'Tis not enough! we give ourselves,— And now before thee fall. A. B. The Day of Sorrow. The decree had gone forth. "Mocked of the wise men, "Herod became "exceeding wroth," and determined to put to a sudden and cruel.death all the children that were in Bethlehem and in all the coasts thereof, from two years old and under, that he might thus secure himself from the rival influence of him who was born king of the Jews. But the new born king, now a sinless babe in the arms of his watchful mother, was not thus sacrificed to the anger of the tyrant. An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream, saying, Arise and take the young child and his mother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word, for Herod will seek the young child to destroy him. And Joseph arose and took the young child and his mother by night and departed into Egypt." But what a day of wo was to succeed their departure! Let us imagine one scene among the many, that sent forth, on that fearful day, the "voice of weeping, lamentation, and great mourning. The bright sun was breaking around the mountain, upon whose summit lay the beautiful village of Bethlehem. The deep vale below still lay reposing in the gray shadow of early morning. Beneath the leafy branches of a wild olive tree sat a Jewish mother. She looked towards Jerusalem, which lay six miles to the north. A spring of pure water lay bubbling up at her feet. A dark pine grove spread itself gloomily at her right, and here and there the pomegranate tree was bending beneath its rich fruit. Now, far in the distance, the young mother saw the figure of a man approaching. It was Hanoch; and eagerly she arose and hastened to meet him. His countenance was overshadowed, his long beard untrimmed, and his fringed tunic was carelessly thrown open. As he stood before Michal, his heavy brows were sternly bent, as if to conceal the agitation of his feelings, and he calmly exclaimed, "Michal! where is our boy?"-then hastily folding his arms around her, and pressing her hand for one moment in his, he silently hurried on. Once, as Michal clung to him, she eagerly asked, "Hanoch, is it true?" Hanoch turned and looked tenderly upon her, as he exclaimed, "Alas! Michal, true." They hastened on, and in a few minutes reached their own dwelling. Passing through the porch or gateway, they entered the court paved with marble, and surrounded with carved or latticed work. Here they found their child. He was lying upon a mat. Near him watched a Hebrew servant. As his parents drew near, the child sprang forward and extended his arms to them. "Look!" exclaimed Hanoch, in a tone of despair. "The spring's promise is given in vain. Ere the crimson light of evening, the clash of steel will be heard. Weep, Michal. It is well for you. Cradle him on your breast this day. It will be blood-stained ere night." Then rushing forward, and wildly taking the child in his arms, he added, "Philip, my first born, would to God my blood could appease the savage jealousy and rage of Herod, so that thou mightest live!" The little boy clung to his father's neck, and laid his head upon the strong arm that encircled him. Then, as his eyes rested upon Michal, his lips parted, and the only word he had learned to utter escaped them. It was the word dearest to a mother, and Michal bowed her head upon her bosom and wept bitterly. The day wore slowly away, but ere the sun stood above them, a wailing cry went up to heaven from the village where Jesus was born. The waters echoed back the moaning sound. The low winds seemed burdened with grief. Michal clasped her boy to her bosom, and sat in the court. The color came swiftly at every sound, and as it died away, the suddenly checked tears again gushed forth. Hanoch sat apart and wrapped his tunic closely about him. Escape there was none. The sun was slowly sinking in the west, when the blood-stained sword passed before them. Calmly raising her child in her arms, Michal cried, "Spare! spare!" "The king's decree!" was the only reply. The babe joyously sprang forth as if to grasp the glittering sword. One moment of hopeless, silent agony. That moment passed, and the head of the beautiful Philip lay bleeding on the pure marble at the feet of Michal. The sun went down, and the infants' massacre was completed. "In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning. Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are not." "And I heard a great voice out of heaven, saying, Behold, God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain." A- ―r. It is my Mother's Grave! In the summer of 18—, I passed a Sabbath in a place, which was one of the early settlements in the section of country that borders on Long Island Sound. I had left home in feeble health, to enjoy, for a few days, the cool and refreshing breeze that comes up from the broad Atlantic. As a pleasant sun, which had broke out from behind the clouds that for the most part of the day had obscured it, was going down in the west, I crossed a field and made my way to the ancient burying-ground, situated in a retired and lovely spot, on the margin of the water. Feelings more than usually pensive and serious filled my mind as I gazed on the monuments of the departed, owing in part to feeble health, but more to the fact, that not many months had passed since I had laid in the grave a beloved wife and a lovely child. I visited several new made graves, and imagined that here lay a child of fond and bereaved parents; or here were the mortal remains of a companion dear to the survivor as his own life. While I was thus going from grave to grave, a young lady with a lad drove up to the yard, and entering, hasted away to a grave which I had visited, and which evidently had been but recently opened to receive its victim. I saw that she knelt at the grave, plucked from it some spires of grass, which had begun to grow upon it, and wiped with her handkerchief her weeping eyes. I was much affected with what I saw. I was confident it was the grave of a dear friend;-it might be of a beloved parent, or of a dearer friend of her heart. I was prepared to sympathize with her, stranger as she was; for, with all the deep and tender emotions of the soul waked up by a visit to the grave of earthly friendship, I had become familiar. I needed no one to tell me something how she felt on kneeling on such a spot. I felt urged to meet her at the gateway as she and the lad were leaving the yard. And I said to her, “I see, madam, that you visited that new grave yonder; I presume it contains the remains of some beloved friend. May a stranger to you, but no stranger to your feelings on going to such a spot, know what one of your dear friends sleeps there?" "O, it is a dear friend, indeed, it is the grave of my mother!" she replied, with a bursting heart. I said, "If she loved the Savior, she is not there. You may think of her as in heaven; and if you love Christ, too, you will soon see her where Jesus is.” But she felt too deeply to make a reply, and with a flood of tears hasted to her carriage and I saw her no more. But the words, "It is the grave of my mother!" I shall never forget. Whether she shed over that grave the tear of gratitude in view of what a kind mother had done for her; or whether she remembered there afresh instances of disobedience and unkindness to her who was now hid from her sight, and so wept, I do not know. But I have thought that a relation of these facts might not be in vain to some of the many children and youth who read the Visiter. Let me ask, children, how you would feel, if you were now called to visit the grave of your mother, or your father? Have you been so kind to them, so pleasant, so obedient to their will, that if they were dead, you would not have to weep for your neglects of duty at their grave? You may die indeed before your parents,-many children do; this should not be forgotten. But if they should die first, how would you feel when on visiting the burying-ground you must say, "O, this is the grave of my father-this the grave of my mother!" Will you all think of these things now, and so love and obey your parents, as you will then wish you had? If such should be the effect, I VOL. VII. 11* shall not regret asking your friend to print for your benefit the page which I have here written. S. W. S. The Last Sabbath. MY DEAR CHILDREN,-I fear you do not consider what a privilege you enjoy in being permitted to attend the Sabbath school. A few years ago there was no such thing as a Sabbath school. When your parents were young like yourselves, they had none to attend, so that you are much more highly blest than they were; and what I wish is, that you may realize the value of this blessing, and improve it every Sabbath while it is granted you. Did you ever think, when separating from your teachers and companions, at the close of the school, that you might never mingle with them and join in its delightful exercises again? Perhaps you never did. But you know that you must die; and some die younger than you are, and die suddenly. I knew a little girl who, a few weeks since, was in as perfect health as any of you now are. She had been a constant attendant upon the Sabbath school ever since it was here established. She committed her lessons well, and listened with evident satisfaction to all the instructions of her teacher, and for the last few months her deportment was marked with unusual seriousness and propriety. One Sabbath last month, she attended school for the last time, repeated her last lesson, received the last instructions of her teacher, and left the companions and the scene of her Sabbath school enjoyment for ever. Before the return of another Sabbath she was taken suddenly ill, and though her friends were not for some days alarmed about her, yet in just one week she died. After she was taken sick, she said to her mother, "I am not afraid to die;" and afterwards she said the same to her minister. He asked her if she thought she was prepared to die. She hesitated a moment and answered, "I don't know, sir." He asked her if she prayed. She said, "Yes, sir, I pray that the Lord will take me and do with me just as he pleases, and I pray for the Sabbath school, and for Sabbath scholars, and for the |