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VOICES OF THE TRUE-HEARTED.

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THE OBJECT OF LIFE.

BY JOHN TODD.

are glowing conceptions, but they are not the work of a depraved imagination. They will all be realized. Sin and death will long walk hand in hand on this earth, and their footsteps will not be entirely blotted out until the fires of the last day have melted the globe. But the head of the one is already bruised, and the sting is already taken from the other. They may long roar, but they walk in chains, and the eye of faith sees the hand that holds the chains.

But we have visions still brighter. We look for new heavens and a new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness. No sin will be there to mar the beauty, no sorrow to diminish a joy, no anxiety to corrode the heart, or cloud the brow. Our characters may be tested, in part, by our anticipations. If our thoughts and feelings are running in the channel of time, and dancing from one earthly bubble to another, though our hopes may come in angel-robes, it is a sad proof that our hearts are here also.

The world, the great mass of mankind, have utterly misunderstood the real object of life on earth, Or else he misunderstands it who follows the light of the Bible. You look at men as individuals, and their object seems to be to gratify a contemptible vanity, to pervert and follow their low appetites and passions, and the dictates of selfishness, wherever they may lead. You look at men in the aggregate, and this pride and these passions terminate in wide plans of ambition, in wars and bloodshed, in strifes and the destruction of all that is virtuous or lovely. The history of mankind has its pages all stained with blood; and it is the history of a race whose ob

How beautiful visions pass before the mind in a single day, when the reins are thrown loose, and fancy feels no restraints! How curious, interesting and instructive would be the history of the workings of a single mind for a day! How many imaginary joys, how many airy castles, pass before it, which a single jostle of this rough world at once destroys! Who is there of my readers who has not imagined a summer fairer than ever bloomed,scenery in nature more perfect than was ever com-ject seemed to be, to debase their powers, and sink bined by the pencil,-abodes more beautiful than were ever reared,-honors more distinguished than were ever bestowed,-homes more peaceful than were ever enjoyed,—companions more angelic than ever walked this earth,—and bliss more complete, and joys more thrilling than were ever allotted to You may call these the dreams of imagination, but they are common to the student. To the man who lives for this world alone, these visions of bliss, poor as they are, are all that ever come. But good men have their anticipations-not the paintings of fancy, but the realities which faith discovers. Good men have the most vivid conceptions. Witness those of old. As they look down the vale of time, they see a star arise,-the everlasting hills do bow, the valleys are raised, and the moon puts on the brightness of the sun. The deserts and the dry places gush with waters. Nature pauses. The serpent forgets his fangs; the lion and the lamb sleep side by side, and the hand of the child is in the mane of the tiger. Nations gaze till they forget the murderous work of war, and the garments rolled in blood. The whole earth is enlightened, and the star shines on till it brings in everlasting day. Here

what was intended for immortal glory, to the deep-
At one time,
est degradation which sin can cause.
you will see an army of five millions of men follow-
ing a leader, who, to add to his poor renown, is now
to jeopardize all these lives, and the peace of his
whole kingdom. This multitude of minds fall in, and
they live, and march, and fight and perish to aid in ex-
alting a poor worm of the dust. What capacities were
here assembled! What minds were here put in mo-
tion! What a scene of struggles were here! And
who, of all this multitude, were pursuing the real
object of life? From Xerxes, at their head, to the
lowest and most debased in the rear of the army,
was there one, who, when weighed in the balances
of eternal truth, was fulfilling the object for which
he was created, and for which life is continued?—
Look again. All Europe rises up in phrensy, and
pours forth a living tide towards the Holy Land.
They muster in the name of the Lord of Hosts.
The cross waves on their banners, and the holy
sepulchre is the watchword by day and night.--
They move eastward, and whiten the burning sands
of the deserts with their bleaching bones. But of
all these, from the fanatic whose voice awoke Eu-

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VOICES OF THE TRUE-HEARTED.

rope to arms, down to the lowest horse-boy, how, generate a nation, in trying to build up a system of few were actuated by any spirit which Heaven, or justice, to say nothing about love could sanction!Suppose the same number of men, the millions which composed the continent which rose up to exterminate another, and who followed the man who was first a soldier and then a priest and hermit, and who has left the world in doubt whether he was a prophet, a madman, a fool, or a demagogue, had spent the same treasures of life, and of money, in trying to spread the spirit of that Saviour for whose tomb they could waste so much; and suppose this army had been enlightened and sanctified men, and had devoted their powers to do good to mankind, and to honor their God, how different would the world have been found to day! How many, think you, of all the then Christian world, acted under a spirit, and with an object before them such as the world will approve, and especially such as the pure beings above us will approve?

