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ROCK OF AGES.

Not the faint sparks of thy hearth ever glowing: [Mr. Gladstone, Chancellor of the Exchequer, Not a pale bud from the June roses blowing, has turned into Latin verse Toplady's familiar

Give, as He gave thee, who gave thee to live. hymn, Rock of Ages.” We give both the Pour ont thy love, like the rush of a river original and the translation.—Eds. Independent.) Wasting its waters, forever and ever, Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Through the burnt sands that reward not the Let me hide myself in thee!

giver ; Let the water and the blood

Silent or songful, thou nearest the sea. From thy riven side which flowed,

Scatter thy life, as the summer showers pouring ! Be of sin the double cure,

What if no bird through the pearl-rain is soaring? Cleanse me from its guilt and power.

What if no blossom looks upward adoring? Not the labors of my hands

Look to the life that was lavished for thee! Can fulfil thy law's demands ;

So the wild wind strews its perfumed caresses, Could my zeal no respite know,

Evil and thankless the desert it blesses, Could my tears forever flow,

Bitter the wave that its soft pinion presses, All for sin could not atone!

Never it ceaseth to whisper and sing. Thou must save, and thou alone!

What if the hard heart give thorns for thy roses ? Nothing in my hand I bring

What if on rocks thy tired bosom reposes ? Simply to thy cross I cling;

Sweetest is music with minor-keyed closes, Naked, come to thee for dress ;

Fairest the vines that on ruin will cling. Helpless look to thee for grace;

Almost the day of thy giving is over : Foul, I to thy fountain fly;

Ere from the grass dies the bee-haunted clover, Wash me, Saviour, or I die!

Thou wilt have vanished from friend and from While I draw this fleeting breath,

lover; When my eyelids close in death,

What shall thy longing avail in the grave ? When I soar to worlds unknown,

Give as the heart gives, whose fetters are breakSee thee on thy judgment throne,

ing, Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Life, love, and hope, all thy dreams and thy Let me hide myself in thee.

waking,

Soon heaven's river thy soul-fever slaking, Jesus, pro me perforatus,

Thou shalt know God and the gift that he Condar intra tuum latus.

gave.
Tu per lympham profluentem,
Tu per sanguinem tepentem
In peccata mi redunda,

DAY BY DAY.
Tolle culpam, sordes munda.

BY THE AUTHOR OF “ JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLE-
Coram te nec justus forem,

MAN."
Quamvis totâ vi laborem,
Nec si fide numquam cesso,

EVERY day has its dawn,

Its soft and silent eve,
Fletu stillans indefesso;
Tibi soli tantum munus ;

Its noontide hours of bliss or bale ;-
Salva me, Salvator unus.

Why should we grieve ?
Nil in manu mecum fero,

Why do we heap huge mounds of years
Sed me versùs crucem gero;

Before us and behind,
Vestimenta nudus oro,

And scorn the little days that pass
Opem debilis imploro;

Like angels on the wind ?
Fontem Christi quæro' immundus,

Each turning round a small sweet face
Nisi laves, moribundus.

As beautiful as near;
Dum hos artus vita regit;

Because it is so small a face
Quando nox sepulchro tegit;

We will not see it clear :
Mortuos cum stare jubes,

We will not clasp it as it flies,
Sedens Judex inter nubes ;

And kiss its lips and brow:
Jesus, pro me perforatus,

We will not bathe our wearied souls
Condar intra tuum latus.

In its delicious Now.
And so it turns from us, and goes

Away in sad disdain :

Though we would give our lives for it, "IT IS MORE BLESSED.”

It never comes again. Give! as the morning that flows out of heaven ; Yet, every day has its dawn, Give ! as the waves when their channel is riven; Its noontide, and its eve: Give ! as the free air and sunshine are given ; Live while we live, giving God thanksLavishly, utterly, joyfully give.

He will not let us grieve. Not the wasto drops of thy cup overflowing,

- Macmillan's Magazine.

From The Saturday Review. made uneasy for days from the notion of FOOLISH THINGS.

