Adam. This is God!- Curse us not, God, any more.
with omnific eyes,

Eve. But gazing so

SO

Lift my soul upward till it touch thy feet!
Or lift it only, not to seem too proud, —
To the low height of some good angel's feet,

I meet you with rebuke for the reproach

And cruel and unmitigated blame

Ye cast upon your masters. True, they have sinned;
And true, their sin is reckoned into loss

For you the sinless. Yet your innocence,

Which of you praises? since God made your acts
Inherent in your lives, and bound your hands
With instincts and imperious sanctities
From self-defacement? Which of you disdains
These sinners who in falling proved their height
Above you by their liberty to fall?

And which of you complains of loss by them,
For whose delight and use ye have your life

And honor in creation?

Ponder it!

This regent and sublime Humanity,

Though fallen, exceeds you! this shall film your sun,
Shall hunt your lightning to its lair of cloud,

Turn back your rivers, footpath all your seas,
Lay flat your forests, master with a look

Your lion at his fasting, and fetch down

Your eagle flying. Nay, without this law

Of mandom, ye would perish, - beast by beast
Devouring.

Eve. Speak on still, Christ. Albeit thou bless me not

In set words, I am blessed in harkening thee;

Thou standest mute in glory, like the sun.

Adam. We worship in Thy silence, Saviour Christ.

Eve. Thy brows grow grander with a forecast woe, · Diviner with the possible of death!

We worship in thy sorrow, Saviour Christ.

Adam. How do thy clear, still eyes transpierce our souls, As gazing through them toward the Father-throne

In a pathetical, full Deity,

Serenely as the stars gaze through the air,

Straight on each other.

I, wrapping round me your humanity,

Which, being sustained, shall neither break nor burn
Beneath the fire of Godhead, will tread earth
And ransom you and it, and set strong peace
Betwixt you and its creatures. With my pangs
I will confront your sins; and since those sins
Have sunken to all Nature's heart from yours,
The tears of my clean soul shall follow them
And set a holy passion to work clear

Absolute consecration. In

my

brow

Of kingly whiteness shall be crowned anew
Your discrowned human nature. Look on me!

As I shall be uplifted on a cross

In darkness of eclipse and anguish dread,

So shall I lift up in my pierced hands,

Not into dark, but light

not unto death,

But life- beyond the reach of guilt and grief,
The whole Creation. Henceforth in my name
Take courage, O thou woman-man, take hope!
Your grave shall be as smooth as Eden's sward,
Beneath the steps of your prospective thoughts,
And, one step past it, a new Eden-gate
Shall open on a hinge of harmony

And let you through to mercy. Ye shall fall

No more, within that Eden, nor pass out

Any more from it. In which hope, move on,

First sinners and first mourners. Live and love,-
Doing both nobly, because lowlily.

Live and work, strongly, because patiently.

And, for the deed of death, trust it to God

That it be well done, unrepented of,

And not to loss. And thence, with constant prayers
Fasten your souls so high, that constantly

The smile of your heroic cheer may float
Above all floods of earthly agonies,
Purification being the joy of pain.

The victory which the Redeemer achieves over "the wild horse of Death" is set in bolder conceptions and language than were ever before uttered. While the stricken and comforted pair advance, hand in hand, into the wilderness, a chorus of invisible angels responsive sing.

Through the flats of Hades where the souls assemble
He will guide the Death-steed calm between their ranks
While, like beaten dogs, they a little moan and tremble
To see the darkness curdle from the horse's glittering flanks.
Through the flats of Hades where the dreary shade is,
Up the steep of Heaven, will the Tamer guide the steed -
Up the spheric circles - circle above circle,

We who count the ages, shall count the tolling tread
Every hoof-fall striking a blinder, blanker sparkle

From the stony orbs, which shall show as they were dead.

Second Semichorus.

All the way the Death-steed with tolling hoofs shall travel,

Ashen-gray the planets shall be motionless as stones,
Loosely shall the systems eject their parts coeval
Stagnant in the spaces, shall float the pallid moons.
Suns that touch their apogees, reeling from their level,
Shall run back on their axles, in wild, low, broken tunes.

Chorus.

Up against the arches of the crystal ceiling,

From the horse's nostrils shall steam the blurting breath.
Up between the angels pale with silent feeling,

Will the Tamer, calmly, lead the horse of Death.

Semichorus.

Cleaving all that silence, cleaving all that glory,
Will the Tamer lead him straightway to the Throne;
"Look out, O Jehovah, to this I bring before Thee
With a hand nail-pierced — I, who am thy Son."

Then the eye Divinest, from the deepest, flaming,
On the mystic courser, shall look out in fire.

Blind the beast shall stagger where it overcame him,
Meek as lamb at pasture - bloodless in desire.

Down the beast shall shiver-slain amid the taming, –
And, by Life essential, the phantasm Death expire.

In these extracts two unfortunate expressions occur, which are calculated to misrepresent the authoress.

"Then the eye Divinest" can only be intended to represent the lower place which our Saviour assumed as necessary to his mission as a suffering servant. For in a previous extract the Supreme Divinity of Christ is unequivocally asserted. Adam says of Him, "This is God!" And Eve, "not to seem too proud," would have her soul lifted up to the height of some good angel's feet.

So also in the passage,

"So shall I lift up in my pierced hands

The whole Creation."

In consistency with her poetic aim, she would doubtless be understood as meaning what the Saviour himself did in saying, “And I, if I be lifted up will draw all men unto me.' The door shall be opened to the whole creation, and perhaps in the end it shall be seen that the lost are so few in comparison with the saved as to form the exceptions to the general rule.

-

ARTICLE V.

FEAR AS A CHRISTIAN MOTIVE.

"for a great fear, when it is ill-managed, is the parent of superstition; but a discreet and well-guided fear produces religion.”

Jeremy Taylor's Holy Living.

WE often hear it said, "If I ever become a christian, I shall not be frightened into it." It is with us the independence, the contempt of consequences which has become an American characteristic; the "who's afraid?"- which might very well stand for our national motto. Of course, this trait is not peculiar to our people, though common to us in unusually exaggerated development; still less, we need hardly add, is it the token (but quite the reverse) of a true manliness, wherever it is found.

This tendency has further been fostered by a one-sided philosophy and a maudlin philanthropy, the prime law and mission of which would seem to be to try the power of rose-water as a universal disinfector; that is, to straighten all crooked things and to rectify all wrong things by what we must be suffered to call a system of general coaxing. We greatly regret that the recent "Plummer" professor at Harvard has lent his name to something very like this theory. He introduces with approbation, in a recent occasional sermon, the story of the crazy woman at Cincinnati, who rushed into the cars, with a bowl of water in one hand and a torch in the other, saying that she wanted with these to drown out hell and burn up heaven, that people might do right because they ought to, without reference to consequences. And this the reverend rector would have us believe is the next great improvement in pulpit-practice. We would be respectful, but honestly we conceive the comment to be as bereft of sense as the text. We prefer not to go to crazy people for our theology. The good old bishop who gives us a motto was wiser than the late novitiate. While then, on the one hand, all appeal to the influence of fear in morals and religion is repulsed as degrading our free and self-governing manli