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with a very remarkable degree of fertility. My feet
have trod that sacred soil: my eyes beheld many
places eminently sanctified by the abode in poverty
and suffering of the Son of God in the days of his
humiliation, where he spoke and taught as never man
did, raised the dead, poured sight on the eyes of the
blind from their birth (John ix.), made the dumb
speak, again, he caused the cripple to leap, fed
thousands in a moment by a most stupendous act;
he rebuked the enraged eleinents, laid prostrate
at his feet infernal spirits, healed those who had the
palsy and
were grievously tormented; further,
imparted comfort to the broken-hearted, supported
the aged and lonely relict in her distress. With re-
gard to Jerusalem, I have walked its desolate streets,
ascended its hills "round about," stood on the ground
where the Prince of Peace was buffeted, scourged, in-
sulted; when all that could excite our pity and melt
the very heart of man was endured without a murmur;
and surely no sorrow was like his sorrow.
He "was
led forth as a lamb to the slaughter; had been hur-
ried to that accursed tree, and shed his peace-speak-
ing, divine blood as a voluntary sacrifice to satisfy
divine justice; hung upon it a public spectacle to
angels and men, and brought in an everlasting righte-
ousness (Gal. iii. 13, 14; Heb. ii. 10; Ps. xxiv. 7);
when silent rocks burst asunder, dead came forth
from the dust, universal nature was moved, and the
light of day had vanished. Salvation, may it inspire
our hearts! for to thee, O bleeding Lamb, all praise
belongs. I have also trod the sacred pinnacle of
Olivet, where he had ascended to heaven as a triumphal
and sits on the right hand of God in the glory of the
conqueror, to take possession of his mediatorial throne,
Father-a glory infinitely beyond what imagination
can paint; and who reigns transcendent, encircled
with his radiant band through an endless eternity.
"Wonder then, O heavens! and be astonished, O
earth!"-Rae Wilson's Travels.

PALESTINE. The biblical history concerning the patriarchal ages, the particular providence and miraculous interpositions of God in the government of his ancient people, the promulgation of the divine law upon Mount Sinai, the details given by prophets, the predictions delivered by them of a scheme which infinite wisdom and mercy had framed of man's recovery by the glorious mercy vouchsafed to him in the miracles wrought to astonished multitudes in confirmation of his divine mission and gospel, the divinity of our Lord, his mission upon earth, ministry among cities, hamlets, and families of this most highly-favoured land, where he at last expired under the bitterest agony on the accursed tree, as a sacrifice for sin, his "glorious ascension" to heaven, the signs DENMARK.-ANTIQUITIES.-A remarkable mode and gifts of the Holy Ghost, which ensued, with the is adopted in this country to discover relics: it is consequent proceedings of his ambassadors, sent forth this. The government some years ago being impressed by him to teach all nations, and tell the generations with a belief there were many antiquities that had unborn; I say, the combination of all these stupendous never come to light, which it would be highly desiraevents, and of such vital importance to the human ble to come at, and even an object of national imrace, added to a voice which seemed, as it were, to portance to rescue from oblivion, adopted an excellent sound in my ears, "Go, walk through the land, and plan for the prosecution of such designs. A royal describe it: my presence shall go with thee, and I commission or proclamation was issued ; and every will show great and mighty things thou knowest not," clergyman was furnished with a particular set of inmade so powerful an impression on my mind as to structions to give information to his flock of any reexcite an unquenchable desire to visit these illustrious mains of antiquity; and rewards were offered to any regions, in which alone there had been made an of them, or through them to others, who should disauthentic revelation from heaven, and an immediate cover fragments of this description, and carry them and direct intercourse had existed, as though Jacob's to the museum. In consequence of so simple ladder were no more a vision, but a waking and coma mode, the institution in Copenhagen has met mon reality. In the course of this undertaking 1 with a success equal to the expectations of the most found ample reason to say, in the language of the enthusiastic antiquarian; since numerous relics have wise man, "I saw many things-more, indeed, than been obtained, through ploughmen and others turning I can express;" nor was I deceived in apprehensions, up the soil, which have proved highly curious and inhaving been exposed to many perils and dangers by teresting accessions to the collection; and strangers land and sea, in the crowded mart, as in the solitary who visit the capital are astonished to see the place so wilderness from robbers. Hunger, thirst, weariness, much enriched with works of old. Such a proceeding watching, besides numberless privations and bodily was most judicious on the part of the Danish governpains, were among the lesser evils of this pilgrimage,ment, and ought to be adopted in our country, since which, however, by frequency occasioned nearly init would stimulate enterprize, and lead to the dissufferable distress, and presented almost insurmount-covery of many striking pieces of antiquity, that will able obstacles to my progress; and the "God and otherwise perhaps remain for ever concealed in the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, blessed for evermore, bowels of the earth.-Ibid. knoweth that I lie not." Palestine is more interesting than any other country, and may still assert its claim to be described as a goodly land, abounding in rich pastures and corn-fields, in picturesque beauty and high sublimity, whose stones are iron, and out of whose hills brass may be dug. Its prominent features are those of a hill-country; enough to exclude tameness, yet not so much so as to be incompatible

