61JE gulag eittit. THE ANGELS' SONG DAVID AT THE CALL OF nd the Lord mid, 'Arise, anoint him, for thin is " Latest born of Jeaae'a race Wonder lights thy bashful face, IVhile the Prop/let's gif.ed oil tieals thee for a path of toil. We, thy Angels, circling round thee, Ne'er shall find thee as we found thee, When thy faith first brought us near In thy lion-fight severe. Go! and mid thy flocks awhile At thy doom of greatness smile; Bold to bear God's heaviest load, Dimly guessing of the road,— Rocky road and scarce ascended, Though thy loot be angel-tended. Two-fold praise thou shalt attain, In royal court and battle-plash; Then comes heart-ache, care, distress, Blighted hope, and loneliness, • Wounds from friends and gifts froni..fog Dizzied faith, and guilt, and woe;, Loifest aims by earth d, filed, Gleams of wisdom sin-beguiled, Sated power's tyrannic mood, Counsels shared with men of blood, Sad success, parental tears, Aud a dreary gift of yearn. Strange, that 'guilelens face and form To lavish on the scarring storm! ' ' Yet we take thee in_tby blindness, And we buffet ihee.mith :kindness Little•chary of thy fame,— Dust turbot n may bless or blame,— 'But we mould thee for the root - • Of man's promised healing Fruit, s" •' And we mould thee hence to rise, As our brother, to the skies. vita 4 .T. It XE:olio. THE TWO CROWNS. Shall I tell you, 'children, of 'a dream or vision that I had once? There is nothing so terrible in it that you will be frightened and,*iiiih you had never heard it, for if you can carry. its end in your mind, as I do it will leavehonly a sweet remembrance with you. There appeared before me a vast tract of country. Mountains, with steep, rugged sides; scorched, sandy plains; deep valleys, filled with dark, dense forests; dismal, low swamps, covered with tangled briers and thick undergrowth ; and green meadows, with peaceful waters, blossoms, and singing birds—all were stretched out in this diver sified landscape, side by side. Two youthful figures, each with buoyant step, and faces bright with courageous hope, appeared to be eagerly searching for some hidden object, which, though concealed from their view, they nevertheless appeared certain of obtaining. " I am seeking my crown" • exclafmed one, as ho approached. "Nothing shall now prevent my gaining it. I , `ly road lies :there," he said, pointing to a long, broad,' weary looking highway. "I shall persevere until I havein my possession the valimble'crown that shall reward me for all the difficulties and fatigues that may befall me on my way." "And what then?" I asked. "I shall be feared and respected. Ken will tremble at my feet all my life. I will be rich and great. What more do I ask ? With that I shall be .satisfied." • "And you," I asked the other, "are you too seeking 'a crown 7" "'Yes,' he returned sadly, "it is a lost crown that I seek. No eyo has ever seen it, no hand has toudhed of Marred its lustre, that surpasses the light of the sun or stars; but my ear has heard and my heart believes in its wonderful; iinpeiistiable glory:" " Foop!' exclaimed l the othpr. " When will yob.' the' 'way to this'in ble'trea sure Y" , • • ' • • , "It is beyond the :bills:dm — forests, the streams—beyond' the darkest river." "Farewell, then, to you; our roads lie in opposite directions. At the end of mine I can almost see even now'the dazzling crown that will place me on a powerful throne." With a scornful laugh, he turned into his companion, and sprang boldly into the great dusty highway, as the other contin ued the path he had chosen beyond the hills, the mountains, and dark river, seek ing his lost crown. The strength of the first did not forsake him; neither did his courage flag, though dangers and difficulties overtook him at nearly every step, and unexpected obsta cles often beset the way. He continued on his relentless course Airorphan child stum bled at his feet; he only trod upon it, and cried : • "I have no time for pity !" A blind beggar stretched his hand before him: asking for alms, but he passed by, un heeding the appeal. Some starving chil dren clung to him, begging for bread; he shook them off impatiently , 4 I have no time for charity ?" Weak childhood, blind old age, poverty, misery, and suffering were alike 'unheeded as he pressed more eagerly forward to his prize. A feeble, tottering old woman fell at his feet : " Turn but one moment! Be merciful be forel die! It is your Mother that speaks to her 8011 "Allin that case I might , lose sight of the crown I eun now plainly see;" and' he left her, peri'shing, in her old age, alone. New cikilculties increased the value of the crown, unthwhen he reached the foot