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much reviving as to exhibit the intellectual vigour of his best days; but at length he has announced to his congregation the unwelcome truth, that, unable any longer to sustain the responsibilities of his pastoral character, he must resign a charge, and an employment under which his people have been edified and built up. Thus have the ministerial labours of one of the most extraordinary men with whom we have been acquainted in either hemisphere, apparently come to a premature termination. Dr. Mason leaves a chasm in pulpit oratory which, on the other side of the Atlantic, at least,
cannot be easily filled up. Combining vigour and clearness of intellect with great force of expression; deeply imbued with scriptural knowledge ; extensively read in theology, and particularly in the divines of the seventeenth century; possessing a power of detecting error, however unpopular, but seldom equalled, and a boldness in declaring truth, he seemed there to stand unrivalled in the sacred office. In the whole of his ministry he exhibited an ardent zeal, and an evangelical fervour, which convinced all of his sincere desire to promote the best interests of men. To these high qualifications he added no ordinary degree of classical learning. His knowledge of human nature, and his happy faculty of applying this knowledge, in his public ministrations, to the unfolding of hidden principles of action, and to the detection of those insidious but false motives, by which corrupt man is duped and ruined, was as successful as it was rare. He now leaves the scene where his powerful talent has been so long the delight of his astonished hearers; but its effects will live in the hearts and the recollection of thousands when he is sleeping in the dust.
It is some relief, however, under these circumstances, that we can add, that the trustees of Dickenson College, in Pennsylvania, have called Dr. Mason to the presidential chair of that Institution. This office he has accepted, and we are gratified by the assurance that his powers are still equal to the undertaking, and that in the providence of God he may still be a blessing to the rising generation, though he ceases as a pastor to instruct his flock. No one has yet offered who is likely to succeed him. “ Indeed,” says our correspondent, one of his most attached, and at the same time, most judicious, auditors, “it will be difficult to find one who will unite, as he did, the opinions and feelings of his people. But I trust the head of the church will not long leave us in suspense." In this hope who that knows the excellence of Dr. Mason, and the importance of the station which he filled in the
church of Christ, but will cordially unite, whilst with us they express every kind and Christian 'wish for the personal happiness and continued usefulness of this eminent servant of the Lord !
6 All is vanity !”
What shout that re-echoes abroad?
The vassal who weeps for his lord ;-
Encircled by ocean afar;
He dragg’d them in chains at his car!
A spirit broods over the deep,
And heavy mists hang on the main;
The tyrant has broken bis chain!
Shall bear him to victory far;
Or rule the dire tempest of war,
Those laurels are faded and gone,
Their verdure for ever is fled;
They blossom'd—their glory is shed :
Despoil'd of their beauty and fame;
A witness of glory and shame,
No mercy was bound in his heart,
And joy never lightend his soul;
Ambition was lord of the whole;
The widow sat weeping in vain;
The cry of the orphan arose;
Till in death they had found their repose ;
I look'd on thee, star of the morn,
And, lo! thou wast risen in blood !
And set in the isle of the flood;
I thought on the race thou hadst run,-
And saw when thy glory was done;
That now thy own bosom has torn;
Over mountain, and kingdom, and sea;
He fought, and he conquer'd for thee;
Where Rhine bears its waters along,
Great chieftain, thy battle was proud;
But the shout of the victor was loud;
undaunted he stood;
Alike both the field and the flood !-
Then up the high mountains away,(1)
To the land of the great and the brave;
And Hamilcar and Hannibal strave;
Her bays and her honours were nigh;
And thou wert' extoll’d to the sky! The queen of the world ;—thou didsť call her thine'own, And sat thee with her, in her temple and throne. (2)
Lone harp of the desert, (3) — art thou,
In the hand of thy Memnon unstrung?
Are forgotten the notes thou hast rung?
The ruby-bright beams of the morn;
Thy music to heaven is borne;
Why mourn, harp of Memnon, the lot
That awaited the hero of France?
To wither his foes with a glance;
My country!' the Mussulman cried,
And Britannia stood ready to aid ; (4)
In honour their ashes are laid ;
And Acre, the story can tell, (5)
(For ever be darken'd that day !) When oaths that were pledg'd for the mighty who fell,
Were sounds to deceive and betray; -
Rush onward, with courage elate ;
They rush'd but to hasten their fate;
Then over the ocean he flew,
His eagles were strong on the wing ;
And refresh'd at the Acheron spring;(6)
And quak'd at the voice of his word ;
Them, like autumn's leaves thick on the sward ; Whilst thousands for ever went down to the shade, And the harvest was rich for the spear and the blade.
Ah! those were the days of his might,
Then glory encircled his brow;
And number'd him victims enow;
The nations beheld him afar ;
The thunder, and lightning, of war!
Great chieftain of battle; -- thy soul was a beam,
He turn'd him, and look'd to the north ;
A capital flam'd (9) in the air ;
He fought, - but affliction was there;
His comrades were cold in the snows;
The winter wind over them blows;
Behold! - he is risen again !
Redoubled in fury he comes ;
And, hark! to his trumpets and drums;
For France and Napoleon they vow To bleed at thine altar, o dread Waterloo !
"Tis done!- he is desolate now;To the isle of the ocean they bear him alone, Who alike grasp'd a kingdom, -- or crumbled a throne.
Now, tyrant of murder and blood,
Now drink down thy cup to the full ;
The iron is deep in thy soul;
Retribution is hasting along;
His arrows are pointed and strong;
And now thou must meet him, and face
A champion too stout for thine arm;
His hand with the lightning is warm;
What hope in thy bosom is found ?
And spectres are starting around ;-
Lo! there is thy comrade who fought,
And won the dread field by thy side; Lo! there is thy foeman, neglected, forgot,
In the midst of thy prowess and pride ;