and HUGHES, 12, Ave-Maria Lane, St. Paul's; and to be
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procured, by order, of all Booksellers in Town and Country.


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land, and thence fourteen by water to the imperial city. There was a convenient crack in one ONE of the ornaments of the city of St. Peters- part, by which a portion could be broken off, so burgh is the statue of its founder, the emperor as to give the remainder the steepness desired for Peter the Great. This monument is the work of the position of the horse. "The expense and difFalconet, a French artist. The monarch is re-ficulty of transporting it were no obstacles (says presented mounting a precipitous rock, the summit Coxe) to Catherine the Second: the morass was of which he has nearly reached his head is un-drained, the forest cleared, and a road formed to covered and crowned with laurel, while his right

hand is stretched out.

The granite mass which composes the pedestal is unrivalled. It is the remnant of a huge rock which the engineer found covered with moss about four miles from the shore of the gulf of Fin


the gulf of Finland. It was set in motion on huge friction balls, and grooves of metal, by means of pulleys and windlasses worked by five hundred men. In this manner it was conveyed, with forty men seated on the top, 1,200 feet a day to the shore, then embarked on a nautical machine,


transported by water to St. Petersburgh, and landed near the spot where it is now erected." Six months were occupied in this undertaking; for the rock weighed 1,500 tons. Had less of it been chiselled away, it would certainly have been more imposing; but those who blame the artist for what he has taken from it seem to forget how much has been left, and how difficult of management such an enormous mass of stone must have been.

The inscription is in good taste. It is simply, "To Peter the First, Catherine the Second," with the date of erection, marked on opposite sides of the pedestal, in Latin and Russ.


No. IX.

and consideration of others, in the midst of his own bitter trials and intense sufferings, the Son of man leaves immeasurably behind God's holiest saints. Let us consider this, in a few instances out of the many that might be selected.

Our blessed Lord suffered from hunger, probably intense hunger, after his forty days' fast, when he resisted the temptation to relieve by a miracle the cravings of that nature he had condescended to take on himself. It is likely that the pangs of hunger were often felt by him in his wearisome life of poverty. On one occasion, it is said, the multitudes so pressed on him and his disciples, that "they had no leisure so much as to eat." At another time, when urged to take food, after, as it would appear, a long abstinence, his delight in doing his Father's will was such as to render him indifferent to the supply of his bodily wants: "I have meat to eat," said the holy Jesus to his disciples, "that ye know not of. My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work." But, while the Saviour thus submitted to the pains of hunger, he compassionated this feeling in others, and put forth his wonder-working power to relieve it. "I have compassion on the multitude," was the remark of the tenderhearted Redeemer, after his laborious teaching, "because they have now been with me three days, and have nothing to eat; and, if I send them fasting to their own houses, they will faint by the way. With his unvarying consideration he overlooked not the circumstance that "divers of them came from far.”

