and so

by it. When Tyre fell, the sea lost one of its children; intimate was the connexion between this city and Zidon, that there was every probability of another loss.

I have chosen this passage, however, not on account of its signification as connected with the fall of Tyre, but because in its isolated form, it is expressive of the occasions we are met especially to consider, namely, the recent disasters at sea.

"The sea hath spoken."

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Here we might dwell upon numerous topics interesting to scientific minds; such as the causes of tides; the chemical properties of the sea; its curious specimens of anatomy; its depth, saltness, and density; the variety and beauty of its vegetable productions; its conflicting currents; its uniformity of temperature; and the habits of its living inhabitants. We might speak of the spirit-forms which poetry and mythology have created to rest in the "deep, deep sea," or sing, and sail, and sleep on the breast of the billow." We might imagine Neptune with his trident lashing the waters into strife, and smiling them to rest; smiting the cliff, and giving earthquakes birth; and calling up islands from the deep. Oceanus might appear before us, receiving the offerings of the ancient mariners; or the Oceanides pleased with libations of blood. Even our own ocean tales and songs are tinged with the shadows of heathenism. The grave of the sailorboy is decked with pearls, and shaded with coral branches, whilst spirits linger around it with soft airs. Our sympathy for his suffering is too often destroyed by the imaginary beauty and brightness of his cold bed, by an affected consciousness of association with immortals of the deep. But if we divest the scene of its false drapery, and see for ourselves the vain struggles of the drowning man, and hear his last despairing cry, we feel that there is nothing so sweet, and calm, and heaven-like, in death at sea; that the attractions of a watery sepulchre are, after all, but few. We might descant upon the treasures of the sea. What rich cargoes have been swallowed by the great devourer, to swell the measure of his own unreckoned stores! O, secret sea!

"Thou hast pearls of price untold,

"To light thy ruby cells;

"And splendid wrecks, and mines of gold

"'Mid rainbow colored 'shells."

Such might be the themes of our meditation, but the text suggests a far nobler science, calls us to weep with vastly different sympathies, and

ought to awaken within us an interest for treasures of infinite worth. We shall therefore dwell upon two or three simple suggestions.

I. THE SEA HATH SPOKEN OF GOD.

Man is accustomed to seek in the order and glory of the planetary worlds, or in the design of certain forms, localities, and relations of things near us on the land, evidences of the Divine Existence. But the sea hath spoken too. Its ceaseless motion tending to the purity of itself and of the atmosphere, its store of life, its adaptation, indeed its whole economy furnishes evidence of the existence and energy of a first cause.

Is God Almighty ?

Where is such a visible emblem of power as the sea? Where are seen the effects of energy in any natural element if not in the deep? How is the mind subdued before it? Is it calm? How impressive its rest! Who has not paused breathless with deep feeling, to gaze on its rising and subsiding swell, as if some mighty being were before him, just waking from slumber!-How fearful that waking!—What dread in the anticipation of the wild uproar !-and when that uproar comes, and the sea is agitated as with a living, irrepressible emotion-how are navies wrecked and swallowed up! how do the isles tremble as the waves lash them and the spray mounts upward! The very limit of the power impresses us, for we see how the wide circle of the finite is lost in the infinite. And when the eye no longer sees, and the ear hears not the strife, thought rises upward and spreads itself abroad in the boundless and invisible !

Is God all-wise?

"Surely of all Jehovah's works
"Thou speakest his power, O sea !"—

What but created mind bears such impressions of divine wisdom !— Even the vastness of the ocean, which at first view, may seem out of proportion to the land, is a demonstration of wisdom. The amount of vapours rising from the ocean depends upon the extent of its surface, and the degree of heat affecting it. Were the heat of the sun greatly increased, or the area of the waters narrowed, there would be a corresponding increase of desert land, and decrease of vegetable and animal life. There would be less rain, fewer rivers, and consequently a less beautiful and happy world.

Look also at the perfect adaptation of marine animals to their element. The fins of a fish are fitted for motion in water, as are the wings of birds for motion in air. The forms of fishes are also equally adapted to swimming, as are those of birds to flying. If you examine the eye

of a fish, a beautiful and wise adaptation appears.

Its aqueous humour is more dense than is the same humour in the eyes of land animals, that the refraction of light may be sufficient for seeing in the denser element. The respirative organs furnish the same marks of wise design. These are some of God's wonders in the deep. "The sea is His and

He made it."

Is the Creator good?

These proofs of his wisdom are equally demonstrations of his goodness. The happiness as well as convenience of the creation is involved in them.

Perhaps the benevolent design discoverable in the relativo degree of saltness and agitation in the ocean never occurred to you. It has been proved by repeated experiments that the present degree of saltness is not sufficient alone to preserve the waters of the deep; but this constant motion, together with their saltness, is sufficient for their purity. Suppose the saltness to be increased so for as to render agitation both impossible and unnecessary. Then the density of the waters would be so great as entirely to prevent navigation; and moreover, the amount of vapours would be lessened to such a degree, as to produce a universal famine on the land. Suppose on the other hand, the ocean were deprived of its saltness, and its purity were to be preserved by agitation alone. Such would be the commotion, that no vessel could live on it for a moment, and all commerce must of necessity cease; and such would be the increase of exhalation, as to flood the land and its inhabitants. The dreadful tempests on the North American lakes, (which are bodies of fresh water) illustrate these positions. Here, then, we behold wisdom and goodness combined.

