THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. BY THE REV. JONATHAN MAXCY, D. D. THE nobler part of man clearly evinces this great truth that there must be a God uncaused, independent and complete. When we consider the boundless. desires and the inconceivable activity of the soul of man, we can refer his origin to nothing but God. How astonishing are the reasoning faculties of man! How surprising the power of comparing, arranging and connecting his ideas! How wonderful is the power of imagination! On its wings, in a moment, we can transport ourselves to the most distant part of the universe. We can fly back, and live the lives of all antiquity, or surmount the limits of time, and sail along the vast range of eternity. * * This great Being is every where present. He Wherever we turn, his exists all around us. image meets our view. We see him in the earth, in the ocean, in the air, in the sun, moon and stars. We feel him in ourselves. He is always working round us; he performs the greatest operations, produces the noblest effects, discovers himself in a thousand different ways, and yet the real God remains unseen. All parts of creation are equally under his inspection. Though he warms the breast of the highest angel in heaven, yet he breathes life into the meanest insect on earth. He lives through all his works, supporting all by the word of his power. He shines in the verdure that clothes the plains, and the lily that delights the vale, and the forest that waves on the mountain. slender reed that trembles in the He supports the breeze, and the Far in the wil sturdy oak that defies the tempest. derness, where human eye never saw, where the savage foot never trod, there he bids the blooming forest smile, and the blushing rose open its leaves to the morning sun. There he causes the feathered inhabitants to chant their wild notes to the listening trees and echoing mountains. There nature lives in all her wanton wildness. From the dark stream that rolls through the forest, the silver-scaled fish leap up, and dumbly utter the praise of God. Though man remains silent, yet God will have praise. * * * When you survey this globe of earth, with all its appendages; when you behold it inhabited by numberless ranks of creatures, all moving in their proper spheres, all verging to their proper ends, all animated by the same great source of life, all supported at the same great bounteous table; when you behold not only the earth, but the ocean and the air, swarming with living creatures, all happy in their situation; when you behold yonder sun, darting a vast blaze of glory over the heavens, garnishing mighty worlds, and waking ten thousand songs of praise; when you behold unnumbered systems diffused through vast immensity, clothed in splendor, and rolling in majesty; when you behold these things, your affections will rise above all the vanities of time; your full souls will struggle with extacy, and your reason, passions and feelings, all united, will rush up to the skies, with a devout acknowledgment of the existence, power, wisdom and goodness of God. Let us behold him, let us wonder, let us praise and adore. These things will make us happy. They will wean us from vice, and attach us to virtue. 1795. TO THE AUTUMN FOREST. BY WILLIAM J. PABODIE. RESPLENDENT hues are thine! Triumphant beauty-glorious as brief! Burdening with holy love the heart's pure shrine, What tho' thy depths be hushed! More eloquent in breathless silence thou, Than when the music of glad songsters gushed From every green-robed bough. Gone from thy walks the flowers ! Thou askest not their forms thy paths to fleck ;— The dazzling radiance of these sunlit bowers Their hues could not bedeck. I love thee in the Spring, Earth-crowning forest! when amid thy shades The gentle South first waves her odorous wing, And joy fills all thy glades. In the hot Summer time, With deep delight thy sombre aisles I roam, But O, when Autumn's hand Hath marked thy beauteous foliage for the grave, How doth thy splendor, as entranced I stand, I linger then with thee, Like some fond lover o'er his stricken bride; When My last hours are come, Great God! ere yet life's span shall all be filled, Bathe thou in hues as blest- In glory pass away! FROM A DISCOURSE, DELIVERED ON THE SECOND CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY OF THE SETTLEMENT OF PROVIDENCE. BY THE HON. JOHN PITMAN. It was in the summer of 1636, that Roger Williams, banished from Massachusetts, and warned by the friendly voice of the Governor of Plymouth, sought an asylum beyond the territories of Christian men. Forsaking his plantation at Seekonk, he embarked on the Pawtucket, approaching the western shore, was greeted with the friendly whatcheer of the natives, and doubling the southern promontories directed his little bark where a beautiful cove received the waters of the Moshassuck. Here he landed; beneath the forest boughs, and beside a |