of the throne, step by step be attained nearer the coveted objeet'; - and though it rested upon the brows of an infirm old king ' with tremb ling hands and strong arms he seized the crown from the fallen head and placed it upon his own, crying: "Mine, mine at last! I am satisfied, for am I not a powerful and mighty king?" The crown sank heavily on his broWs, THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN THURSDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1868. and now, when he no longer saw its splen dor, he felt its mighty weight, and from his throne could turn and look back over the hard, blood-stained road be had travelled; and the cries of the wounded, suffering, and poverty-stricken, that he . had left merci lessly perishing in their misery, sounded in his ear. He saw his old companion, pursuing his quiet way. Hold!" cried he. " Do you not see your folly ? Ifere am I with my crown on my head, while you have not yet even a glim mering of the invisible one you are seeking." But,the other kept on his humble way, stopping only to relieve and give aid and comfort to the poor and distressed Many difficulties lay in his way; thorns and briers tangled the path, and often he met those who said: "It is all in vain. Our search has been useless; we are no nearer our lost crowns than when we commenced our journey. We will look no further." His feet were often sore and weary; pov erty, hunger, and suffering were his com panions as he wandered wearily on. But in the darkest, dreariest places, he followed the shadow of One who went before—a lowly figure, with bleeding brows, who was bedding under the heavy weight of a cruel " Come back I" cried the king. "Your crown is not' yet in sight, and a dark river is attead. Turn back, and enjoy the riches and power my crown has brought me." But, withiu the shadow oftke Weary ,One who went before, he followed on, over the mountains, through tangled forests, across scorched, sandy plains, in deep valleys and dark places, until the buoyant, elastic step had become weary-worn, the eye dim, the hand feeble, and his dark •locks changed to the-hue of winter snow. In his ear there then rose the unceasing rise and fall of the swelling waves of the dark river as its waters touched the cold shores he was ever nearing, and as he came near the brink, waiting with feeble step but firm hear, for- the wave that would bear him ovefthe tide, the king with his bril liant crown came , hastily running toward him. He was not eager to cross the river alone, but. his _attenclapts were,-in ; -greater haste to bid hiri farewell than to bear him company; and in this hour he would have clung to his despised companion. A huge dark wave advancing, carried them far out on the sullen waters of the dark river, and the king would , have cast off the heaVy crown, now tarnished a.riddirn, bat the heavy weight pressed down upon him. He sank below—none can tell whither. There was a sound of music, sweeter, stronger, and lovelier than that of dEolian harps, and a radiant figure, standing be neath a cross of exceeding light, stood wel coming the wanderer on the other side; and the crown that rested upon the brow that it once pierced far surpassed'the bright ness and beauty of the sun and stars. I saw no more ; but I believed the prom ised crown was obtained in the land beyond the dark river. And that One is there awaiting each of us who so run that We may obtain the incorruptible crown—The Methodist. . GAIETY IN THE 1101&E. Gaiety is indispensable to childhood, and I doubt whether it can be dispensed with in after life. There is a.l innocent craving for it even in old, age. , God bas scattered flow ers upon our 'fallen' earth, - and sent us the songs of • birds. Why should me turn away from them? Why should mirth and hearty laughter scandalize us? If many of us do not love our homes, the reason is far, far from inexplicable. To, tell the truth, I have but a,,poor opinion of homes where laughter and merriment, and jokes and puns, nay, even . absurdities, are n. - known. Measure the heartlessness of that confession of Fontenelle, "For ,the last halt century I have neither wept nor laughed." The two best things in this life, those which, prove that we have a heart and an imagina tion as well as a brain, were lost to the man whose universe was academies and drawing rooms. We are quite aware that therels forced gaiety and "a forced laughter, than which nothing is.more.sadj, and :tipit %hp' spirit may bedume chronie;tC k t:lie . tion of every serious thought. It would be difficult to dhoose between Fontenelle, who never laughed, and the man who is always anghing; difficult to say