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.•