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malignants, the true men of England and the true women of England will stand by their noble Queen; for by her womanly virtues, Christian excellences, queenly graces, and last, but not least, by her faithful love to the departed prince, she has not only hallowed her own domestic shrine, but brightened the annals of our national history.

Let us cling to the good old Bible! Let us live in agreement with its holy teachings, and then our lives will be noble and beautiful by Christian actions.

The geologic rocks will melt, the historic marbles crumble, and the palaces of kings and emperors moulder into dust,—the very pillars of Time will fall and the stars grow dim; but God's Word, with an ever-brightening lustre, will shine on as a beacon-light through the shadows of the Ages, and fling a glory on the visions of eternity.

I will conclude this Lecture by quoting a poem by an eminently gifted young lady who died at the early age of twenty-five, who was a devoted Sunday-school teacher and a lover of the poor. I quote it for two reasons; the one is, that it shows so much regard for the sanctity of the Sabbath, and the other is that it shows how true religion brightens up a poor man's home. It was written at the time when certain persons were attempting to open the National Gallery and British Museum on the Lord's Day.

THE POOR MAN'S SABBATH.

BY EMMA TATHAM.

Oh! do not steal my Sabbath! It is my tie to heaven!
The only day I can enjoy, Of all my weekly seven.
Oh! let me keep my Sabbath! It is my 'prison flower;'
My only angel visitant, My birthright, and my dower.

In this world's thirsty desert, It is a fountain free
Of holiness and happiness, To toiling men like me :
I wake on Sabbath morning, My sorrows roll away;
My home and young ones now are mine, And I will rest
to-day.

I look around our dwelling; How clean it is and bright! What smiling cheeks and curly heads, And pinafores how white!

My Mary setteth out the cups, I need not haste away;
How sweet to linger side by side, And take our time to-day.
My young ones climb upon my knee, I read a nice long
psalm ;

Nor hasten, as at other times-This is the day of calm :

And then we join the singing; How sweet the voices ring,
How heavenly sound the notes of praise, To Christ our
Saviour King!

And when the prayer is ended, Our hearts of love are full ;
And Mary sends the little ones To their dear Sunday School;
And then we go together To God's blest house of prayer,
And none but He the comfort knows Which our poor hearts
find there.

We meet again at dinner, It is a happy meal,

'Tis always baked on Saturday-How thankful do we feel
That master pays on Friday, And we can get our meat
All nicely cooked and set aside, To be our Sunday treat.

Love makes it seem a banquet, And checks each vain desire,
And when the homely meal is done We gather round the

fire;

My happy little children! They are my own to-day;
I nod and smile to Mary, At the pretty things they say.

They tell me what said teacher, Their little hymn they trill,
While quiet drops of tenderness Into my heart distil;
Making it strong to labour, When working time returns ;
'Tis then my heart can practise love, Which now from love
it learns.

When it is balmy summer, One hour we often take,

To walk around the quiet squares, For health of children's

sake;

Far from the sound of voices, And wheels that come and go, And we can hear some sweet bird sing, And see the young

leaves grow.

And then I point my children To the soft blue above,

And tell them Whose hand painted it, And that His name is Love.

Oh! precious, precious Sabbath! The poor man's only day,
To teach and learn eternal things, And ponder on his way.

And when the peaceful evening Opens again the doors
Of the beloved house of God, Where mercy spreads her

stores:

By turns we go to worship; One stays with willing care,
To tend or teach the little ones With fondest love and

prayer.

Thus sweetly flows the dearest, Best day of all the seven, It binds our hearts in social love, And trains them up for heaven.

Though some would fain deceive us, One thing I feel is true, A happy Sabbath cannot be, Unless 'tis holy too.

LECTURE II.

SUBLIME.

THE

IT

CHAPTER I.

THE SUBLIME IN NATURE.

T is usual to speak of the Sublime and Beautiful; but it seems more philosophical to speak of the Beautiful and Sublime, that is, to proceed from the lower to the higher, from the lesser to the greater.

Longinus, the ancient critic, says, "That alone is truly sublime, of which the conception is vast, the effect irresistible, and the remembrance scarcely, if ever, to be erased."

Most of us can remember, when we were children, the vivid impression produced by a terrible tempest of lightning and thunder. It has been said that the grand in nature begets a sublime feeling in man. This may be true in reference to man, but as children the feeling was one of terror; and while only thoughtful persons can describe philosophically the emotion awakened by sublime phenomena, we can all, to a greater or less degree, appreciate the solemn feeling. "The untutored peasant," says Dr. Wayland, "when he has seen the autumnal tempest collecting between

the hills, and, as it advanced, enveloping in misty obscurity village and hamlet, forest and meadow, has tasted the sublime in all its reality; and, whilst the thunder has rolled and the lightning flashed around him, has exulted in the view of nature moving forth in her majesty."

Grand scenery is often the result of great natural convulsions of the earth, by which vast masses of rock are dislocated. The telluric energy caused by gases and steam has upheaved ponderous cliffs and opened secret fountains and deep ravines; and in some places in our own land it seems as if the earth had suddenly opened its vast jaws, and could not close them again—as at Stony-Myddleton in Derbyshire, and along that most interesting valley from Pickering to Whitby in Yorkshire. The high cliffs are jagged and indented, and would apparently dovetail together if forced by an irresistible power. These former convulsions have given an impressive grandeur to these lonely valleys; but the subsequent tendency of nature is towards the beautiful, for the rocks are coated with lichens, mosses, and flowers, while numerous ferns impart softness and beauty to the yawning fissures. *

*In the Memoir of the Rev. Richard Treffry, Jun., occurs the following remarks:-" In the neighbourhood of a town called Stony-Middleton (a most appropriate appellation) the scenery was sublime; very lofty and precipitous rocks on each side of the road; some of them in grotesque and castellated shapes; some softened down by a covering of trees and verdure; others, bare, bleak, and frowning." Page 42.

"If we glance first at those humble forms of vegetable life,

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