which of the two had sunk the lowest. Without seriousness family life would 'iardly deserve the name. Theie is nothing io serious as life; nothing so serious as hap ,iiness, duty, resporsibility, the education of :hildren, personal education. Is there any ,.hing so serious as our sins, our repentance, 'ur prayers? any task more serious than ,he charge of souls that we love? But in proportiim'aS seriousness is genu ne, cheerfulness will be so too. .There will ie the "time to laugh and the time to weep." -Aolomon tolls us that the "wisdom of a man naked. his faith to shine, and his counte nance is no more sad." This is the magic if wisdom; it is when the heart is turned towards God that the countenance is joy - ins and beneficent. A hearty laugh is one of the best and •arest of things; gaiety is the :priv,ilege of .he simple minded ; it is ene oft, the surest iymptoms ormoral health; though of course this is a rule by no means withodt excep tions. Ennui must not be classed among the virtues; we must not, give way to ruo rose and languid moods. I know houses where there is a perpetual sighing over the evils of humanity, past, present,,and to come • after the evils conic,' the' fauts, and afterthe faults the errors, till the melancholy catalogue is gone through 4 bot.lhat.. does nDt prevent it from being ,7m3 3 nneA on the morrow. There are complaints, religious, moral, artistic arid literary, always in abundance. I remember once visiting a neighbor who was extremely deaf; every one made it a duty to contribute something for his amuse ment; the speaking trumpet was passed from hand to hand; and what were the themes that passed through it but the sorrows and calamities of the neighborhood I--how one poor gentleman had broken his leg; how some poor lady had taken the small-pox, and another had lost a child. The most commu nicative added details of the faults and mis takes of the government, the fears enter tained as to the harvest, 'the failure of sun dry attempts to do good; and the unfortu nate listener lifted up his eyes to Heaven and sighed piteously; but when the evening had ended, every one congratulated himself on having helped to amuse him for an hour! If I were asked for a recipe for cheer fulness, I would say, Humbly enjoy the good • gifts of God, love those around you tenderly, realiie that amiability is' a binding virtue, and that we are bound to diffuse joy around us in our homes. But there is, just one more item in my prescription ; we must be willing to • unbend, even to stoop to a little harmless folly.. A lovefor animals.-will. encourage this; the very presence of these, true but unas suming friends will do our hearts good. We may talk nonsese to therri; they introdme an element of intellectual repose. Dogs, eats, horses, poultry, are so many contribu tors to the gaiety arid simplicity of our daily life.:,=We cannot .enjoy: them without loving them. lam not-going to enter into the ranks of those, who . contend that they have souls; still I hope, my reader holds in equal abhorrence with myself the systems of Descartes and Malebranche, which would make them out to be mere machines. We have but to contemplate the dog that, fol lows us, watches our movements, shares our fatigues and perils voluntarily, either to sink at our side, or perhaps to follow us to the grave and die theriii:—th reply to the - theory of mere mechanism. . - Anirrials'are, in some sort, members of the family. They are the friends of.young and old, andyo,ung and old alike enjoy and benefit by their gleeful, ir rational.society.--Cpupt _de Gasparin. THE PULPIT AND; THE LITTLE ONES. The share of the pulpit in the religious training of children cannot be ignored by any minister who is-desirous of doing whole duty. Pious instraction at home, or efficient teaching in the Sunday-school, can never become sUbstittites for ministerial duty. Yet there are preachers who rarely if ever have a word for t h e children in their• sermons, and never preach an entire sermon to them, though they may sometimes preach ab,out them. It is a startling truth that there are children of Christian parents who never hear preaching of any kind. Loose notions of parental duty prevAil among many, :and the children are permitted to decide for themselves whether they, will go to church or not—the decision in= such cases being, for the most part, in themegative. We do not think, however ' that the blame = -f or this should`rest entirely'on the parents; the pul pit has some ,reepotisibility in the matter: There is, we are sorry to .say, churches nothing in the services to interest the children, oul'elde of the singing; and though they are. easily