happiness of man. Century after century has rolled away, but neither has the law been obeyed, nor have its consequences been regarded. Do you ask the reason? The human heart is opposed to truth. The philosopher has not only been compelled to contend with the intrinsic difficulties of his pursuits, but also to wage an unequal and exterminating warfare with the prejudices which hostility to truth has created.

So rancorous has been this hostility, that it has both insulted and persecuted those gifted men who have laboured by their discoveries to promote the happiness of our race. Often has it sought to cover the noblest exhibitions of human genius with the pall of oblivion, and to consign to perpetual infamy the names of the most celebrated philosophers. Yes, strange as it may now seem, the great astronomer, who first asserted the fact of the diurnal motion of the earth, was threatened with all the horrors of the inquisition.

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Happy would it have been for our world had this spirit spent its rage in obstructing the march of science alone. But hostility to truth has also affected the civil and political relations of man. Thus far the history of the world has been little else than a tale of oppression and tyranny. Every ocean has been stained with blood, and every land has been whitened with the bones of the fallen warrior. What is it that has thus marred the face of this fair earth? God has given us, in rich abundance, civil and political rights, but man has disregarded and abused them.

Hostility to truth seems to be the first law of the despot's throne. He will not believe that "all men are born free and equal," for he shackles his equal with the chains of servitude. We see this spirit exhibited in the policy of the autocrat of Russia. We mark its desolating effects on the once fruitful plains of Poland. We see it banishing her illustrious patriots to the dreary wastes of Siberia.

VALEDICTORY ADDRESS.*

THIS day's labours close my ministerial life among you. It is seemly that, on so solemn an occasion, I should address to you a few parting words. And, first of all, I rejoice to make mention of the respect and kindness with which I have been treated by most of you, and publicly to tender you my grateful acknowledgments.

I do not pretend that I have been so useful among you as an older and holier man would have been, but I know that I have tried to do the best I could. I have been willing to "spend and be spent for you," neither have I counted "my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God." You will bear witness to what my pallid countenance and exhausted body have so often testified, that my life among you has been trying, perplexing, and laborious. Upon it, however, I have no encomiums to bestow, and for it I have no apologies to offer. The record which has been made of it by an impartial Judge, a holy God, is now fast sealing up for the judgment of the great day. There, in the presence of an assembled world, will it be opened, and its results be made known! Are you ready, my people, for that solemn, eventful scene? I thank God that I feel happy in the thought of then and there meeting the account of my ministry.

My unconverted hearers, I regret that I leave you as I found you, "having no hope, and without God in the world." I have not, indeed, been responsible for your conversion, but I should have rejoiced with angels over it. Alas! that over you I have not been permitted to shed tears of joy. I have been responsible for faithfully preach

* This address was delivered June 3, 1838, at the close of the author's last sermon to the people of his charge in Salem, Mass.-ED.

ing unto you the gospel, for declaring unto you, to the extent of my ability, "all the counsel of God." This I have tried to do; and though I still tenderly love you, and earnestly desire your salvation, I feel discharged from all responsibility. "If thou warn the wicked of his way to turn from it," saith the Lord, “if he do not turn from his way, he shall die in his iniquity; but thou hast delivered thy soul." Let me, then, for the last time as your pastor, and with all the feeling of a dying man, " pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God."

Brethren of the church, I have been solicitous for your welfare, and in all things have laboured to promote it. How far I have succeeded in so doing, you must judge. My discourses and exhortations have indeed been plain, and may have appeared to some of you severe; they have, too, not unfrequently subjected me to unkind and censorious remarks. But God is my witness that I have acted under the sanction of his word, and the responsibilities of "the world to come." I have so preached, and so exhorted, because I have felt for your welfare, and have loved your souls. Your hopes and fears, your joys and sorrows, your embarrassments and afflictions, have been mine also. I pray God that you may be delivered from every thing which disturbs your peace and prevents your prosperity. And to this end I beseech you to labour, more assidiously than you have hitherto done, to be entirely conformed to Christ your living Head. Obey his precepts, cultivate his spirit, and live to his glory. Then, under all trials, in all perils, and amid all storms, you may confidently rely upon his protection. Then, in the last hour of expiring nature,—that hour so often full of bitterness and replete with agony,-you may enjoy the presence of your Saviour, and, accompanied by angels, and the "spirits of the just made perfect," ascend triumphant to your eternal rest.

To those who have been converted to God during my ministry among you, I may be permitted to add a few words. It is natural to cherish peculiar feelings of regard and affection for those who have been the instruments of our conversion. Such feelings may perhaps exist in the breasts of some of you. Sometimes, however, they degenerate into an unjustifiable partiality for the servant of Christ. So was it in the Corinthian church, when the holy apostle reproved them. So, I believe, has it been in this church. Let it not be so with you, I pray you. If I have done you any good, the excellency of the power has been of God, and not of man. To him belongeth all the glory, and to him alone let it ever be devoutly ascribed. If any of you have cause to remember me with pleasure and affection, I rejoice, as it affords me proof that I have not lived in vain, nor spent my strength for naught. But say not, I beg you, when I am gone, "I am of Paul, and I of Apollos." Rather "let your conversation be as it becometh the gospel of Christ; that, whether I come and see you, or else be absent, I may hear of your affairs, that ye stand fast in one spirit, with one mind, striving together for the faith of the gospel."

Persevere, brethren, in the way to heaven, even if you are called to pass through waters of affliction. "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life," is the heart-cheering promise of our adorable Redeemer. Remember that death, so full of terror to the wicked, will soon arrive. Already is the winged messenger of Jehovah on his way, bearing despatches of joy or of grief to you and me. God grant that we may be ready to welcome his arrival whenever it shall be announced, and to enter into the mansions of the blest. There-on the fair shores of eternal deliverance, beyond the noise and discord, and above the clouds and storms of this troublous world—all radiant in beauty and all glorious in holiness

-there may we renew our acquaintance, there strike our harps, there wear our crowns! There may we meet to part no more. Finally, beloved, one and all, while “I take you to record this day," as I most conscientiously feel that I can, "that I am pure from the blood of all”— ' with the warmest wishes for your prosperity as individuals, as a society, and as a church, and with fervent prayers for your eternal salvation-I bid you a kind and affectionate farewell, "commending you to God, and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among all them which are sanctified."

INTELLECTUAL IMPROVEMENT.

A LECTURE DELIVERED IN THE ODEON, BOSTON, SEPTEMBER 9, 1838, BEFORE AN ASSOCIATION OF SABBATH-SCHOOL TEACHERS.*

THE great law of the universe is progression. In obedience to it every thing moves on, either in an increasing or decreasing series. The solid granite gradually crumbles into dust. The tall oak of the forest is first a tender shoot, then a green sapling, till at last, under the genial influence of warmth and moisture, it becomes stately in its maturity; and, if permitted to remain unmolested, it as gradually decays, to afford nourishment to others. So the human body is first seen in all the helplessness of infancy, then in the freshness and beauty of youth, then in the full strength of manhood; till age steals on apace, impairing its beauty, wasting its freshness, and destroying its strength, till in the grave, man's second cradle, it turns again to dust. Memory, imagination, judgment, and reason have also their infancy and youth, and, if properly

*This lecture is one of a course which was delivered at the Odeon by clergymen of different denominations.-ED.