Solomon, I dare say, was never in such a library as this; yet he expresses a sentiment which is very suitable on such an occasion, when he sums up all the sage reflections he had been making on the vanity of the world in this concise sentence ;-" Of making many books there is no end:" (he would indeed have thought so, if he had lived in these days!) and he evidently spoke from experience, when he added, that "much study is a weariness to the flesh." "Let us then," he says, "hear the conclusion of the whole matter;-Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty (and the whole wisdom) of man.”

XXXVI.

EVENING THOUGHTS.

THE hours have danced their joyous round
Adorned in flowers of May;

Till each in turn, with mercy crowned,
Has come and passed away.

The constant sun has run his race
Athwart the boundless deep;

And ne'er amid that trackless space

Has failed his path to keep.

The earth has drunk the morning dew,

And fed her flowery train;

The flowers have spread their charms to view,

And decked the earth again.

Now evening's lengthened shadows spread

To curtain them around,

And each reclines her modest head,
In gentle slumbers bound.

Beasts, strong to labour, o'er the lea
Have drawn the cumbrous plough,
And feed in pastures, glad and free,
Their toil accomplished now.

Laborious man fulfils his task,
And seeks repose; but I—
Is mine accomplished ?-let me ask-
And conscience shall reply.

Birds, beasts, and trees, unmoved by choice
Have each improved the day,

Obedient still to Nature's voice :

But whose did I obey?

Were Christ's commands before my sight

In all I thought and spoke?
And have I borne his burden light,

And worn his easy yoke?

Have pride or wrath disturbed my breast, Or wishes wild and vain ?

Has sinful sloth my powers possessed,

And bound them in its chain?

Has not my resolution failed?

Lord, search, for thou didst see ; And has not base self-love prevailed Instead of love to thee?

Did I this day, for small or great,
My own pursuits forego,

To lighten by a feather's weight
The mass of human woe?

'Mid cares and hopes and pleasures mean
With eager fondness sought,

Oh, has one glance at things unseen
Sublimed my earthly thought?
Has grace, descending from above,
This evil heart possessed?
In meekness, patience, truth and love
To all around expressed?

Great is the peace such grace bestows
'Mid storms of earthly strife;
And calm and sweet is their repose
Who live this hidden life.

If thus my cheerful hours had sped,
How blest the day's decline!
'Tis past !-but though for ever fled,
TO-MORROW still is mine.

"

XXXVII.

PSALM CXIX, 19.

I AM A STRANGER IN THE EARTH: HIDE NOT THY COMMANDMENTS

FROM ME."

OUR life is so short when compared with the long rolling ages that have preceded, and those which probably will follow; so short, if we estimate what

we have to accomplish in it; so short, compared with the interminable period beyond this present scene; that each individual who starts into existence is indeed like a stranger stranded on a foreig shore, where all around him is new and unexpected and where the brief sojourn he is to make is in sufficient fully to acquaint him with the nature o the country, the characters of its inhabitants, and with his own relation to them. Were it so ordered that we, like our first parents, awoke into being with all our powers and faculties in a state of ma turity, how overpowering would be the surprise the transport, and the apprehension; how un speakably important would appear the gift of existence and how awful the terms of that existence! -born to die-and yet to live: and our neverending weal or woe depending on the manner in which this short prelude to futurity should be spent; and on the preference we may give to the concerns of an endless life over those of this brief passage to it!

But instead of such an overwhelming impression, these wondrous circumstances of our condition break so gradually upon the mind, as it slowly emerges from the midst of infancy, and wakens from the dreams of childhood, that it is only at some rare moments of deep thought or strong excitement, that we can feel any adequate consciousness of the strangeness and awfulness of our state. There are many, doubtless, who pass through life without one such startling recollection. But with those whose minds have been cultivated, and who are

at all disposed to reflection, it is scarcely possible but that such feelings should occasionally interrupt the ordinary current of thougnt. In youth, when the mind begins to expand, when the imagination is most vivid, and when existence is really new, it is then that such impressions are most frequent, most powerful, and most capable of improvement.

"I am a stranger in the earth-a stranger to myself and to all around me; all seems mysterious and marvellous: the more I think, the more I am lost in uncertainty, and overwhelmed with the confused consciousness of being; and in fearful apprehensions concerning my future existence. To whom can I turn but to Him who made me and fashioned me, who when my spirit is overwhelmed within me, knows the path I should take? Hide not, then, thy commandments from me." When such thoughts and feelings glance across the mind, they should be arrested and detained, till the convictions to which they lead are deeply impressed; and we see it to be our grand business, interest, and happiness in this short life," to know God that we may enjoy him for ever."

The feeling of being but strangers and sojourners here is by no means natural to us; on the contrary, so strong are our earthly attachments, and such is the force of habit and the influence of sensible objects, that it is difficult enough to feel otherwise than at home in this world, and not to wish that we could find a rest in it. Even the daily evidence we have of our uncertain possession of it, in the warnings which diseases and death are continually holding up