The comparisons employed by the sacred poets are generally short, touching one point only of resemblance, rather than branching out into little episodes. Such is the following fine comparison, introduced to describe the happy influence of good government upon a people, in what are called the last words of David, recorded in the second book of Samuel : "He that ruleth over men must be just, ruling in the fear of God; and he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth; even a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springeth out of the earth, by clear shining after rain." This is one of the most regular and formal comparisons in the sacred books.

Allegory likewise is a figure frequently found in them, as in the eightieth Psalm, which contains a remarkably fine and well-supported one, wherein the people of Israel are compared to a vine. Of parables, which form a species of allegory, the prophetical writings are full: in those early times, indeed, it was universally the mode, throughout all the Eastern nations, to convey sacred truths under mysterious figures and representations. But the poetical figure which, beyond all others, elevates the style of Scripture, and gives it a peculiar boldness and sublimity, is personification. No personifications employed by any poets are so magnificent and striking as those of the sacred writers. On great occasions they animate every part of nature, especially when any appearance or operation of the Almighty is concerned. "Before him went the pestilence - the waters saw thee, O God, and were afraid-the mountains saw thee, and they trembled. The overflowing of the water passed by; the deep uttered his voice, and lifted up his hands on high." When the inquiry is made about the place of wisdom, Job introduces the Deep saying, "It is not in me; and the Sea saith, It is not in me. Destruction and Death say, We have heard the fame thereof with our ears." That noted sublime passage in the book of Isaiah, which describes the fall of the king of Assyria, is full of personified objects -the fir-trees and cedars of Lebanon breaking forth into exultation on the fall of the tyrant-hell from beneath stirring up all the dead to meet him at his coming-and the dead kings introduced as speaking and joining in the triumph. In the same strain are those many lively and passionate apostrophes to cities and countries, to persons and things, with which the prophetical writings everywhere

I

abound. “O thou sword of the Lord, how long will it be ere thou be quiet? Put thyself up into the scabbard; rest and be still. How can it be quiet (as the reply is instantly made), seeing the Lord hath given it a charge against Askelon and the sea-shore? There hath he appointed it.”

In general,—for it would carry us too far to enlarge upon all the instances, the style of the poetical books of the Old Testament is, beyond the style of all other poetical works, fervid, bold and animated. It is extremely different from that regular correct expression to which our ears are accustomed in modern poetry. It is the burst of inspiration. The scenes are not coolly described, but represented as passing before our eyes. Every object and every person is addressed and spoken to, as if present; the transition is often abrupt; the connection often obscure; the persons are often changed; the figures crowded and heaped upon one another. Bold sublimity, not correct elegance, is its character. We see the spirit of the writer raised beyond himself, and labouring to find vent for ideas too mighty for his

utterance.

Text-PSALM cxlvii. 12-18.

THE THREE SONS.

I HAVE a son—a little son, a boy just five years old, With eyes of thoughtful earnestness, and mind of gentle mould.

They tell me that unusual grace in all his ways appears, That my child is grave and wise of heart beyond his childish

years.

I cannot say how this may be; I know his face is fair, And yet his chiefest comeliness is his sweet and serious air: I know his heart is kind and fond, I know he loveth me, But loveth yet his mother more, with grateful fervency. But that which others most admire, is the thought which fills his mind;

The food for grave inquiring speech he everywhere doth find.

Strange questions doth he ask of me, when we together

walk;

He scarcely thinks as children think, or talks as children talk.

Nor cares he much for childish sports, dotes not on bat or ball,

But looks on manhood's ways and works, and aptly mimics all. His little heart is busy still, and oftentimes perplext

With thoughts about this world of ours, and thoughts about the next.

He kneels at his dear mother's knee, she teacheth him to

pray,

And strange, and sweet, and solemn then, are the words which he will say.

Oh, should my gentle child be spared to manhood's years

like me,

A holier and a wiser man I trust that he will be;

And when I look into his eyes, and stroke his thoughtful brow,

I dare not think what I should feel, were I to lose him now.