interested in this,' even here there is sometimes a failure from want of hymn-books of. their own, or by reason of strange and difficult tunes which. they cannot sing, Imagine boys or girls of averag3 intellect compelled to sit DV,. a whole hour listening to a discourse, scarcely a word of 'which, they understand, and not one word of which is directed specially to theml HOW painful the restraint soon becomes'? They Wish the good man in the - pulpit would hurry and get through; and' &he uses a 'manuscript, how wistfully the young eyes watch the turning over of the leaves, wondering hOw anybody could ever write so much; when their own short . school compositions cost them so great laborl ' And what a feeling of relief these young, lively hearts experi ence when the last leaf is turned over and the last word read! No wonder that human nature sometimes rebels before that point is reached; no wonder if children, to whom motion is life, break through the unnatural 'restraint forced .upory them, and find relief iti the perpetration Of childish pranks, or .gradually settle down, like some of their elders, into a quiet Stu mlier. The scoldings. They get when they reach horrie are mainly undeserved. flow many adults could sit quietly for an hour hearing, but not under statding, a sermon in French or an oration in Greek? And - it is no exaggeration to say that much of the preaching to which child ren are compelled to liiten might as well be in French or in Greek as in English, so'far as they are concerned.' We would not, of course have every ser mon prePared, in all its details, expressly for children. There are many themes of pulpit discussion beyond the capacity of childhood, and yet of great importance to others. But we would have some part of every service, if not of every sermon, adapted to the capacitins and the moral, needs of the little ones. Let the children be f thought of in the pastor's preparation for the Sabbath; let there be some point in the services of ' the hour toward which they may afterward look with feelings of interest and of pleasant recollection; let them be recognized in some way as a part of the con gregation. They will thus become interested in the services of the church, and will not require compulsion to attend. They will sooner begin to comprehend the nature and design of, these regular weekly meetings on the Sabbath, and will delight to learn in them the useful lessons there taught. But in addition to the recognition of ,child , ren in the ordinary exercises of the Sabbath, we think that every, pastor should• occas ionally preach an entire sermon especially to them. Every Methodist preacher promi ses, on full admission into the Confer once, that he will " diligently instruct , the children in every place." He cannot do thitilobrerifPloyingffundapschool teachers as proxies. He has a personal duty in the matter; and one of the best means, though not the only one, of discharging this duty, is by preaching to the children at stated times. On such occasions they should be made to feel that the meeting is for them especially; that they are expected to take a part in it in the singing, and in a respon sive reading'of the Scriptures, or repetition of the Lord's Prayer; that the sermon has been prepared for them, and is particularly adapted to them. The pastor who pursues this course will have an influence over the children which he could not obtain in any other way; and, thronyh the children, he will increase his influence with the parents. Of the style of preaching necessary to in terest children, we have something to say at a future time.—The Methodist. THE SACK OF PEARLS. A traveller missed his way and lost him self in a desert. Nearly ,famished with hun ger and thirst, he reached at length a shady palm tree and a fresh fountain. Near the fountain he discovered a small bag lying on the ground. " Thanks to God 1" said the man, as be lifted the little , bag, " these are perhaps peas, which will keep me from starving!' Eagerly he opened the bag and exclaimed, "Alas 1 alas! they aro only pearls!" "Worth more than gold or pearls, you see,. The little loaf that feedeth thee!" Though he had now a bag of pearls worth several thousand dollars, he was still in danger of starvation. Bat he prayed eir nestly to God for help, and presently ,there came hastily, riding on his camel, a Moor who had lost the bag of pearls. _TIe had coin passion on the starving man, gave him bread and refreshing fruit, and took him along on his camel. "Behold l" 'said the Itoor, " how wonder fully God disposes all things I I regarded, it as a misfortune to have lost the pearls ; but 'God permitted