having committed some unwarrantable faThe subject of folly is a wide one. Mr. miliarity, which under excitement seemed, Buckle's sixteen volumes would hardly ex- and very likely was, perfectly natural. haust its various manifestations; what, then, We are advised to sleep upon certain decan be expected in a single page ? But it is signs, but it means really to wake upon also attractive. Nobody is disinclined to them. Nothing is more curious than the have his belief in the universality of folly revulsion a short interval makes in our confirmed by a new instance-every one is whole view of things—no magic more bewilready to speculate on the motive or want of dering than the transmutations which a few motive of ridiculous human action. But the hours of insensibility produce—a few hours foolish things we have here set ourselves to of being thrown absolutely upon ourselves. speak of are not attractive. They furnish food What an idea it gives us of the effect of for anything rather than amused supercilious association, of the action of man upon man! analysis. Are there any of our readers who Nobody can allow himself to be real and never in their own persons say or do foolish natural in his intercourse with others, and things—who are never conscious of having act as he laid himself out beforehand to act, been deserted by their good genius? If there or as he wishes (we may too often say), on are, we do not write for them. It is one's looking back, that he had acted. If this is own foolish things which at present engage true in the solemn and weighty affairs of our attention, for which we assume the life, it must of necessity be true in the light sympathy of fellow-feeling, and reckon on or less responsible contact of society where touching an answering chord in other breasts the little turns and accidents of the hour are not a few. We are not speaking now of constantly throwing us off our rules, and grave errors and mistakes, but of the inad- tempting us to ventures and experiments. vertencies, weaknesses, and follies which All wit, all repartee, all spontaneous efferhaunt our subordinate, social, man-fearing vescence of thought and fancy are of the conscience—which we may not know to have nature of experiment. All new unplanned been perceived by any but ourselves, but revelations of self-all the impulses, in fact, which nevertheless affect us, not because which come of collision with other minds in they are wrong, but silly, and because they moments of social excitement, whether pleasmay be thought more silly by others even urable or irritating—are apt to leave qualms than by ourselves—which leave a sense of and misgivings on the sensitive and reflecself-betrayal, making us ask in bitterness :- :- tive temperament. Thus, especially, sins

“ Who shall be true to us against taste fret us in the heavy yet busy When we are so unsecret to ourselves?

excitable hour which we have fixed on for They are the things which allow us to go to the levee of these spectres, when our sleep at night with an undisturbed conscience, thoughts, like hounds, scent out disagreeabut wake us with a start hours before the ble things with a miraculous instinct, drag dawn, and set us wondering, How could I them to light, fly from subject to subject, make such a fool of myself? Where was however remote and disconnected, and hem the impulse to that vain show-off? What us round with our own pecadilloes. Society could have induced me to talk of such an in the cold dawn looks on us as a hard taskone-to confide my private concerns to So- master, exacting, unrelenting, seeing everyand-so ? For it may be noted that sins of thing, taking account of everything, forgetomission play but a small part in this peri- ting nothing-judging by externals, and odical tragedy. It is not lost opportunities, holding its judgments irreversible. For, but heedless ill-considered speech and action, after all, it is a cowardly time. We are not that fret us at unseasonable hours—some concerning ourselves now with bonâ fide thoughtless license of the tongue, perhaps, penitence, but only with its shadow and imor some passing vanity leading to misplaced itation-a fear of what people will think, a confidence and weak reliance on sympathy. dread of having committed ourselves, whose In the young, the fear of presumption is a best alleviation lies in empty resolutions of fruitful yet innocent source of these stings dedicating the coming day to a general reof memory. Young people are sometimes versal or reparation of yesterday, to a laborious mending and patching, which is to by a wise man certainly stands out with a leave us sadder and wiser men; along with startling prominence and distinctness, pointa certain self-confidence (also the offspring ing out the weak place there is in the best of the hour) that if we can only set the past of us. When our wise friend, under some to rights,-rectify, explain, recant effectually, malignant influence, says or does something -our present experience will preserve us exceptionally silly, the thing assumes a sort from all future recurrence of even the ten- of life from contrast. It is quoted against dency and temptation to do foolish things. him, and perhaps in some quarters a permaWe own this to be cowardly. It is fortunate nently lower estimate of mind and character that we cannot mould ourselves on the model is the consequence. Do the same things of these morbid regrets; for the influences that in this case strike us strike the perpewhich make us seem to ourselves so different trator ? Can a wise man say a foolish thing in the rubs of domestic and social life from and remain forever unconscious of it? One our solitary selves—so that we are constantly thing we must believe-it cannot be only a taking ourselves by surprise—are not all latent self-conceit in the midst of our hubad ones.

