His dark eye on the ground: And silently they gaz'd on him, As on a lion bound. Vainly, but well, that chief had fought- The scars his dark broad bosom wore Then to his conqueror he spake- 66 Undo this necklace from my neck, And take this bracelet ring, And send me where my brother reigns, And I will fill thy hands With store of ivory from the plains, And gold dust from the sands." 'Not for thy ivory nor thy gold A price thy nation never gave Shall yet be paid for thee; For thou shalt be the Christian's slave In land beyond the sea." Then wept the warriour chief, and bade To shred his locks away; And, one by one, each heavy braid Before the victor lay. Thick were the platted locks, and long, And deftly hidden there Shone many a wedge of gold among The dark and crisped hair. "Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold, Long kept for sorest need: Take it-thou askest sums untold- Take it, my wife, the long, long day And my young children leave their play, 'I take thy gold, but I have made His heart was broken-craz'd his brain- They drew him forth upon the sands, LESSON XCVIII. The Family Bible.-ANONYMOUS. How painfully pleasing the fond recollection That Bible, the volume of God's inspiration, At morn and at evening could yield us delight; And the prayer of our sire was a sweet invocation, For mercy by day, and for safety through night. Our hymns of thanksgiving with harmony swelling, All warm from the heart of a family band, Half rais'd us from earth to that rapturous dwelling Ye scenes of tranquillity, long have we parted; And wander unknown on a far distant shore. Blest Bible, the light and the guide of the stranger; I'll hasten and flee to the promised land; For refuge lay hold on the hope set before me, Reveal'd in the Bible that lay on the stand. Hail rising the brightest and blest of the morning, The star which has guided my parents safe home, A beam of thy glory my pathway adorning, Shall scatter the darkness and brighten my gloom. I'll bow to adore him, but not in a manger, Though age and misfortune press hard on my feelings, The God of the Bible that lay on the stand: LESSON XCIX. Night.-MONTGOMERY. NIGHT is the time for rest: How sweet, when labours close, Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Upon our own delightful bed ! Night is the time for dreams, The gay romance of life, When truth that is, and truth that seems, Blend in fantastic strife; Ah, visions less beguiling far Night is the time for toil; To plough the classic field, Night is the time to weep; To wet with unseen tears Hopes that were angels in their birth, Night is the time to watch; The full moon's earliest glance, That brings into the home-sick mind All we loved, and left behind. Night is the time for care; Like Brutus, midst his slumbering host, Night is the time to muse: Then from the eye the soul Takes flight, and, with expanding views, Night is the time to pray : Our Saviour oft withdrew Steal from the throng to haunts untrod, Night is the time for death; LESSON C. Christian Forbearance.-GRIFFIN. I WOULD recommend to your particular attention the virtue of forbearance, in opposition to retaliation and revenge. In this thing, I fear, very few in our world come up to the point in practice, or even carry their ideas far enough in theory. The great mass of the Christian world are doubtless far too warlike in their feelings and opinions. Native selfishness and pride, combined with those wars to which they have been long familiar, have given to the whole system of their thoughts a turn in favour of retaliation, and produced an impression that in no other way can honour and manliness be maintained. Hence the general opinion of the Christian world in favour of offensive wars. Even the standard writers on the law of nations, whose professed object is to mitigate the horrours of war, |