it that I might return again and save a life !" • "By little things Jehovah saves ills people from untin - ?ely graves." THE. HAVEN. "In , a village near Warsaw, there Hired a pious peasant of German extraction, by name _Dairy. Without his fault, he had fal len into arrears,with his rent, and, the, land lord determined, to eject him;, and it was winter. He went. to him three times in vain. It was evening, and the next day he was to be turned • out with ,all when as they sat there in .sarrow, the chnrclk bell 'pealed for evening prayer, and 'Dobry kneeled down in their midst, and. they pang, . "Commit thou all thy griefs And ways into his hands" And as they came to the last verse, "When thou wouldst all our need supply, Who, wh l o shall stay thy , band?" . • • 'there was a knock at the window. It • was ,an old friend, a raven, that Dobry's grand. father had taken out of the nestand tamed, and then set at liberty. Dobry opened the Windotv, and the'raven hopped in, and in his bill there was a ring set with precious stones! Dobry thought that, he would sell the ring, but he thought again he would bring it to his, minister; and he, who saw at Once by the crest that it belonged to Zing Stanislaus, took it to him, and related the story. And the king sent for Dobry, and rewarded him, so that he was no, more in need,• and the next year built him. a 1143.1 house, and gave him, cattle from his own stall, and over the house door there is an iron tablet, whereon is carved a raven with a ring in his beak,' 'and Underneath' this verse:, " Thou everywhere hast'sway, ' •.And all things serve thy might; Thy every act pure blessing is, Thy pal] unsullied light." BRINGING OTHERS, TO ,T.ESIIS. When Andrew and Philip were led to see Jesus as the true Messiah, and >to love him is their. Saviour, they began to speak of him to others, .and to bring others to him. The first thing Which Andrew did Was to, find his own brother Simon and to say,to. bitn,'" i We have found the Messias. And he brought 'him to Jesus." Philip did likewise. He sought his friend Nathanael, and no sooner bad he fbund him than he told him the object of his errand. Said he, "We have found him, of whom Moses in the law and the prophets did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph!' lip's ardor was not abated when .Nathanael interposed the question, "Can there any good thing come .out of Nazareth ?" but in the joy of hiS heart the answer wag, "Come and see!: earnest invitation pre ,vailed, and soon Nathanaers testimony to Jesus was, " Thou art, the Son of God; thou art the King of Israel." It is natural for those who have found the Saviour to speak of him to others and to try to bring others to him. When our hearts are filled with any other joy, how soon we tell our friends our happiness ! Is it not then unnatural, not to speak of the great joy which salivation brings ? Surely the joy in Jesus' which a true Christian experiences is too good a thing to keep to on ' e's - self: 'lt must needs be ut tered. It is with every joyful believer as it was with Andi•ew and Philip. He seeks :to Make 'Christ known to his brother, to his friend, and to every one. ..Hejoicing himself in the love of Jesus, he sings forth the joy• of his heart, and his feeling is, ",0 that all might believe, And'eatvation receive, And their song and theirjoy be the same." My reader,. have you ceased to rejoiee in the Lord, and to speak to 'others Of Jesus ? 0, if this is your sad case; return at once to God with the prayer of Dayid, ; Restore unto-,me .the joy .ot thy, salvation; and up hold me with thy free Spirit: then will I teach transgressors thy ways: and sinners shall be converted unto thee."—The Sunday School Times. "NEATNESS NEXT TO HOLINESS." The above is quoted as a saying of White field. Certain it is Whitefield was a very neat man ; and none will deny that he was a holy man. It is said of him that he pick ed from his nicely brushed black cicitb coat a email piece of lint, eaying as he did it, " A minister must be without spot." Neat ness is not finical nicety, nor fashionable cut. It is perfect cleanliness, and is Us ually' combined with good taste. The idea seems to be instinctive rather than acquired; and, though it respect the body, has 'a meh tal or moral origin. Cleanliness was: in sisted ttpon•in the Old Testament, and many Were the washings required. Its relation to holiness was recognized, and J - ehatati said to the 'priesthood, " Be ye clean;that bear the vessels of the Lord.' " What a shame, then, it is to see a Chris tian man or woman chargeable with• habi thal untidiness l It is disgusting in a Man ; it is intolerable in a"woman. I am ready to quarrel with my favorite poet for indit ing that, in t'my judgment, unfortunate apology for • the slovenly Christian '!'