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THE JEWISH NATIONAL HISTORY.
ONE of the most glowing and glorious enchantments of Hebrew poetry is its nationality. The surge of Hebrew song brought on every wave the thought, "God is with us." This, in all ages, gave the ecstasy and the passion to their mighty tones of triumph. And how, as they all sang, the thought of the God who called them and sanctified them, gave the roll and the rush of melody. It must be admitted, there have been no other such national lyrics. "God save the Queen," and "Rule Britannia," awaken thrillings and tinglings of blood and soul; but they are poor affairs compared with the national songs of Judea; and in both the music is far finer than the words. We have never set one national incident to music. We are poor in patriotic songs. Even the French, perhaps, exceed us in this; and the "Marseillaise" tingles and kindles even more than "Ye Mariners of England." The national history was well known, was burnt in the hearts of the people. In a very tame way, we fancy, our history is apprehended. Thus, for instance, the wellknown, perhaps the best known, national incident, the destruction of the Armada, the Spanish Armada, the Invincible Armada. How differently has Macaulay recited the story to the way in which we conceive it recited by some ancient Hebrew in a similar instance ! Our poet dwells, indeed, on the mustering of the nation; but the true poem is left unsung. We have the gathering of the people, not the scattering of the foe. There is very much in that projected invasion which reminds us of the invasion of Israel by Sisera; and many of the words of that glorious song of Deborah might well befit our case. It is quite wonderful what a propensity there has been in tyrants, from time immemorial, to reckon their chickens before they were hatched; as the mother of Sisera sang, "Have they not sped? have they not divided the prey; to every man a damsel or two; to Sisera a prey of divers colours, a prey of divers colours of needlework, of divers colours of needlework on both sides, meet for the necks of them that take the spoil?" We wonder how a Hebrew would have chanted the story of those much misguided asses, the captains and chief governors of that most imperial ass that ever was, Philip II., who had prepared his armada as a gorgeous flotilla for a very festival of conquest; fitting out his large fleet with soldiers and inquisitors, who were to murder and to havoc the streets of London, and to make the sack of Antwerp pale. Alas! they calculated badly. London was all before their anxious eyes. There was velvet, and gold, and baggage, for the triumph; lights and torches
for the illumination, when London should be sacked. Every captain had received some gift from the prince to make himself brave; and lances so gorgeous-'twas a preparation for a triumph, not for a war. And then came that night, and the sob of the storm, and the drip of the mysterious oars, and the devil ships of Gianibelli, and the flame, and the mist and the tempest; and so-but we know the rest; only, what would an Israelite have said over such a victory? "Thou breakest the ships of Tarshish with an east wind."
These are the things in a nation's history which make a people look up. These are the foundations of national pride and exultation. It is possible, indeed, that in many a lonely Methodist chapel, in many a far-away village cottage, the sentiment, God for England, is felt just as truly, and perhaps as profoundly, as in the hearts of the ancient Hebrew. But these things have not entered into the texture of our national poetry. We have very little of what may be called national poetry, and what we have does not ring with the grand sentiment of "God is with us," the perpetual sentiment of Hebrewism. Does this arise, as some have said, from the fact that Christianity disclaims patriotism? We are disposed in part to admit this; that no land ever has been and ever can be what Palestine was to the Jew; and hence, too, while he had no epic poet, everything in his land became epical, and as we have said and seen, all things of institution and of scenery became greatly representational.