Look a moment at a few of the efforts which avarice has made. For about four centuries, the avarice of man, and of Christian men too, has been preying upon the vitals of Africa. It has taken the sons and daughters of Ham, and doomed soul and body to debasement, to ignorance, to slavery. And what are the results? Twenty-eight millions-more than twice the population of this country-have been kidnapped and carried away from the land of their birth. The estimate is, that the increase in the house of bondage since those times, is five-fold, or nearly one hundred and seventy millions of human, immortal beings, cut off from the rights of man, and, by legislation and planning, reduced far towards the scale of the brutes. This is only a single form in which avarice has been exerting its power. Suppose the same time and money, the same effort, had been spent in spreading the arts of civilization, learning and religion, over the continent of Africa, what a vast amount of good would have been accomplished! And at the day when the recording angel reads the history of the earth, how very different would be the picture, and the eternal condition of untold numbers! If the marks of humanity are not all blotted out from that race of miserable men, it is not because oppression has not been sufficiently legalized, and avarice been allowed to pursue its victims, till the grave became a sweet asylum.

corrupt paganism; and when that system was built up-let the shape and form be what it might-the nation had exhausted its energies, and it sunk and fell under the effects of misapplied and perverted mind. No nation existed on the face of the earth, which was not crumbling under the use of its perverted energies, when the gospel reached it. Our ancestors were crushed under the weightof a Druidical priesthood, and the rites of that bloody system of religion. Another striking instance of the perversion of mind, and the abuse of the human intellect and heart, is the system of the Romish church. No one created mind, apparently, could ever have invented a scheme of delusion, of degradation of the soul, the intellect, the whole man, so perfect and complete as is this.— What minds must have been employed in shutting out the light of heaven, and in burying the manna, which fell in showers so extended! What a system! To gather all the books in the world, and put them all within the stone walls of the monastery and the cloister,—to crush schools, except in these same monasteries, in which they trained up men to become more and more skilful in doing the work of ruin,-to delude the world with ceremonies and fooleries, while the Bible was taken away, and religion muttered her rites in an unknown tongue,and all this was the result of a settled plan to debase the intellect and mock poor human nature !— And, when the Reformation held up all these abominations to light, what a master piece was the last plan laid to stifle the reason forever!-the inquisition.It was reared through the Christian world: the decree by a single blow, proscribed between sixty and seventy printing presses, and excommunicated all who shouid ever read any thing which they might produce. A philosopher, who, like Galileo, could pour light upon science, and astonish the world by his discoveries, must repeatedly fall into the cruel mercies of the inquisition. The ingenuity of hell seemed tasked to invent methods by which the human mind might be shut up in Egyptian darkness; and never has a Catholic community been known to be other than degraded, ignorant, superstitious and sunken. Let light in, and all who receive it rush to infidelity. But what a mass of mind has been, and still is, employed in upholding this system! And what a loss to the world has it produced, in quench

of glorious minds which have been destroyed by it! If I could find it in my heart to anathematize any order of men,-and I hope I cannot,-it would be those who are thus taking away the key of knowledge, and preventing all within the compass of their influence from fulfilling the great object for which they were created.

I am trying to lead you to look at the great amounting, in everlasting darkness, the uncounted millions of abuse and of perversion of mind, of which mankind are constantly guilty. When Christianity began her glorious career, the world had exhausted its strength in trying to debase itself, and to sink low enough to embrace paganism; and yet not so low, as not to try to exist in the shape of nations. The experiment had been repeated, times we know not how many. Egypt, Babylonia, Persia, polished Was man created for war? Did his Maker creGreece, iron-footed Rome, mystical Hindooism, had ate the eye, that he might take better aim on the all tried it. They spent each, mind enough to re-field of battle? give him skill that he might invent

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We call ours the most enlightened nation on earth, inferior to none in owning the spirit of Christianity; and we claim this as an age behind none ever enjoyed, for high moral principle and benevolent, disinterested action. But what is the principle in the great mass of mankind! When clouds gather in the political horizon, and war threatens a nation, how are the omens received? How many are there who turn aside and weep, and deprecate the guilt, the woe, and the indescribable evils and miseries of war? The great majority of the nation feel that the path of glory is now opening before them, and that the honor which may possibly be attained by a few battles, is ample compensation for the expense, the morals, the lives and the happiness, which must be sacrificed for the possibility. Let that nation rush to war for some supposed point of honor.Watch the population as they collect, group after group, under the burning sun, all anxious, all eager, and all standing as if in deep expectation for the

are waiting for the first tidings of the battle, where the honor of the nation is staked. No tidings that ever came from Heaven can send a thrill of joy so deep as the tidings that one ship has conquered or sunk another.

