THE YOUNG COMMUNICANTS.

"The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction."

SOME are there who will not disdain to trace
In the pure youthful mind truth's holy power,
The hidden workings of celestial grace

WORDSWORTH.

That like the Spring-time's softly falling shower,
Sheds its refreshing dews on tender hearts,
And heavenly wisdom's joy and peace imparts.
'Tis many years since on a summer day

A young and happy child was brought to share,
With others of her age, and to repay

A good and gentle lady's kindly care.-
Order and love the social circle swayed,
And her mild rule was cheerfully obeyed.

The child of whom I speak had scarcely seen

The flight of nine short years, and ne'er before Had left her Father's house-had never been

Where his kind voice could reach her ear no more.

And sadly did this banished dear one weep,

Refusing comfort, till the hour of sleep.

Then, tired with grief unusual and with all
The strange events of that long, weary day,
She on her pillow lay, which did recall

The good-night kiss of those now far away,
And home remembrances that caused fresh tears,
Which still bedewed her cheek when hushed her fears,
Her sorrows and her cares in calm repose,

And as she slept fell from the gentle grasp

Of her unclosing hand a faded rose,

That she had held with close and loving clasp,
Brought from her own small garden's narrow bound,
With daisies white and red all bordered round.

Poor little thing! her heart had never known
Till now so sad a grief-the parent nest
Had sheltered her from pain-and joy had grown
As in its native clime, within her breast;
And her young spirit with intense delight
Had felt and loved, the beautiful and bright.
Nor long her simple nature did refuse

Kindness tho' proffered by a stranger hand,
And soon her warm and eager heart did choose
One kindred mind from out the youthful band,
Who now her bosom's dearest friend became,
Their tasks, their plays, their sleeping room the same.

Together in the fields and woods they walk,
Their little arms all lovingly entwined,
With merry laugh and girlish glee they talk,
Or start away in playful haste to find
Some well-known mossy bank or cowslip mead
Where the unwearied bees in plenty feed.

And midst their converse, innocent and gay,
And childish as their years, would oft arise
Subjects of graver interest, for they

In pure religious truth were early wise-
Had early learned to know and love the Lord,
And seek instruction in his holy Word.

And sweet it was to see them side by side

O'er the same page in meek attention bend,
Reading of Him who on the Cross had died,
The little children's Saviour-and their friend
In heaven above, as when on earth he bade
The mothers bring them, and be not afraid.

And sweet to hear their mingling voices raise
(When closed the sacred book with studious care),
To heaven the grateful hymn of joy and praise,
Ere they devoutly kneel in fervent prayer.
And ever to them both, each morn and night,
This daily service was their sweet delight.

Oh few I deem are they who long have trod
The beaten paths of life's perplexed ways,
Who, when they bend the feeble knee to God,

Would not rejoice to pray as childhood prays-
When love-from the young heart all freshly springs,
And faith-meek hope and trust undoubting brings.
Faith-that with daring, yet with reverent hand,
Entering the temple, doth the veil withdraw,
In the effulgent light serene doth stand,
Its holy transport unprofaned by awe.
The glories of Omniscience sees revealed,
And the closed book of providence, unsealed.

SECOND PART.

Thus did their young companionship display
A true and fervent piety, that spread
A "sweet attractive grace" o'er all their way,

Like dew of Hermon on the mountain shed-
Lovely the light their love around them threw,
And they with God and man in favour grew.
And pleasantly the days passed by, of these
Young duteous children-when one even-tide,
As to and fro beneath dark hazel-trees

They paced, and watched the sun-set shadows glide,

Their little minds were filled with troubled thought,
And each from each, support and comfort sought.

On that most touching theme they speak, the night
When Jesus with his twelve disciples kept

The feast that did commemorate the flight

Of Israel from the land, where long had wept
Her o'er-task'd tribes, till Pharoah's hardened heart
By fear subdued, allowed them to depart.

And how the Saviour blessed and brake the bread,
And, with the wine, to his disciples gave,
Saying these words" Lo, this my blood is shed,
And body given, mankind from sin to save,
Do this in my remembrance." This behest
All Christians have believed to all addressed,

Save those to whom these children did belong,
That sect austere, who outward forms oppose,
All ritual service-stated prayer-or song;

And hence their present doubts and fears arose.
Solemn and plain doth seem the Lord's command,
And shall they aliens from his altar stand?

At length no more perplexing doubt they feel,
But gratefully retire in peace to sleep,
With pious purpose which they yet conceal,
At earliest morn, the holy rite to keep,
Trusting the promise that where two or three
Are met in Jesus' name, there he will be.

How may I paint in fitting phrase the scene
That morning witnessed!-Softly chanted prayer,
Nor reverend priest with awe-imposing mien,

Nor organ with its solemn tones, were there;
No crowd of suppliants round a gorgeous shrine,
From silver chalice took the costly wine.

