« السابقةمتابعة »
TO HIS FATHER.
the Sabbath, a mild and lovely day, and we have heard to-day a discourse on the occasion of the recent death of one of our missionary circle, the Rev. N. Benjamin. The text selected was from John xiv. 2, 3. 'In my Father's house are many mansions, if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you,' &c., and the subject was the preparation of the mansion for the disciple, and the disciple for the mansion. Both were done by Christ and through Christ. He was all, and in all, and above all, God blessed for ever. The preacher vividly portrayed the glory of the divinely-fitted mansion, and the still greater glory of the entrance of the redeemed. soul within it, clothed with the righteousness and immortality of Christ. It was indeed a scene which every Christian should anticipate with rapture, and long to enjoy, desiring rather to depart and be with Christ, which is far better."
"CONSTANTINOPLE, April 29th, 1855.
"MY DEAR FATHER: It is the Sabbath, and my thoughts from this Moslem land are turned toward home, and those I love across the waters. Mingled with thoughts of home are likewise those of heaven, our home above, where I trust redeemed, purified, sanctified, glorified, in the image of Christ, we shall all meet in our Father's house, around his throne, where sin, sorrow, and
THOUGHTS OF HOME.
sighing never enter, and parting shall be known no more for ever. This thought alone can sustain and cheer the soul, as separated from each other in distant lands we labor on, each in our own sphere, doing our appointed work, till our divine Master call us home, having overcome, 'to sit down with Him on his throne, even as He also overcame, and is set down with his Father on his throne.'
"My meditations were divided thus as I sat down to write you this afternoon, and also such thoughts and questions as these passed through my mind. Winter has passed, and gladsome spring has come-the season of life, and bloom, and beauty. How have father and mother enjoyed the winter? how are they at this returning spring? True, I have their open portraits before me, with lineaments and feature unchanged since I left (which I value above price); yet these are not sufficient to satisfy the fulness of the heart. I would know more. Have they grown old at all since I have gone? have the infirmities of age begun to gather upon them? Oh, that I could visit home but for one short hour, to see and speak a word with each, and feel assured that all were well as when I left; I could then return and press forward in earnest duty, with a firmer step and warmer heart. But why should I distrust? Do I not daily commend them all to
the guardian care and loving kindness of Him who is Omnipotent and Omnipresent, who doeth all things well, and whose tender mercies are over all his works.
THOUGHTS OF HOME.
VISIT TO A RUINED CITY.
THE following interesting account of a ruined city was sent to the "New York Observer" with which he corresponded from the East.
"BROOSA, June 27th, 1855.
"MESSRS. EDITORS: In company with the Rev. Dr. Hamlin, I came yesterday to visit Broosa, the scene of the recent earthquake in the Orient. We left Constantinople in the early morning, on board of a Turkish steamer, and sailed out upon the Sea of Marmora, past the Princes Isles, and coasting along the shores of Asia, crowned with cypresses, myrtles, and pines, in six hours we came to Moudania, a small Greek town on the Gulf of Nicea. Here we landed, and took horses for a ride of six hours more in the interior. Our horses were equipped in the oriental style. Mine was mounted with a saddle of blue cloth, and wore a band of colored beads, and cloth worked with sea-shells about his neck, and dangling brass ornaments upon his bridle.
"Upon leaving the town, we rode a short distance along the water-side, and then through the rich vineyards and olive groves of the country. Ascending the hill, we had a lovely view of the valley before us, covered with green pasturage, and fields of ripened grain ready for the sickle. Wild flowers, the woodbine, blue bell, and hollyhock, were in bloom beside our path, and the hum of locusts, and singing of birds filled the air with music. We crossed a small ravine, and came to another summit that commanded a still more extended and picturesque view. We looked over the whole plain of Broosa, twenty miles in length, cultivated with wheat fields, the olive, mulberry, and the grape. The river Ulfar wound its way in the centre, and herds of cattle and flocks of sheep were feeding by the river side. Shepherds were attending these, and the reapers were in the fields, gathering their grain. In the distance 'the minareted city' rose before us on the mountain slope, and Mount Olympus towered above, piercing the clouds: the whole combining the grand and beautiful with most impressive effect. Descending upon the plain, we forded the river, and refreshed ourselves at a small caffee station under two large oak trees. It was most pleasant to receive the good-natured salutations of the Turks,-Rhosh gueldiniz, safa gueldiniz, chelibi: 'You are welcome, very welcome, gentlemen,'