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Sorrow for the Dead.-W. IRVING. 1 The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal—every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open—this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament?
Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend 2 over whom he mourns ? Who, even when the tomb is
closing upon the remains of her he most loved; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal ; would accept of consolation that must be bought by forgetfulness ?—No, the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection—when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved, is 3 softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in
the days of its loveliness—who would root out such a sorrow from the heart? Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over the bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gioom; yet who would exchange it even for the song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry? No, there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is a remembrance of the dead, to which we turn even from the charms of the living. Oh, the grave!
the grave!—It buries every error-covers every defect, 4 extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom
spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb, that he should ever have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies mouldering before him?
But the grave of those we loved - what a place for meditation! There it is that we call up in long review, the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished upon us almost unheeded in the 5 daily intercourse of intimacy :—there it is, that we dwell
upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene. The bed of death, with all its stifled griefs
-its noiseless attendance-its mute, watchful assiduities. The last testimonies of expiring love—the feeble, fluttering, thrilling, oh, how thrilling pressure of the hand. The last fond look of the glazing eye, turning upon us even from the threshold of existence. The faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more assurance of affection.
Ay, go to the grave of buried love, and meditate! There 6 settle the account with thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited, every past endearment unregarded, of that departed being, who can never-never--never return to be soothed by thy contrition !
If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent—if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms, to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth—if thou
art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, or word, 7 or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee if
thou art a lover, and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart which now lies cold and still beneath thy seet ; then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentlo action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking dolefully at thy soul-then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear-more deep, more bitter,because unheard and unavailing.
The Giraffe and Lion.—PRINGLE. [The giraffe or camelopard, inhabits some parts of the interior of Africa. It is a quadruped, resembling in several points of external form, the horse: though he has horns, cleft hoofs, and is a ruminating animal. His principal food is the leaves of a particular kind of tree, which by his great height, and extreme length of neck, he plucks from branches sixteen or eighteen feet high. The manner in which the "king of the forest” makes this magnificent animal his prey, is described in the following poetical sketch.]
1 WOULDST thou view the lion's den?
Search afar from haunts of men,
Where the reed-encircled fountain
Brings again the destined prey.
The tall Giraffe stoops down to drink;
Rides proudly—tearing as he flies.
Is mustered in this hour of need-
Spurns with wild hoof the thundering plain.
His streaming blood-his strength is sinking,
To extinguish human life by the hand of violence, must be quite a different thing in the eyes of a skeptic, froin what it is in those of a Christián. With the skeptíc, it is nothing more than diverting the course of a little red fluid, called blood; it is merely lessening the number by one, of many millions of fugitive, contemptible creatures. The Christian sees in the same event, an accountable being cut off from a state of probatiòn,and hurried perhaps unprepared, into the presence of his Judge, to hear that final, that irrevocable sentence, which is to fix him for ever in an unalterable condition of felicity or wo.-Robert Hall.
Dedication of the Temple.—MILMAN. 1 For seven years and a half the fabric arose in silence.
All the timbers, the stones, even of the most enormous size, measuring between seventeen and eighteen feet, were hewn and fitted, so as to be put together without the sound of any tool whatever: as it has been expressed, with great poetical beauty,
“Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric grew.” At the end of this period, the temple and its courts being completed, the solemn dedication took place, with the 2 greatest magnificence which the king and the nation could
display. All the chieftains of the different tribes, and all of every order who could be brought together, assembled. David had already organized the priesthood and the Levites; assigned to the 38,000 of the latter tribe, each his particular office. 24,000 were appointed for the common duties, 6000 as officers, 4000 as guards and porters, 4000 as singers and musicians. On this great occasion, the dedication of the temple, all the tribe of Levi, without
regard to their courses, the whole priestly order of every 3 class, attended. Around the great brazen altar, which 'rose in the court of the priests before the door of the temple, stood—in front the sacrificers, all around the whole choir, arrayed in white linen. 120 of these were trumpeters, the rest had cymbals, harps, and psalteries. Solomon himself took his place on an elevated scaffold, or raised throne of brass. The whole assembled nation crowded
up, ye everlast
the spacious courts beyond. The ceremony began with the preparation of burnt-offerings, so numerous that they
could not be counted. At an appointed signal commenced 4 the more important part of the scene, the removal of the
ark, the installation of the God of Israel in his new and appropriate dwelling, to the sound of all the voices and all the instruments, chanting some of those splendid odes contained in the psalms. The ark advanced, borne by the Levites, to the open portals of the temple. It can scarcely be doubted that the 24th Psalm, even if composed before, was adopted and used on this occasion. The singers, as it drew near the gate, broke out in these words : (h) “Lift up your heads, 0 ye gates, and be ye
lifted 5 ing doors, that the King of Glory may come in.” It was
answered from the other part of the choir, “Who is the King of Glory?” The whole choir responded : (R) “The Lord of Hosts, he is the King of Glory.” When the procession arrived at the Holy Place, the gates flew open; when it reached the Holy of Ilolies, the veil was drawn back. The ark took its place under the extended wings of the cherubim, which might seem to fold over, and receive it under their protection. At that instant all the trumpeters
and singers were at once "to make one sound to be heard 6 in praising and thanking the Lord; and when they lifted
up their voice, with the trumpets, and cymbals, and instruments of music, and praised the Lord, saying, for he is good, for his mercy endureth for ever, the house was filled with a cloud, even the house of the Lord, so that the priests could not stand to minister by reason of the cloud ; for the glory of the Lord had filled the house of God.” Thus the Divinity took possession of his sacred edifice. The king then rose upon the brazen scaffold, knelt down, and spread
ing his hand towards heaven, uttered the prayer of conse7 cration. The prayer was of unexampled sublimity : while
it implored the perpetual presence of the Almighty, as the tutelar deity and the sovereign of the Israelites, it recognised his spiritual and illimitable nature. “But will God in very deed dwell with men on the earth ? behold, heaven, and the heaven of heavens cannot contain thee ;-how much less this house which I have built.” It then recapitulated the principles of the Hebrew theocracy, the dependence of the natural prosperity and happiness on the national con