240 THE GARDEN. 



extirpation of many a delicate plant, that was 

 thrust out to make way for its noxious growth. 

 Ireland is a garden, where he who only lounges 

 for his amusement, or dwells for his convenience, 

 will be — ought to be — scratched, and stung, and 

 tripped up, and bemauled : but where he who, 

 with axe and pruning-hook, assails the bad root, 

 and dresses the good tree, who gathers up, and 

 binds together, and weeds, and plants, and waters, 

 looking to God for the increase, may, and will, be- 

 hold his share of the desert transformed into a 

 blooming Eden — the wilderness into the garden of 

 the Lord. Furthermore, he shall find, when his 

 work is ended, a resting-place, where the ocean of 

 eternity shall lie before him in all the unruffled 

 majesty of bright repose, while the winds are held 

 fast in the hollow of God's hand, and the sun 

 shines forth, even the Sun of Righteousness, to 

 beautify with celestial splendour the interminable 

 prospect of delight. " Not of works," God for- 

 bid ! No, but of that grace which alone, in the 

 face of Satan and all his hosts, can gird us to the 

 mighty deed of hurling great Babylon from her 

 usurped seat: and which does not choose and 

 sanctify an instrument here, to be cast into the fire 

 when the work is accomplished. 



