daughter's purity is for ever lost, and her only son ascends the gallows the gamester's hell is his, and deeper prisons of final wo.

The splendor of such a view is overbalanced by its wretchedness. Two thirds of the noisesome graves that pierce the maternal bosom of the earth, belong to the pleasure grounds of the infidel and the debauchee. The scorpion remorse that rears its snaky head in the twilight of eternity, is his-the trumpets of war are his-the duellists' pistol-the suicide's poison, and the raven that flaps a heavy wing over doleful scenes of ruin and decay.

No wonder that ancient philosophy revered a purer morality than Epicurus taught, and no wonder that in every sanctuary in our land prayer is made for those whose feet are wandering in forbidden paths, along the Stygian stream of moral death. Philanthropy, sweet angel of life, visits the dark house of the man of pleasure, and begs for dear heaven's sake, the very wretched remnants of worn out lives. Oh, how happy, if these wrecks of humanity may float at last in the heavenly seas. of peace where the howling winds shall never ask for prey, and ruin never mock at mental agony.

STAR IN THE EAST.

Night flung a sable stole o'er Bethlehem

On which, as on a velvet ground, each gem,
Strown beautiful and grand, lay glorious there ;-
And yet was seen, embosomed in the air,

One star to astrologic lore unknown,

That like a flame of love on midnight's ocean shone !

Low o'er Olivet's trembling outline hung

This new-born flame, whence milder splendors sprung
Than ever flooded heaven or silvered earth;

Hail thou, bright herald of my Savior's birth!

Were every golden urn of Vesper dim,

Thy gushing fount of light would roll its waves to Him!

Now heaving up the skies--an eye of love,

The magi saw the wonder roll above

The arc where constellations gambol wild

They saw-and knew that Heaven's great monarch smiled,

And took their jewelled gifts in haste to crown

The kingly head that drew such rays of glory down!

On Bethlehem's manger low, the radiance glowed
With ten fold beauty as a Babe it showed-
'Twas Christ-Creator and Redeemer-there
Nursed by the virgin in a straw-built lair;
Oh, let my contrite soul with wise men bow
To Him who died for me-yet lives in glory now.

THE MOUNT OF OLIVES.

There in dark bowers embosomed, Jesus flings
His hand celestial o'er prophetic strings;
Displays his purple robe, his bosom gory,

His crown of thorns, his cross, his future glory;-
And while the group, each hallowed accent gleaning,

On pilgrim staff, in pensive posture leaning-
Their reverend beards that sweep their bosoms, wet
With the chill dews of shady Olivet-

Wonder and weep, they pour the song of sorrow,

With their loved Lord, whose death shall shroud the morrow.

Pierpont's Airs of Palestine.

THE Scenery of Palestine is alive with holy recollections. The modern traveller, at this distance of time from the date of the grand transactions which have rendered Judea a land of sacred classics forever, can scarcely place his foot where there is not a fragrance exhaling from ancient story connected with the dust, the rocks, the hills, vales and tombs of the land of Canaan. So striking is the face of nature now, that the mind is lost in wonder in striving to conceive the glorious appearance of the country, when it was emphatically the glory of all lands-when the hills were green to the summits, the vales warm and irriguous, and the tops of the elevations crowned with fortresses and battlements that frowned defiance to the invader.But Jerusalem itself, with its temple-crested mountain, and the scenery around it, may be supposed the diadem of beauty, sublimity and strength to the whole country. In Croly's lively pencilings we give the outlines of the temple as it rose on the adoring eyes of the chosen nation. 'I see the court of the Gentiles circling the whole; a fortress of the whitest marble, with its wall rising six hundred feet from the valley; its kingly entrance, worthy of the fame of Solomon; its innumerable and stately dwellings for the priests and officers of the temple, and above them, glittering like a succession of diadems, those alabaster porticos and colonades, in which the chiefs and sages of Jerusalem sat teaching the people, or walked, breathing the pure air and gazing on the grandeur of a landscape, which swept the whole amphitheatre of the mountains. I see, rising above this, stupendous boundary, the court of the Jewish women, separated by its porphyry pillars and richly sculptured wall; above this, the separated

court of the men; still higher, the court of the priests; and highest, the crowning splendor of all, the central temple, the place of the sanctuary and of the Holy of Holies covered with plates of gold, its roof planted with lofty spear heads of gold, the most precious marbles and metals every where flashing back the day till Mount Moriah stood forth to the eye of the stranger approaching Jerusalem, what it had so often been described by its bards and people, a mountain of snow, studded with jewels!

But a little way from this glorious mountain, eastward over the valley of Jehoshaphat through which Cedron flows, is the Mount of Olives, now a lonely place, where contemplation loves to dwell and muse on two events in our Savior's life which have consecrated its scenerythe mental agony in the garden, and his final ascension from the earth. Of the first named incident the evangelists speak in tones of sorrow-and, although Jesus ascended into heaven to prepare mansions for all his followers, the elevated and original Bossuet speaks thus despondingly of his separation from the church:- but she has only heard his enchanting voice, she has only enjoyed his mild and engaging presence for a moment. Suddenly he has taken to flight with a rapid course, and, swifter than the fawn of a hind, has ascended to the highest mountains. Like a desolate wife the church has done nothing but groan, and the song of the forsaken turtle is in her mouth; in short she is a stranger and a wanderer upon the earth.'

The Mount of Olives, even now shaded in part by the tree from whence it derives its name, is situated to the east of Jerusalem, from which it is separated by

the brook Cedron and the valley of Jehoshaphat. The garden of Gethsemane lies over the brook on the acclivity of the mountain. As the traveller approaches Jerusalem through the village of Jeremiah, Olivet bursts upon his sight along with Moriah and Zion. It has three eminences or summits, one of which stretches away to a Sabbath day's journey from Jerusalem. It was in this elevation that King David three thousand years ago went weeping when Absalom's rebellion forced him to abdicate his throne for a season; and from its elevation Jesus beheld and wept over the devoted city.

We close this article with a few extracts from the journal of the lamented missionary to Palestine, Fisk, who, with his friends, Parsons, King and Wolff, frequently repaired to Olivet to gaze on Jerusalem and ponder on the sublime and melancholy associations connected with its scenery. We made our first visit to Mount Olivet, and there bowed before him, who, from thence, ascended to glory, and sat down on the right hand of the majesty on high. There we held our first monthly concert of prayer in the holy land. There is no doubt that this is the mount from which the Mediator ascended On this interesting

to his Father and to our Father.

spot, with Jerusalem before us, and on this interesting day, when thousands of christians are praying for Zion, it was delightful to mingle our petitions with theirs, and pray for our friends, for ministers, and churches, for missionaries and the world. From this Mount we have a view of the Dead Sea where Sodom and Gomorrah stood, and the mountains beyond Jordan from which Moses beheld, in distant prospect, the promised land.