much or more than it instructs or exalts it. The spectator, especially if he be a reflective one, of a gorgeous pageant, however much he may be delighted at the time, sometimes, after the spectacle has been passed and gone, will reflect upon it with a sort of languid contempt, which shows how fleeting is its nature, and how partial is its power; and the more he renews his acquaintance with such scenes, the more will his dissatisfaction with them increase, the more surfeited will he become with their gaudy blazonry, the deeper will be the mental nausea which they bring upon his thoughts.

But even the transient visions which an excited Fancy will sometimes shew to us of the sublimer glories of the Majesty of Heaven, prove to us the difference between earthly and heavenly splendour. These visions, however wide they may fall of the lofty reality to which they tend, never grow dull or tarnished, never lose their hold upon us; and when we dismiss them from our minds, we do so with the conviction that we have seen but a tithe of the treasury of glories which surround the King of Kings-that we have caught, at best, but a sidelong glance at the brightness of His presence.

Fancy some young and ardent spirit rising from the perusal and meditation of the sublime words of the text, and wandering out upon a clear bright summer's evening, with them still ringing in his ears and echoing in his soul. He passes in his ramble, by the entrance of a vast and venerable cathedral, he walks close under the looming shadow of its richly-sculptured towers, and, musing still, he turns back, lifts the latch of the low door, and

passes in. He paces up and down the marble pavement beneath

the arched and well-decked roof; now he threads his way in and out of the gnarled and cloistered pillars which form a stately vista of choice architecture down the majestic aisle; at length he enters the chancel, and seats himself thoughtfully in some monastic niche carved by a cunning workman, whose bones have mouldered, and whose clever fingers have formed food for the grave-worm centuries and centuries ago. Still the student sits quietly and fixedly gazing on the rich-stained window, thick inlaid with many-coloured glass. It has a figure of the Saviour

her equipage and halberdiers, and fuglemen precede the bearers of the fife and drum as the air resounds with martial music. And then the gilded carriage, with the smiling monarch, circled with her crown of rule, comes slowly on; the steeds caparisoned, and plumed, and decked, nod their heads proudly as if they knew the royal burden that they drew. In short, the monarch is seen as a monarch, while the acclamations of assembled crowds combine to lend prestige and lustre to the pageant. Let us try to let the fancy and the heart play together upon this spectacle of a royal procession, and turn it, if we can, to spiritual account. It reminds us of the promise that the prophet gives in such glowing terms to Israel, that " their eyes should behold the King in His beauty."

There are people to be found in the world-and not a few— who, having little or no imagination of their own, are fond of decrying those who ever dwell with fondness on the pictures which the fancy paints. Fancy, I know, may often dip her pencil in the thick and seething urn of licentiousness and vice, may mix her colours on the pallet of the voluptuary, and draw her hues from the lurid and the feverish lights of hell; but she may, by the aid of the rapt imagery of such an artist as Isaiah, without presumption fileh a little fire from Heaven, she may, in a spirit of sanctified and divinely-tempered phantasy, borrow, for her more sacred purposes, a rainbow tint, or the smile of a sunbeam,-she may aspire above the coarse sackcloth of earthborn lusts for the ground-work of her pictures, and gild her fairer and more ethereal canvass with a ray of glory from on high.

At all events, we shall presume to call in her aid to some extent this afternoon, in dwelling for a little on the ideas suggested by our title, in conjunction with this promise, for they seem to call rather for an ecstatic than a didactic contemplation.

There are often stately pageants connected with the wealth and royalty of this world, which aid the imagination to realize the magnificence of a king.

But it is a sort of flushed and timid pageantry, which soon palls upon the eye, and reacts upon the sense. Earthly splendour, however dazzling, dissipates and depresses the mind, as

much or more than it instructs or exalts it. The spectator, especially if he be a reflective one, of a gorgeous pageant, however much he may be delighted at the time, sometimes, after the spectacle has been passed and gone, will reflect upon it with a sort of languid contempt, which shows how fleeting is its nature, and how partial is its power; and the more he renews his acquaintance with such scenes, the more will his dissatisfaction with them increase, the more surfeited will he become with their gaudy blazonry, the deeper will be the mental nausea which they bring upon his thoughts.

But even the transient visions which an excited Fancy will sometimes shew to us of the sublimer glories of the Majesty of Heaven, prove to us the difference between earthly and heavenly splendour. These visions, however wide they may fall of the lofty reality to which they tend, never grow dull or tarnished, never lose their hold upon us; and when we dismiss them from our minds, we do so with the conviction that we have seen but a tithe of the treasury of glories which surround the King of Kings-that we have caught, at best, but a sidelong glance at the brightness of His presence.

