PRECIPITATION, OR RASHNESS.

With a furious man thou shalt not go. Prov. xxii: 24.-The simple pass on, and are punished. Prov. xxii: 3.

them. It is in vain; they have had he bore it very patiently, controlling the rein too long; their blood is up. himself by reason. His unruffled comWith a fearful bound, over the preci-posure enraged her still more, and she pice they go; horses and driver are dashed to atoms against the rocks, and are seen no more.

ure.

threw a bowl of dirty water in his face. Then he spoke: "It is quite natural," said he, smiling, "when the thunder has spent its fury, and the lightning its fires, that the teeming shower should descend."

Ancient philosophers used to compare human passions to wild horses, and the reason of man to the driver, or coachman, whose business it was But religion is more easily obtained to control and guide them at his pleas- than philosophy, and it is far more But many men have more com-powerful. It imparts a gracious, inmand over their horses than they have fluential principle that enables whoover themselves. This is a melan- soever submits to it to govern his choly truth. Their proud chargers passions, and even to love his eneare taught to stand still, to galop, to mies, and thus to conquer them. trot, and to perform, in short, all kinds of evolutions with perfect ease; while the passions run away with their rightful owners; they will not submit to be guided by reason. It is of far more importance that a man should learn to govern his passions than his horses. Our passions, like fire and water, are excellent servants, but bad masters. Horses, to be useful, must be governable; but to be governable, they must be broke in betimes, and thoroughly. So with the passions, otherwise their power will increase over that of reason, and in the end lead to ruin.

Philosophy may do much in enabling us to govern the passions; religion, however, can do more. It is said of Socrates, who had a wretched scold for a wife, that one day, when she was scolding him at a great rate,

Many have conquered kingdoms, who could not conquer themselves. Thus Alexander, who, being a slave to his passions, slew Clytus, his most intimate friend. And, notwithstanding the laurels that have been woren for the conquerors of ancient and modern times, the Almighty himself has prepared a diadem of glory for the self-conquered, bearing, in letters of heavenly light, this inscription: "He that ruleth his own spirit, is better than he that taketh a city.

Madness by nature reigns within,
The passions burn and rage;
Till God's own Son, with skill divine,
The inward fire assuage.

We give our souls the wounds they feel,
We drink the poisonous gall,

And rush with fury down to hell,
But heaven prevents the fall.

Dr. Watts

Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? and
your labor for that which satisfieth not? Isa. lv: 2.

And with the grasp, destroys the painted wing;
Chagrined he views, for that once beauteous form,
Nothing remains, except a homely worm.
So larger children leave important deeds,
And after trifles oft, the truant speeds;
And if by toil he gains the gaudy prize,

At length outspent, he grasps the trembling thing, Alas! 't is changed-it fades away, and dies.

is it until the sun descends the west- | nothing of true pleasure, nothing of

ern sky, that he comes up with the solid peace. The object he desires object of his laborious race. Weary and pursues so ardently mocks him of the wing, the butterfly seeks shel- again and again. "To-morrow," he ter for the night within the cup of says to himself, "will give me the the mountain blue-bell. The boy, object of my wishes." To-morrow marking its hiding-place, makes a comes-once more it eludes his grasp. desperate spring, and seizes the trem-Now he becomes uneasy, then impabling beauty. In his eagerness to pos- tient, then fretful, then anxious, and sess it, he has crushed its tender then desperate; now he resolves at wings, and marred entirely those all hazards to seize upon the prizegolden colors. With deep mortifica- it is his own; but ah! the flowers tion, and bitter regret at his folly, he beholds nothing left but a mere grub, an almost lifeless worm, without form and without loveliness.

This emblem aptly shows the folly of those who, whether young or old, leaving the solid paths of knowledge, of industry, and of lawful pleasure, follow the vanities of this life.

Cor

rupt and unbridled passions and vitiated tastes lead, in the end, to ruin. The way of transgressors is hard, as well as foolish and vain. To follow after forbidden objects is far more laborious than to pursue those only that are lawful. It is said of wisdom that all her ways are ways of pleasautness, that all her patlis are paths of peace.

The mind of the youth who is in pursuit of vanities, or of unlawful pleasures, is ever raging, like a tempest. Now up, now down-he knows

have faded, the beautiful colors have
disappeared; the angel of beauty is
transformed into a loathsome object.
His eyes are opened; and, alas! too
late, disappointed and remorseful, he
learns the truth of the maxim that
"it is not all gold that glitters."

"Man has a soul of vast desires:
He burns within with restless fires;
Tossed to and fro, his passions fly
From vanity to vanity.

"In vain on earth we hope to find
Some solid good to fill the mind:
We try new pleasures, but we feel
The inward thirst and torment still.
"So when a raging fever burns,
We shift from side to side by turns;
And 't is a poor relief we gain,

To change the place, but keep the pair,
"Great God! subdue the vicious thirst,
This love to vanity and dust;
Cure the vile fever of the mind,
And feed our souls with joys refined."
Dr. Watts.

DANGER OF GREATNESS.

The high ones of stature shall be hewn down, and the haughty shall
be humbled. Isa. x: 33.

THE clouds assemble in the blackening west,
Anon with gloom the sky becomes o'ercast,
United winds with wide-mouthed fury roar;
Old ocean, rolling, heaves from shore to shore;
With boiling rage the waves begin to rise,
And ruffian billows now assail the skies;
The hardy forests, too, affrighted quake,
The hills they tremble, and the mountains shake;

The oak majestic, towering to the skies,
Laughs at the whirlwind, and the storm defies,
Spreads wide its arms, rejoicing in its pride,
And meets unbending the tornado's tide;
The winds prevail, one loud tremendous blow,
The monarch prostrates, and his pride lays low,
While the low reed, in far more humble form,
Unknown to greatness, safe, outlives the storm.

beasts, and creeping reptiles now trample upon its fallen greatness.

The storm rages. The sturdy oak, | ing honors are brought low; birds, the growth of centuries, lifts its proud head towering to the heavens; it spreads abroad its ample branches, But see; the humble reed, bending giving shelter to birds and beasts. to the storm, escapes unhurt. Its For a long time it resists the fury of lowly position has preserved it from the hurricane, but 't is all in vain; destruction; while its mighty neigh with a mighty crash it is overturned; bor is no more. It still lives, and its very roots are laid bare; its branch-grows, and flourishes.