/1 heavenly mind 'may be indifferent to its house of clay." ' No, Mr. Cowper, you Are ,wrong: t What house of clay is a ,sacred thing, a: sanctified vessel, for the Master's use ;and.every,Chris tian js to see that even material defilement is not allowed. It is as much a part of re demption ,as, the soul. Cowper was wrong. Had his sweet aged,. friend, Mrs. I:rn win, descended to the breakfast table with ,un cleaned nails and untidycap, would the poet have relished his radish and egg ? I trow We- have, heard of some distinguished preachers who were celebrated for their careless attire. It may have added to their celebrity. I,t certainly did not add to heir usefulness. Homeliness is made beautiful by neatness, and Cleopatra's beauty. would have been disglistitig with Out Do, we make too much of,it ? think:,npt. It is closely Connected with morals.; thgt we know: Has it no ,connection with health ? Ask the physician ; ask youi own 0,19,06- enee. That first thing a convalescen,tcOlfil for is clean linen. It is a tonic. It .better than medicine As the cle'in things are ail I nicely adjusted he smiles and says, I feel. ,better." : But how shall the poor and ; the laboripg class meet the requlsition Their ; work in many cases, is necessarily defiling. Thi}t~.is, so ; and yet we have seen a. great difference among them in regard to, this matter. Some Will have working cloth* and shed Ahem off when they get home. They will call for soap and water and do the best they can to put the body'in decent trim. 'Others care 'not, but let, the sweat .anlbdirt o settle; en them far a" whole week. Thley;' , ithss.e.gteat good. We enter some poor habitation and all is neatness. The for scrubbed; the stone,. polished.; tha.tine . are -hrightic the chairs are dusted; the inotheilooks tidy, even in her poor raiment; the ehildren are clean, with well-combed hair; and every thing betokens a desire to, make the best out of a little. You may look there for some virtues beside& neatness. You enter another tenement and every thing is dirty and out of order. You can't find a decent seat. Floor, tables, chairs—all in disorder; children with dirty.faces and frowsy heads, and she, who ought to set an example of cleanliness is herself not fit to be seen.— Poverty is pitiable, but dirt and poverty com bined alnlost,change pity into, disgust. lie will bea benefactor indeed to, the poor who succeeds in raising them- generally to this almost indispensable condition of happiness cleanliness; and- we have thought that. our city missionaries, in their visits, should, in many eases, leave a bar'of soap first, and a tracts.fl,erwaids, instead of, a reverse order in their bestowment.—.New York Observer. THE FLOWERS OF PALESTINE. ," The hills in the region of Mount Tabor." says Dr. Bellows, "offer better pastinage ;than any We,' have met in the Holy Land, and yet - Acre seem fewer floeks.upon them. But the flowers have taken advantage of this ,absence of cattle and people, to spring up in a variety and beauty I have never seen equalled. We gathered boiiqaets in a few Moments by the petit ? , which `l defy any • Londen or New .York,conservatory to equal in beauty, and freshness, and variety, or in rarity. Such feathery things, such fairy shapes, such delicate colors, such exquisite contrasts were never, it 'seems to me, com bined in any nosegay; and I felt th'en, as I do now 'ashamed that my feeble, botany could not name and place then. make their beauty the amends of a most, honor able mention. Could I have seut one of these Syrian bouquets to each of my best beloved friends at.home, I 'would gladly have paid the largeSt New York prices for a hundred, and a hundred might have been plucked from 'a rood of, ground. Bat their frailty was equal to their freshness and delicacy. There is a solemnity in , the houseless, tree less, nnpeopled • state 'of this fine country which is an affecting preparation for the approach to the great centre of Jesus' ministry, the Sea of Galilee. NatUre seems to,say there is no room for any thing in in this sacred region but the „ memory of Him whoae. glory fills the matte , The hills are greencand•floivery, and 'fragrant, but they refuse any-meaner service than that of acting is, the Witnesses of Alini who once put their lilies above Soloinon in all his glory used themas-Hiwaltar.smd Jlis pulpit set Wit ; free grime there, would be no God tu :Pave' _ man 3 without, freewill: there would be no:ttian to be saved."—Augiisthic.•
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