Jerusalem. THE following paragraph suggested the lines below it. "A severe Earthquake is said to have taken place at Jerusalem, which has destroyed a great part of that City, shaken down the mosque of Omar, and reduced the Holy Sepulchre to ruins from top to bottom." FOUR lamps were burning o'er two mighty graves, Godfrey's and Baldwin's-Salem's christian Kings- Fed with the incense which the Pilgrim brings- As every lip breathes out, " O Lord thy kingdom come." A mosque was garnished with its crescent moons, For there, with lip profane the crier stood, And him from the tall minaret you might hear That verse misunderstood, "There is no God but God." Hark! did the Pilgrim tremble as he kneel'd! Those mighty hands, the elements that wield, 50 JERUSALEM. His suppliants crowd around him. He can see Their heart, in city or in wilderness, And probe its core, and make its blindness see There was an Earthquake once, that rent thy fane Gush'd out in fire-and from the brazen sky, Another Earthquake comes. Dome, roof and wall While the rent chasm spread its jaws, and drank In Salem's drained goblet. Mighty Power, Thou, whom we all should worship, praise and thank, Where was thy mercy in that awful hour, When hell mov'd from beneath, and thine own Heaven did lower. Say, Pilate's Palace ;-say, proud Herod's towers- Where were the shudderings Calvary might make? To wash away the spot where once a God had stood ! JERUSALEM. Lost Salem of the Jews-great sepulchre, With the sad truth which He has prophesied, 51 power defied; You scourg'd Him while he liv'd, and mock'd Him as He died. There is a Star in the untroubled sky, That caught the first light which its Maker made It led the hymn of other orbs on high, "Twill shine when all the fires of Heaven shall fade. For it has kept its watch on Palestine ! Look to its holy light, nor be dismay'd, Though broken is each consecrated shrine, Though crush'd and ruin'd all-which men have called divine. BRAINARD. In our journey through life, we come upon a fountain of holy delight, and the stream from it we follow, day by day, and year after year. And perhaps then it vanishes, and leaves us to walk a dry and dusty and unlovely path. But that sweet stream —is it lost in the salt sea of sorrow, along with the river of ambition, and the muddy torrents of the world? O no! it has not ended in the salt sea of sorrow, nor ever reached it. It has disappeared with perhaps the heat of the day in summer. And so, not into the sea of hopeless sorrow but into the sky it has gone: and if we are watchful it will hold for us there the rainbow of heavenly promise. THORPE. Pardsham Craig. PARDSHAW CRAIG in Cumberland is a point of limestone ledge, where George Fox used to stand and preach to many thousand people at a time;—there is something extraordinary in the conformation of the place; the "preacher's clint," is a rock rising immediately from the brink of a perpendicular cliff of about fifteen feet, and not unlike in height, size and shape to a pulpit; on the back, the ground rises a little, but nearly level for several yards, on which there are thickly strewn and permanently embedded a great number of square limestone rocks, about two feet high and the same square; one could almost imagine them the work of the hand of art, but this evidently is not the case, as the same phenomenon may be seen every where over the hill. We thought five hundred persons might be seated on the rocks, behind the "preacher's clint," and within hearing. From the base of the perpendicular cliff, the ground slopes to the eastward, forming, with the brow of the hill which curves a little in the form of a new moon, a partial amphitheatre; from some unaccountable cause, a person may be heard, with an ordinary modulation of voice, over a space that we thought would contain one hundred thousand persons; here George Fox on one occasion convinced nearly all the inhabitants of the neighbourhood. The country round is beautiful in the extreme ;—it is the land of mountains and lakes, than which nothing can be more picturesque. L. M. HOAG. TRUE religion is internal: the noblest temple of the Deity, is the heart of man. Lines WRITTEN BY A LADY, AS AN EXCUSE FOR HER ZEAL IN THE CAUSE OF TEMPERANCE. Go, feel what I have felt, Go, bear what I have borne- And the cold world's proud scorn- Go, weep as I have wept, O'er a loved father's fall, See every cherished promise swept- Hope's faded flowers strewed all the way, Go, kneel as I have knelt, Implore, beseech, and pray,— Strive the besotted heart to melt, The downward course to stay,— Be cast with bitter curse aside, Thy prayers burlesqued, thy tears defied. Go, stand where I have stood, And see the strong man bow, With gnashing teeth, lips bathed in blood, Go, catch his wandering glance, and see 33 |