"But, sir, before I close my observations, truth and candor compel me to state, that in the way of the accomplishment of this glorious consummation there exists a formidable impediment. I refer, sir, to the prevalence of that latitudinarian spirit now operating in the Protestant Churches; a spirit which too frequently compromises the integrity of Christian principle, and, consequently, neutralizes the decisive force of Christian action. "Permit me, sir, to illustrate my meaning. It was announced some years ago that old Bigotry was dead and fairly buried. I am sorry to be under the necessity of informing this audience that it has been discovered of late that he left behind him an only child-a prodigal son, who is arrived at man's estate. This son is known by the name of Liberalism. Young Liberalism is the very antipodes of his old father. He is handsome, polite, insinuating—and, although somewhat superficial, possesses that polish and tact which impose on general observers. He speaks all languages, subscribes to all creeds, holds a levee with all sects and parties, is friendly with everybody, but stands identified with nobody. He professes to abhor religious controversy, and disposes of all doctrinal questions by a motion of indefinite postponement. He can swallow the wafer with the Papist, receive the cup with the Protestant, and thrust the Westminster Confession and the Methodist Discipline into the same pocket. You can never find Liberalism at home, or, rather, he is never at home but when from home.' He sails all waters under all colors; he exhibits the papers of all nations, but he hails to no port, he charters to no country-and, therefore, we strongly suspect that he is, in reality, a pirate. "In a word, sir, to speak without a figure, we are fully of the judgment that this spurious liberalism is a grand obstacle in the way of the conversion of the world. Truth, sir, is unique, and, to be efficient, must stand forth in all its prominent peculiarities. If you soften down her features, you destroy her beauty and paralyze her usefulness. We believe that, in the present constitution of the Church, the arrangement of sects and parties is, upon the whole, for the best. It checks the growth of heresy, excites a spirited competition, and prevents the aggrandizement of eccle siastical domination. There was a time when we thought otherwise, particularly in its application to our Sabbath schools; when we supposed it to be unwise to introduce doctrinal peculiarities into the minds of children, and that a liberalizing system would be for the better. But, sir, we see our error and confess it. We dare not mitigate the matter; we must teach the whole truth. The infidel spirit of the times demands that we hold fast the form of sound words. Our children require this at our hands.” His Mission Ship speech was not so happy a conception; but by his peculiar delivery had a thrilling effect on audiences in Baltimore and New-York. We give an extract: "We were saying, sir, that the age in which we live was distinguished by unprecedented improvements. One astonishing discovery has followed upon another, proving how amazingly the vast powers of nature may be made subservient to the purposes of art; and among these stands preeminent the steamboat, the bright production of the creative genius of the immortal Fulton. It is the eighth wonder of the world. "While, sir, I as an individual render up my meed of admiration, permit me to say, that there is a vessel now afloat which, though less celebrated on the pillar of this world's fame, has been productive of more real benefit to the best interests of mankind. "She was built at the Foundry, city of London, under the direction of Messrs. John and Charles Wesley. She is constructed on precisely the same model, and built of the same materials, as the old ship which was launched in the city of Jerusalem by our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, immediately after his resurrection, and afterward sailed and navigated by the fishermen of Galilee. She is, sir, to all intents and purposes, a missionary vessel, calculated for spiritual discovery and Christian colonization. She carries letters of marque, a chosen crew of missionary adventurers, and steers by the bright and morning star of Bethlehem. It is true, indeed, for the first few years her voyagings were confined to the British seas. She alternately visited the islands of Ireland, Scotland, Man, Guernsey, Alderney, and Jersey; in all which, under the blessing of God, flourishing colonies were es risked his life, his purse, his reputation, his all. He stopped at no difficulty, and though on some occasions his vessel (as it respects money matters) was in the shallows, yet she never struck the ground. In the prosecution of duty he feared no danger. His favorite motto was, 'I am immortal till my work is done.' Appointed by the father of Methodism to this missionary command, he entered upon his office with humble boldness and generous enthusiasm. He hoisted the broad flag of free grace at his mast-head, and, spreading his white canvas to the winds of heaven, steered for America. And although tremendous storms drove his vessel