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THE DIFFERENCE OF ACTIONS..

FROM BISHOP HALL'S SOLILOQUIES. THERE is great difference in sins and actions, whether tru. ly or seemingly offensive ; there are gnats and there are camels ; neither is there less differences in consciences. There are consciencies so wide and vast, that they can swallow a camel; and there are consciences so strait, as that they strain at a gnat; yea, which is strange to observe, those very consciences which one while are so dilated that they strain not at a camel, another while are so drawn together by an anxious scrupulousness, that they are ready to be choaked with a gnat. How palpably was this seen in the chief priest and pharisees and elders of the Jews; the small gnat of entering into the judgment hall of the Roman governor, would by no means down with them; that heinous act would defile them, so as they should not eat the passover ; but in the mean time the huge camel of the inurther of the Lord passed down glib and easily through their throats :They are ready to choak with one poor ear of corn pulled on a Sabbath, by an hungry passenger; yet whole houses of widows, the whiles, pass down their gorges with ease : an unwashed hand or cup was piacular; whiles within, their hearts are full of extortion and excess. I wish the present age did not abound with instances. It is the fashion of hypocrites to be seemingly scrupulous in small things, whiles they make no conscience at all of the greatest; and to be so much less conscionable of greater matters of the law, judgment, mercy and faith; as they are more sumptuously punctual in their mint, anise and cummin. O God! I would not make more sins than thou hast made ; I desire to have an heart wisely tender, not fondly scrupulous ; let my soul endure no fetters but thine ; if indifferent things may be my gnats, let no known sin be other than a camel to me; and let me rather choak in the passage, than let down such a morsel.

*** **

POETRY.

FOR THE CHURCHMAN'S MAGAZINE.

A FRAGMENT.
..............BUT see the frozen north pours dreadful down
Its countless hordes on blood and rapine bent.
Lur'd by the scent from vile corruption bred,
Where vice-enfeebled Empire prostrate lay,
And mouldered, helpless, to her pristine dust;
Of strength, of life, and vital spirit void:
From deep embosoming woods the gathering throng
Įssues, resistless as the whirlwind's rage;
In savage armour clad, of motley hue;
With frowning port, they bend their ravening course,

And o'er the darken'd land in terror spread.
Old Danaw rolls in vain his deep'ping flood,
The affrighted sens, disparted, give them way:
They scale the towering Alps, thence maddening rush,
(So cowers the eagle from his rock-built nest,)
And seize the cultivated lawns below.
From Adria's gulph to mid sea waves they fly;
Down Latium's lengthen'd shores insatiate roam ;
The lengthened shores of Latium loud resound;
And Appenine, through all his hundred caves,
Rebellows fearful to the echoing air.
As when a troop of hungry wolves descend
From forth the snow-clad forest, scour the plain,
And all the sheep folds strew with slaughter'd heaps;
So wasteful prowl'd the fierce barbarian horde.
Th' unconscious swain, in peaceful slumber lulld,
Hears from the hill the astounding din approach;
And sees, at once, himself, his flocks and herds,
And toil-earu'd stores, to instant ruin hurl'd.
The garden'd vales of Eden smile before,
Behind stalks woe and desolation sad.
The humble cot, and heaven-aspiring dome,
The regal palace, and the sacred fane,
Alike to ruin doom'd, in flames sink down.
Nor fenced towns, nor luxury's nerveless sons
Can check the bursting torrents awful course.
No stop, no stay: they mount th' opposing wall;
O'er dizzy ramparts force their rapid way,
And throng the seats of wealth: from street to street
The blood-stain'd vultures fly, block every pass;
The croud-disgorging avenues invest;
Into the windows glide; the house tops scale ;
And course the lofty battlements around.
Dread horror reigns with mingled sights of woe.
Here heaps of slain, and garments roll'd in blood
Bestrew the lengthen'd way, there raving flies
The ravish'd virgin, and the matron 'scap'd
From savage lust, to meet more welcome death.
From timorous flight debar'd, resistance vain,
Promiscuous fall the coward and the brave.
On all sides fear, dismay, and terror stalk :
Despair, and loud lament, and female shrieks,
And dying groans, and victor's pealing shouts
Load the rent air, in wild discordance tost.
The conscious temples, vaulted roofs, deep ton'd
Return the repercussive din, confus'd;
While o'er the neighbouring hills lone echo floats,
And dies away, in feebler murmurs lost-