Was it any thing remarkable, that, in the very heart of a Christian nation, a single horse-race brought over fifty thousand people together? Were they acting so much out of the character of the mass of mankind as to cause it to make any deep impression upon the moral sensibilities of the nation?

methods of slaying by thousands? and plant a thirst in the soul, that it might be quenched by the blood of men? What science or art can boast of more precision, of more to teach it, to hail it with enthusiasm, and to celebrate it in song? Genius has ever sat at the feet of Mars, and exhausted his efforts in preparing exquisite offerings. Human thought has never made such gigantic efforts as when employed in scenes of butchery. Has skill ever been more active and successful-has Poetry ever so kindled, as when the flames of Troy lighted her page? What school-boy is ignorant of the battle ground, and the field of blood, where ancient and modern armies met and tried to crush each other? Has Music ever thrilled like that which led men to battle, and the plume of the desert-bird ever danced so gracefully as when on the head of the warrior? Are any honors so freely bestowed, or cheaply purchased, as those which are gained by a few hours of fighting? See that man, who, so late, was the wonder of the world, calling out, marshalling, employing and wast-signal which was to call them to judgment. They ing almost all the treasures of Europe, for twelve or fifteen years. What multitudes of minds did he call to the murderous work of war!-minds that might have blessed the world with literature, with science, with schools, and with the gospel of peace, had they not been perverted from the great and best object of living! Says a philosophical writer, speaking on this subject, "I might suppose for the sake of illustration, that all the schemes of ambition, and cruelty, and intrigue, were blotted from the page of history, that, against the names of the splendid and guilty actors, whom the world, for ages, has wondered at, there were written achievements of Christian benevolence, equally grand and characteristic,—and then ask what a change would there be in the scenes which the world has beheld transacted, and what a difference in the results! Alexander should have won victories in Persia more splendid than those of Granicus and Arbela; he should have wandered over India, like Buchanan, and wept for another world to bring under the dominion of the Saviour; and returning to Babylon, should have died, like Martyn, the victim of Christian zeal. Cæsar should have made Gaul and Britain obedient to the faith, and crossing the Rubicon with the apostolic legions, and making the Romans freemen of the Lord, should have been the forerunner of Paul, and done half his work. Charlemange should have been a Luther.Charles of Sweeden should have been a Howard; and, flying from the Baltic to the Eux ine, like an angel of mercy, should have fallen, when on some errand of love, and, numbering his days by the good deeds he had done, should have died like Mills in an old age of charity. Voltaire should have written Christian tracts. Rousseau should have been a Fenelon. Hume should have unravelled the intricacies of theology, and defended like Edwards, the faith once delivered to the saints."

Suppose it were known that a mind was now in process of training, which might, if its powers were properly directed, be equal to Milton or Locke ; but that, instead of this, it will waste its powers in creating such song as Byron wrote, or in weaving such webs as the schoolmen wove. Would the knowledge of such a waste of mind, such perversion of powers, cause a deep sensation of regret among men? or have such perversions been so common in the world, that one such magnificent mind might be lost to mankind, and no one would mourn? The answer is plain. The world has become so accustomed to seeing mind prostituted to ignoble purposes, and influence which might reach round the globe like a zone of mercy thrown away forever, that we hardly think of it as greatly out of the way.

A generation of men come on the stage of action; they find the world in darkness, in ignorance, and in sin. They live, gain the few honors which are easily plucked, gather the little wealth which toil and anxiety will bestow, and then pass away. As a whole, the generation do not expect or try to throw an influence upon the world which shall be redeeming.— They do not expect to leave the world materially better than they found it. Why do we not mourn that such myriads of immortal minds are destined

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to pass away, and never to break out in acts of mercy and kindness to the world? Because we have so long been so prodigal of mind, that we hardly notice its loss.

CHRIST-LIKE.

BY LYDIA MARIA CHILD.

