for

6. To predict an eclipse of the sun, he must sweep ward from new moon to new moon, until he finds some new moon which should occur, while the moon was in the act of crossing from one side to the other of the sun's track. This certainly was possible. He knew the exact period from new moon to`new moon, and from one crossing of the ecliptic to another. With eager eye he seizes the moon's place in the heavens, and her age, and rapidly computes where she will be at her next change.

7. He finds the new moon occurring far from the sun's track; he runs round another revolution; the place of the new moon falls closer to the sun's path, and the next year closer, until, reaching forward with piercing intellectual vigor, he, at last, finds a new moon which occurs precisely at the computed time of her passage across the sun's track. Here he makes his stand, and announces to the startled inhabitants of the world, that, on the day of the occurrence of that new moon, the sun shall expire in dark eclipse.

8. Bold prediction! Mysterious prophet!—with what scorn must the unthinking world have received this solemn declaration! How slowly do the moons roll away, and with what intense anxiety does the stern philosopher await the coming of that day which should crown him with victory, or dash him to the ground in ruin and disgrace! Time to him moves on leaden wings; day after day, and, at last, hour after hour, roll heavily away. The last night. gone; the moon has disappeared from his eagle gaze in her approach to the sun, and the dawn of the eventful day breaks in beauty on a slumbering world.

is

9. This daring man, stern in his faith, climbs alone to his rocky home, and greets the sun as he rises and mounts the heavens, scattering brightness and glory in his path. Beneath him is spread out the populous city, already teem

ing with life and activity. The busy morning hum rises on the still air, and reaches the watching-place of the solitary astronomer. The thousands below him, unconscious of his intense anxiety, buoyant with life, joyously pursue their rounds of business, their cycles of amusement.

10. The sun slowly climbs the heaven, round, and bright, and full-orbed. The lone tenant of the mountain-top almost begins to waver in the sternness of his faith as the morning hours roll away. But the time of his triumph, long delayed, at length begins to dawn; a pale and sickly hue creeps over the face of Nature. The sun has reached his highest point; but his splendor is dimmed, his light is feeble. At last it comes! Blackness is eating away his round disk, — onward with slow but steady pace the dark vail moves, blacker than a thousand nights, -the gloom deepens, the ghastly hue of death covers the universe, — the last ray is gone, and horror reigns!

11. A wail of terror fills the murky air, the clangor of brazen trumpets resounds, an agony of despair dashes the stricken millions to the ground; while that lone man, erect on his rocky summit, with arms outstretched to heaven, pours forth the grateful gushings of his heart to God, who had crowned his efforts with triumphant victory. Search the records of our race, and point me, if you can, to a scene more grand, more beautiful! It is to me the proudest victory that genius ever won. It was the conquering of nature, of ignorance, of superstition, of terror, all at a single blow, and that blow struck by a single arm. 12. And now do you demand the name of this wonderful man? Alas! what a lesson of the instability of earthly fame are we taught in this simple recital! He who had raised himself immeasurably above his race, have been regarded by his fellows as lite less than a

who must

god,-who had inscribed his fame on the very heavens, and had written it in the sun, with a "pen of iron, and the point of a diamond," even this one has perished from the earth; name, age, country, are all swept into oblivion. But his proud achievement stands. The monument reared to his honor stands; and, although the touch of time has effaced the lettering of his name, it is powerless, and can not destroy the fruits of his victory.

1.

LESSON LXXXIII.

FROM

THE SONG OF LIGHT.

W. P. PALMER.

ROM the primal gloom, like an orb of Doom,
The sun rolled black and bare,

Till I wove him a vest for his Ethiop breast

Of the threads of my golden hair;

And when the broad tent of the firmament
Arose on its airy spars,

I penciled the hue of its matchless blue,
And spangled it round with stars.

2. I painted the flowers of the Eden bowers,
And their leaves of living green;

And mine were the dyes in the sinless eyes
Of Eden's virgin queen;

But when the Fiend's art in the trustful heart
Had fastened his mortal spell,

In the silvery sphere of the first-born year,
To the trembling earth I fell.

3. When the waves that burst o'er a world accursed

Their work of wrath had sped,

And the Ark's lone few the faithful and true

Came forth among the dead,

With the wondrous gleams of my bridal dreams,
I bade their terror cease;

And I wrote, on the roll of the storm's dark scroll,
God's Covenant of Peace.

4. Like a pall at rest on a senseless breast,
Night's funeral shadow slept, -

Where shepherd swains, on Bethlehem's plains,
Their lonely vigils kept,

When I flashed on their sight the herald bright
Of Heaven's redeeming plan,

As they chanted the morn of a Savior born,
"Joy! joy! to the outcast man!"

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5. Equal favor I show to the lofty and low, On the just and unjust descend;

The blind, whose vain spheres roll in darkness and tears, Tell my smile, the blest smile of a friend;

The flower of the waste by my smile is embraced,
As the rose in the garden of kings;

At the chrysalis bier of the worm I appear,
And lo! the butterfly wings!

6. From my sentinel steep by the night-brooded deep, I gaze with unslumbering eye,

While the cynosure * star of the mariner

Is blotted out of the sky;

*CYN' O SURE, the constellation of the Lesser Bear, to which, as containing the polar star, the eyes of mariners and travelers are often directed.

And guided by me through the merciless sea,
Though sped by the hurricane's wing,
His compassless, dark, lone, weltering bark
To the haven-home safely I bring.

7. I awaken the flowers in their dew-spangled bowers,
The birds in their chambers of green;
And mountain and plain glow with beauty again,
As they bask in my matinal sheen.

Oh! if such be the worth of my presence

on earth,

Though fitful and fleeting the while,
What glories must rest on the home of the blest,
Ever bright with the Deity's smile!

LESSON LXXXIV.

CHANT AND CHORUS OF THE PLANETS.

ANNA BLACKWELL.

An excellent effect may be produced by letting ONE PUPIL read the first four lines of each stanza in a clear, distinct tone of voice, and the WHOLE CLASS read the remaining lines in concert, as indicated.

1.

ONE PUPIL.

FATHER of all!

With joy Thy children stand

To bless the bounty of Thy Parent-hand, And on Thy name with loving reverence call.

WHOLE CLASS.

From farthest realms of light

Our grateful strains their choral tide unite,

And, at Thy universal throne, in adoration fall!