I have a son, a second son, a simple child of three;

I'll not declare how bright and fair his little features be; How silver sweet those tones of his, when he prattles on my knee;

I do not think his light blue eye is like his brother's keen, Nor his brow so full of childish thought, as his hath ever

been.

But his little heart's a fountain pure of kind and tender

feeling,

And his every look's a gleam of light, rich depths of love revealing.

When he walks with me, the country folk who pass us in the street,

Will speak their joy, and bless my boy, he looks so mild and sweet.

A playfellow is he to all, and yet with cheerful tone

Will sing his little song of love, when left to sport alone. His presence is like sunshine, sent to gladden home and hearth,

To comfort us in all our griefs, and sweeten all our mirth. Should he grow up to riper years, God grant his heart may

prove

As sweet a home for heavenly grace, as now for earthly love! And if beside his grave the tears our aching eyes must dim, God comfort us for all the love which we shall lose in him!

I have a son, a third sweet son, his age I cannot tell, For they reckon not by years and months where he is gone to dwell.

To us for fourteen anxious months his infant smiles were given,

And then he bade farewell to earth, and went to live in heaven.

I cannot tell what form his is, what looks he weareth now, Nor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining seraph brow.

The thoughts that fill his sinless soul, the bliss which he

doth feel,

Are numbered with the secret things which God will not

reveal.

But I know (for God hath told me this) that he is now at rest,

Where other blessed infants be, on their Saviour's loving

breast;

I know his spirit feels no more this weary load of flesh, But his sleep is bless'd with endless dreams of joy for ever fresh.

I know the angels fold him close beneath their glittering wings,

And soothe him with a song that breathes of heaven's divinest things.

I know that we shall meet our babe (his mother dear and I), Where God for aye shall wipe away all tears from every

eye.

Whate'er befalls his brethren twain, his bliss can never cease; Their lot may here be grief and fear, but his is certain

peace.

It may be that the tempter's wiles their souls from bliss

may sever,

But, if our own poor faith fail not, he must be ours for ever. When we think of what our darling is, and what we still

must be;

When we muse on that world's perfect bliss, and this world's misery;

When we groan beneath this load of sin, and feel this grief

and pain,

Oh! we'd rather lose our other two, than have him here again!

BENEVOLENCE.

THOUGH it is intended that every person should depend chiefly on himself for what he needs or desires, yet all mankind are connected by various common ties, and it is necessary that they should wish well to each other, and be disposed to serve and help each other on all fitting occasions.

By wishing well to each other, we are induced to look with kindness on what our fellow-creatures are doing for themselves, and to address them in a friendly manner. The good words we use cause those we address to feel kindly to others, and thus an agreeable state of feeling is sent abroad throughout society, and the total amount of human happiness is much increased. If, on the contrary, men were not to wish well to each other, there would be a general sulkiness among them, and no one would feel happy.

There are many evils in the world from which no one can be sure of escaping, however careful he may be. We may be sick or hurt; our best schemes may fail; poverty and want may beset us. It is proper, when any suffer from these evils, that the rest should do what is in their power to console, help and restore them. By these means the unfortunate are saved from extreme or great hardship, and the rest are made happier; for it is delightful to be able to lessen the sufferings of our fellow-creatures.

Men are also differently endowed by nature. Some are strong in body and mind, others weak. Some are little tempted to err, others are much tempted. Some get wealth and good education from their parents, others get neither. Different nations have lots not less unequal; some being enlightened, while others are sunk in barbarism. It is therefore necessary that we should all, both as individuals and as nations, take an interest in each other-the strong to help the weak, the good to correct and improve the bad, the rich to help the needy, and the enlightened to impart their knowledge to the ignorant.

Our Almighty Creator has given us the sentiment of benevolence, that we may use it for these purposes, and he has further, in the Scriptures, laid upon us his direct commands to love each his neighbour, to succour the poor, to visit the widow and fatherless, and to exhort and instruct one another.