Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
Dark-heaving;-boundless, endless and sublime-
The image of Eternity-the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone
Obeys thee: thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sport was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers-they to me
Were a delight; and if thy freshening sea
Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear;
For I was, as it were, a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane—as I do here.

LORD BYRON.

BRUTUS IN THE ORCHARD.

It must be by his death: and, for my part, I know no personal cause to spurn at him,

But for the general. He would be crowned:

How that might change his nature, there's the

question:

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder,
And that craves wary walking. Crown him?-that;
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him,
That at his will he may do danger with.
The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins
Remorse from power: and, to speak truth of Cæsar,
I have not known when his affections swayed
More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof,

That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face;
But when he once attains the upmost round,
He then unto the ladder turns his back,
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees,
By which he did ascend. So Cæsar may:

Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel
Will bear no colour for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these and these extremities:
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,
Which, hatched, would as his kind grow mischievous;
And kill him in the shell.

The exhalations whizzing in the air

Give so much light that I may read by them.

( Opens letter, and reads. )

Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake, and see thyself.
Shall Rome, &c. -Speak, strike, redress!'

་

Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake! '

Such instigations have been often dropped

Where I have took them up.

'Shall Rome, &c. ' Thus must I piece it out:

Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What,

Rome?

My ancestors did from the streets of Rome

The Tarquin drive, when he was called a king.

Speak, strike, redress!' - Am I entreated

To speak, and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise,
If the redress will follow, thou receiv'st
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus.

Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma or a hideous dream.
"JULIUS CAESAR. "

SHAKESPEARE.

VOICES OF THE SEA.

The sea with all its moods has a perpetual charm for the traveler. It speaks to him of God and man. Its depths, its breadths, its fullness, its waves are constantly saying, "The sea is His, and He made it." In its changing moods are reflected all the experiences of mankind. Peace is reflected in its calm, trouble in its storms, joy in its coruscation, and life in its movement.

The Psalmist was pass

sang,

66

All thy waves It suggests the picture

There is the voice of affliction. ing through deep trouble when he and thy billows are gone over me." of a storm at sea when the mightiest ship is tossed like a cockle shell upon the billows, and washed from bow to stern by the waves. It speaks of consecutive troubles like wave following wave, and hillow following billow. "Misfortunes come not single spies,but in battalions." When the storm lashes the sea into fury and lifts the waters into dangerous heights it would seem as if calm could never again be restored, and that everything in the path of the waves must per. ish. It is then that the sea spells trouble and furnishes an unparalleled picture of affliction. Behind the hand of God is the heart of God: therefore the Psalmist sings, "The Lord will command his loving kindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me." When the voice of the sea of trouble is answered by the voice of hope and faith and praise, there is victory for the soul even when temporarily overwhelmed by affliction.

There is the voice of unrest. It was the prophet Isaiah who said: "The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." The restlessness of the sea is one of the features which impresses the traveler. It is never still. Either the wind, the sun, or the currents keep it constantly in motion. It is the prey of every out

side and inside influence. The winds toss it about with ease, the tides draw it around the world, the currents divert its waters where they will. So it is with the wicked. They have no peace, because peace is the result of balance, poise, power, and there can be none of these in the life of the wicked, since they are out of center, out of harmony with God.

There is the voice of pardon. It was another prophet who said, "Thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea." This is a beautiful picture of the forgiveness of sins. It speaks of the fullness and the finality of forgive

ness.

There is the voice of resurrection. In the apocalyptic vision of John he saw the sea giving up the dead and heard the voice of resurrection. We cannot look at the sea without beholding the grave of unnumbered multitudes who have died at sea. No slab marks their last resting place, no casket holds their remains, no flowers decorate their graves. Their bodies lie in the deep cathedral caverns of the sea and the subterranean voices of the ocean chant their requiem. But the day is coming when the sea shall give up the dead that are in it. And so the sea speaks of resurrection.

It was the seer of

There is the voice of consummation. Patmos who also anticipated the time when there shall be no more sea. The new earth is to have no sea.. In this glorious consummation there is to be no salt sea separating friends, and no salt tears, for God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and death shall be no more: neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain any more. The first things are passed away.

These are the voices of the sea.

May you hear the voice of God in them and, hearing, may you be saved and com

forted.

REV. JOHN A. EARL, D. D.

CHRISTIAN EDUCATION.

When a youth, I read of the Alps and their majestic splen dor until it became a passion to see their star-pricking peaks. At last my ambition was gratified. Arriving in Lausanne and gazing southward over Lake Geneva, I saw the wonderful, far-famed glories of the "White Giants." Beyond the lower mountains were the higher, in successive crystal galleries as if they were the stairs to the Gate of Pearl. They exceeded in grandeur my wildest dreams, and my imagination transformed them into all manner of creations; they were immense candles which some tall angel lit every morning with the first ray of light, and in the evening they blazed with the last flames of day; they were stupendous pillars supporting the walls of the City of Gold; they were Titanic Colossi lifting their shoulders through the clouds to support the sky lest it fall. I hastened to approach them, to walk in the valleys where trailed their white robes and worship in the vestibule of their splendor. I confess, however, to a disappointment; distance had given them an enchantment; for their crystalline heights hid the sun and cast a shadow on all beneath. They sent down over their uncouth and ragged sides rivers of ice, cold as the stream of death, the terrible avalanche, grinding, crushing, and destroying every vestige of life and beauty it touched; its path is the highway of destruction, and its presence the blight of winter.

Far more attractive to me was the placid river meandering through the valleys and meadows, quickening the life of trees and the beauty of flowers, distilling health, joy and manifold blessings whither-so-ever it flowed. I could almost forgive my fellowman for kneeling in affectionate devotion and worshiping the river.

There is an education that dares the vision and inspires