the communication of christian privileges. But this turning off the mind from secular to spiritual concerns was a remarkable peculiarity with the Saviour and the first preachers of Christianity. Their whole soul was absorbed in their office. They took all favorable, all justifiable opportunities, of diffusing the principles with which they were intrusted. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, these apostles reply, and thou shalt be safe and thine household. Then they spake to him the word of the Lord, and to all who were in his house. Thus they calmed his perturbation, and gave him promise of a greater blessing than he had requested. He inquired for means of temporal preservation; and they promised not only this, but granted opportunity of spiritual pres

ervation.

As the jailer was perfectly innocent, Paul would have run little risk in giving these assurances of safety, even could we suppose him uninformed of the event by inspiration; but can a rational man believe, that he would promise to this or any other family salvation in heaven? It is not conceivable. Security from punishment and the glory of the eternal world, are two very different things. The apostle was by no means authorized to make any such promise as the latter. It was more than he durst promise himself, since in one of his epistles he alludes to the possibility of even his being finally disapproved, or a castaway. The truth is, and the truth or correct rendering of scripture often affords the best solution of theological difficulties, he makes no reference to a future state, but to present safety and present

communication of favours-security from punishment and admittance to the christian community. These were blessing of a temporal nature; yet, if cordially embraced, they would lead to the assurance and attainment of eternal salvation. T.

"A MAN'S LIFE CONSISTETH NOT IN THE ABUNDANCE OF THE THINGS THAT HE POSSESSETH."

Think'st thou the steed that restless roves
O'er fields and mountains, vales and groves,
With wild, unbridled bound,

Finds fresher pasture than the bee
On simple flower or dewy tree,

Intent to store her industry

Within her waxen round?

Think'st thou the fountain made to turn
Through marble vase, or fretted urn,
Affords a sweeter draught

Than that which in its native sphere

Perennial, undisturbed, and clear,

Flows, the lone traveller's thirst to cheer

And wake his grateful thought?

Think'st thou the man whose mansions hold
The worldling's pride, the miser's gold,
Obtains a richer prize

Than he, who in his cot at rest
Finds heavenly peace a willing guest,

And bears the earnest in his breast

Of treasure in the skies?

Author of "Moral Pieces," &c.

AUTUMN WINDS.

SWEEP on, rude winds, and rend the leafy crown
That withering Autumn loves,-and lift the sea
Up in loud wrath, and crest the foaming waves,
And make the tall ship own herself a reed.—
Go forth and vex the mariner, and give
Perchance his riches to the faithless deep ;-
And then return, and sigh yourselves away
With such a syren guile, as if ye scarce
Could shut the sleeping rose.-This is your wont,
Ye boist❜rous whisperers of your Maker's wrath,
Who vaunt yourselves amid the troubled clouds
One awful moment, and the next are gone
Ye know not whither.

-Man is like to you

His whirlwind passions nerve him, and he tears
The realm of nature,-marks his path with wrecks,
And chasms, and sepulchres,—and then returns
From war's dire game,-perchance to sigh away
His soul in love like the soft summer gale

On Beauty's cheek,--and then lies down to mix
With the same dust that soil'd his chariot wheels,-
-Oh Thou! who holdest in Thy powerful hand
Both the wild tempests, and the breath that moves
This mass of clay,-let us not madly trust
Our treasure to the winds, and weep at last

The harvest, when the whirlwind wasteth it ;

Nor let the blossom of our nurtured hopes
Which we have sown on earth with tears and prayers
Go up as chaff on the Dividing Day.—Ib.

THE

UNITARIAN ADVOCATE.

Vol. IV.

DECEMBER, 1829.

No. VI.

INSENSIBILITY TO THE FLIGHT OF TIME.

WITH how much accuracy and care do men compute their possessions. How minutely attentive are they in watching the gradual increase of their substance, and how constantly present to their minds will be the sum total of their gains. On the other hand, what anxiety follows the losses which occur. How often are these compared with the whole which they have diminished, in order to ascertain the exact amount of the diminution. And how solicitous are we to increase our toil, how willing to reduce our enjoyments and multiply our privations, in order to regain what has been lost?-These things, which are familiar to every one's observation, are not to be condemned in themselves, though sometimes carried to a very blameable extent. In themselves the attention and solicitude bestowed on the gains or losses which occur in our temporal affairs, partake of an entirely lawful and even a commendable prudence. But let us compare these with the attention and solicitude bestowed about gains or losses of another and higher kind, and how lamentable the disproportion!

The season of the year brings to view the insensibility of men to the passage of time as one instance, in which this lamentable disproportion is manifested. What are the causes of this insensibility to the flight of time?

One of these undoubtedly is the silence of its passage. Time comes and goes with perfect stillness. He ushers in his years, months and days, his hours and his moments without noise. No trumpet sounds to warn us of their approach: no awakening tumult accompanies their departure. The sands in the glass roll, one by one, down their rapid course, and the listening ear cannot catch the sound of their motion. The lengthening shadow gives no sign. Noon succeeds to morning, and night to day without confusion. Suddenly we start up and wonder where the hours are flown. The youth is surprised to find himself so soon plunged in the bustling cares of manhood. The man is yet more surprised to see gray hairs gathering upon his head. He had no notice of the change, no alarm was sounded, no warning observed, but the hand of time was still doing its work. The art of man has done a very little to supply the deficiency of nature; but the mechanism of a watch or the tongue of a bell, feebly answer the purpose of a moral memory. They may remind us of the passage of time so far as to answer important purposes of other kinds, but they force on none the conviction that the tide of time with him is on the ebb, they compel none to ask himself the solemn question "how long have I to live ?" The silence of