out of her intended course down to the West India Islands, yet here we have to acknowledge the finger of God bringing real good out of seeming evil. For from that apparent accident sprung one of the most extensive, productive, and benevolent of modern missions, which has eventuated in the salvation of thousands of the tablished. But, sir, the God of heaven all things. In this spiritual adventure he never intended her for a mere coaster; she was destined to circumnavigate the globe. Accordingly, sir, at this juncture, the great Head of the Church raised up a body of men of high missionary feeling-spirits of lofty enterprise, hearts of universal charity. Need I name an Asbury, a Boardman, a Pilmoor, a Whatcoat, and last, not least, a Coke? These men, adventurous as Columbus, and greedy of souls as ever Spaniards were of gold, launched the missionary vessel into the great and boundless deep of the Atlantic; and, favored by propitious gales and an approving God, reached the shores of this new and far-famed world. Here, sir, they boldly planted the standard of Methodism. Here they found the fields white already to the harvest, nor had they long to complain that the laborers were few. God gave the word, and great was the increase of able and effective men in this western vineyard of the Lord. The word of the Lord was like fire among dry stubble-it cleared the woods-it ran along the banks of our vast rivers-it was irre-African race. It would be endless to folsistible-it crossed the northern lakes-it penetrated the southern swamps-it defied the frosts of Canada-it scaled the summits of Alleghany-and now, sir, let the pious observer behold the great family of Methodism, from New-Orleans in the south to Labrador on the north, sitting beneath their own vine and fig-tree-and truly may he exclaim, 'What hath God wrought!' 66 But, sir, we are digressing. We must return to the missionary ship, and, if you please, embark for Europe. Mr. Wesley, finding that the Lord was opening up missionary ground in distant lands, and being himself detained at home, by the weight of his societies, appointed Dr. Thomas Coke admiral of the ship, with a commission for foreign service. And truly we may say the office was made for the man, and the man for the office. He was a Welchman by birth, and a cosmopolite in feeling. I saw the admiral when I was a boy, and hope never to forget him. He was, like Zaccheus, a man of small stature; but, sir, there was a great soul in a little body. O who can forget the honest enthusiasm which glowed in his animated countenance, or the kindling glance of his benevolent eye? He was the apostle-he was the martyr of Methodist missions. For them he was willing to suffer the loss of low the admiral through all the cruising activity of his missionary life. Suffice it to say that he lived as he died, and died as he lived-a man full of faith and the Holy Ghost. The ocean was his sepulcher, but he being dead yet speaketh. Yet when he died the enemies of missions began to triumph. 'We shall hear no more of Methodist missions,' said they. No doubt the enthusiastic old man and his mad schemes have failed together.' But, sir, these self-made prophets proved themselves false prophets, for when our Elijah ascended to glory there were many Elishas to catch the descending mantle of his charity. The admiral was dead; but, sir, the good missionary ship floated her triumphant course over the main, and waved her joyous banner to the nations. She doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and landed a band of spiritual warriors on the East India shores. Thence standing for New South Wales and the Sandwich Islands, she stretched across to Madagascar, touching at South and Western Africa, in all which places she established Christian colonies. Nay, sir, she has sailed under the batteries of Copenhagen up the stormy Baltic, and established a Methodist mission in the very fastnesses of Sweden. She has passed under the guns of Gibraltar, landing her missionary warriors on that impregnable fortress; and, finally, she has traversed those seas, and planted colonies on the very ground once trod by the feet of the holy apostles. "But, sir, you are ready to think we are sailing out of all longitude and latitude. We shall, therefore, with your permission, bring our missionary vessel home to port, with one observation, namely, Is she to remain in port? Is she to be laid up as a dismantled hulk-a melancholy memorial of what our fathers were able to begin, and we are unwilling to finish? "Methinks I hear some cautious calculator hint, Charity begins at home.' Granted, my brother; but remember, charity must not remain at home. When the pressing wants of home are tolerably supplied, let her go forth, like Noah's dove, on an errand of mercy to the four quarters of the globe. Such is the spirit of the missionary commission, and such was the practice of the missionary apostles. We are ready to admit that these United States have presented and do present a vast and comprehensive field for the incessant labors of our active itinerancy. We are ready to admit that the Indian tribes make a loud and pressing appeal for renewed and increasing