To-day is Christmas. For several days past, cartloads of ever-greens have gone by my windows, the pure snow falling on them, soft and still as a blessing. To-day, churches are wreathed in evergreen, altars are illuminated, and the bells sound joyfully in Gloria Excelsis. Throngs of worshippers are going up to their altars, in the Greek, Syrian, Armenian, Roman and English churches. Eighteen hundred years ago, a poor babe was born in a stable, and a few lonely shepherds heard heavenly voices, soft warbling over the moonlit hills, proclaiming "Peace on earth, and good will towards men." Earth made no response to the chorus. It always entertains angels unawares. When the HOLY ONE came among them, they mocked and crucified him. But now the stars, in their midnight course listen to millions of human voices, and deep organ-tones struggling upwards, vainly striving to express the hopes and aspirations, which that advent concentrated from the past and prophesied for the future. From East to West, from North to South, men chant hymns of praise to the despised Nazarene, and kneel in worship before his cross. How beautiful is this universal homage to the Principle of Love?-that feminine principle of the universe, the inmost centre of Christianity. It is the divine idea which distinguishes it from all other religious, and yet the idea in which Christian nations evince so little faith, that one would think they kept, only to swear by, that gospel which says "Swear not at all."

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Who seemed so little likely to understand such a position, as the Indians of North America? Yet how readily they laid down tomahawks and scalping-knives at the feet of William Penn! With what humble sorrow they apologized for killing the only two Quakers they were ever known to attack! "The men carried arms," said they, and therefore we did not know they were not fighters. We thought they pretended to be Quakers, because they were cowards." The savages of the East, who murdered Lyman and Munson, made the same excuse. "They carried arms," said they, "and so we supposed they were not Christian missionaries, but enemies. We would have done them no harm, if we had known they were men of God."

If a nation could but attain to such high wisdom as to abjure war, and proclaim to all the earth, "We will not fight, under any provocation. If other nations have aught against us, we will settle the question by umpires mutually chosen." Think you that any nation would dare to make war upon such a people? Nay, verily, they would be instinctively ashamed of such an act, as men are now ashamed to attack a woman or a child. Even if any were found mean enough to pursue such a course, the whole civilized world would cry fie upon them, and by universal consent, brand them as paltroons and assassins. And assassins they would be, even in the common acceptation of the term. I have read of a certain regiment ordered to march, into a small town, (in the Tyrol, I think,) and take it. It chanced that the place was settled by a colony who believed the gospel of Christ, and proved their faith by works. A courier from a neighboring village informed them that troops were advancing to take the town. They quietly answered, "If they will take it, they must." Soldiers soon came riding in, with colors flying, and fifes piping their shrill defiance. They looked round Centuries have passed, and through infinite con- for an enemy, and saw the farmer at his plough, the flict have "ushered in our brief to-day;" and is blacksmith at his anvil, and the women at their there peace and good will among men? Sincere churns and spinning-wheels. Babies crowed to hear faith in the words of Jesus would soon fulfil the the music, and boys ran out to see the pretty trainers, prophecy which angels sung. But the world per- with feathers and bright buttons, "the harlequins of sists in saying, "This doctrine of unqualified for- the nineteenth century." Of course, none of these giveness and perfect love, though beautiful and holy, were in a proper position to be shot at. "Where cannot be carried into practice now; men are not are your soldiers?" they asked. "We have none," yet prepared for it." The same spirit says, “It was the brief reply. "But we have come to take would not be safe to emancipate slaves; they must the town." Well, friends, it lies before you." first be fitted for freedom." As if slavery ever "But is there nobody here to fight?" "No; we are could fit men for freedom, or war ever lead the na-all Christians." Here was an emergency altogether tions into peace! Yet men who gravely utter these unprovided for by the military schools. This was a excuses, laugh at the shallow wit of that timid sort of resistance which no bullet could hit; a fortmother, who declared that her son should never ven- ress perfectly bomb-proof. The commander was ture into the water till he had learned to swim. perplexed. "If there is nobody to fight with, of Those who have dared to trust the principles of course we cannot fight," said he. "It is impossible peace, have always found them perfectly safe. It to take such a town as this." So he ordered the can never prove otherwise, if accompanied by the horses to be turned about, and they carried declaration that such a course is the result of Chris- the human animals out of the village, as guiltless as tian principle, and a deep friendliness for humanity. they entered, and perchance somewhat wiser.

