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MOUNT CALVARY.

MOUNT Calvary is lord of the "Sacred Mountains," and by its baptism of blood and agony, its moral grandeur, and the intense glory that beams from its summit, is worthy to crown the immortal group. Its moral height no man can measure, for though its base is on the earth, its top is lost in the heaven of heavens. The angels hover around the dazzling summit, struggling in vain to scan its highest point, which has never yet been fanned by even an immortal wing. The Divine eye alone embraces its length and breadth, and depth and height.

What associations cluster around Mount Calvary! what mysteries hover there, and what revelations it makes to the awe-struck beholder! Mount Calvary! at the mention of that name the universe thrills with a new emotion, and heaven trembles with a new anthem, in which pity and exultation mingle in strange, yet sweet accord. Glory and brightness are on that hill-top, and shall be to the end of time; but there was a morning when gloom and terror crowned it, and heaven itself, all but God the Father, gazed on in wonder, if not in consternation.

The strange and painful scene in the garden had passed by, and the shameful examination in the lighted chamber of the high priest was over. Insult and contempt had marked every step of the villainous proceedings, till at length one wretch, more impious than the rest, advanced and struck Christ in the face. The cheek reddened to the blow, but not with anger or shame; yet methinks, as the sound of that buffet was borne on high, there was a rustling of myriad wings, as angels started from their listening attitude, waiting the thunderbolt that should follow.

This too passed by, and also the second mockery of a trial in Pilate's hall; and the uprisen sun was flashing down on the towers and domes of Jerusalem, and the vast population was again abroad, thronging every street. But a few took any interest in the fate of Jesus of Nazareth; yet those few were filled with the bitterest hate. The victim was now in their power, given up to their will; and they commenced the bloody scene they were to enact, by spitting in his face and striking his unresisting cheek with blow after blow. To give greater force to their insults, they put a crown on his head, made of thorns, and mocked him with sarcastic words, and strove with fiendish skill to irritate him into some sign of anger or complaint. After having exhausted their ingenuity, and failing in every endeavor, they "led him away to be crucified."

It was a bright and beautiful day when a train passed out of the gates of Jerusalem, and began to ascend the slope of Mount Calvary. The people paused a moment as the procession moved boisterously along the streets, then making some careless remark about the fate of fanatics, passed on. The low and base of both sexes turned and joined the company, and with jokes and laughter hurried on to the scene of excitement. Oh, how unsympathizing did nature seem: the vine and fig-tree shed their fragrance around-the breeze whispered nothing but love and tranquillity, while the blue and bending arch above seemed delighted with the beauty and verdure the spread-out earth presented. The birds were singing in the gardens, all reckless of the roar and jar of the great city

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near, as Jesus passed by in the midst of the mob. His face was colorless as marble, save where the blood trickled down his cheeks from the thorns that pierced his temples; his knees trembled beneath him, though not with fear, and he staggered on under the heavy timber that weighed him down, till at last he fainted. Nature gave way, and he sunk to the earth, while the hue of death passed over countenance. When the sudden rush around him, caused by his fa, id subsided, the cross, or rather cross-piece, which he had carried, wa given to another, and the procession again took up the line of march. But suddenly, over the confused noise of the throng and rude shouts of the mob, there came a wild lament. Friends were following after, whose sick Christ had healed, whose wounded hearts he had bound up, and on whose pathway of darkness he had shed the light of heaven; and now they lifted up their voices in one long, mournful cry. He turned at the sound and listened a moment, then murmured in mournful accents: "Weep not for me, but for yourselves and children." Jerusalem on fire suddenly rose on his vision, together with its famine-struck and bloated population, staggering and dying around the empty market-places-the heaps of the dead that loaded the air with pestilence, and all the horror and wo and carnage of that last dreadful siege; and forgetful of his own suffering, he exclaimed, Weep not for me, but for yourselves and children.” Soon the procession reached the hill-top, and Christ was laid upon the ground, and his arms stretched along the timber he had carried, with the palms upturned, and through them spikes driven, fastening them to the wood. Methinks I hear the strokes of the hammer as it sends the iron, with blow after blow, through the quivering tendons, and behold the painful workings of that agony-wrung brow, and the convulsive heaving and swelling of that blessed bosom, which seemed striving to rend above the imprisoned heart.

