by a microscope,—are each a miniature world of wonders. Why, then, should we be surprised that a veil of mystery, which human reason seeks in vain to penetrate, overhangs the cradle of the universe? Let us rather be surprised at the presumption of beings who attempt with their little limited intelligence to grasp infinity. Suffice it to say, that the results of experience, when they bear upon the Scripture record, entirely concur with it. The chronology of the different nations of the old world, though in some cases apparently at variance with that of the Bible, is found on more correct examination to confirm it. The last and most thorough researches in geology, conducted by the illustrious Cuvier, verify in the minutest particulars the Scripture account of the great revolutions of the globe. From these grand and mysterious events, we pass to others of a different character. After unfolding the wonders of creation, the Scripture record takes up a less extensive but still most interesting theme, the history of the Hebrew nation, the most remarkable that has ever appeared upon the earth. We trace it through the successive periods of its origin, progress, and maturity to its final destruction. The commencement carries us back to a beautiful scene of pastoral simplicity. We behold the venerable patriarchs encamped in Arab fashion on the green banks of the Jordan. As the setting sun illuminates the landscape with its ruddy glow, we see them seated in the doors of their white tents to contemplate its glory. Their sons and daughters, their kindred, domestics, and friends, are gathered around them. Flocks and herds are returning from their distant pastures. Every thing indicates repose, abundance, and simple happiness. In the background of the picture, we discern approaching slowly, a youth of comely appearance accompanying a fair maiden and their attendants. It is the son of the Patriarch. He went forth to meditate at eventide, and he has met the promised bride whom the care of his affectionate parents has provided for him. Her love shall console him for the loss of his mother. As she reaches the tent, the young men and maidens crowd with delight around the expected guest; the Patriarch receives her with grave cordiality, and a general joy pervades the whole encampment. What a charming spectacle! These celebrated plains of Palestine, afterwards the seats of so many rich and powerful cities, the scenes of so many wondrous and world-important events, are at this time frequented only by a few tribes of wandering shepherds. So pure are the lives of the patriarchs, that the messengers of heaven condescend at times, as of old in the garden of Eden, to partake their hospitality. Even here, however, the principle of evil is not wholly absent. The patriarchal families are disturbed with internal jealousies, and embroiled with troublesome neighbours. They witness with dismay the terrible judgments inflicted on the corrupt cities of the lake. In the mean time, however, their wealth and numbers increase. In the next generation they are surrounded by troops of retainers,-maintain relations of peace and war with neighbouring states, and appear already as shepherd princes. The scene now changes to the banks of the Nile. A famine compels the patriarchal families to take refuge in Egypt, where one of their leaders has already been stationed to prepare the way for them, and by his extraordinary sagacity and purity of conduct, has raised himself from the condition of a slave to that of prime minister. What a contrast in the aspect of every thing around them with the country they have left! Splendid cities, temples, palaces, and obelisks of ever-during granite take the place of the rocky hills and green vallies of Palestine. Instead of the miniature Jordan passing with its slender tide from one lake to another, the magnificent Nile pours from its undiscovered mountain sources its swelling flood through a channel of a thousand miles to the ocean. This celebrated stream, which now works its way through masses of ruins, its waters undisturbed by any navigation, except the skiff of the occasional traveller, was then the thoroughfare of business for a large portion of the civilized world. These massive ruins, which even in their forlorn abandonment overwhelm the observer with unmingled wonder, were then, in their complete state, the brilliant abodes of wealth and luxury, swarming with inhabitants, rich in all the treasures of art and science, which were carried at that time to nearly as high a degree of perfection as they are with us. Thebes, now a granite quarry of roofless walls and broken columns, half buried in sand, was then a mighty metropo lis, sending forth, as described by Homer some centuries afterwards, a hundred war-chariots from each of her hundred gates. As the solitary wanderer from Europe now surveys these unequalled monuments, -the pyramids,—the obelisks with their mysterious hieroglyphical inscriptions,-the temples and colonnades measured not by the foot or the yard, but by the league and square mile, he is lost in amazement, and is half tempted to attribute them to some giant race of Titans or Cyclops, far transcending in dimensions and strength the puny beings that now people the globe. Such was the state of Egypt at the time when the patriarchal families took refuge there. It would be instructive and interesting to trace their history in detail through its subsequent periods, but the limits of the occasion render it impossible, and the theme is already familiar to you. Its outline is too correctly given in the brief sketch by a recent poet of the general history of nations: "There is a moral in all human things, 'Tis but the sad rehearsal of the past; First freedom and then glory; when these fail, Adventurous, enterprizing, religious in their earlier days,—wild and warlike under Joshua, Saul, and David-luxurious under Solomon, the Hebrews soon sink into corruption, and are crushed and carried away captive by the neighbouring states. This catastrophe closes the career of the nation, which can hardly be said to have survived in the miserable remnant who returned from Assyria, and maintained for several centuries a lingering struggle for a wretched provincial existence, which was finally extinguished in blood by the overwhelming power of Rome. The later pages of the sacred record are occupied with the wailings of the exiles over their unhappy destiny, -their lamentations for their lost country,-their stern denunciations of their oppressors, and their glowing prophecies of a future day of greatness and glory, which is to arise in some mysterious way on their posterity; -prophecies, which, I need not say, the progress of the Christian religion has converted into history. In what sweet and melting strains the ancient Hebrew lyre echoes the lament of these heart-broken patriots! "By the rivers of Babylon we sat down and wept; yea, we wept as we remembered Zion." The skillful, though wayward hand of Byron has called forth from the same instrument a tone of soul-subduing pathos in his Hebrew melodies. "The wild gazelle on Judah's hills Exulting yet may bound, And drink from all the thousand rills Her airy step and glorious eye A step as fleet, an eye more bright, The cedars wave on Lebanon, But Judah's lovelier maids are gone. More blest each palm that shades her plains Than Judah's scattered race, For taking root it there remains In solitary grace. It may not quit its place of birth, But we must wander witheringly And where our fathers' ashes be, Our own may never lie. The temple has not left a stone, And mockery sits on Salem's throne." How grand and lofty is the strain in which the bard of Twickenham-sustained for once by an inspiration nobler than his own,bursts forth, as it were, in spite of himself, into a rapture of sublimity, in depicting after the Hebrew poets the glories of the promised Messiah ! "Rise! crowned with light! imperial Salem, rise! In crowding ranks on every side arise, See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings, For thee Idume's spicy forests blow, And seeds of gold on Ophir's mountains glow. No more the rising sun shall gild the morn, The seas shall waste-the skies in smoke decay, Thy realm for ever lasts! thy own Messiah reigns!" No common verses these, gentlemen! and yet there are persons who tell us that Pope was not a poet. Had he always written thus, I think there could have been but little question about it. Religion, gentlemen, after all, seems to awaken the genius of poetry, quite as effectually, as well as to much better purpose, than the praise of war or wine. Her snow-white robe and sparkling diadem, are, methinks a not less attractive vesture for the muse than the rosy chaplets of the banqueting room, or the transparent tissues of the half-uncovered Venus. It would give me pleasure, gentlemen, to dwell more at length on these seductive topics, but the limits of the occasion compel me to hurry to a close. Let us, however, glance for a moment at some of the characters that figure most prominently in the strange eventful history to which I have now so briefly adverted. What an array, in fact, of interesting personages crowd the pages of this varied narrative! Remark, I pray you, the grave majesty of Abraham;—the unsullied purity and high political talent of Joseph;-Moses, the lawgiver, poet, and father of his people ;the graceful piety of the infant Samuel gradually maturing into |