exertion, and may God prosper that noble mission! but, sir, we are not ready to admit that this missionary effort bears any adequate proportion to the resources and responsibility of the Methodist Episcopal Church. Granting, as we do, that much has been accomplished at home with very small means, is that any reason why something might not be accomplished abroad with greater? What, sir, surrounded as we are by the spirit-stirring activity of the age, are we to sit still at home and let other men take our missionary crown? Forever perish the thought! Sir, I this night propose that we forthwith put the missionary vessel to sea under the care of American pilots; and, sir, let her first voyage be eastward. "There is on the western coast of Africa an American, and, I thank God, we may add, a Christian colony, which, under the blessing of Heaven, promises to be a focus for the evangelization and civilization of that benighted continent. The freemen of Liberia are standing on those shores, and uttering the Macedonian cry, Come over and help us.' That colony is precious to the heart of the philanthropist-it stands the altar of a national atonement, and an imperishable monument of a nation's benevolence. And, sir, while the moral feeling of this republic is promoting its temporal interests, while the north is giving up and the south keeping not back, shall the Methodists of these United States be backward in answering the will of those gifted and qualified men who are crying, Here am I; send me?' Sir, nothing is wanting but the means, and I am persuaded the means will not be wanting. And, sir, are the South American republics to be forgotten? Do these present no claim upon our benevolence? Among the millions of this extensive continent is there no field for missionary labor? If these United States have given them the bright model of a civil constitution, shall they withhold the brighter boon of religious liberty and Christian knowledge? It is high time something should be done. Let our missionary vessel stretch along the coasts of South America. Let her touch at Havana, at Rio Janeiro, at Buenos Ayres, and leave her missionaries at all these places; let her double Cape Horn, and coast along the shores of the Pacific. Yea, sir, let her never drop her anchor until she complete the circumnavigation of this transatlantic world. "But, sir, before we hoist our sails we are arrested by a very abrupt consideration-the means. Who shall pay the freight of the vessel? We have the men, but, sir, we want the money; for it is demonstrably certain that if the world is to be evangelized, it must be by means, not by miracles. And, sir, if we succeed in getting our missionary vessel under way, it will not be by fair speeches, or loud professions, but by fulfilling to the letter the laconic peroration of Dean Swift's celebrated sermon-we must, in one word, down with our dust." 999 With such tact and humor, and illustrative aptitude, did he manage these anniversary occasions: but the reader, who never heard him, can hardly imagine the effectiveness of his manner-the strenuous tone of his ringing voice, the martial fire and energy of his gestures, the mixture of seriousness and semi-drollery (heightened by his Quaker costume and slight, straight figure, and long apelike arms ever in motion) with which he dramatized the whole scene before his wondering audience. YOUNG Calidore is paddling o'er the lake; The light dwelt o'er the scene so lingeringly. And show their blossoms trim. Scarce can his clear and nimble eyesight follow The freaks and dartings of the black-wing'd swallow, Delighting much to see it half at rest, And now the sharp keel of his little boat And light blue mountains: but no breathing man With a warm heart, and eye prepared to scan The sidelong view of swelling leafiness, Which the glad setting sun in gold doth dress, Whence, ever and anon, the joy outsprings, And scales upon the beauty of its wings. The lonely turret, shatter'd, and outworn, Stands venerably proud-too proud to mourn Its long-lost grandeur: fir-trees grow around, Ay, dropping their hard fruit upon the ground. The little chapel, with the cross above, Upholding wreaths of ivy; the white dove, That on the windows spreads his feathers light, And seems from purple clouds to wing its flight. Green-tufted islands casting their soft shades Across the lake; sequester'd leafy glades, That through the dimness of their twilight show Large dock-leaves, spiral fox-gloves, or the glow Of the wild cat's-eyes, or the silvery stems Of delicate birch-trees, or long grass which hems A little brook. The youth had long been viewing These pleasant things, and heaven was bedewing The mountain flowers, when his glad senses caught A trumpet's silver voice. Ah! it was fraught His spirit flies before him so completely. [For the National Magazine.] THE LOST. BY H. L. SPENCER. SWEET violets on a grassy mound Beside a river pure and bright, Perfume the airs that breathe around At morning, noon, and night. Awaken'd by the genial rays Of spring-time, from the sod they burst, And smiling, met our tearful gaze, Of all the wild-wood flowers the first. So they, for whom our tears are shed, |