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At length he is lifted from the ground-his weight dragging on the spikes through his hands; and the cross-piece inserted into the mortise. of the upright timber and a heavy iron crushed through his feet, fastening them to the main post, and he is left to die. Why speak of his agony of his words of comfort to the dying thief of the multitude around him, or of the disgrace of that death. Not even to look on that pallid face and flowing blood could one get any conception of the suffering of the victim. The gloom and terror that began to gather round the soul, as every aid, human and divine withdrew itself, and it stood alone in the deserted, darkened universe, and shuddered, was all unseen by mortal eye. Yet even in this dreadful hour his benevolent heart did not forget its friends. Looking down from the cross, he saw the mother that bore him gazing in tears upon his face, and with a feeble and tremulous voice, he turned to John, who had so often lain in his bosom, and said, "Son, behold thy mother " Then turning to his mother, he said, "Behold thy son." His business with earthly things was now over, and he summoned his energies to meet the last most terrible blow, before which nature itself was to give way. He had hitherto endured all without a complaint-the mocking, the spitting upon, the cross, the nails and the agony-but now came a wo that broke his heart. His father's -his own father's frown began to darken upon him. Oh! who can tell the anguish of that loving, trusting, abandoned heart at the sight.

It was too much, and there arose a cry so piercing and shrill and wild that the universe shivered before it; and as the accents, "My God, my God, why hast THOU forsaken me?" fell on the ears of astonished mortals, and filled heaven with alarm, the earth gave a groan, as if she too was about to expire; the sun died in the heavens; an earthquake thundered on to complete the dismay; and the dead could no longer sleep, but burst their ghastly cerements, and came forth to look upon the scene. That was the gloomiest wave that ever broke over the soul of the Saviour, and he fell before it. Christ was dead: and to all humnn appearance, the world was an orphan.

How heaven regarded this disaster, and the universe felt at the sight, I cannot tell. I know not but tears fell like rain-drops from angelic eyes, when they saw Christ spit upon and struck I know not but there was silence on high for more than "half an hour," when the scene of the crucifixion was transpiring a silence unbroken, save by the solitary sound of some harp-string on which unconsciously fell the agitated, trembling fingers of a seraph. I know not but all the radiant ranks on high, and even Gabriel himself, turned with the deepest solicitude to the Father's face, to see if he was calm and untroubled amid it all. I know not but his composed brow and serene majesty were all that restrained heaven from one universal shriek of horror, when they heard groans on Calvary, dying groans. I know not but they thought God had "given his glory to another;" but one thing I do know that when they saw through the vast design, comprehended the stupendous scheme, the hills of God shook to a shout that had never before rung over their bright tops, and the crystal sea trembled to a song that had never before stirred its bright depths, and the "GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST,' "sevenfold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies."

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Yet none of the heavenly cadences reached the earth, and all was sad, dark and desparing around Mount Calvary. The excitement which the slow murder had created, vanished. With none to resist, and none to be slain, a change came over the feelings of the multitude, and they began one by one to return to the city. The sudden darkness also that wrapped the heavens, and the throb of the earthquake, which made those three crosses reel to and fro like cedars in a tempest, had covered their feelings, and all but the soldiery were glad to be away from a scene that had ended with such supernatural exhibitions. Gradually noise and confusion around the cross receded down the slopes-the shades of evening began to creep over the landscape, throwing, into still more ghastly relief those three white corpses streched on high and streaked with blood -and all was over. No! not over, for the sepulchre was yet to open, and the slain Christ was yet to mount the heavens in his glorious ascension.

I will not speak of the moral grandeur of the atonement of the redemption purchased by the agony and death on Calvary, for they are familiar to all. Still they constitute the greatness and value of the whole. It is the atonement that makes Mount Calvary chief among the "Sacred Mountains" gives it such altitude that no mortal eye can scan its top, or bear the full effulgence of its glory. Paul called on his young disciples to summon their strongest energies and bend their highest efforts to comprehend the "length and breadth, and depth and height" of this stu

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pendous theme "a length which reaches from everlasting to everlasting; a breadth that compasses every intelligence and every interest; a depth which reaches the lowest state of human degradation and misery; and a height that throws floods of glory on the throne and crown of Jehovah."

PRAISE YOUR WIFE.

PRAISE your wife, man; for pity's sake give her a little encouragement; it won't hurt her. She has made your home comfortable, your hearth bright and shining, your food agreeable; for pity's sake tell her you thank her, if nothing more. She don't expect it; it will make her eyes open wider than they have for these ten years; but it will do her good for all that, and you too.