Now hither ruin rolls his wasteful tide,
Through all the assaulted town; then back recoils :
Now here, a towering edifice assail'd,
Nods threatening o'er its shaken pediment;
Now there, quite from its low foundation shov'd,
Careening, poising, thundering, down it comes,
And smokes along the ground, in fragments dash'd ;
Whole troops, incautious, urging on th' assault,
Are crush'd to death, in gory rubbish whelm'd;
While backward waves the further distant crowd

Rolling immingl'd, heaps on heaps confus'd,
O'erturn'd and trampled to the reeking earth;
And deafʼning heaven's ear with fearful cry:
Thus spoil and havock rage incessant round
From morn to dusky eve: till tir'd at length,
And gorg'd with rapine, blood, and massacre,
They cease: portending silence broods o'er all,
Save where, at intervals, in night's dark shade,
Deep mantling shrouded o'er, a hollow groan,
Or wailing voice breaks feebly on the breeze,
That murmurs forth the ruin'd portico;
Awakening fancy's terrifying forms,
Of shadowy ghosts and bloody goblins fierce.
Short time suspense, when now devouring flames,
By ruthless hands promiscuous hurl'd around,
Burst from the wide saloon, or lattic'd wall;
Mount crackling, roaring, up the sloping roofs ;
Thence, curling round the turret's blazing height,
They stream aloft, and lash the vaulted sky,
Wider and wider still, the fiery flood
Its awful billows rolls amain, till all
In discontinual conflagration wrapt,
As one huge furnace glows with whitening blaze.
The distant hills reflect the quivering light:
Across the unruffl'd bosom of the main
A lengthen'd streak far glistens through the gloom;
Dark clouds of smoke, slow wreathing, sail around :
The whole horizon broad, and quench the stars.

Imperial Rome, thron'd on her seven hills,
Hears, all aghast, the dismal storm approach;
Nor scarce one feeble effort dares essay,
With generous courage fir'd, in martial strife,
To meet, with banner'd host, th' invading foe;
And put to issue, on the dubious field,
Th' unrivall'd palm of empire long her own.
Degenerate sons of luxury and vice!
By reputation's magic power upheld
Too long! no more the wondering world shall crouch
Beneath your potent name: your feeble hands
No more oppression's iron sceptre wield:
Broad Continents and bay-indenting seas
No more shall own your universal sway.
The long protracted day of vengeance comes,
And on your guilty heads pours out the cup
Of overflowing wrath, drain'd to the dregs;
For slaughter'd millions due; for nations dragg'd
In captive chains behind your chariot wbeels,
Swelling the pomp of some vain-glorious chief;
Then down the gulph of dark oblivion hurlid,
To glut revenge, or dire ambition's rage.
In vain you purchase peace, precarious peace !
In vain the treasures of a plunder'd world;
In vain you suppliant sue; nor ought avails
The coward arm of vile assassins brib'd.
Hordes following hordes swarm from the northern hine
Of various name, Goths, Vandals, Ostrogoths,
And Huns, fierce as the tempest's scowling front.
Genserick and Attila, scourge of God,

Ride in the whirlwind, and direct its course,
Right onward where yon shining portals rise
In fair proportion, o'er the Tyber's banks,
And the broad city, turret crown'd, up heaves
Its huge dimensions from the subject plain ;
In gloomy grandeur veil'd, propping the sky
With bristling spires, thick rear'd, and gilded fanes,
Glittering reflective to the morning ray.
And now arriv'd, with sullen scorn erect,
And port indignant, strides the ruthless son
Of untam'd nature, nurs'd in forests wild ;
Nor heeds the flood of glories beaming round
From matchless art, and polish'd taste combin'd.
The trophy'd front, the lengthen'd colonade;
The arch light springing, as the azure vault;
The solemn alcove's high embowering shade;
And all the splendid monuments of fame,
By genius rear'd, to worth and valour due,
To bis untutor'd sense mean trifles seem.

[To be continued.)

