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Cromwell's

entire con

fidence in a superintending

Providence.

As to peace societies.

St. Matt. v. 44.

2 Chron. xix. 2.

Psalm

cxxxix. 21, 22.

A difference

of opinion

as to the

Cromwell.

The selections from Scripture are divided into eighteen chapters, each with an appropriate heading to indicate the class of passages contained therein. A few examples of these headings or titles will sufficiently show their general character:1. A Souldier must not doe wickedly.

2. A Souldier must be valiant for God's cause.

3. A Souldier must pray before he goe to fight.

Throughout the work there is manifested entire confidence in a superintending Providence, yet no encouragement is given to the soldiers to neglect any proper personal efforts or material means for accomplishing their ends; nothing at variance with the standing order, "To trust in the Lord, and keep their powder dry."

Since peace societies have become popular, the question has often been put, with the confident expectation of the negative answer, "Is the profession of a soldier consistent with obedience to the precepts of Christian love enjoined in the gospels?" Cromwell's whole chapter on this subject is short, and we copy it entire :

A soldier must love his enemies as they are his enemies, and hate them as they are God's enemies.

Matt. v. 44.

But I say unto you, love your enemies.

2 Chron. xix. 2. Wouldest thou help the wicked, and love them that hate the Lord?

Ps. cxxxix. 21, 22. Doe not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee, and do not I earnestly contend with them that rise up against thee? I hate them with an unfeigned hatred, as they were mine utter enemies.

There will probably continue to be, as there always has been, a difference of opinion respecting the honesty, integrity, and character of sincerity of Cromwell. But one thing is pretty well settledviz., whatever his character and conduct may have become after he gained the dazzling heights of political power, he commenced his career a devout and true man and his army was largely composed of good men, filled with a desire to promote the glory of God and the welfare of the country.

Officers

raised from

the ranks

superior to

those of aristocratic breed.

:

Cromwell's cousin, the celebrated John Hampden, once began to upbraid him for selecting such men for his soldiers, and compared them with those of the king's army. "Your troops," said he, "are most of them old decayed serving men and tapsters, and such kind of fellows; and theirs are gentlemen's

with Crom

men.

younger sons and persons of good quality. And do you think that the mean spirits of such base and mean fellows will ever be able to encounter gentlemen that have honour and courage and Wild-oatsowing resolution in them? You must get men of spirit, and, take it aristocrats not ill what I say, of a spirit that is likely to go as far as gentle- compared men will go, or else I am sure you will be beaten still." Hampden, well's good however, was convinced by a short conversation with Cromwell, good men made better soldiers than mere gentlemen; as he has himself written :-"I accordingly raised such men as had the fear of God before them, and made some conscience of what they did. And from that day forward they never were beaten ; but, whenever they were engaged against the enemy, they beat continually."

Those persons who are fond of tracing coincidences, and pressing comparisons to their extreme limits, may find a wonderful instance of cause and effect in the fact, that the success of Cromwell's army commenced immediately on the publication of "The Soldier's Pocket Bible;" and they never after lost a battle!

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It does not lessen the force of Governor Washburn's remarks, nor weaken the theory which he so ably and eloquently supported, if we admit that, in the latter years of his life, Cromwell lost his reverence for the Scriptures and lived in violation of some of its plainest commands. On the contrary, it shows that the burden of the Hebrew prophet to the ancient king who The slighted the word of God, has a wider application: "Therefore, Prophet. behold I, even I, will utterly forget you, and I will forsake you, Jeremiah and I will bring an everlasting reproach upon you, and a perpetual shame, which shall not be forgotten. He shall have none xxxvi. 30 to sit upon the throne; and his dead body shall be cast out in the day to the heat, and in the night to the frost."

Hebrew

xxiii. 39, 40.

between

the King of

Judah and
Oliver, Lord

Impartial history has recorded the facts relating to the Parallel Protector's death, the brief authority of his weak son, and the fate that befel the dead body of the once almost omnipotent Cromwell. The parallel between Jehoiakim, King of Judah, and Oliver, Lord Protector of England, is sufficiently apparent, of England. and needs no comment.-Morning Advertiser, 31st Jan., 1856.

Protector

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TO THE UNITED PATRIOTS OF GREAT BRITAIN AND HER DEPENDENCIES.

GREEN is the spot and ever fair the sky
Where the great world's Leonidases die.

The mouldering ruin and the hoary shrine

Are consecrated by the light divine

Which great men shed :—where'er their feet have trod

'Tis hallowed ground, bright with the smile of God!

Great men? How many covet such a name

Who leave no trophy of their worth to fame!
How many have deserved yet won it not,
Herding and struggling with the common lot.
But when a nation for a patriot cries

Great Nature speaks-and Nature's God supplies.
Creation has no landmarks where rude birth

Is severed from the right divine to win

A glorious name. A quiet nook of earth,

A hamlet nestled from the world's wild din
By bold and rugged mountains, roaring floods,
Valleys and breezy leas and grand old woods,
Have fostered in their silent solitude
Great spirits who have won a nation's trust,
In freedom's van the first and foremost stood,

And crumpled impious monarchies to dust.

