speak of them as the triumphs of human skill. They are in truth the results of that intellect which God has given to man, and of the properties which he has bestowed on matter. They are produced by the operation of the laws to which He has subjected the physical and the intellectual world, and must be viewed as a portion of his most bountiful gifts. In proportion, therefore, as our knowledge surpasses the knowledge of mankind in former ages, precisely in the same ratio should our fervent thankfulness be augmented.

It would be an easy task to glance at other departments of human knowledge, and to show that in every instance the result of our extended knowledge is favourable to more enlarged views of the Divine Goodness, and has a direct tendency to fill us with more earnest and heartfelt gratitude. This, however, is a train of inquiry which each reader may follow for himself, and find improvement in the pursuit, and gratification in the result. We prefer setting down a few deductions, which seem naturally to follow from what has been already advanced.

1. That our religion is fundamentally a religion of light and of knowledge, inasmuch as our ideas of the power, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator, grow with the growth of our knowledge.

2. That the knowledge of God is to be sought for in his works and word.

3. That such studies are fitted for man in every condition of the human race, adapting themselves, as man advances in knowledge, to his increasing capability of pursuing them aright.

4.- That in every stage of our progress it is our duty to pursue our inquiries, and deduce our conclusions, with all humility, seeing that many great truths, and numberless affinities may lurk unrecognised around us. 5. That we should never therefore presume to suppose that all our conclusions are absolutely true, or put forward our present ideas, as constituting an infallible standard in any department of knowledge.

Belfast.

P.

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SUNDAY-SCHOOL ODES, No. I.

TO THE TEACHERS.

COME! Teachers, come! with hymns and prayer,
Approach the work, and fill your places:
The little flock expects your care,
With beaming eyes, and thoughtful faces.

Christ trusts his lambs to you to feed;
He gives the Word, their souls to nourish;
And here the Father's will ye read,
None of these little ones should perish.

May neither fickleness,-false shame,
Nor disappointed hope divert you

From this sweet work, and single aim,
To win young hearts to faith and virtue!
And when, among the tender train
Each Sabbath-day your seat surrounding,
One soul, by grace, is born again,
Say! will not that be joy abounding?

May He, who gives both power and will,
Conduct you, by divine direction,

In the true way, and lead you still

Nearer and nearer to perfection.

That when your days have reached their line;
When eyes are dimmed and heads grown hoary,
Your light, in no unblest decline,
May set in hope,-to rise in glory!

So-kindled by the slanting ray,
The many-tinctured clouds of even
Their gorgeous pinnacles display,
Piled high against the fading Heaven.

H.

THE MOSAIC ACCOUNT OF THE CREATION AND FALL OF MAN RATIONALLY INTERPRETED.

(No. III.)

HAVING, as already stated, answered one question— the question of our origin; our author proceeds to solve the other problem on which curiosity would naturally be excited, the problem respecting the existence of misery, death, and sin. In doing so, he still follows the natural order. These did not exist, of course, till human beings were created. But with the first pair, sin entered into the Creator's Eden-sin the natural consequence of imperfection. And mark how beautifully our author traces the

origin of that sin and death and misery, to the natural curiosity and restless promptings of man's own heart. The first pair he places "in the garden of Eden "apt poetic emblem of the world, as it sprung fresh and fair and beautiful from the hand of God. Here they are surrounded with every beauty that can gratify the eye,—with every pleasure that can minister to sense, with every

And

provision necessary to their few and simple wants. in addition to all, there is "the tree of life in the midst of the garden, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil.” Of the latter they are admonished - thou shalt not eat of it; for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die." And thus it is that man, so long as he retains his innocence, or ignorance of sin, retains his peace. He has not the full knowledge of good and evil until he has once transgressed—until he is mournfully taught it by the compunctious chidings of his own conscience. With the first mouthful of the forbidden fruit, comes that knowledge in all its force upon us. But then our inward peace is gone;-our happiness has vanished;— then farewell calm serenity of soul:-in their place come conscious guilt, inquietude, remorse. So it was in this case. So long as they were innocent, the first human pair lacked not peace. Like the little innocent that is fondled at its mother's breast, they knew no shame until once taught it by the consciousness of guilt. But they are commanded to abstain from eating of a certain tree; and the very command, as is the case with the child to this day, prompts their curiosity. True to nature, our author represents the woman, with a vivacity of intellect that distinguishes her sex, as the more curious. She wonders what mystical power resides in the fruit of the forbidden tree. With true poetic licence, he represents the serpent as talking with the woman. This may mean only that she observes its habits; but the introduction of some such tempter was necessary to the truth and moral of the allegory. It is by the influence of persuasion and example that the young untutored mind is first led aside into the paths of wickedness. Few are self-instructed in the mazes of iniquity. Especially at first-ere yet the moral sense is blunted- we require a seducer; one who, like the serpent, will assure us of impunity, nay, of the pleasures and advantages of the undutifal act. Moses

