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her sunken fragments, and the nets of fishermen are spread on the sand and stones. The port in which the merchant navies of the Old World rode at anchor is now choked up, and can scarcely float a few fishing-boats.
Dr. Robinson writes in 1838:—“I wandered out alone towards the south end of the peninsula, beyond the city, where all is now forlorn and lonely like the desert, and mused upon the pomp and glory, the pride and fall of ancient Tyre. Here was the little isle, once covered by her palaces, and surrounded by her fleets; but, alas ! thy riches and thy fairs, thy merchandise, thy mariners, and thy pilots, thy calkers, and all thy men of war, even with all thy company, where are they? Tyre has indeed become like the top of a rock-a place to spread nets upon. The sole remaining tokens of her more ancient splendour lie strewed beneath the waves in the midst of the sea; and the hovels which now nestle upon a portion of her site present no contradiction of the dread decree, Thou shalt be built no more.” Such is the desolation which has come upon the old mistress of
And if God has raised our own country to higher influence and fame than Tyre attained in the days of her glory, does not his hand point to her ruin as a warning to us? If Britain sits a queen on the waters, rejoicing in the power of her fleets, girdled with a belt of colonies, and stretching her sceptre over an empire on which the sun never sets, let her not despise the lesson which the stones of Tyre cry out. As a Christian nation, may we feel our responsibility, and seek to plant the cross of Christ wherever the red-cross flag of Britain waves; otherwise “it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the day of judgment than for us.”
The waters, Tyre, once hailed thee queen,
A crown was on thy brow;
Where is thy glory now?
Where once thou was: in splendour set,
Thy place is known no more,
Upon thy silent shore.
J. D. BURNS.
Room for the leper ! room !"-And, as | Sick, and heart-broken, and alone, --to die
For, God had cursed the leper! The cry passed on—"Room for the leper ! room !”
It was noon, Sunrise was slanting on the city's gates, And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool Rosy and beautiful; and from the hills In the lone wilderness, and bathed his The early-risen poor were coming in,
brow, Duly and cheerfully to their toil; and up Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched Rose the sharp hammer's clink, and the The loathsome water to his fevered lips; far hum
Praying that he might be so blest--to die! Of moving wheels, and multitudes astir, —Footsteps approached ; and with no And all that in a city-murmur swells,
strength to flee, Unheard but by the watcher's weary ear, He drew the covering closer on his lip, Aching with night's dull silence ; or the Crying, Unclean ! Unclean !” and, in the sick,
folds Hailing the welcome light and sounds, of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his that chase
face, The death-like images of the dark away. He fell upon the earth till they should pass.. Room for the leper !” And aside they Nearer the Stranger came, and, bending stood
o'er Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood -- The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his all
name, Who met him on his way,--and let him Helon !”—The voice was like the masterpass.
tone And onward through the open gate he Of a rich instrument,-most strangely came,
sweet; A leper with the ashes on his brow,
And the dull pulses of disease awoke, Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip And, for a moment, beat beneath the hot A covering, -stepping painfully and slow; And leprous scales with a restoring thrill! And with a difficult utterance, like one “Helon, arise !”—and he forgot his curse, Whose heart is with an iron nerve put And rose and stood before Him.
down, Crying, Unclean ! Unclean!”
Love and awe Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye, 'Twas now the first As he beheld the Stranger.--He was not Of the Judean autumn; and the leaves, In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow Whose shadows lay so still upon his path, The symbol of a princely lineage wore; Had put their beauty forth beneath the No followers at his back, --nor in his hand eye
Buckler, or sword, or spear ;--yet, if he Of Judah's loftiest noble.
He was young,
smiled, And eminently beautiful; and life
A kingly condescension graced his lips, Mantled in elegant fulness on his lip, A lion would have crouched-to in his lair. And sparkled in his glance; and in his His garb was simple, and his sandals worn: mien
His stature modelled with a perfect grace; There was a gracious pride that every eye His countenance the impress of a God, Followed with benisons;— And this was he! Touched with the opening innocence of a And he went forth-alone!
child; of all
Iis eye was blue and calm, as is the sky The many whom he loved, nor she, whose in the serenest noon; his hair unshorn name
Fell to his shoulders; and his curling beard Was woven in the fibres of his heart, The fulness of perfected manhood bore. Breaking within him now, to come and He looked on Helon earnestly a while, speak
As if his heart were moved ; and, stooping Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, I down,
He took a little water in his hand,
And his dry palms grew moist, and on his And laid it on his brow, and said, “Be brow clean!”
The dewy softness of an infant's stole : And lo! the scales fell from him; and his His leprosy was cleansed; and he fell blood
down Coursed with delicions coolness through his Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped veins;
THE HEALING OF THE DAUGHTER OF JAIRUS.
