NATURE TO THE EYE OF A CHRISTIAN.

ALISON.

1. Whatever leads our minds habitually to the Author of the Universe; whatever mingles the voice of nature with the revelation of the gospel; whatever teaches us to see, in all the changes of the world, the varied goodness of Him, in whom "we live, and move, and have our being," brings us nearer to the spirit of the Savior of mankind. But, it is not only as encouraging a sincere devotion, that these reflections are favorable to Christianity: there is something, moreover, peculiarly allied to its spirit in such observations of external

if we except Virgil,' whose gentle mind seems to have anticipated, in this instance, the influence of the gospel, never with any deep feeling of their beauty.

5. Then, as now, the citadel of Athens' looked upon the evening sun, and her temples flamed in his setting beam; but what Athenian writer ever described the matchless glories of the scene? Then, as now, the silvery clouds of the Ægean Sea rolled round her verdant isles, and sported in the azure vault of heaven; but what Grecian poet has been inspired by the sight? The Italian lakes spread their waves beneath a cloudless sky, and all that is lovely in nature was gathered around them; yet even Eustace tells us that a few detached lines is all that is left in regard to them by the Ro man poets.

6. The Alps themselves,

"The palaces of nature, whose vast walls

Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,
And throned eternity in icy halls

Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls

The avalanche-the thunderbolts of snow,"

even these, the most glorious objects which the eye of man can behold, were regarded by the ancients with sentiments only of dismay or horror; as a barrier from hostile nations, or as the dwelling of barbarous tribes. The torch of religion had not then lightened the face of nature; they knew not the language which she spoke, nor felt that holy spirit which, to the Christian, gives the sublimity of these

scenes.

EXERCISE XXXV.

THE VIRTUOUS WOMAN.

PROVERBS, CHAP. XXXI

1. Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far

above rubies.

2. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.

3. She will do him good, and not evil, all the days of her life.

4. She seeketh wool and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands.

5. She is like the merchants' ships; she bringeth her food from afar.

6. She riseth, also, while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.

7. She considereth a field, and buyeth it; with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.

8. She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.

9. She perceiveth that her merchandise is good; her candle goeth not out by night.

10. She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff.

11. She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.

12. She is not afraid of the snow for her household; for all her household are clothed with scarlet.

13. She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.

14. Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land,

15. She maketh fine linen and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant.

16. Strength and honor are her clothing, and she shall rejoice in time to come.

17. She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.

18. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.

19. Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her hus band, also, and he praiseth her.

20. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.

21. Favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised.

22. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.

EXERCISE XXXVI.

THE BOY AND HIS ANGEL.

CAROLINE M. SAWYER.

1. "Oh, móther, I've been with an angel to-day!
I was out, alone, in the forest, at play,

Chasing after the butterflies, watching the bees,
And hearing the woodpecker tapping the trees;
So I played, and I played, till, so weary I grew,
I sat down to rest in the shade of a yew,

While the birds sang so sweetly high up on its top,
I held my breath, móther, for fear they would stop!
Thus a long while I sat, looking up to the sky,
And watching the clouds that went hurrying by,
When I heard a voice calling just over my head,
That sounded as if 'Come, oh brother!' it said;
And there, right over the top of the tree,

Oh, mother, an angel was beck'ning to me!

2. "And, 'brother!' once more, 'come, oh brother!' he cried, And flew on light pinions close down by my side! And, mother, O never was being so bright,

As the one which then beam'd on my wondering sight!
His face was as fair as the delicate shell,

His hair down his shoulders in fair ringlets fell,
His eyes resting on me, so melting with love,
Were as soft and as mild as the eyes of a dove!

And, somehow, dear mother, I felt not afraid,
As his hand on my brow he caressingly laid,
And whispered so softly and gently to me,
(p.) Come, brother, the angels are waiting for thee

3. "And then on my forehead he tenderly press'd

Such kisses-oh, mother, they thrilled through my breast, (=) As swiftly as lightning leaps down from on high, When the chariot of God rolls along the black sky! While his breath, floating round me, was soft as the breeze That play'd in my tresses, and rustled the trees. At last on my head a deep blessing he pour'd, Then plumed his bright pinions and upward he soar'd! And up, up he went, through the blue sky, so far, He seem'd to float there like a glittering star. Yet still my eyes follow'd his radiant flight, Till, lost in the azure, he pass'd from my sight! Then, oh, how I fear'd, as I caught the last gleam Of his vanishing form, it was only a dream! (p.) When soft voices whispered once more from the tree, 'Come, brother, the angels are waiting for thee!""

4. Oh, pale grew that mother, and heavy her heart;

For she knew her fair boy from this world must depart!
That his bright locks must fade in the dust of the tomb,
Ere the autumn winds withered the summer's rich bloom!
Oh, how his young footsteps she watch'd day by day,
As his delicate form wasted slowly away,

Till the soft light of heaven seemed shed o'er his face,
And he crept up to die in her loving embrace!
"Oh, clasp me, dear mother, close, close to your breast,
On that gentle pillow again let me rest!

Let me once more gaze up to that dear, loving eye,

And then, oh, methinks, I can willingly die!
Now kiss me, dear mother! oh, quickly! for see,
The bright, blessed angels are waiting for me!"