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and the reason, rule over the instincts and the passive faculties ; the soul over the body; man over nature.

In the frozen regions man also contends with Nature, but it is with a niggardly and severe Nature; it is a desperate struggle—a struggle for life. With difficulty, by force of toil, he succeeds in providing for himself a miserable support, which saves him from dying of hunger and hardship during the tedious winters of that climate. High culture is not possible under such unfavourable conditions.

The man of the tropical regions is the son of a wealthy house. In the midst of the abundance which surrounds him, labour too often seems to him useless; to abandon himself to his inclinations is more easy and agreeable. A slave of his passions, an unfaithful servant, he leaves uncultivated and unused the faculties with which God has endowed him.

The man of the polar regions is the beggar overwhelmed with suffering, who, too happy if he can but gain his daily bread, has no leisure to think of anything more exalted.

The man of the temperate regions, finally, is the man born in ease, in the golden mean, which is the most favoured of all conditions. Invited to labour by everything around him, he soon finds, in the exercise of all his faculties, at once progress and wellbeing.

Thus, if the tropical regions have the wealth of nature, the temperate regions are the most perfectly organized for the development of man. They are opposed to each other, as the body and the soul, as the inferior races and the superior races, as savage man and civilized man, as nature and history. Of this contrast, so marked as it is, the history of human societies will give us the solution, or, at least, will enable us to obtain a glimpse of the truth.

GUYOT.

HYMN TO THE CREATOR.

THESE are thy glorious works, Parent of good!
Almighty! Thine this universal frame,

Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then!
Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens,
To us invisible, or dimly seen

In these thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light,
Angels! for ye behold him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing:-ye in heaven;
On earth join all ye creatures to extol

Him first, him last, him midst, and without end!
Fairest of stars! last in the train of night,

If better thou belong not to the dawn,-
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet,-praise him in thy sphere,
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.

Thou sun! of this great world both eye and soul,
Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st.
Moon! that now meet'st the orient sun, now fliest,
With the fixed stars,—fixed in their orb that flies;
And ye five other wand'ring fires! that move

In mystic dance, not without song, resound
His praise, who out of darkness called up light.
Air, and ye elements! the eldest birth
Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix

And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.

Ye mists and exhalations! that now rise

From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rise;
Whether to deck with clouds the uncoloured sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rising or falling still advance his praise.

His praise, ye winds! that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship, wave.

Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.

Join voices, all ye living souls! Ye birds,
That singing up to heaven-gate ascend,
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep!
Witness if I be silent, morn or even,

To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.
Hail, universal Lord! be bounteous still
To give us only good; and if the night
Hath gathered aught of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark!

MILTON.

HEAVEN TRANSCENDENTLY GLORIOUS.

I PRAISED the earth, in beauty seen,
With garlands gay of various green;
I praised the sea, whose ample field
Shone glorious as a silver shield;
And earth and ocean seemed to say,
"Our beauties are but for a day."

I praised the sun, whose chariot rolled
On wheels of amber and of gold;

I praised the moon, whose softer eye
Gleamed sweetly through the summer sky;
And moon and sun in answer said,
"Our days of light are numberèd.”

O God, O good beyond compare!
If thus thy meaner works are fair,-
If thus thy bounties gild the span
Of ruined earth and sinful man,-
How glorious must the mansion be
Where thy redeemed shall dwell with Thee!

PART II.

THE LAND WE LIVE IN.

OLD ENGLAND.

OLD England! thou hast green and pastoral hills,
Fanned by delicious gales;

And living voices of harmonious rills

Sound in thy silvan vales.

Under the shadow of primeval trees,

'Mid whisp'ring of green leaves,

Stand cheerful groups of white-walled cottages,
Flower-mantled to the eaves.

And thou hast loving hearts, both high and low,
And homes where bliss abides;

And little children that rejoicing go

By flowery streamlet sides.

And thou hast many a hill and forest glade,

That to the past belong;

Many a brown moor and crumbling ruin, made

Imperishable by song;

And way-side wells, that broad leaves overshadow,

Where pilgrims knelt of old;

And winding paths through many a pleasant meadow,

'Mid flowers of blue and gold,

Winding through woods where the sweet wilding's blossom Puts forth in carly spring,

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