FRESHLY the cool breath of the coming eve Lay with a mocking beauty, and his gaze Stole through the lattice, and the dying Ached with its deathly stillness.
girl Felt it upon her forehead. She had lain
Like a form Since the hot noontide in a breathless of matchless sculpture in her sleep she trance,
lay;Her thin pale fingers clasped within the The linen vesture folded on her breast, hand
And over it her white transparent hands, Of the heart-broken Ruler; and her breast, The blood still rosy in her tapering nails; Like the dead marble, white and motion- A line of pearl ran through her parted less.
lips; The shadow of a leaf lay on her lips, Ánd in her nostrils, spiritually thin, And as it stirred with the awakening The breathing curve was mockingly like wind,
life; The dark lids lifted from the languid | And round beneath the faintly tinted skin eyes,
Ran the light branches of the azure And her slight fingers moved, and heavily veins; She turned upon her pillow. He was there, | And on her cheek the jet lash overlay, The same loved, tireless watcher; and she Matching the arches pencilled on her looked
brow. Into his face until her sight grew dim Her hair had been unbound, and falling With the fast falling tears, and with a loose sigh
Upon her pillow, hid her small round ears Of tremulous weakness, murmuring his In curls of glossy blackness, and about name,
Her polished neck, scarce touching it, they She gently drew his hand upon her lips,
hung And kissed it as she wept. The old man Like airy shadows, floating as they slept. sunk
'Twas heavenly beautiful. The Saviour Upon his knees, and in the drapery
raised Of the rich curtains buried up his face;-- Her hand from off her bosom, and spread And when the twilight fell, the silken out folds
The snowy fingers in his palm, and saidStirred with his prayer, but the slight hand “Maiden, arise!" —And suddenly a flush he held
Shot o'er her forehead and along her lips, Had ceased its pressure; and he could not And through her cheek the rallied colour hear,
ran, In the dead, utter silence, that a breath And the still outline of her graceful form Came through her nostrils; and her temples Stirred in the linen vesture; and she gave
clasped To his nice touch no pulse; and at her The Saviour's hand, and, fixing her dark mouth
eyes He held the slightest curl that on her neck Full on his beaming countenance- arose!
THE mighty mountain-wall that guards the northern flank of Palestine, sending forth its rocky roots on one side to the Great Sea, on another to the Great Desert,—the cradle of four famous rivers which spring from its snows to water regions once the seat of splendid monarchies,—the symbol of grandeur, and magnificence, and luxuriant beauty,—Lebanon stands in some respects alone and unrivalled among the mountains of the world.
A most impressive signal of approach to the Holy Land is the first glimpse of the ancient mountain off the shores of Cyprus, rising from the eastern waters, its peaks wreathed with everlasting snows, and flushed with shifting hues of rose and purple in the clear evening sky. High up in its aerial solitude, pure
. and lustrous like a cloud steeped in sunshine, it stands for us as the emblem of that old oriental world which lies in its shadow ;Damascus, buried in its depth of ever-blooming verdure; Antioch, where the Orontes runs sparkling through its laurel groves to the sea; Baalbec, with its gray colossal relics—the Stonehenge of the desert; Tyre, discrowned and desolate, by the waters; and away in the south, the hills of Galilee with Jerusalem beyond, and the red peaks of the great and terrible wilderness which closes in this land of wonder.
From the time when the Jewish leader sighed to see “the good land beyond Jordan, that goodly mountain, even Lebanon,” through those later days when Hebrew seers and poets looked up to its vineyards and forests, its purple slopes and its burnished silver diadem, and drew from them eternal types of truth and beauty, what a boundless wealth of sacred tradition and imagery has been treasured up in the venerable name of Lebanon !
This name, which is now confined to the eastern mountain chain, “Libanus,” properly so called, is used in a wider sense by the inspired writers, and includes the great parallel range of “Anti
Libanus,” which in Hermon, its loftiest summit, attains a height of ten thousand feet. This mountain, towering in its magnificent elevation over the plain, is “the tower of Lebanon, which looketh toward Damascus."
From a large part of the low country of Palestine these heights were constantly in view, and their ancient names, as Stanley remarks, are "all significant of this position ;-Hermon, the lofty peak;' Sion, the upraised;' Shenir and Sirion, the glittering breastplate of ice;' above all, Lebanon, the Mont Blanc of Palestine, “the white mountain of ancient times.” Hence, too, the force and charm of every allusion to them would come home to the popular heart, breathing through the Jewish poetry with the fresliness of mountain air, and tinging it with native glow and colour.
The peasant of Galilee could feel as deeply as the Levite of Jerusalem the power of this peculiar imagery--the glory and excellency of Lebanon; the richness of its harvests and vintages; the bloom and fragrance of its gardens; the delicious coolness of its valleys, with their heavy dews, their brimming fountains, and foaming rivulets—“living waters and streams from Lebanon ;” the wildness and grandeur of its upper ravines; the solemn gloom of its primeval forests; the drifting mists and clouds which gathered darkly on its summits, and launched the thunder-storm over the land. In one of the sublimest psalms of David (the 29th) we have clearly such a storm described, rising from the waters, shrouding the topmost peaks of Lebanon, rolling in long, grand reverberations through the ravines, shivering with its lightninglance the gnarled cedars of its woods, darkening the broad land with its shadow, till its far echoes die away in the southern wilderness of Kadesh.
To the Jewish people, so proud of their national Temple and its associations with the golden age of their history, Lebanon, on this account alone, would be reverently endeared. From its quarries were hewn the massive blocks of stone which rose on Moriah without sound of axe or hammer; and many a giant tree had been felled by the Tyrian woodman in its forests to yield the precious