Fancy some young and ardent spirit rising from the perusal and meditation of the sublime words of the text, and wandering out upon a clear bright summer's evening, with them still ringing in his ears and echoing in his soul. He passes in his ramble, by the entrance of a vast and venerable cathedral, he walks close under the looming shadow of its richly-sculptured towers, and, musing still, he turns back, lifts the latch of the low door, and passes in. He paces up and down the marble pavement beneath the arched and well-decked roof; now he threads his way in and out of the gnarled and cloistered pillars which form a stately vista of choice architecture down the majestic aisle; at length he enters the chancel, and seats himself thoughtfully in some monastic niche carved by a cunning workman, whose bones have mouldered, and whose clever fingers have formed food for the grave-worm centuries and centuries ago. Still the student sits quietly and fixedly gazing on the rich-stained window, thick inlaid with many-coloured glass. It has a figure of the Saviour

ascending up into Heaven: the two disciples are gazing after him with wondering eyes-but still he keeps his eyes directed upwards, and his hand, pierced by a rankling nail, points to the opening skies to which he soars; and, up above the head, a descending dove pours down a stream of radiance, which forms a flood of glory round the Saviour's brow. The face is heavenly calm, and though it is but in a picture, it is mirrored on the musing gazer's soul, who still sits looking fixedly upon it. At length, the slanting beams of the brightly-setting sun dart full through the coloured window, and just as they settle on the upturned face of the ascending figure of the pictured Christ, and make the painted glory stream with a really living brightness, the solemn tones of the organ come rolling and vibrating along the concave roof, in a slow and measured strain, and, as the student turns his head, he sees a fair form, robed in white, playing a grand Te Deum. The colours of the window, kissed by the setting orb, are reflected round her head, which seems angelic as it glows, as if with rainbow hues; the light settles and plays around her form, girdling her waist as with a zone, and clinging round her brow as though she had borrowed the glory of her rising Lord. It was but a phantasy-he was still upon this simple earth-he was only in an old cathedral; but what wonder, if the student, as he left the church, and heard the maiden playing "I know that my Redeemer liveth,”—what wonder that he, reverting to the visions of his reverie, should be overheard to say, "I have seen the King in His beauty."

Follow, with your thoughts, the traveller, as he visits the various scenes of Nature's handiwork. Stand with him on the margin of the mountain torrent: saunter beside him along the flowery dell: linger in his presence as he penetrates the sylvan brake or mossy glade: pace with him, on a quiet evening, up and down the shingly shore, listening to the babbling of the calm and moonlit sea as it gently ebbs and flows amongst the shells and pebbles: go with him among the sterner beauties of some Alpine fastness, and try to catch "the spirit of his dream" as he looks around upon the wondrous scene. The fickle moon is robed in her most winsome smiles-not coyly peeping out

behind some veiling cloud, but gazing in all her glowing charms upon the slumbering earth. The azure sky, "thick sown with stars as his own breast with phantasies," glitters in full-orbed brightness on the traveller's musing eye. High up above his head the snow-clad mountains tower like mighty battlements. Booming amidst the ghostly caverns of the bristling heights, is heard the hollow swoop of the descending avalanche, as though the golden dome of some celestial temple had staggered from its lofty seat and tumbled to the earth: beyond, the highest peak, mighty Mont Blanc, like some grey libertine, pillows his hoary brow upon the glowing bosom of the wanton moon, which flings her bright embraces round his whitened forehead, and seems to dally with his silver locks, and twine her golden fingers in his frosty hair, until his old head seems to belong to Heaven more than earth, and looks like a warrior-angel's helmet glittering on the tented plains of paradise. Down at his feet, and close around him, cluster the thousand hues of Nature's flowery lap. The modest daisy glints through the enamelled grass, and dots the meadows like a little firmament on earth. The violet and primrose, like some fair embroidery, spangle the soft banks, and roses blossom in the hedge-rows and lend their grateful perfumes to the laden breeze. The convent-bell that called the anchorite to vespers, has ceased to vibrate on the ear; the birds have closed their evening hymn of praise; the sheep-bell no more tinkles on the mountain side; the toiling peasantry are all gone home; the last herdsman has safely housed his flock; and the homebound monk has bade his last "good night." The pilgrim is alone with Nature, and with Nature's God. Is it wonderful that, as he casts a last look up at the glittering minarets, and gazes once more on the drowsy mountains, thinking of the fair abode of those "who dwell on high," and whose "place of defence is the munition of rocks," is it a marvel that he murmurs as he turns away, "I have seen the King in his beauty?" Conceive yourself at home, beside your fire alone. lately followed to the grave a dear and loved relation. upon the vacant chair, so lately filled by one whose smiles were wont to fill your heart with joy, and your mind is full of

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