Our history has incidents as glowing and marvellous, but have we the heart of the ancient Hebrew to recite the story? Why, it is in the memory of men living now, and here, how Napoleon I. spread his mighty camp along the heights of Boulogne, where a hundred thousand men waited for the moment when, beneath the leadership of the First Consul, they were to spring on England-those preparations were vast-and fifty thousand men spread along the coast from Brest to Antwerp. "Let us be masters of the channel," said Napoleon, "for six hours, and we are masters of the world." Also the master of the French Mint received orders to strike a medal commemorating the conquest-and although the die had to be broken, there were three copies taken; two are in France and one in England -the Emperor crowned with laurel, and the inscription in French, "London taken, 1804." But there was One sitting in the heavens who laughed the Lord had them in derision. He spoke unto them in his wrath, and vexed them in His sore displeasure; for alas, alas! Admiral La Touche Treville, having received orders to put to sea, he alone knowing the destiny of the fleet, fell sick, poor man, and died just then; and there was no head to direct, and no hand to strike, and the thing had to be postponed. But Napoleon, Emperor
Napoleon, did not give up: in 1805 he was waiting still in Boulogne! London was not taken, to be sure, in 1804, but it might be in 1805. He climbed the heights again and again, and waited for the junction of the fleets; but he strained his eyes in vain : his admirals blundered, and so that fleet which was to have taken London, while Napoleon supposed it hastening to Brest, was flying to Cadiz, there to meet with Nelson at Trafalgar; and so, in fact, London was not taken. But what would an ancient Hebrew have said? He would have said, "As we have heard, so have we seen." "God is known in her palaces for a refuge. For, lo, the kings were assembled, they passed by together. They saw it, and so they marvelled; they were troubled, and hasted away." "We have thought of thy loving-kindness, 0 God, in the midst of thy temple." He would have sung as Deborah sang, "So let all thine enemies perish, O Lord: but let them that love him be as the sun when he goeth forth in his might."-Eclectic.
Better to smell a violet,
Better to have the love of one,
Than flowers of every hue.
Better to feel a love within,
Than beauty's wild delight.
Better to love than be beloved,
Better the fountain in the heart,
Better a feeble love to God,
Than for woman's love to pine;
Better be fed by mother's hand,
Than eat alone at will;
Better to trust in God, than say,
My goods my storehouse fill.
Better to be a little wise
Than learned overmuch;
Better than high are lowly thoughts,
Better than thrill a listening crowd,
Sit at a wise man's feet;
But better teach a child, than toil
Better to walk the realm unseen,
Better to have a quiet grief
Than a tumultuous joy;
Better than manhood, age's face,
If the heart be of a boy.
Better the thanks of one dear heart,
Better a death when work is done,
Than earth's most favoured birth;
Better a child in God's great house
Than the king of all the earth.-George MacDonald.
SUNDAY SCHOOL CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE CHURCH.
A gentleman who for many years superintended the Sundayschool connected with the Union Methodist Episcopal Church, in Philadelphia, recently stated that he had noted down thirty-eight scholars, and twelve teachers, who had gone from that school into the ministry.-Sunday School World.
THE qualifications necessary for a "Model" Sunday school teacher are four-fold, Social, Physical, Mental and Spiritual. The enumeration of them should not make us, who are conscious of our many deficiencies, lukewarm in the work, nor affright those who are about entering upon the honourable task; rather let each strive to emulate him who comes nearest to the standard of excellence, that so we may not be ashamed of our work. The Artist seeks every where for beauty, though his design falls far short of his conception, but were his imaginings less elevated, how mediocre would his work be. The most finished productions of Genius, are replete with blemishes and flaws. The "Perfect" in Art, Science, Religion or Literature, we shall never know on earth.
Is, then, striving after perfection a vain thing? By no means; for it is impossible earnestly to pursue what is good, without getting good. To labour to excel, is never labour in vain. The Sculptor who, with vehement gazing, impresses on his memory the graceful forms of statues, the product of Greece or Rome, may not bring from his own studio rounder limbs, finer features, and more graceful attitudes; but his work will be more worthy of his skill, because of his ardent gazing upon his predecessors' work. So with the Painter, or the Poet. The study of the ancient masters of colour and form, or catching the cadences of those who, like the sweet singer of Israel, have filled the world with wondrous melody, may not enable the one tɔ impart faultless finish to his canvas, or the other to out-soar Milton in his song; but, who does not feel that both are the better for their schooling. And if we as teachers would achieve much, and perform it well, we must set Him before us who said "learn of Me."
What are the spiritual qualifications of a teacher? Holiness, without which none shall see God. Zeal, intense devotion to the Master's work. Faith, a full assurance that the work must succeed. Meditation, the diligent study of God's word. Gentleness, winning all hearts by an unfeigned love. Hope, so as not to despair of the most wicked or refractory. Single-heartedness, aiming alone at the glory of God, the good of the Church, the well-being of the scholars, and the salvation of the world by means of the school. Prayer, both public and private, with, as well as for the scholars. Gladness should cheer and animate when success is given; but when prosperity is withheld, duty should prompt to unflagging