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RURAL HOURS.

shall we find the community that may justly claim the favor of the God of truth and holiness? Which great city, which busy town, what quiet village, what secluded hamlet, has deserved the blessing of Heaven on its fields? What city, or borough, or village, or hamlet, can say: “There is no sin here, there is no fraud, no deceit, no treachery, no drunkenness; no violence, rioting, impurity; no envy, no covetousness, no injustice, no slander, no falsehood, no insubordination among us; none of those evils declared hateful in the eyes of the God we worship, are going to and fro in our streets, upon our highways, sitting down and rising up unrebuked and unrepented of—these things are unknown here—we are wholly clean!” The heart recoils from the very idea of such presumption, and we bow our heads to the dust in deep acknowledgment of our unworthiness, as individuals, as communities, as a nation. “What is man that Thou visitest him, or the son of man, that Thou so regardest him!”

Happy, indeed, is it for the children of men, that the long-suffering God sendeth his rain upon the fields of the just and the unjust, and maketh his sun to shine upon the garden of the sinner with that of the righteous. Well, indeed, does it become us to render heartfelt, humble thanks to the God “who feedeth all flesh; for his mercy endureth forever.”

It may prove of some interest to pause a moment and look back at the Jewish festivals of thanksgiving for the fruits of the earth, whence our own has been derived. It is, indeed, remarkable, that while the Jewish law was, in its general character, severe and stern, as compared with the milder and more merciful nature of Christianity, its worship gave such full and frequent expression to the beautiful spirit of thankfulness. The faithful