shapes, lay three human hearts, wet with blood-before the latter, four-taken from the victims while alive, by making a sudden incision in the side, tearing out the heart, and casting it before the idol, while the eyes of the victim were rolling in the death agony, and the limbs quivering in the mortal pang. These sacrifices were so frequently repeated, that the stench from the shedding of blood and its consequent putrefaction, was almost intolerable. In this place was a drum of enormous size, the head of which was composed of the skins of large serpents, making a noise when struck that might be heard at the distance of two leagues; and, says Bernal Diaz, so doleful, that it deserved to be named the music. of the infernal regions. The bodies of all their idols far exceeded the human form in size, and were composed of a mixture of pulse and grain, formed into a paste with human blood. Their priests were numerous,-imposed upon themselves the vow of continence, permitted no female to enter their dwellings, wore their hair in thick clotted masses, and lacerated their ears in honor of their gods. The children of the caciques were educated by them, and their testimony respecting each pupil decided whether his name should be inscribed on the list of nobles or plebians. Personal merit alone formed the distinction of the nobility.

This brief outline only presents a single view of the stupendous fabric of idol worship reared in the ancient city of Mexico. The idolatry of India may cover a wider field but it has not so deep a tinge of blood as that which shone on the cruel altars of the descendants of the Aztecs.

Delivered July 4th, 1830, in Bennet street Church, Boston-in behalf of the American Colonization Society.

Ethiopia shall stretch out her hands unto God.-Psalm lxviii. 31.

THE rise and fall of nations are sublime subjects for moral contemplation. The fabric of empire is composed of mind as well as matter; and when the revolutions of destiny are permitted by Providence to encroach on nations, and resolve them into their original elements, the component parts still inherit the principles of vitality.3*

Like those blocks of living marble dug up from Grecian ruins, these scattered fragments may be collected in some future day to build a nobler temple of dominion.

History warns the powerful to tread lightly on the oppressed. Let armies as countless as the locusts which overspread Egypt in the day of God's anger, pass over any given territory, tracing their march with the wildest havoc, and sweeping the bare soil to its very dust with the desolating cannon-still let not the oppressors triumph. In some secret cavern of the earth-in some untravelled glen-in some sunless gorge, a few miserable beings may shelter themselves until the blast of war has overblown. These may be the fathers of a great people, whose first work, in the great drama of Providence, may be that of a bloody retribution.

'Let not the oppressor triumph'-says a great voice from heaven. God abhors the proud. The sighing of the prisoner comes up before him. The robe of sackcloth is as beautiful in his eyes as the gorgeous attire of palaces

-and the human form, furrowed with the task-master's whip, is as acceptable to its Maker, as the pampered and delicately beautiful countenance of him whom the winds of heaven have not been permitted to visit too roughly.

The analogies of all conquered nations warrant these introductory remarks. The conquered haye in their turn become the conquerors-the slaves have become the masters-the harp hung on the drooping willows has lost its moaning sound, and in the renovated hand of its possessor has poured out the martial song of the triumphing trumpet. What sight more deeply affecting to the

sympathies of humanity could have been witnessed than those spectacles of earth's deepest sorrow so often seen in the luxuriant vales of Palestine, when God had given up his chosen people into the hands of their enemies? The sacked and smoking streets of the dear Jerusalemoh, could they remain there! would afford the miserable some, mementoes of former happiness. The eye red with weeping might rest on some of the mighty stones of the first temple, or on some lonely monument crowned with a name dear to Judah, strong and immortal in death. But no! away over hill and valley, over brook and meadow-away over mountain and river these exiles, forlorn and weary and broken hearted, must go, while over them hangs the strong probability, if not certainty, that the beautiful places that had once known them should know them no more. Prophet and king, prince and counsellor, the care-worn man of war and the drooping virgin, chained together in ranks, with feeble age and infancy along, darkened thy hills, Judea, more than once with their mournful procession, formed under the eye, and urged along by the spear of the Assyrian. No song is heard among these thousands; the inconceivable weight of national sorrow stifles and hushes the very groantears only, sad and hopeless ones, fall in silent showers on a soil soon destined to become sand under the blast of desert winds. Far north-to the cold waters of Babylon-go sit you down and mourn-yet not in quietness; the task-master's scourge shall resound in your ears; heavy burdens shall press you down; your delicately formed young men shall stand as menials in the

courts of strange monarchs-and they that carry you away captive shall require of you mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.

This picture of deep and immense national sorrow is one of truth-a retrospective one, copied from the pages of God's word. Yet a land so swept by the tempest of war, and so emptied of its'dwellers, has, after a lapse of years, a solitary succession of winter and spring and summer and autumn, voiceless, desolate and dreary, heard again a turtle-dove raise its sweet melancholy voice, and next an old man, who could just remember the day of the spoiler when he was a little boy, with tottering step, after a captivity of seventy years, traces with his staff the outline of city, temple and tomb, and calls upon the Lord God of Israel until the old echoes awake again in the hoary mountains, and beat against the brazen heavens. Then comes a virgin along the valley, and as she lifts her song and takes her timbrel, the spring breathes over the land; the verdure breaks forth; the rose blushes beneath the rock; Kedron murmurs once more over its shining pebbles; the valley of Jehoshophat is burdened with unwonted exuberance; Bethlehem seems to smile above the ramparts of white rocks, and Jerusalem gathers around her stately form the clouds of power, while the crown of dominion begins to settle on her brow.

After these views, I introduce the doctrine of my text, which is :- -That while no nation can be reduced so low, without entire extermination, as not to leave the hope of a future renovation, every nation must infallibly rise in power and glory, to whom the mighty promise of God hath extended.