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Home! home! a home beyond those far bright stars,
ON THE MOTTO TO THE MOTTO OF THE
MARQUIS OF CHOLMONDLEY.
Amid the conflict and the strife,
What shall my soul secure ?
And make my safety sure.
In every scene of woe :
conquer every foe!
And ask supplies of grace :
But conquer and give praise !
R. H. SHEPHERD.
SUMMIT OF RIGHI, AT SUN-RISE. The following graphic and beautiful extract from a letter written upon the spot, will, we are sure, be read with the deepest interest by our young friends:
“ This letter comes to you, as all your best blessings do, from above the clouds. I am at this moment writing on the summit of Mount Righi, in Switzerland, where we have rested for the night, in a comfortable hospice, about 5,750 feet above the level of
We are both overpowered with admiration and delight at the proofs of the mighty hand of God which every-where surround us. We commenced the ascent about five o'clock, and after witnessing a sun-set of the brightest glory behind Mount Pilate, reached the auberge at about ten. All our toils and fatigues are amply compensated. Never have I witnessed such impressive scenes before, and perhaps never may again. At three o'clock this morning we were awakened by the crowing of the cock, for there is quite a farm at the summit of the mountain, and were awe-struck on going to our
VOL. v. 4th SERIES.
window at the view it presented to us. We beheld, as we supposed, a sea of snow, not in agitation, but peacefully becalmed. The full moon was shining in undimmed brightness above, and in the midst of these snowy waves rose all around a multitude of frosted mountains, reflecting in every variety of form its silvery rays. It was some time ere we could sufficiently collect our ideas, and accurately determine our position. The first impression was that we had awoke in the polar circle, and were in those ice-bound regions where the Moravian missionaries glow with the love of their Saviour, and live and die to lead their heathen flocks to that good Shepherd. But we soon remembered the toil of the evening, and then discovered that what appeared the white sea' below us, were the clouds resting for the night two thousand feet beneath, or above half-way up the mountain; and that as many feet below them lay a sleeping world, while the Alps, whose top had penetrated the vapours, were the connecting links between it and ourselves. Our little auberge seemed like the ark resting on Ararat, the only vestige of life, and place of safety, in the deathlike silence which reigned around. We could only give utterance to our feelings in tears.
“But a brighter scene was awaiting us. At about four, the long horn of the Alps sounded through the galleries, and summoned us to greet the opening day. All our travellers in their cloaks and furs, some from almost all climes, sallied forth to the highest peak. Every eye was turned towards the east-a few moments of silence and another blast of the horn announced the sun's first ray, not as yet reaching us, but we turned and saw his golden light on the lofty pinnacle of the high Alp behind us, the Jung-frau, then on the Wetten Horn; and then another blast from the guide, and we saw the first direct ray start above the fleecy pavement at our feet, and shoot between the mountain tops, overlaying all with lines of purple and gold. It was an exciting moment! Not a word was spoken, but several of our fellow-travellers fell on their knees. We could not repress the wish that all those present, and all dear to us, might feel an equal desire to behold the Sun of Righteousness,' and would look for Him ‘more than they who watch for the morning!
“One of the first objects which the opening light disclosed served to strengthen these impressions. It was a cross which the