had only related the creation of two rational beings; and he could not, with propriety, introduce a third of any kind to represent the character of seducer: therefore he had recourse to the lower animals, and chooses the serpent as more subtle than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made." It, as in all such poetic fables,- witness those of Esop, -is represented as talking with the woman. She is encouraged to taste by its persuasion and example. Moreover she "saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes; and a tree to be desired to make one wise;" and at length her discretion fails her,— curiosity overcomes. Her example and persuasion overcome her husband's scruples; and they both eat of the tree of which God had forbidden them to eat.

Who can fail to see in all this a beautiful poetic fable, designed to inculcate a great truth? The question it would resolve is the origin of sin; and with true philosophic accuracy, nay, rather with the pen of inspiration, he traces it to the natural promptings of curiosity within us. He shows that sin requires no other author than the heart of man;-that we are ourselves to blame for the miseries we suffer,- for that misery is the natural consequence of sin. And thus does the inspired historian set at rest the question of the origin of evil, as he had done that of the origin of our species, and the different classes of beings that inhabit the world. In the latter case, he leads our minds to God, teaching us to bless him for existence. In the other, he admonishes us of the danger that results from self-leads us with contrition to recognize in ourselves the authors of our misery,- and thus to place a guard on our thoughts, that we offend not against God.

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That this is the true interpretation will appear, I think, from the effects that are attributed to the act. First, a knowledge of good and evil resulted from it. "And the eyes of them both," we read, were opened, and they knew that they were naked." Again,-"and the Lord God said, Behold, the man is become as one of us to know good and evil." Up to this time, then, they had not that knowledge. They were without that perception of good and evil that belongs to all moral beings. Like children before the moral sense is awakened, all actions, in a moral point of view, were equal in their eyes. It is the first transgression that awakens that perception by the consciousness it gives

of sin.

And this is what our author would illustrate,what is beautifully illustrated in this parable, as is evident from the words, "Behold, the man is become as one of us, to know good and evil."

Secondly, contrition seems to have resulted from it. "And they heard," says our author, "the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord." What is this but a figurative representation of the terror inspired by the voice of conscience, which the first transgression prompts to pour out its remonstrances within us? It was "in the cool of the day," that this voice was heard,-just at the period of cool reflection, when the tumult of their feelings bad in part subsided. Adam and his wife strove to "hide themselves from the presence of the Lord," just as we try to escape from the chidings of that monitor which is to us "the voice of God." "Who told thee," says the Deity to our progenitor, "that thou wast naked? Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?" Thus it is that in the very self-apologies of the guilty soul, conscience finds matter for self-conviction. The parallel holds throughout. Adam hides from God; and man, when sinful, fears to approach into the presence of the Holy One, and that fear is turned by conscience into matter of reproach. Adam strives to vindicate himself by casting the blame on the fair partner of his innocence and crime;she, in her turn, by imputing it to the beguiling serpent: -fit picture of the shifts to which the human heart in such struggles has recourse.

But, thirdly, mark another consequence of the act. Punishment befalls them equally, notwithstanding their apologies. On each does Jehovah pronounce a curse, containing most of the common ills (as they are esteemed), to which each is incident in this life. And he concludes it with the sentence, "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return." Thus does the inspired penman trace all the ills of life, and death itself, to our own sinfulness as their source. Thus does he admonish us that punishment will surely, sooner or later, follow guilt, despite of our apologies. And to inculcate this more strongly, the once happy pair is driven out of Eden, in the parable. They are prevented from tasting of that "tree of life" and hap