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reasons, Swedenborgians would add another; for according to the doctrine of Correspondence unfolded by their "illuminated scribe," spring corresponds to peace; that diapason note, from which all growth

This experiment on a small scale indicates how easy it would be to dispense with armies and navies, if men only had faith in the religion they profess to believe. When France lately reduced her army, England immediately did the same; for the exist-rises in harmonious order. ence of one army creates the necessity for another, But I am willing to accept this wintry anniverunless men are safely ensconced in the bomb-proof sary, and take it to my heart. As the sun now begins fortress, above mentioned. to return to us, so may the truth and love which he The doctrines of Jesus are not beautiful abstrac-typifies gradually irradiate and warm the globe. The tions, but living, vital truths. There is in them no Romans kept their festival with social feasts and elaborate calculation of consequences, but simply mutual gifts; and the windows of New York are the divine impulse uttered. They are few and sim-to-day, filled with all forms of luxury and splendor, ple, but infinite in spirit, and of universal application. Like the algebraic X, they stand for the unknown quantity, and, if consulted aright, always give the true answer. The world has been deluged with arguments about war, slavery, &c., and the wisest product of them all, is simply an enlightened application of the maxims of Jesus. Faith in God, love to man, and action obedient thereto, from these flow all that belong to order, peace, and progress. Probably, the laws by which the universe were made, are thus reducible to three in one, and all varieties of creation are thence unfolded, as all melody and harmony, flow from three primal notes. God works synthetically. The divine idea goes forth and clothes itself in form, from which all the infinity of forms are evolved. We mortals see truth in fragments, and try to trace it upwards to its origin by painful analysis. In this there is no growth. All creation, all life, is evolved by the opposite process. We must reverence truth. We must have that faith in it, of which action is the appropriate form; and lo, the progress which we have sought for so painfully, will unfold upon us, as naturally as the seed expands into blossoms and fruit.

I did not mean to preach a sermon. But the evergreens, and the music from neighboring churches, carried me back to the hill-sides of Palestine, and my spirit involuntary began to ask, What response does earth now give to that chorus of peace and good will?

to tempt the wealthy, who are making up Christmas boxes for family and friends. Many are the rich jewels and shining stuffs, this day bestowed by affection or vanity. In this I have no share; but if I were as rich as John Jacob Astor, and not so fearful of poverty, as he is said to be, I would this day go to the shop of Baronto, a poor Italian artist, in Orchard street, buy all he has, and give freely to every one who enjoys forms of beauty. There are hidden in that small obscure workshop, some little gems of art. Alabaster nymphs, antique urns of agate, and Hebe vases of the costly Verd de Prato. There is something that moves me strangely in those old Grecian forms. They stand like petrified melodies from the world's youthful heart. I would like to buy out Baronto every Christmss, and mix those "fair humanities of old religion," with the Madonnas and Saviours of a more spiritual time.

A friend of mine, who has no money to spend for jewels or silks, or even antique vases, has employed his Christmas more wisely than this; and in his action, there is more angelic music, than in those divine old statues. He filled a large basket full of cakes, and went forth into our most miserable streets, to distribute them among hungry children. How little dirty faces peeped after him, round street corners, and laughed from behind open gates! How their eyes sparkled as they led along some shivering barefooted urchin, and cried out, "This little boy has had no cake, sir!" Sometimes a greedy lad would get two shares by false pretences; but this was no conclusive proof of total depravity, in children who never ate cake from Christmas to Christmas. No wonder the stranger with his basket, excited a prodigious sensation. Mothers came to see who it was that had been so kind to their little ones. Every one had a story to tell of health ruined by hard work, of sickly children, or drunken husbands. It was a

It matters little that Christ was not born on that day, which the church has chosen to commemorate his birth. The associations twined around it for many centuries, have consecrated it to my mind. Nor am I indifferent to the fact, that it was the old Roman festival for the birth of the Sun. As a form of their religious idea, it is interesting to me, and I see peculiar beauty in thus identifying the birth of the natural sun, with the advent of the Son of Right-genuine out-pouring of hearts. An honest son of eousness, which, in an infinitely higher sense, enlightens and vivifies the nations. The learned argue that Christ was probably born in the spring; because the Jewish people were at that season enrolled for taxation, and this was the business which carried Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem :-and because the shepherds of Syria would not be watching their flocks in the open air, during the cold months. To these

the Emerald Isle stood by, rubbing his head, and exclaimed, "Did my eyes ever see the like o' that? A jintleman giving cake to folks he don't know, and never asking a bit o' money for the same!"

Alas, eighteen centuries ago, that chorus of good will was sung, and yet so simple an act of sympathizing kindness, astonishes the poor!

In the course of his Christmas rambles, my friend

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