They may be more unselfish miliations and self-reproaches that leads us than those which impel to remorse, and to assume them not universal. There are make us feel so sore against ourselves. people so uniformly foolish, so constantly There is a certain generous throwing of impertinent, rash, talkative, unsecret, or one's self into the breach in some crisis, blundering, that if revisited by their errors, whether grave or gay, which often brings solitude would be one long penance which us to grief. There is a certain determined could not fail to tell upon their outer aspect. devotion to the matter in hand, a resolution The fool par excellence is not, we gladly become what may to carry a thing through, lieve, haunted by his folly. It is when we which is better than caution, though by no have departed from our real charactermeans a subject for self-congratulation at when our instincts have failed us—when we five o'clock in the morning; or, indeed, so have gone against ourselves—that we writhe long as it lives in the memory at all. On under tormenting memories. the whole, it is better as it is. We are The subject is worth dwelling upon for gainers in freedom by living in a world one reason. If, with the exception of conwhere it is possible to commit one's self-to spicuous fools, we could realize that this go beyond intentions—to be impulsive, in- class of regrets are not due to our particular cautious. If everybody were' as self-pos- idiosyncrasy, but are a common scourge of sessed, as much on his guard as we wish we weak, vain, irritable, boasting humanity, it had been in these periods of harassed med- ought to conduce to charity in our judgitation, society would not be a very refresh- ments. If we could believe that the people ing or invigorating sphere.

we dislike suffer these penances, and could This is a surer source of consolation, as far give them credit for waking with a twinge as our observation goes, than any argument an hour earlier than usual, under the refrom analogy that our fears delude us. If membrance of impertinence, vanity, unkindwe look round on those of our friends whose ness, persuaded that certain definite offences prudence we can scarcely hope to equal, far against our taste and feeling would haunt less to surpass—whom we trust for manner, their solitary walk and make the trial of their discretion, and judgment—there is scarcely day, we could not but learn patience and one who does not now and then disappoint toleration. But we are apt to regard our or surprise us by some departure from his annoyance as the penalty of an exceptionally usual right way of thinking and acting, by sensitive social conscience. We and the committing some moral or social solecism, people we care for cannot do foolishly with. just one of the things to haunt the first out feeling sorry for it — without going waking hour. We are not meaning merely through the expiation of a pang; but the clever people—for cleverness has a prescrip- people we dislike are insensible, coarse, obtive right to do foolish things—but wise and tuse, dull, and brutish. Theirs has not been sensible people who have a rule of action, a mistake, which implies a departure from and habitually go by it-habitually, but not their nature, but an acting up to it and acalways ;--and a foolish thing done or said cording to it. They are therefore showing

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themselves as they are when they show them- crushed by them. In the heat of composiselves most unpleasant and repulsive. tion we foresee those cooler, cautious hours

Another mode of reconciling ourselves to in the distance, and defy them. We have a this prompt Nemesis of minor follies is that dim notion that we are doing a foolish thing, it may possibly preserve us from greater but we will act while conviction is supreme, ones. It may both imply caution, and keep and we send off our letter—to repent someour caution in practice and repair. We times how bitterly! have already made an exception in favor of It has been cleverly said that the whole fools ; but are people subject to rash im- folly of this proceeding lies not in the writpulses-impulses swaying their whole des- ing, which is an excellent valve to the feeltiny and the fate of others—who find a ings, but in the sending; and certainly very pleasure in staking the future on some un- few letters, written under immediate provoconsidered chance, ever visited by regrets for cation, would be sent if the writers slept a having merely exposed themselves in no more night upon them. But the pen can do foolweighty matter than some foolish breach of ish things things below the writer's standconfidence or lapse of propriety? Are peo- ard of speech and action—without provocaple habitually unguarded ever visited by tion. There are many people whose intellect lesser remorse? Is not this rather a con- and judgment would stand much higher in flict where habitual caution is every now and the world's estimation if they had never been then betrayed by counter influences ? Does taught to write. Men write letters and a man who is always boasting ever remember women write notes in total neglect of the any particular boast with a pang ? Does rules which guide their conversation, and one who is always betraying secrets and re- which win them sometimes an extraordinary vealing his own and other people's privacy reputation for good sense. A whole swarm -always talking of himself, always maudlin, of absurd impulses cluster round the pen, always ill-natured or sarcastic-ever writhe which leave them alone at other times. A under the recollection of his follies ? It is propensity for interference and giving advice hard to be lenient towards some people, how- is one of these a passion for explanations, ever much it is our duty to think the best. a memory for old grievances, and a faith in

But whatever tenderness may be shown the efficacy of formal, prolix, minute statetowards foolish things acted or spoken, what- ments of wrong, along with querulous hints, ever beneficent purpose may be assigned to unpalatable suggestions and insinuations them in the social economy, our leniency generally—all of which are foolish because ends here. Little can be said ethically, and they cannot, in the nature of things, have a nothing prudentially, for foolish things writ- good issue, and flow from the ready pen in ten-for outbreaks of our follies and tempers oblivion of obvious consequences, which elseon paper; and yet what a fruitful source of where hold the writer in salutary check. these regrets has the pen been with some of Indeed, the pen often wakes a set of feelus! And never has the sting been sharper ings which are not known to exist without than when we realize that our imprudence is it. If we must be foolish sometimes, let us in black and white, beyond our reach, irre- then give our folly as short a term as possivocable. The pen gives us a power of hav- ble. If it must leave traces behind, our ing our say out which speech seldom does. memory is a better and safer archive than We are free from the unaccountable, almost our enemy's, or even our friend's, writing tasolemn, control that man in bodily presence ble. Therefore, if any warning of the fit is has over man. Fresh from some injury, we granted, if a man have any reason for mishave the plea, the retort, the reproof, the givings, let him, before all things, beware of flippancy, the good things in our hands with pen and ink. Things are seldom quite hopeout danger of interruption. We will write less till they are committed to paper-a it while the subject is fresh and vivid, and scrape is never at its worst till it has given the arguments so clear that our correspond- birth to a correspondence. ent cannot fail of being struck, persuaded,