THE HERMIT AND HIS DOG.
IN life's fair morn, I knew an aged sire,
Who sad and lonely pass’d his joyless years;
Betray'd, heart-broken, from the world he ran,
And shunn'd (O dire extreme!) the face of man;
Humbly he rear'd his hut within the wood,
Hermits his rest, a hermit's was his food.
Nitch'd in some corner of the gelid cave,
Where chilling drops the rugged rockstone lave,
Hour after hour, the melancholy sage,
Drop after drop, to reckon would engage
The liag'ring day; and, trickling as they fell,
A tear went with them to the narrow well;
Then thus he moraliz'd as slow it past;
“This brings me nearer Lucia than the last;
" And thus, now streaming from the eye,” said he,
“Oh ! my lov'd child, will bring me nearer thee."
When first he roam'd, his dog with anxious care
His wand'rings watch'd, as emulous to share ;
In vain the faithful brute was bid to go,
In vain the sorrower sought a lonely woe.
The Hermit paus'd, th' attendant dog was near,
Slept at his feet, and caught the falling tear;
Up rose the Hermit, up the dog would rise,
And ev'ry way to win a master tries.
" Then be it so. Come, faithful fool,” he said ;
One pat encourag'd, and they sought the shade.
An unfrequented thicket soon they found,
And both repos'd upon the leafy ground;
Mellifluous murm'rings told the fountains nigh,
Fountains, which well a Pilgrim's drink supply..
And thence, by many a labyrinth it led,
Where ev'ry tree bestow'd an ev'ning bed ;
Skill'd in the chase, the faithful creature brought
Whate'er at moru or moon-light course be caught;

But the Sage lent his sympathy to all, .
Nor saw unwept bis dumb associate fall;
He was, indeed the gentlest of his kind,
And though a Hermit, had a social mind :
“ And why” said he, “must man subsist by prey,
Why stop yon melting music on the spray?
Why, when assail'd by hounds and hunter's cry,
Must half the harmless race in terrors die?
Why must we work of innocence the woe?
Still shall this bosom throb, these eyes o'erflow;
A heart too tender here from man retires,
A heart that aches, if but a wren expires.”

Thus liv'd the master good, the servant true,
Till to its God the master's spirit flew;
Beside a fount which daily water gave,
Stooping to drink, the Hermit found a grave;
All in the running stream his garments spread,
And dark, damp verdure ill conceal'd his head ;
The faithful servant from that fatal day
Watch'd the lov'd corpse, and hourly pin'd away;
His head upon his master's cheek was found,
While the obstructed waters murmur'd round.

SYMPATHY. * * *

MARRIAGES. At Philadelphia, on Tuesday evening 13th inst. by the Rev. Dr. Abercrombie, RicHARD DENNIS, Esq. to Miss SUSAN S. SMITH, daughter of John Smith, Esq. all of that city,On the 23d inst. Mr. ANTHONY W. HAYMON, to Miss ANNE MARIA HICKMON, all of that city,

** MONTHLY OBITUARY.

Departed this life at Huntington, on the Sth inst. after a long illness, Mrs. ELIZABETH NEWTON, relict of the Rev. Christopher Newton, in the 84th year of her age. With truth it inay be said, that this aged mother in Israel was much respected in life, on account of the many Christian graces wbich in her shone with undissembled lustre. The word of God was the constant rule of her faith; and to bring her actions to square with the same was her constant care. She had a deep sense of human nature as fallen, and the necessity of an advocate with the Father. She was never ashamed of the cross of Christ; but was ever ready in union with her husband to lead those committed to his guidance to virtue and to God. In full faith of a glorious immortality through the merits of a Redeemer, like a shock of corn fully ripe, she willingly fell asleep, and was gathered to her Fathers.

On Sunday following, a sermon adapted to the occasion was delivered by the Rev. Mr. Todd, from 2 Timo. iv. 6. 7.-I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand : I have fought a good fight: I have finished my course : I have kept the faith.

At West-Haven, Miss PATTY Jones, Et. 38. Who for many years had been employed as a School-mistress in the parish; she was indefatigable in her pains as an instructress, and gave perfect satisfaction to her employers. As a daughter and sister, she was the delight of her family ; and as a friend and Christian, she will long be remembered with pleasure, by those who best knew her. She bore her last illness with Christian fortitude, and met death with hopes full of immortality.

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