There are many women to-day thirsting for the word of praise, the language of encouragement. Through summer's heat and winter's toil they have drudged uncomplainingly, and so accustomed have their fathers, brothers, and husbands become to their monotonous labors, that they look for and upon them as they do to the daily rising of the sun and its daily going down. Homely every-day life may be made beautiful by an appreciation of its very homeliness. You know that if you can take from your drawer a clean shirt whenever you want it, somebody's fingers have ached in the toil of making it so fresh and agreeable, so smooth and lustrous Everything that pleases the eye and the sense has been produced by constant work, much thought, great care, and untiring efforts, bodily and mentally.

It is not that many men do not appreciate these things, and feel a glow of gratitude for the numberless attentions bestowed upon them in sickness and in health, but they are so selfish in that feeling. They don't come out with a hearty "Why how pleasant you make things look, wife;" or, "I am obliged to you for taking so much pains." They thank the tailor for giving them "fits ;" they thank the man in the full omnibus who gives them a seat; they thank the lady who moves along in the concert room; in short they thank everybody and everything out of doors, because it is the custom, and come home, tip their chairs back and their heels up, pull out the newspaper, grumble if wife asks them to take the baby, scold if the fire has got down; or, if everything is just right, shut their mouths with a smack of satisfaction, but never say to her "I thank you."

I tell you what, men, young and old, if you did but show an ordinary civility toward those common articles of house-keeping, your wives; if you gave the one hundred and sixtieth part of the compliments you almost choked them with before they were married; if you would stop the badinage about who you are going to have when number one is dead, (such things wives may laugh at, but they sink deep sometimes :) if you would cease to speak of their faults, however banteringly, before others, fewer women would seek for other sources of happiness than your cold soso-ish affection. Praise your wife, then, for all good qualities she has, and you may rest assured that her deficiencies are fully counterbalanced by your own.

PAGANISM AND THE INFANT WORLD.

BY THE EDITOR.

HISTORY, as may easily be imagined, has not preserved to us minute details of the kind of treatment which infants have generally received in the earlier paganism. Yet we are incidentally made acquainted with its spirit in this respect; and we find evidences of its cruelty abundantly illustrated and confirmed from the earliest times.

Moses as early as 1706 before Christ, gives us an account-and it is also repeated by Josephus-of the cruelty of the Egyptian rulers towards infants; showing how considerations of civil power could ignore all feelings of pity, all humane instincts, and every suggestion of natural love. When it was seen that the Hebrews were greatly increasing in Goshen, the King of Egypt became alarmed, "And he said unto his people, Behold the people of the children of Israel are more and mightier than we. Come on, let us deal wisely with them, lest they multiply, and it come to pass, that, when there falleth out any war, they join also unto our enemies, and fight against us." One of the cruel means of self-preservation with which they sought to "deal wisely" was to order midwives to destroy all the male children as soon as born. "If it be a son, then ye shall kill him; but if it be a daughter then she shall live."* Here is the spirit of Paganism; like a blight it presumes to nip and blast immortal germs in the bud! One section of the race ignores another; one period of life destroys another.

Thevenot, the great French traveler and voyager, informs us that a similar inhumanity was practiced by the Persian Kings from a similar motive. "The Kings of Persia," he says, "are so afraid of being deprived of that power which they abuse, and are so apprehensive of being dethroned, that they destroy the children of their female relatives, when they are brought to bed of boys, by putting them into an earthen trough, where they suffer them to starve!"

We find also as early as B. C. 1490, a reference by Moses to the sacrifice of children to Moloch, the God of the Amorites and Phoenicians.† He warns the Hebrews against this awful pagan practice, to which they were continually exposed, and into which they had actually fallen through the "evil communications" of their neighbors.‡ We find that Jeremiah as late as B. C. 600, alludes to this cruel practice as still existing, and drawing even the Hebrews into its dreadful vortex. § It is evident that in the services of Moloch the infants were actually killed and then burnt by fire, or given over alive to the flames. "The Rabbins assure us, that the idol Moloch was of brass, sitting on a throne of the same metal,

* Exodus 1.

Levit xviii: 21. See also xx: 2, 5.

Ps. cvi: 37, 38.

§ Jer. vii: 31.

Ezek. xvi: 20, 21; xxiii: 37, 39: Ps. lvii : 5.

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