signify that he had nothing to do with the death of Jesus, expressive though it was, was utterly vain. He could not throw off the responsibility of his office as he dashed the water from his hands; and only a weak-minded man could have found any satisfaction in such a device. When the Jews indirectly menace him with an accusation of a want of loyalty to the Roman emperor, he is evidently alarmed and overborne. And he endeavors to conceal the effect of the threat under a ridicule, which he dwells upon so long that we may well suspect it to be affected. "No man," Dr. Johnson has somewhere observed, "thinks much of that which he despises." Thus Pilate repeats the title of King in application to Jesus, too often to allow it to be believed that he really ridiculed and despised the charge which the Jews threatened to allege against him. "Behold your King!" he said to the Jews. And when they shouted, "Away with him, crucify him," he replies, "Shall I crucify your King?" And the inscription which he caused to be affixed to the cross in Hebrew, Latin, and Greek-"This is the King of the Jews," and which he refused to alter, was partly dictated, we may suppose, by this state of mind, and partly by the mean desire of ridiculing the Jews, and so revenging himself upon them for the painful fears they had awakened in his breast. That a suspicion of his loyalty should have made such an impression upon Pilate, cannot surprise us when we bring into view his subsequent fate, banishment upon a charge of treason, and the distrustful character of the reigning Emperor, Tibe rius. With this prince, as Tacitus informs us, the charge of treason was the sum of all charges. In the instance of Pilate, as in the other cases mentioned, how all-unconscious are the sacred historians of the consistency they have preserved ! They have thought only of giving a simple relation of the things they had seen and heard. And the keeping, discernible between the details of their histories, is the natural result and accompaniment of real facts, a portion of that harmony pervading all real objects, all actual occurrences. In short, we behold here the presence of that Divinity that not only shapes our ends, but impresses and moulds all realities, abrupt, rough-hewn, and disjointed as they may at first seem. SONG OF THE MARTYRS. BY GEORGE BETTNER, ESQ. LIGHT up the martyr's funeral pile, No murmur shall we breathe the while, For kindling up its proud disdain, The soul will spurn the fiery train. Oppressors, who aspire to wield If in the flames we shall expire, It is a speedier aid they'll lend, That in the prophet's car of fire, To brighter worlds we may ascend ; To make our faith increase and live. We'll shrink not from the burning brand, These lingering pangs shall death suffice— The Christian's rest, his home of prayer; In yon illumined Paradise, 'Tis ours the first to enter there, And earthly conflicts we contemn To gain a starry diadem. THE RAISING OF LAZARUS. BY REV. I. KENNADAY, D. D. To generous and sympathizing bosoms, nothing is more acutely painful, than a seeming forgetfulness of those, to whom acts of affection have been extended. Having imparted to others every kindness which sorrow could exact, or benevolence render, they naturally look to such, for condolence at least, when anguish is the portion of their own hearts. That the bereaved sisters of Lazarus were tempted to suppose themselves for a while forgotten by the Saviour, is not improbable; when we ponder their language, and consider the severity of their trial. The devotedness of these sisters was directed at all times to render their home in Bethany a place of repose and refreshing to the "man of sorrows." To the loveliness of that home he often retired from the fatigues and excitements of Jerusalem, and there he frequently paused in his approach to that great |