Great fortunes make great names, great titles make

Great vassalage, great heroes overtake

Great honours, and great evils make great men.

'Twas thus through all the past, and will be so

To future generations :-for the power
Which conquered evil in its strongest hour,
The arm puissant of all-sovereign Right,
Which hurled corruption to its regal den,
And laid oppression and oppressors low,
Sprang from the hidden, yet colossal, might
Of some untilted spirit, who awoke
The nation's heart as though an angel spoke.

J. W. KING.

GREAT BRITAIN.

HESPER of empires-freedom's queenliest home,
Land of Caractacus and that god-world

Of Mind and Martyrdom which crusht and hurled
Old Darkness to her doom-may, from the womb
Of thy unreached desires, a Saviour come,
And with Promethean might arouse and move
All Powers and men to righteousness and love,
And strike the Neros of the nations dumb.
The world awaits such Nazarene to fan
Her faith in the enfranchisement of man ;-

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O England! thou hast riches in thy heart
Treasured for glorious purpose. Thou hast been
Proclaimed the favoured one of Heaven-the queen
Of empires, Freedom's home, and Ocean's chart,
Directing Truth and Art to distant lands,
Bearing thy treasures to their barren strands.
Heaven grant, dear land, thou may be favoured still,
That Wrong may find no shelter on thy soil;
That grasping usurers may never fill
Their gaping coffers from oppression's spoil;
Nor tyrants dare to rear their haughty domes
And lord it o'er thy people's hearts and homes.
Justice and Truth are ministers of Heaven,
Wrong and Oppression infamies of Hell.

For Might, thy thrones and altars have been riven;
For Right, thy Sydneys and thy Hampdens fell.

J. W. KING.

WAR.

BLOOD is the price which ever has been paid
For Truth and Liberty, for Crowns and Creeds;
Earth has oft wept, nations have been dismayed
At Power's imperious, dark, and direful deeds;
And many a land, once glorious in its might,
Now knows nor arts, nor wealth, nor freedom's light.
Where art thou, Hellas, cradle of the great?

Where thou fair land of once imperial Rome?
Say, quartered Poland, altar of the brave-
The Cossack's dread, yet everlasting hate!
Speak bartered Hungary from thy living tomb,-
Why does the cypress o'er the sceptre wave?
Alas! thou sorrowest in despotic night;
Thy soil is rich with blood of bravest men,
Thy children are in bondage, and woe's blight
Is on thy heart. But thou shalt rise again,
And shake thy fetters off, with all the lands

Awaiting Heaven's good hour. For Truth must reign

Upon the earth. Even now Oppression stands

On Ruin's brink, and death sweeps on amain.

Look up with hopeful hearts, heroic host,

Till God's good time shall gladden all your ways

Oh, sunny Italy! thou art not lost,

A few more throes, a few more stormy days,

And thou shalt burst thy Papal yoke, and aid
Thy shackled, weeping sisters to arise
From out the dust, and crown the sacrifice
With love and glory that will never fade!

J. W. KING.

Aristocratic and genteel revellers.

THE FIRE-SPIRIT.

SUGGESTED BY THE DESTRUCTION OF COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE.

HURRAH! hurrah! for the Carnival,

The jest and the laughter-the masque and the ball!
Light-hearted revellers, merry men all,

Hurrah! hurrah! for your Carnival !

Holding your orgies from midnight to noon,
Shaming with riot the glimpse of the moon,
Scaring the day till the sun stands aloof,
Profaning the anthem that rolls to the roof;
Hurrah! hurrah! for the Carnival,

The glare and the glitter-the masque and the ball!
Sport-loving rioters, merry men all,

Hurrah! hurrah! for your Carnival!

I will fling ye a brand that shall dazzle with light

The bounding boards ye have trodden to-night;

Ye have juggled, and mimicked, and played out your role,

Ye shall dance by my torchlight to wind up the whole.

Hurrah! hurrah! for the Carnival,

The music and mumming-the masque and the ball!
Rant-loving revellers, merry men all,

Hurrah! hurrah! for your Carnival!

Ho! ho! Tramp, tramp go the hurrying feet--
Hark,-hark to the rush in the crowded street!

But wilder, and fiercer, and madder the rout

Shall resound through these walls ere my flames be crushed out.
Hurrah! hurrah! for the Carnival,

The rushing and crushing-the masque and the ball!
Storm-loving rioters, merry men all,

Hurrah! hurrah! for your Carnival!

Fled-fled are the harpers, and hushed is their tuning,
And trampled the women, all shrieking and swooning;
Amid crackling and crashing more loud grows the roar-
Ho leap to the portal and batter the door!

-Hurrah! hurrah! for the Carnival,

The gnashing and wailing-the masque and the ball!
Self-loving revellers, merry men all,

Hurrah! hurrah! for your Carnival!

Look up the blue ether still bends over all,

Yet the wreaths of my smoke may ere long be your pall;

To show ye degraded one glimpse of the sky

Mid your palsy of horror, my flames leap on high.

Hurrah! hurrah! for the Carnival,

The groaning and writhing-the masque and the ball!
Sin-loving rioters, merry men all,

Hurrah! hurrah! for your Carnival!

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