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wool in the thorny hedge. Children do not notice only the steep bank, the milestones, the stately trees, and the many tinted flowers around them ; but likewise the insignificant worm, the thistle-down floating in the air, and the feather wafted past by the wind.

A cultivated intellect does not despise trifles : the falling of an apple, and the rainbow-tinted films of a soap bubble, were the small causes which led Newton to discover the laws of gravitation, and some of the Phenomena of light.

The God of creation does not despise trifles : the scientific researches of every day are disclosing to our view more proofs of his wonder-working skill and tender care, in every kingdom of nature, from the myriad peopled drop of water, or microscopic forest, to the sublime system of the universe.

The God of providence does not despise trifles : the helpless infant laid in the ark of woven rushes on the banks of the Nile, was his appointed instru. ment to deliver his own people, to establish a theocracy, and to guide them to the land of Promise, whence the light of truth has spread throughout the earth. A dusty and neglected copy of the Holy Scriptures engaged the stern energies of Luther, revealed to him the delusions of Popery, and prompted him to proclaim truth, unalloyed to its blinded votaries.

The God of grace does not despise trifles : the day of small things, the bruised reed and the smoking flax, are all regarded by him with peculiar interest.

The God of holiness does not despise trifles : his revealed will marks no gradation in sin, but covetousness is classed with murder ; and the love of pleasure fearfully contrasted with the love of God.


I have been led to make these reflections by the frequent repetition of the remark, “It is only a trifle not worth notice ;” but, if I may venture to judge, there are few things not worth notice ; for those which are unimportant in themselves, are not so in their tendency. Human life is made up of trifles ; and many suffer more from the mosquito-like annoy. ances, which every day assail us, than from severer trials. Are these annoyances to be despised, because thev consist of trifles ? or should we not rather seek from them to learn in patience to possess our souls ? regarding them as sent in love by Him, whose wisdom we acknowledge in the heavier visitations of affliction.

“The pencil, nature, music, books, afford us 'a constant succession of pleasures : Is the enjoyment

derive from them to be despised, because drawn from trifles ? or is it not perhaps to be .more highly prized than those high-wrought bursts of extatic rapture, which tvo frequently are poisoned in their origin, and leave a sting behind ? Trifling actions are the links which form the strong chains of habit ;- :-our habits materially affect the comfort and happiness of ourselves and those around us ;-is it then right to disregard their causes ?

In another point of view trifles are of consequence. The human mind is not so framed as to endure being always engaged in abstract thought, even if our social duties would admit of it; yet it is never vacant, but ruminates on those things " which the five watchful senses represent." These are often trifles; but the choice which we make of them as subjects of thought, and the nature of our meditations respecting them, will fix the tone of our mind, mould our motives, and direct our actions. Should we then despise trifles ?



And did our Shepherd bid us feed his launbs?
Behold I have prepar'd the tenderest yrass
That grows on Zion's hill. Here feebie lambs
May find sweet nourishment, and greater strength
To climb the verdant heights, where the fair flock
On richer pasture feed. Say not too soon
I urge their tottering steps. Should I forbear,
On every side deceitful strangers stanı),
And beckon them away ;-in flowery paths
Awhile to sport; and then to wander lony
Amidst the hills of darkness and of death;
Where hungry beasts, in every thicket hid,
Wait to devour ; and should they e'er return,
With fleeces all defiled and bleeding feet
The wanderers would come. O can they know
Too soon their Shepherd's voice, or love his name
Too soon, or in his gentle arms repose !
Then come, my little ones, and hear me tell
Of Jesus' dying love. If God shall pour
His Spirit from on high, your infant hearts
Shall thrill with tenderness; you'll run to meet
Your Shepherd's fond embrace; who shall forbid ?
'Tis Jesus bids you come, and calls you his;
And who shall pluck you from that pierced side?
'Tis Jesus' arms encircle you around;
In sight of all your foes, they'll bear you safe
O'er many a rugged path and dangerous steep,
To the sweet fold on Zion's summit fair,

And have you lodged your darling in those arms,
Pond mother ? Did you, as his reason dawn'd,
And he began to muse on things unseen,
Unfold the history of a Saviour's love,
And painful death? And has that love won his ?
0! then, shuuld death's dark cloud arise,
And from your sight conceal his cherub form,
How sweet t'will be to catch his parting smile,
To see the infant angel, as he soars,
Cling fondly round his own beloved Lord !

P. P. D. Y?

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The years


my childhood passed away in humble and peaceful simplicity. I loved the shadow of high rocks, and the free music of the brooks in summer. My heart was full of gladness, though it scarcely knew why. I found companionship among the beautiful and tuneful things of nature, and was happy all the day. But when evening darkened the landscape, I sat down mournfully.

There was no brother into whose hand I might put my own, and say,

• Lead me forth, to look at the solemn stars, and tell me of their names.” Sometimes, too, I: wept in my bed, because there must never be a sister, to lay her gentle head upon the same pillow.

Often, at twilight, before the lamp was lighted, there came up out of my brotherless and sisterless bosom, what seemed to be a companion. I talked with it, and it comforted me. I did not know that its name

was Thought. But I waited for it, and whatsoever it asked of me, I answered.

It questioned me of my knowledge. And I said, I knew where the first fresh violets of spring grew, and when the sweet lilly of the vale comes forth from its broad, green sheath, and where the vine climbs to hide its purple grapes, and how the nut ripens in the forest, after autumn comes with its sparkling frost. I knew how the bee is nourished in winter, by that essence of flowers, which her industry embalms ; and I have learned to draw forth the kindness of the domestic animals, and to know the names of the birds that build their nests in my father's trees.

But Thought enquired of me, “What knowledge hast thou of those who reason, and have dominion

over the things that God hath created ?” Then I confessed, “Of my own race, save of those who nurture me, do I know nothing."

I was troubled at my ignorance. So, I went forth more widely, and earnestly regarded what was pass. ing among men.

Once, I walked abroad, when the dews of the morning still lingered upon the grass, and the white lilies drooped their beautiful bells, as if shedding tears of joy. Nature breathed a perpetual song into the hearts of even her silent children. But I looked only on those whose souls have the gift of reason, and who are not born to die. I said, if the spirit of joy is in the frail flower that flourishes but for a day, and in the bird that bears to its nest but a single crumb of bread, and in the lamb that knows no friend but its mother, how much purer must be their happiness, who are surrounded with good things as with a flowing river, and whose knowledge need have no limit but life, and who know, that though they seem to die, it is to live for ever.

Then I looked upon a group of children. Their garb was neglected, and their locks uncombed. They were unfed and untaught, and clamoured loudly, with wayward tongues. I asked them why they went not to school with their companions, and they mocked at me.

I heard two friends speak harsh and violent words to each other, and turned away affrighted at the blows they dealt.

I saw a man with a bloated and fiery countenance. He seemed strong as the oak among the trees, yet were his steps more unsteady than those of the tottering babe. He fell heavily, and I wondered no hand was stretched out to raise him up.

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