didst thou marvel? I will tell thee the mystery of the woman, and of the beast that carrieth her. The beast that thou sawest was, and is not; and shall ascend out of the bottomless pit, and go into perdition: and they that dwell on the earth shall wonder, whose names were not written in the book of life from the foundation of the world.'-REV. xvii. THOUSAND YEARS. ND I saw an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit, and a great chain in his hand. And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the Devil, and Satan, and bound him a thousand years, and cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the nations no more, till the thousand years THE OLD SERPENT BOUND DOWN. 377 should be fulfilled.' How melancholy does the face of our earth appear, when we reflect on the reign of Satan upon it, on the influence of the powers of darkness on the souls of immortal men! Let us be thankful that the Almighty has promised to cut short his power; to send down an angel who has the keys of his dungeon, to bind him, and thrust him therein. And, now that we take leave of this holy book, let us not suppose that it is all mystery, and that there is no present instruction to be derived from it. Let the solemn and beautiful language of the last chapter be studied, and diligently remembered: The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst, come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.'REV. xxii. 6 F LOSING AND LIVING. OR ever the sun is pouring his gold On a hundred worlds that beg and borrow; His warmth he squanders on summits cold, His wealth on the homes of want and sorrow. To withhold his largess of precious light Is to bury himself in eternal night: To give Is to live. The flower shines not for itself at all; And it lives in the life it sweetly loses. Is to die. The seas lend silvery rain to the land The land its sapphire streams to the ocean; The heart sends blood to the brain of command— The brain to the heart its lightning motion: And ever and ever we yield our breath, Till the mirror is dry, and images death. To live Is to give. He is dead whose hand is not opened wide Who gives his fortunate place to another; And a thousand million lives are his Who carries the world in his sympathies. Is to die. |