From The Saturday Review. can be more characteristic of the time than M. THE UNPUBLISHED WRITINGS OF ROUS- de Buttafuoco's letter, and Rousseau's reaSEAU.*

sons for eagerly acceding to the suggestion. The “Unpublished Writings and Corre- The officer is convinced that nobody but the spondence of Rousseau" consist of a variety author of the Contrat Social can ensure the of papers in the possession of a Genevese future welfare of his country ; and the phifamily named Moultou. M. Paul Moultou, losopher is sure that there can be no better the great-grandfather of the editor, was a field than Corsica for his experiments, beminister of the Evangelical Church of Geneva, cause it is nearer its natural condition than and, strange as it may seem, an intimate other communities in Europe, the social inpersonal friend both of Rousseau and of equalities which it undoubtedly exhibits Voltaire. Many of the fragments contained being mere superficial irregularities artifiin the recently published volume are parts of cially introduced by the tyrannical Genoese. works which Rousseau describes himself, in But Rousseau, though he instantly began to his Confessions, as having committed to the labor at the Corsican institutions, was not flames;

but the philosopher is known to have permitted to proceed far with them. In 1764, been nover weary of copying and recopying the the French Government took possession of manuscript of his favorite productions, and the coast towns of Corsica under pretence of now and then one or other of the foul copies, mediating between the Corsicans and the having been probably submitted originally to Genoese. For three years the French troops M. Moultou for his critical opinion, appears to remained in the island, professing all the have remained in his hands. The book given while the utmost sympathy with the efforts to the world by M. Moultou's descendant has of the Corsican patriots, and disclaiming for the most part that interest only which be- the smallest intention of restoring the tyrlongs to the accidentally preserved remains of anny which had been overthrown. The cona great writer. Englishmen, who are little un- vention under which they had entered proder the influence of Rousseau's doctrine, and vided for their withdrawal in 1768, by which not at all alive to the witchery of his style, time they had become virtual masters of will probably consider the rhetoric of the con- Corsica ; but just when their retirement was tents inflated and the reasoning flimsy; and expected, it turned out that France had obif they do not happen to be aware of the tained the cession of the island from the strong evidence of Rousseau's sincerity which Senate of Genoa. The King of France imhas gradually been collected, they will be mediately assumed the sovereignty; the sure to think the sentiment hollow, preten- patriots were pitilessly put down, and Roustious, and hypocritical. There is, however, seau threw aside his Constitution in indigone fragment in the volume which merits nation and despair. The history, so far as attention, even in this country, as forming concerns the conduct of the French Governone stone in a great landmark of the his- ment, is one which has been repeated since, tory of opinion. This is a paper, singular and probably not for the last time. in form, and consisting chiefly of mere scat- Rousseau, with the curious pedantry of his tered sentences, which has for its title Proj- age, had derived his ideas concerning Corsica ect of a Constitution for Corsica. Rous- from a passage in Diodorus, “ The Corsiseau, like most earnest theorists, had a pas- cans,” says that writer, “feed on milk, sionate desire to see the practical application honey, and meat ; they observe among themof his principles. It happened that in 1761, selves the rules of justice and humanity with after the Corsicans under Paoli had all but more exactness than any other barbarians. driven their Genoese masters out of their The first person who finds honey in the island, M. de Buttafuoco, a Corsican offi- mountains or in the hollow of a tree has the cer in the service of the King of France, took certainty that no one will dispute his right it into his head to write a letter to Rousseau, to it.” But, in point of fact, the island requesting him to frame laws and a consti- which was thus selected as the theatre on tution for the emancipated people. Nothing which the regeneration of the world was to

* Euvres et Correspondance Inédites de J. J. begin, was the spot in Western Europe which Rousseau. Publiées par M. G. Streckeisen-Moul- remained longest in pure barbarism. Its sotou. Paris: Levy. London: Jeffs.

ciety, far from being distinguished by the

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1861.

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