And stagnate and corrupt; till, changed to poison, And friendless solitude, groaning and tears, Seen, through the steams and vapor of his dungeon, Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deformed With other ministrations thou, O Nature! LESSON XCI. To the Rosemary.-H. K. WHITE. SWEET Scented flower! who'rt wont to bloom On January's front severe, And o'er the wintry desert drear To waft thy waste perfume! Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now, And I will bind the round my brow; And, as I twine the mournful wreath, I'll weave a melancholy song, And sweet the stráin shall be, and long Come funeral flower! who lov'st to dwell With the pale cōrse in lonely tomb, And throw across the desert gloom Come, press my lips and lie with me And hark! the wind-god, as he flies, Sweet flower, that requiem wild is mine; The cold turf altar of the dead; My grave shall be in yon lone spot, Where, as I lie by all forgot, A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes shed. LESSON XCII. A Sabbath in Scotland.-Persecution of the Scottish Covenan ters.-GRAHAME. Ir is not only in the sacred fane, That homage should be paid to the Most High: Nor yet less pleasing at the heavenly throne, *Pron. faw'-kns. Stretched on the sward, he reads of Jesse's son, And wonders why he weeps; the volume closed Thus reading, hymning, all alone, unseen, They stood prepared to die, a people doomed Was bliss. Long ere the dawn, by devious ways, O'er hills, through woods, o'er dreary wastes, they sought A little glen is sometimes scooped, a plat With green sward gay, and flowers that stranger seem. Amid the heathery wild, that all around There, leaning on his spear (one of the array, *Pron. time. Pron. meekle-much. Mounted, belonging to the cavalry. And on the distant cairns the watcher's ear* But years more gloomy followed; and no more Of night, save when the wintry storm raved fierce, LESSON XCIII. The Baptism.-WILSON. IT is a pleasant and impressive time, when at the close of divine service, in some small country church, there take place the gentle stir and preparation for a baptism. A sudden air of cheerfulness spreads over the whole congregation; the more solemn expression of all countenances fades away; and it is at once felt, that a rite is about to be performed, which, although of a sacred and awful kind, is yet connected with a thousand delightful associations of purity, beauty, and innocence. Then there is an eager bending of smiling faces over the humble galleries-an unconscious rising up in affectionate curiosity-and a slight murmuring sound in which is no violation of the Sabbath sanctity of God's house, when in the middle passage of the church the party of women is seen, mātrons and maids, who bear in their bosoms, or in their arms, the helpless beings about to be made members of the Christian communion. *Sentinels were placed on the surrounding hills, to give warning of the ap proach of the military. There sit, all dressed becomingly in white, the fond and happy baptismal group. The babes have been intrusted, for a precious hour, to the bosoms of young maidens, who tenderly fold them to their yearning hearts, and with endearments taught by nature, are stilling, not always successfully, their plaintive cries. Then the proud and delighted girls rise up, one after the other, in sight of the whole congregation, and hold up the infants, arrayed in neat caps and long flowing linen, into their father's hands. For the poorest of the poor, if he has a heart at all, will have his infant well dressed on such a day, even although it should scant his meal for weeks to come, and force him to spare fuel to his winter fire. And now the fathers are all standing below the pulpit, with grave and thoughtful faces. Each has tenderly taken his infant into his toil-hardened hands, and supports it in gentle and steadfast affection. They are all the children of poverty, and, if they live, are destined to a life of toil. But now poverty puts on its most pleasant aspect, for it is beheld standing before the altar of religion with contentment and faith. This is a time, when the better and deeper nature of every man must rise up within him; and when he must feel, more especially, that he is a spiritual and an immortal being making covenant with God. He is about to take upon himself a holy charge; to promise to look after his child's immortal soul; and to keep its little feet from the paths of evil, and in those of innocence and peace. Such a thought elevates the lowest mind above itself-diffuses additional tenderness over the domestic relations, and makes them who hold up their infants to the baptismal font, better fathers, husbands, and sons, by the deeper insight which they then possess into their nature and their life. The minister consecrates the water-and as it falls on his infant's face, the father feels the great oath in his soul. As the poor helpless creature is wailing in his arms, he thinks how needful indeed to human infancy is the love of Providence! And when, after delivering each his child into the arms of the smiling maiden from whom he had received it, he again takes his place for admonition and advice before the pulpit, his mind is well disposed to think on the perfect beauty of that religion of which the Divine Founder said, "Suffer little children to be brought unto me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven!" |