WHEN we would enable the mind to comprehend any fact, whose circumstances lie beyond the region of ordinary observation, our usual mode is to illustrate it by things familiar, and in this manner to bring it within the sphere of our common thoughts. Thus only can we apprehend scientific truths; and thus must we proceed, if we would in any measure conceive the infinite love of our adorable Lord and Saviour. The most glorious and blessed truth, that the Son of God, who was in the beginning with God, who is indeed very God, emptied himself of his inconceivable glory, and came down to this narrow spot of carth, to suffer Our Lord suffered from weariness. We reand to die for his own rebellious creatures, is a mar-member how he sat, wearied with his journey, on vel so far beyond our finite comprehension, that, the well of Samaria; and again, the affecting inviewed abstractedly, our minds are utterly unable cident mentioned in my last, of his disciples bearto grasp it it floats on their surface; and our ing him, "as he was," into the ship. In his conhearts remain untouched, because the very great- tinual foot journeys through the hot country of ness of the love disables us from realizing it. But Judæa, how often must he have undergone exour merciful God has provided a way by which, treme bodily fatigue! He chose the path of weaaccording to our measure, we may realize it: he riness, and rested not from his labours; but this has given us the record of our Saviour's holy path did not make him less considerate for the wearion earth; and by studying the marks of that ness of others: "Come ye yourselves apart into wonderful love, which, shining through suffering, a desert place, and rest awhile," was his pitying filled with tenderness the words and actions of his language to his disciples. daily life, we may in some slight degree obtain an insight into that infinite love which led him to die for us. In my last paper I endeavoured to draw instruction from our Lord's perfect submission and unfailing patience: now I would make some reflections on the entire unselfishness, the invariable love and consideration for others, which accompanied that patience; how, in the midst of his own endurance, he deeply sympathized with and eagerly relieved their far lighter sufferings. Affliction is, we all know, one of God's appointed ways of producing and perfecting in us holiness: through his divine grace it becomes a powerful means of subduing and softening the heart. But this is not its natural effect; so far from it, experience continually proves that misfortune irritates rather than subdues, hardens the heart instead of softening it. Bodily and mental suffering, unsanctified by the grace of God, increases our natural selfishness. We should endeavour constantly to bear this in mind when assailed by sick-ing ness or sorrow, that our earnest efforts may be put forth to struggle against the depraved propensity of our evil nature. In his constant remembrance

Jesus suffered the extremity of bodily agony; yet we never hear of his beholding pain in others without exerting his divine power to relieve it; and the evangelists frequently accompany their account of such exertion with the touching remark, "He was moved with compassion. Again, we read: "Looking up to heaven, he sighed." He considered every circumstance of the affliction; as, when healing the woman bowed together by a spirit of infirmity, he mentioned her having been eighteen years thus suffering, as a reason for giving her immediate relief; and in the case of the poor sufferer who had lain thirtyeight years at the pool of Bethesda, it is said, "When Jesus saw him lie, and knew he had been now a long time" thus.

The Son of man for our sakes endured such extreme mental agony as surpasses our power of conception. What must have been the tortures of his pure and holy soul, under that mysterious suffer

which caused his sweat to fall to the gronnd "as it were great drops of blood"! or, again, that which wrung from him the agonized cry of "My God, my God, why hast thou for

saken me?" Yet he never inflicted one unne- | cessary pang. In the beautiful narrative of his raising Jairus's daughter, when certain persons came to inform the anxious father that his child was dead, and therefore it was useless to trouble the Master any further, it is related, "As soon as Jesus heard the word that was spoken," or, as it is said the passage might be translated, "While it was being spoken, he saith unto the ruler of the synagogue, Be not afraid: only believe." He would not leave him an instant in doubt either of his power or will to relieve him.