The christian cannot look abroad on the earth and in the air, and not meet at every view tokens of God's benevolence. His voice of love is heard in the breeze and in the whirlwind, his goodness is seen in the burning sun, and in the mild glory of the moon Benevolence was written upon the first touches of creation-it smiled in the first opening dawn,—— and sped itself abroad on the first darting ray;—and it is painted now upon all things, like the "boundless smile of a perfect God." But let him make the sea his study,-let him seek for design there,—for all that is vast and terrible in its depths and extent, all that is sublime and glorious in its motion or its rest, speaks to his soul of the almighty,— the allwise, the benignent Creator.

The sea hath indeed spoken of God, and its language is heard and felt by scamen; for an Atheist is rarely to be found amongst them.

They believe in the existence of God. They converse with His creation in its sublimest forms. Though they gaze not on the mountain of rock, hiding itself in clouds, and see not rivers rushing down its sides, they do behold the liquid mountain rolling, and breaking, and foaming! they do gaze on the world of waters, moving or at rest in the hand of their God." These see the works of the Lord and his wonders in the deep."

II. THE SEA HATH SPOKEN OF MAN.

Of his enterprise. No element is free from his influence. The earth, the air, and the ocean pay tribute to his genius and his pleasures. Commerce was a very early branch of human enterprise. "There go the ships," was the language of those who looked toward the sea in the days of David and Solomon. Grecian poets have sung of Argo and its daring adventurers; and the Roman muse has told us of Æneas and his fleet. History now celebrates the more daring and successful expedition of him whom the New World hailed as its discoverer, and whose name will yet rest on its boundless savannahs and its mountain chains, as it is now written in the memory of mankind. And piety, if not history, commemorates the voyage of the pilgrims who fled from persecution in their own land, and braved the terrors of the Atlantic, that amidst the rocking pines of the forest" they might find for themselves a burial, but for their children and their principles, a home.

Now commerce is universal; it has become a sort of element for thought, and sympathy, and knowledge. It is invested with a kind of omnipresence. Could you be raised to some high seat of observation, and take into one view the whole expanse of waters, what a panorama of life would pass before your eyes! Take the mouth of the Thames as the centre of the wide circle. What fleets of merchant ships of every burden continually enter and depart. Follow them outward on their liquid path-way. Some to the provincial ports around our island-home; others to Africa, India, China, and the Eastern Isles; others to the various continental ports; and others still to the islands of the west and south, and to the long line of American coast. Let your eye rest for a moment upon each domestic and each foreign port; mark the busy myriads loading and discharging, entering and leaving port; examine the structure of a vessel; consider the amount of skill and labour necessary in building, rigging and launching her, especially one of our largest men of war; let this one be multiplied by thousands, and then estimate all requisites in order to their preparation for service; contem

plate the amazing docks, and navy-yards, the store-houses and commercial establishments connected with the navy and with trade; consider the wonderful adaptations of steam power; the stupendous piers and beacons ; the apparatus for fisheries, and for capturing the monsters of the deep, and the inventions for raising wrecks and other treasures of the sea! All this stir and life, all these exhibitions speak of man; of the power of mind; of human capabilities. They are the results of thought and purpose, heralding abroad the goodness of that Being who has blessed man with such endowments, and given him so wide a field for their developement and energy.

The sea hath spoken of human courage, of daring exposures for wealth and life; of brave resistance in battle; of fortitude in distress. How often on the seas has the power that slumbers in man been called forth by some dread and sudden emergency; and how has it arisen to an equality with the occasion! Often, it is true, in deeds of humanity, but too frequently alas, on occasions with which mercy and piety could not sympathise.

The sea hath spoken of SIN. The destroyer is on the sea. We mention not the avarice which mingles in the interests of commerce, nor the dishonesty by which its transactions are too often marked, nor the evasions of truth under the garb of friendship and disinterested policy, every one of which calls loudly for condemnation, and offers sad proof of the need of religious effort amongst seamen and their employers. But we must dwell upon the more open and heaven-daring exhibitions of crime.

The history of a single merchant ship, or man-of-war, during one short voyage, would appal us. Imagine, if it be possible, the ignorance, drunkenness, and licentiousness; the profanity, contention, and sabbathbreaking, which characterise one cabin or one forecastle, in a single year! What a volume would the record of them require! What then can be said of ten thousand crews in as many voyages. Follow these multitudes abroad, and learn their history there for a single day! a year! a century! It is impossible to conceive the influence of 200,000 English and American seamen in heathen ports. What impressions do they give of Christianity and of our national character. We tell them of the purity and divinity of our religion—of the glory of our civil institutions—the equity of our laws-the splendour of our literature and science;--but alas! what examples do we send them of the efficacy of our boasted blessings.

Not a few English sailors are now in the islands of the south scas,