as we have always been, by an arm which never tires, and supplied from a bounty which can never be exhausted. have tasted of joys till we have expected them as our right, and comforts have been so liberally imparted to us, that we have ceased to remark them. We can recall many instances in which we have been rescued from sudden pain and death. Troubles have been averted, griefs have been alleviated, losses have been repaired. We have been saved when we had despaired of help, and snatched from the waters, when they had well nigh gone over us. Even the trials and afflictions which we have met with have resulted in our benefit. They have softened our tempers, or humbled our pride, checked us in an evil course, or fixed us in a good one, and thus have assumed at last the aspect, the offices, and the character of blessings.

How have we shown our sense of these favors? What has been our gratitude, and what service have we rendered? If we answer truly, we shall have little reason to be satisfied with our review. Our consciences will repeat a long and fearful account of opportunities neglected, talents unimproved, powers perverted, time mispent, warnings unheeded, and

promises unperformed. Many an evil consequence rises up to point at our misdeeds, and our bosoms will acknowledge their own unthankfulness. We shall be obliged to confess, that selfishness has often silenced the voice of our better feelings, that interest has prevailed over duty, fashion over propriety, and habit over conviction. We shall remember, and we ought to remember, with shame and contrition, that we have suffered ourselves to listen, again and again, to the suggestions of passion and temptation-to listen and to yield-though experience admonished, and instruction forbade, and principle resisted, and wisdom cried aloud.

We cannot, in our defence, plead ignorance, nor want of means. We cannot deny that we have had ample assistance, motive, and encouragement, from early education, from books, counsel, religion, Christian society, and Christian example.

But we trust that we have effected some good. We trust, that amid all our follies and sins, we have performed some actions which have proceeded from virtuous intentions, and terminated in beneficial results. Notwithstanding our weakness and rashness, we have sometimes resisted with success, and fled when flight was victory. Let us thank God for that; not, however, in the spirit of the Pharisee's thanksgiving; not to indulge a spiritual vain-glory, nor to flatter a false security; but with a feeling of humble gratitude, and that our souls may perceive the value, and the beauty of holiness. While we lament that we have done so little good, let us be truly grateful for the little which we have done, for if there is any thing to thank God for, it is that we have been able, in any degree, to imitate and obey him.

From this train of meditations on the past, our thoughts on the future will naturally follow. We cannot believe that God will cease to be merciful to us, that he will withdraw his support, or shorten his hand. Let us endeavor to evince our gratitude for his unmerited goodness, by complying henceforth more carefully with his injunctions. If he is our Father, let us do him better honor, and if he is our Master, let us serve him with a more constant fear. Our sorrow for our transgressions, if it is of any value, will stimulate our efforts to amend our lives; and the conviction of past inactivity and unprofitableness, if it is deep and strong, will give form and energy to our consequent resolutions.

And let us not linger, and delay, and look out for a more convenient season, as if we knew the measure of our days,

and held time and opportunity in our own hands. The experience of every day, casualty in every shape, death on our right hand and our left, should teach us a better wisdom. We aggravate our guilt exceedingly, by this foolish procrastination. Could we live the longest life of man, we should have little time enough to finish our task; but here we are without knowledge, and without security. The commencement of another year we may never see.

If we were to lie down in the dust, and in the sleep of death, without a hope of ever waking again, we might indeed, with some show of reason, take our own ways, and defy their consequences. But we shall wake again, and wake to a life whose awards and destinies will depend on the manner in which we have spent the years of our probation, whether they have been many, or whether they have been few.

While we have time, let us employ it as we ought, for time is succeeded by eternity. Let every following year, while years are continued to us, be more full of good, and more free from evil, than the last; for they must soon be numbered; and then we go to meet our Judge.

GRATITUDE TO GOD.

GRATITUDE is an amiable feeling, a lovely virtue. There is no surer indication of depravity than its absence, and, on the other hand, wherever it is manifested, there is always some goodness left, of principle or disposition, though it be found in company with the worst vices and crimes. A sweet flower is growing amidst the wild weeds, and the soil may be reclaimed. It 'marks where a garden has been,' or may yet be.

In proof of this, let us examine the nature of true gratitude, and analyze the sentiment which it expresses. Its origin is obvious enough. It is produced by the reception of favors, or the exhibition of good will. And when produced, what is its language? If we are not much mistaken, the feelings of an obliged and grateful person to his benefactor might be thus translated into words. I perceive that you wish to please me, and make me happy. You have done so. In return, I feel the same disposition to please you, and make you happy, and I shall lose no opportunity in consulting your good.'

This is enough. It is all the return which the benefactor looked for, and he is satisfied. And he is not, and cannot be satisfied without it; for though he may, in any event, be rewarded by the consciousness of having done well, he yet cannot fail of being grieved and hurt, to see that his good offices should be returned with apathy, and that so remarkable a deficiency in duty should meet the performance of his

own.

If this analysis of the principle of gratitude is just, it is nearly allied to benevolence. He who is grateful for a favor would, if he were able, confer one. Benevolence bestows

benefits, and gratitude seeks to return them. The feeling which prompted the favor, and that by which it is acknowledged, are twin dispositions.

The expressions of gratitude are various. But the feeling itself is chiefly to be regarded. Two words will often signify more gratitude than two hundred; and even a look or a gesture is sometimes better than an oration.

In all that has been said on this subject, sincerity must of course be implied. We speak of sincere benevolence, and sincere thankfulness. Words, and even actions are to be valued, only as they are faithful interpreters of intention and disposition. Favors do not always spring from good designs; and thanks very frequently tell falsehoods. A gift is sometimes a lure, sometimes an affront, and sometimes an injury; and eloquent expressions of gratitude sometimes flow from a cold heart, and sometimes from a black one. But sincere benevolence really means to do good, and confer pleasure; and sincere gratitude really desires to requite benevolence by doing good, and conferring pleasure in return.

Our view of the principle of gratitude has thus far been confined to our human relations. In our relation to God, it will necessarily be affected and modified by circumstances which belong to that relation alone. The divine benevolence is altogether superior in its motives, its extent, and its effects, to any which can be exercised by a human being. Our dependence on God is entire, and our inferiority to him is measureless. We cannot strengthen his power, nor enlighten his wisdom, nor increase his happiness. Our gratitude to him cannot, therefore, be guided by precisely the same rules, nor can it be displayed in the same manner, as in our intercourse with men.

The claims of the Almighty on our gratitude are not to be