I might give many other instances of the Saviour's regard for the feelings of others, but will pass over them, to dwell on the most striking of all--his earnest care to prepare the minds of his disciples for the great trial that was about to come on them, in their loss of him. How exquisitely tender is his discourse, as related by St. John, when he was himself about to enter on that bitter conflict which made him "sore amazed, and exceeding sorrowful, even unto death;" that conflict, of which he knew beforehand every sad particular! Yet, so far from his soul being engrossed by his own sufferings, his blessed words are employed in comforting the infinitely lighter sorrows of those who were about to desert, and one, alas! to deny him: "Let not your heart be troubled; neither let it be afraid. I go to prepare a place for you. I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am ye may be also. If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it. Ask, and receive, that your joy may be full. I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you. Peace I leave with you: my peace I give unto you. As my Father hath loved me, so have I loved you. Greater love hath no man than this-that a man lay down his life for his friends. Ye are my friends if ye do whatsoever I command you. Because I have said these things, sorrow hath filled your heart. Nevertheless, I tell you the truth: it is expedient for you that I go away; for, if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but, if I depart, I will send him unto you. Ye now have sorrow; but I will see you again; and your heart shall rejoice; and your joy no man taketh from you. The Father himself loveth you, because ye have loved me. These things have I spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer: I have overcome the world." Such were some of the loving words with which the sorrowing Saviour comforted those who were about to be scattered, every man to his own, and to leave him alone; followed by his no less touching prayer, in which he supplicated "that they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us. Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am; that they may behold my glory, which thou hast given me;" concluding with the memorable words, "I have declared unto them thy name, and will declare it; that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them." When delivered into the hands of his merciless enemies, still did the considerate Redeemer provide for the safety of his followers: "If ye seek me, let these go their way." At that bitter moment, when reproach had broken his

heart; when he looked for some to take pity, and there was none; for comforters, and found none; at that moment of sore trial did the gracious Lord remember his denying apostle, Peter, and cast on him the look which melted him into tears of penitential sorrow. In the midst of the anguish of the cross the Son of God provided for the temporal comfort of his mother.

But it was not only of those who loved him that the suffering Saviour was mindful. His thoughtful consideration extended to his bitterest enemies. After his ineffable condescension in washing the feet of the traitor Judas, we find the holy Jesus deeply moved at the thought that it would be one of those who had eaten bread with him who should lift up his heel against him; but it was for the base deceiver he especially sorrowed, as shown in his pathetic lamentation: "Woe unto that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed! it had been good for that man if he had never been born." His last miracle of mercy was performed on one of those who had seized him. The woes about to come on the guilty city of his murderers, which had before drawn tears from his heavenly eyes, occupied some of the rejected Saviour's latest thoughts. When led forth, assisting to bear his heavy cross, to the women bewailing and lamenting him he turned and said: "Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me; but weep for yourselves and for your children. For, behold, the days are coming, in which they shall say, Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bare, and the paps which never gave suck."

Such are a few instances of the adorable Redeemer's care and consideration of others, in the midst of his own sufferings, and which may help to give us some idea of that infinite love which brought him down to die for us; but let us also deeply study them, as affording us a perfect pattern of unselfishness. We saw, in my last paper, how, as followers of him, we should bow down with submissive reverence under the hand of our God: here we have the lovely example of the holy One's constant thought of others, while undergoing the most agonizing trials, and this not for a time only, but through the whole course of his life. Let us examine how far we imitate him in considerate thoughtfulness.

We are all vividly alive to the feeling of our own wants. Are we equally mindful of the wants of others? Are we moved with compassion for the sufferings of the hungry poor around us, who, though raised above starvation, must yet continually undergo those painful sensations which arise from deficiency of nourishment? Do we sympathize with, and as far as lies in our power relieve, them? Do we deny ourselves, in order to supply their necessities? And are we active in our exertions for them?

Again, with regard to bodily fatigue. Are we tenderly mindful of the weariness of others? Are we careful to exact from those dependent on us no greater portion of labour than what is quite consistent with their health and comfort? We, who are generally so careful of ourselves, so sensitive of our own teelings of weariness, so reagy to take rest, are we equally considerate for others? Are we ready to exert ourselves to save them, and occasionally to sacrifice our own ease, in order to promote theirs.

Then as to bodily pain, to which all, both rich | and poor, are equally liable. Do we seek to soothe the bed of sickness? to relieve, by our sympathy and kind attention, the sufferers around us? If afflicted by illness ourselves, can we yet be considerate for others? can we still regard their wants rather than our own?

