THE ETERNITY OF GOD.

WITHOUT BEGINNING, THE SAME YESTERDAY, TO-DAY AND FOREVER.

ALL animated things grow old and die. The rocks crumble, the trees fall, the leaves fade, the grass withers. The clouds are flying and the waters are flowing away from us. The firmest works of man, too, are gradually giving way. The ivy clings to the mouldering tower, the brier hangs out from the shattered windows, and the wall-flower springs from the disjointed stones. The founders of these perishable works have shared the same fate long ago. If we look back to the days of our ancestors, to the men as well as the dwellings of former times, they become immediately associated in our imagination, and only make the feeling of instability stronger and deeper than before. In the spacious domes which once held our fathers the serpent hisses and the wild bird screams. The halls which once were crowded with all that taste and science and labor could procure, which resounded with melody and were lighted up with beauty, are buried by their own ruins, mocked by their own destruction. The voice of merriment and of wailing, the steps of the busy and the idle, have ceased in the deserted courts, and the weeds choke the entrance, and the long grass waves upon the hearthstone. The works of art, the forming hand, the tombs, the very ashes they contained, are all gone.

While we thus walk among the ruins of the past a sad feeling of insecurity comes over us, and that feeling is by no means diminished when we arrive at home. If we turn to our friends we can hardly speak to them before they bid us farewell. We see them for a few moments, and in a few moments more their countenances are changed and they are sent away. It matters not how near and dear they are, the ties which bind us together are never too close to be parted, or too strong to be broken. Tears were never known to move the King of Terrors. Neither is it enough that we are compelled to sur

render one or two or many of those we love; for though the price is so great, we buy no favor with it, and our hold on those who remain is slight as ever. The shadows of all elude our grasp and follow one another down the valley. We gain no confidence, then, no feeling of security, by turning to our contemporaries and kindred. We know that the forms which are breathing around us are as short-lived and fleeting as those were which have been dust for centuries. The sensation of vanity, uncertainty and ruin is equally strong, whether we muse on what has long been prostrated, or gaze on what is falling now or will soon. If everything which comes under our notice has endured for so short a time, and in so short a time will be no more, we cannot say that we receive the least assurance by thinking on ourselves. When they on whose fate we have been meditating were engaged in the active scenes of life, as full of health and hope as we are now, what were we? We had no knowledge, no consciousness, no being; there was not a single thing in the wide universe which knew us. And after the same interval shall have elapsed which now divides their days from ours, what shall we be? When a few more friends have left, a few more hopes deceived and a few more changes mocked us, we shall be brought to the grave, and shall remain in the tomb; the clods of the valley shall be sweet unto us, and every man follow us, as they are innumerable before us. All power will have forsaken the strongest; and the loftiest will be laid low, and every eye will be closed and every voice hushed, and every heart will have ceased its beating. And when we have gone ourselves, even our memories will not stay behind us long. A few of the near and dear will bear our likeness in their bosoms till they, too, have arrived at the end of their journey and entered the dark dwelling of unconsciousness. In the thoughts of others we shall live only till the last sound of the bell which informs them of our departure has ceased to vibrate in their ears. A stone, perhaps, may tell some wanderer where

we lie, when we came here and when we went away; but that will soon refuse to bear us record. Time's effacing fingers will be busy on its surface and at length will wear it smooth, and then the stone itself will sink or crumble, and the wanderer of another age will pass, without a single call upon his sympathy, over our unheeded grave.