But in a small and humble room, alone,
Two little children knelt, in faith and love;
A heavenly beauty in their faces shone,

As with sweet tones a blessing from above They supplicate the bread and cup they take"Christ Jesus! this we do for thy dear sake.'

Oh, not alone the sacred rite they kept-
Bright-winged angels compassed them around;
And when from that small chamber forth they stepp'd,
Each tranquil brow did seem with glory crown'd;

So deep the peace that reigned within their breast,
And every troubled feeling hushed to rest.

M. H.

ART. III.-ESSAYS, by R. W. EMERSON, of Concord, Massachusetts. With Preface, by THOMAS CARLYLE. London: James Fraser, 1841.

"THE name of Ralph Waldo Emerson is not entirely new in England," says Mr. Carlyle, in his Preface: " distinguished Travellers bring us tidings of such a man; fractions of his writings have found their way into the hands of the curious here; fitful hints that there is, in New England, some spiritual Notability, called Emerson, glide through Reviews and Magazines. Whether these hints were true or not true, readers are now to judge for themselves a little better." As we cannot follow Mr. Carlyle's admirable plan of giving the Essays themselves, we must content ourselves with offering such remarks as we hope will induce our readers to peruse a work, in which " sharp gleams of insight arrest us by their pure intellectuality; here and there, in heroic rusticism, a tone of modest manfulness, of mild invincibility, low-voiced but lion-strong, makes us too thrill with a noble pride." (Editor's preface.) A glance at the table of contents shows us that most of the subjects are not new but very old, that they are the very themes which first aroused the reflective faculties of man,-History; Self-Reliance; Compensation; Spiritual Laws; Love; Friendship; Prudence; Heroism; The Over-Soul; Circles; Intellect; Art. But to the manner in which these subjects are treated, most especially applies what Coleridge has said of the character and privilege of Genius; "So to present familiar objects, as to awaken the minds of others to a like freshness of sensation concerning them (that constant accompaniment of mental no less than bodily convalescence), this is the prime merit of genius, and its most unequivocal mode of manifestation ;" and never perhaps was more rich and varied imagery thrown round the familiar, or more striking and powerful illustration brought to enforce known, but often neglected truths, than we meet with in the volume before us.

We desire in the first place, to call our readers' attention to the forcible manner in which the duties, which result from the possession of a mind, are pointed out:

"Exactly parallel is the whole rule of intellectual duty, to the rule of moral duty. A self-denial no less austere than the saints, is demanded of the scholar. He must worship truth, and forego all things for that, and choose defeat and pain, so that his treasure in thought is thereby augmented."-p. 343. 2 E

VOL. IV. No. 18.-New Series.

Intellectual power is the ultimate measure even of moral greatness, "for we know that the ancestor of every action is a thought," and "to make habitually a new estimate,—that is an elevation," which is no less necessary for the philanthropist than the philosopher. We forget, however, too often, that if the intellect is to rule, it must be allowed the full and free manifestation of its individual characteristics-and, therefore, though none will deny the great diversity of intellectual gifts, many will be scarcely prepared for the following expression of this truth:

"Or why should a woman liken herself to any historical woman, and think, because Sappho, or Sévigné, or De Staël, or the cloistered souls who have had genius and cultivation, do not satisfy the imagination, and the serene Themis, none can, certainly not she? Why not? She has a new and unattempted problem to solve, perchance that of the happiest nature that ever bloomed. Let the maiden with erect soul walk serenely on her way, accept the hint of each new experience, try, in turn, all the gifts God offers her, that she may learn the power and charm, that like a new dawn radiating out of the deep of space, her new-born being is. The fair girl, who repels interference by a decided and proud choice of influences, so careless of pleasing, so wilful and lofty, inspires every beholder with somewhat of her own nobleness. The silent heart encourages her; O Friend, never strike sail to a fear. Come into port greatly, or sail with God the seas. Not in vain you live, for every passing eye is cheered and refined by the vision." -p. 261.

The manner in which the native powers of each man seek their peculiarly fitting nourishment from all that surrounds them is admirably pointed out in the Essay entitled Spiritual Laws:

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A man's genius, the quality that differences him from every other, the susceptibility to one class of influences, the selection of that which is fit for him, the rejection of what is unfit, determine for him the character of the universe. As a man thinketh, so is he; and as a man chooseth, so is he, and so is nature. A man is a method, a progressive arrangement; a selecting principle, gathering his like, to him, wherever he goes. He takes only his own, out of the multiplicity that sweeps and circles round him. He is like one of those booms, which are set out from the shore on rivers, to catch drift-wood, or like the loadstone amongst splinters of steel.

Those facts, words, persons, which dwell in his memory, without his being able to say why, remain, because they have a relation to him not less real for being as yet unapprehended. They are symbols of value to him, as they can interpret parts of his consciousness which he would vainly seek words for in the conventional images of books and other minds. What attracts my attention shall have it; as I will go to