He recalls their soul from the contemplation of its own depravity, and tells it to look again with the eye of faith on the cross of his Son. He leads them to their Saviour; enables them to east on him the burden of their sin; and leaves them rejoicing in his salvation. He does not indeed hastily chase away their sorrows; they are often left to feel much of the bitterness of their sin, and to mourn over its shame; but, in the end, the clouds and darkness which transgression has spread over their souls are generally dispersed, the day-star arises in their hearts, and the night of their mourning is ended.

In the narrative before us, our Saviour appears to have thought more of Peter's sorrow than of his curses; more of his tears than of his oaths. Thus, too, did God deal with his servant Job. We read the history of his life, and we see it stained with much that is evil. And yet we do not find God condemning this man. He calls him a perfect and an upright man; and by his apostle St. James directs us to remember the patience of Job, while he says not a word of his impatience, his murmurings, and complaints. Yet we are not to suppose that God is an indifferent spectator of our transgressions, or altogether blind to them. Such a conclusion would militate against some of the plainest declarations of

his word; it would impeach the perfection of his divine nature, his unalterable omniscience, and his infinite holiness.

The Almighty has ever visited the transgressions of his children with the rod, and their iniquity with stripes. It has been so in every age, and so it was in the instance before us. Year after year the fallen David had his sin ever before him, and watered his couch with tears.

So with the repentant Peter; wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, there also is his falsehood and treachery made known and published. The sin is forgiven, but the shame of it will remain forever.

There are indeed some seasons in the Christian pilgrimage, in which he finds it difficult to believe that God has not forsaken him. Affliction heaped upon affliction presses him down; the consolations which he once enjoyed seem to be withdrawn, and all around him is gloom. The Christian is not allowed to remain in this perplexity long; he prays that the "bitter cup may be removed" from him, and soon he feels the arm of Jehovah placed beneath him; he hears his voice saying to his fainting soul, "Fear not, I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God."

Reader, may you and I be able to say with the

contrite Peter,

"Thy prayer hath saved me, thine embrace
Upheld my soul by sovereign grace;

Thy arm restored me when I fell;

I love thee, Lord, thou know'st it well."

JERUSALEM.

BY REV. S. H. CALHOUN, MISSIONARY TO SYRIA.

I VISITED Jerusalem for the first time in 1839. We had prolonged our stay at Bethlehem, six miles south, waiting for the re-opening of the gates of the Holy City, which had been for some time closed by reason of the plague. Desirous, however, of being as near as possible to the ancient Zion, we determined to remove our encampment to the Mount of Olives. Leaving Bethlehem, therefore, a little before sunset, (it was a pleasant evening in March,) and sending forward our tents and luggage on camels, we pursued our way on foot, and approached Jerusalem just at nightfall. As we descended into the valley of the Son of Hinnom, which passes along the southern border of the city, and wended our way through it to its junction with the Cedron, which comes down from the north along the eastern sides, and thence turning up this latter valley, and crossing an old bridge near the ancient Gethsemane,