And

The Eternity of God is a subject of contemplation which, at the same time it overwhelms us with astonishment and awe at things which surround us, affords us an immovable ground of confidence in the midst of a changing world. All these dying, moulding inhabitants of time must have had a creator, for the plain reason that they could not have created themselves. their creator must have existed from all eternity, for the plain reason that the first cause must necessarily be uncaused. As we cannot suppose a beginning without a cause of existence, that which is the cause of all existing things must be self-existent and could have had no beginning. And as it had no beginning, so also is it beyond the reach of all influence and control; as it is independent and almighty, it will have no end. Here, then, is a support that will never fail, here is a foundation which can never be moved the everlasting Creator of countless worlds, the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity. What a sublime contemplation! He inhabits eternity, occupies this inconceivable duration, pervades and fills throughout this boundless dwelling. Ages on ages before even the dust of which we are formed was created, He had existed in infinite majesty, and ages on ages will roll away after we have returned to the dust from which we were taken and still He will exist in infinite majesty, living in the eternity of His own nature, reigning in the plentitude of his own omnipotence, forever sending forth the word which forms, supports and governs all things, commanding new-created lights to shine on new-created worlds, and raising up new-created generations to inhabit them. The contemplation of this glorious attribute of God is fitted to excite

in our minds the most animating and consoling reflection. Standing, as we are, amid the ruins of time and the wreck of mortality, where everything about us is created and dependent, proceeding from nothing and hastening to destruction, we rejoice that something is presented to our view which has stood from everlasting and will remain forever. When we have looked on the pleasures of life and they have vanished away; when we have looked on the works of nature and perceived that they were changing, on the monuments of art and seen that they would not stand, on our friends and they have fled while we were gazing, on ourselves and felt that we are as fleeting as they; when we have looked on every object to which we could turn our eyes, and they have all told us that they could give us no hope nor support, because they were so feeble themselves, we can look to the throne of God. Change and decay have never reached that; the revolution of ages has never moved it; the waves of an eternity have been rushing past it, but it has remained unshaken; the waves of another eternity are rushing toward it, but it is fixed and can never be disturbed. And blessed be God, who has assured us by a revelation from himself that the throne of eternity is likewise a throne of mercy and love; who has permitted and invited us to repose ourselves and our hopes on that alone, which is everlasting and unchangeable. We shall shortly fill our allotted time on earth, even if it should be unusually prolonged. We shall leave behind us, all which is now familiar and beloved, and a world of other days and other men will be entirely ignorant that we once lived. But the same unalterable Being will still preside over the universe through all its changes, and from His remembrance we shall never be blotted. We can never be where he is not. He is our Father and our God forever. He takes us from earth that He may lead us to heaven, that He may refine our nature from its corruption, admits us to His everlasting habitation and crowns us with His eternity. Beyond the clouds the sun is

shining, and we are only travellers from earth to eternity. Remember the lonely epitaph in the city of the dead:

"Remember, friend, as you pass by,
As you are now so once was I.
As I am now soon you will be;
Prepare for God and eternity."

DRIFTWEED.

EVERMORE we are drifting out with the restless tide,

Out to the ultimate ocean, whose waters are wild and wide;

But somewhere there is a Gilead sweet with the healing balm,

And the storm may rage, but the rainbow is arched in the skies of calm.

Windeth the river weary through forests no foot hath trod,

Where the darkness is shut from the shining of the lamps in the windows of God;

But out from the gloom it flashes in the

light of the day to be,

And mingles its lonely waters with the

tide of the splendid sea!

We are not hopeless-homeless! wherever our feet may roam, We are still on the King's own highway still near the King's own home!

And soon with the journey ended—the storm and the darkness past, We shall enter in at the portals, and reign with the King at last!

-F. L. S.

NEVER TROUBLE TROUBLE.

My good man is a clever man,

Which no one will gainsay; He lies awake to plot and plan

'Gainst lions in the way, While I, without a thought of ill, Sleep sound enough for three; For I never trouble trouble till Trouble troubles me.

A holiday we never fix

But he is sure 'twill rain,
And when the sky is clear at six
He knows it won't remain.

LIFE is a struggle for the most

Bare rooms, and common fare,
And helpless friends—a weary host—
And toil and stifling air.

But great men came from such as these,
The country's life to save;
And manhood is not nursed in ease-
Whatever comes, be brave.

Some will speak ill, some envy you,
Some criticise, or blame;
Some whom you trusted prove untrue,
Friends only in the name;
Some will ignore you if your dress

Be poor, some scorn your sphere; But keep a heart that loves to blessWhatever comes, have cheer.