It will be well if our conscience acquit us on these points; but let us further examine ourselves as to our careful avoidance of wounding the minds of our fellow-creatures, and our anxiety to soothe and lessen mental distress. Alas! of what sins of omission and commission must the greater number of us accuse ourselves in these respects? We complain of our fellow-creatures as selfish and cold-hearted; but let us look into our own hearts: let us compare the interest we take in whatever concerns ourselves with that which we feel in the affairs of others. Are we ready to rejoice with them that do rejoice, and to weep with them that weep? Does not a trifle immediately affecting ourselves engage us more deeply than an affair of the deepest import to another? How small a portion of pain and suffering is apt to make us forgetful of the feelings even of our friends, while our blessed Lord in the severest agony was considerate for his bitter enemies! Again; how regardless, generally speaking, are we of wounding by neglect or by inconsiderate words, while deeply sensitive of such conduct towards ourselves! We are continually thinking of our own feelings, and at the same time careless of those of others. And what is it that makes us so sensitive of neglect, or want of consideration, in those with whom we associate, but | our thought and care for ourselves, in a word, our selfishness? It is our own selfishness which makes us alive to the selfishness of others: it would be well for us to remember this, instead of attributing, as we are apt to do, our proneness to take offence to our great sensibility. Such feelings as I have been describing are, indeed, natural to us; for selfishness is an inherent part of our nature; but they are the very opposite to the mind of Christ.

Having thus endeavoured to derive instruction from a consideration of our Saviour's tender care for the minds and bodies of others, while he was leading a life of intense hardship, and even while he was preparing for and undergoing an exquisitely painful death, let us now consider a little his unceasing care for their spiritual interests: let us see how he was ever on the watch to take advantage of every opportunity to administer that divine instruction which would, if rightly received, make them wise unto salvation. A very few instances, of course, can only be selected out of the multitude that occurred in his holy life. Jesus went about doing good; but it was with the wisdom of the serpent, as well as the harmlessness of the dove: his words and actions were never out of place, but always exactly fitted to the occasion.

The first long discourse recorded of our Lord, as addressed to the people in general, is that commonly called "the sermon on the mount"; and it seems to have been drawn forth by the observant Saviour's having remarked the concourse of people assemt led together; for it is said, "And sceing the multitudes, he went up into a moun

tain; and he opened his mouth, and taught them." He took advantage of so many being present, to declare fully his pure and holy doctrine. He showed them the character which those must possess who would be his disciples, and the expectations they must entertain. He spoke of purity, and meekness, and lowliness; that they must not only be ready to forgive, but to bless their enemies, returning good for evil. And he showed them, too, of their expectations, that they were not to look for, or lay up, treasures upon earth; but their treasure was to be in heaven. He bade them not only to expect persecution for righteousness' sake, but to regard it as a blessing, to rejoice at it. Thus did the Lord embrace this precious opportunity of showing the multitudes the true nature of his religion; that it was to make men holy, and prepare them not to be great in this life, but happy in the life to come.

On another occasion, recorded by St. Luke, when great multitudes followed him, expecting, in all probability, earthly advantages, the Saviour took the opportunity of testing their discipleship by declaring the self-denial that would be required. They must be ready for his sake to give up the nearest and dearest ties, nay, even life itself, to take up their cross daily, or they could not be his disciples. Calling their attention to the folly of that man who should commence building a tower without considering his means of finishing it; and the king who with ten thousand men should make war against another with twenty thousand, he showed them how before following him they too should count the cost, and in the most forcible words exhibited the sacrifice that would be required: "Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple."

The same principle seems to have actuated our Lord in his address to the scribe, recorded by St. Matthew, when again great multitudes were following him: "The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man nath not where to lay his head." What worldly advantages could be gained by following a master thus utterly destitute?

In our Redeemer's conduct to his disciples we find a similar embracing of opportunities. When asked to teach them to pray, he not only complied with their request by giving them a comprehensive form of prayer, but went on to instruct them by a parable with what importunity they should pray, how persevering should be their supplications. They were not only to ask, but to seek; not only to seek, but to knock; encouraging them to expect an answer, by appealing to one of the tenderest feelings of our nature-the love of a father for his child.

He taught them humility by setting in the midst of them a little child, an exemplification of helplessness and dependence, assuring them they must humble themselves as that little child, if they would be great in the kingdom of heaven. Watchfui of every occasion on which pride might arise in their hearts, when the seventy returned with joy, that even the devils were subject to them through his name, he uttered in their hearing a thanksgiving to his Father, that, while he had hid these things from the wise and prudent, he had revealed them unto babes; and that not for

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