You will be tempted in the race;

Debt is an easy snare ;

And pride has oft a Janus face,

And vice a winsome air;

And love of wealth and power may

lead

To dally with the wrong;

But to your better self give heed-
Whatever comes, be strong.

-SARAH K. BOLTON.

SEPTEMBER.

SUMMER lingers in her realm fair,
A soft sweet glow pervades the air,
She smiles at winter, bids him wait,
And tribute pay at her royal gate,
With kingly robes she decks the trees,
Distills rare fragrance through the

breeze,

Gathers all that's sweet and most dear, From all seasons and blends it here. The insects hum upon the hill,

And wooded vales are hushed and still,

The songsters have flown, the mellow air Seems yet to thrill with bird-notes rare, The cool sweet breeze as it wanders by Bears the roses' last fragrant sigh, The sound of dropping nuts we hear, And children's voices ringing clear. The fields are now all bedight,

With king cotton's blossoms white, Gathering its snowy wealth we hear, The workers song sound sweet and clear.

And lo! the sun-kissed apples now,
Blush red upon the fruitful bough,
The garnered sheaves like sentinels
stand,

O'er th' harvest treasures of our land.
-MRS. W. A. FULLER

THREE WAYS TO MARRY.

THERE are three kinds of matrimony. If a man marries for love, then he gets a wife; if he marries for convenience and comfort, he gets a mistress, and if he marries for a dower he gets a madam. He is loved by his wife, honored by his mistress and suffered by his madam. A wife he has for himself, a mistress for his house and friends and a madam for society. A wife will agree with him, a mistress will oblige him and a madam will dictate to him. If he is ill his wife will nurse him, his mistress will visit him and his madam will inquire after his health, and if he dies his wife will shed tears, his mistress will sigh and his madam will wear mourning, -JACOB COHEN.

THE OLD-TIME BRINNEL CUR.

TALK about yer blooded dogs, with

great long pedigrees,

An' prizes took at bench-shows an' records broke with ease,

But the pup that's struck my fancy more than any dog with fur,

Is that choicest chum of childhood-the ole-time brinnel cur.

He wa'n't much on appearances, his shaggy looks wa'n't fair, With tail chopped off an' years slit up

an' eyes all hid with hair, But he got there on the home-stretch,

though he smacked o' cuckleburr; An' he never failed to show down-that

ole-time brinnel cur.

He wa'n't as likely lookin', p'r'aps, as other dogs you've seed,

But he was the gamest article of all the canine breed ;

When he started on the warpath they

wa'n't nothin' could deter The nerve that took possession of that ole-time brinnel cur.

He wus a model of true grit, that nothin' couldn't down,

An' could lick regermints o' purty dogs Like they have in town;

He made the tramps steer clear o' him, wus dreaded near an' fur, Fur he never knowed no danger-that ole-time brinnel cur.

He was true to every trust in life an' faithful to the end,

An' I'll never cease to love him as my boyhood's warmest friend;

He would sacrifice his own self to do me a service, sir,

An' my lovin' heart will not fergit that ole-time brinnel cur.

He wa'n't nothing but a dog, an' yit he seemed like folks to me,

An' his love wus jest as true as any human love could be,

An' when I had a scrap them dayswhich I did, you may infer

I could allers count fur certain on that ole-time brinnel cur.

An' when mother died o' fever an' they buried her that spring,

That pore ole dog seemed strickener than almost anything;

He whined aroun' so pitiful an' wouldn't hardly stir,

Though he wa'n't nothin' only just a ole-time brinnel cur.

You can ridicule the notion, but I know it's gospel true,

That ole dog's heart wus broken by the blow that struck us two,

An' I won't let him be slandered now, by any low-flung slur,

Fur a noble nature dwelt within that ole-time brinnel cur.

One mornin' when I missed him-the dear, old faithful slave

I foun' him in the orchard there, stretched out on mother's grave; He had died there while a-mournin'plague take this pesky blurFur the best of all, good mother, my ole-time brinnel cur.

I never think o' her, somehow, but what I think o' him,

An' I know now how it was, I lost my two best friends in them;