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'I am the light of the world; he that believeth in Me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.'

T is the moon, a speck of light

IT
Scarce seen 'mong clouds of silver hue,
That gently ushers in the night,
While sunbeams glance on waters blue.
Like pearl on neck of virgin snow,
Embosomed 'mong a dazzling train
Of beauties, hidden by their glow,
So night's fair queen comes forth to reign.
She comes! like thoughts that dimly rise,
Evolving slowly through the soul,
Till setting sun, and darkened skies,
Proclaim her mistress of the whole.
And so, amid our brightest hours,
One spectral form half mirrored lies,
With visions of decaying flowers,
And fading light in lovely eyes,
Till, as the darkness steals apace,
And sink the clouds of silver hue,
More lovely grows the mystic face,
Shrined in the heavens so deeply blue.
And as our dearest joys decline,
While fond hopes fade in depths profound,
That Face, mysterious and Divine,
Sheds a new light on all around.

Half hidden in a misty haze,
It rises first so faint and far,
Till evening shows its heavenly grace,
And hails anew her King and Star.

THE

THE HAPPY MAN.

HE HAPPY MAN was born in the City of REGENERATION, in the Parish of REPENTANCE UNTO LIFE; he was educated at the School of OBEDIENCE, and lives now in PERSEVERANCE; he works at the Trade of DILIGENCE; notwithstanding, he has a large estate in the County of CHRISTIAN CONTENTMENT, and many a time does jobs of SELF-DENIAL; he wears the Plain Garment of HUMILITY, and has a better Suit to put on when he goes to Court, called the ROBE OF CHRIST'S RIGHTEOUSNESS; he often walks in the Valley of SELF-ABASEMENT, and sometimes climbs the Mountain of HEAVENLY MINDEDNESS; he breakfasts every Morning on SPIRITUAL PRAYER, and sups every Evening on the same; he has. meat to eat which the World knows not of, and his Drink is the sincere Milk of the Word of God.-Thus happy he lives, and happy he dies. Happy is he who has Gospel-Submission in his Will, due Order in his Affections, sound Peace in his Conscience, sanctifying Grace in his Soul, real Divinity in his Breast, the Redeemer's Yoke on his Neck, a vain World under his Feet, and a Crown of Glory over his Head. Happy is the Life of such a Man! To attain which believe firmly, pray fervently, wait patiently, work abundantly, live holily, die daily, watch your Hearts, guide your Senses, redeem your Time, love CHRIST, and long for Glory.

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HE Palatine was one of the seven hills

THE

of Rome. It was a very small height to be called a hill, seeing that it is only one hundred and sixty feet above the level of the sea. Yet though small in one respect,

it was, in another, one of the most famous spots in the ancient city. It was reserved from the very first for the temples of the gods, and the dwellings of the nobles. The home of the patricians, or ruling class in the days of the kings, it continued to be the site of the mansions of the highest nobility during the republic. At last, un

der the emperors, it rose to a palatial magnificence never since surpassed.

Here, on the Palatine, Augustus was born; and here, after he became emperor, he still continued to live. After his house was burned with fire, the citizens determined to build a palace more worthy of the emperor. This was the beginning of the 'Palace of the Cæsars,' which in process of time Icovered the whole Palatine. Each succeeding emperor added something to the vast palatial pile; till under Nero, it not only overran the Palatine, but two of the

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neighbouring hills as well. Of all this magnificence, nothing remains to-day but the ruins, a small portion of which is represented in our engraving.

Curiously enough, there is one part which is in better preservation than the rest, and it is the part which has the greatest interest for us. I refer to the Basilica, or king's house. This was the great hall of justice, in which the emperor sat and decided cases of appeal. It was the supreme Law Court for the whole Roman world. Here was the Tribunal from whose decisions there was no appeal. And here, before that tribunal, was the bar where appellants stood before Cæsar. One day an old man stood there, about whom the world knew nothing, save that he was one Paul, a preacher from Judea. Yet it was the very appearance of Paul there, that gives to the Palace of the Cæsars' its chief interest for the great crowds of visitors from all parts of the Christian world.

One afternoon in February, 1876, we passed through the Farnese gate, and found ourselves slowly ascending the Palatine. Passing up the first division of the staircase, we turned to the left, and very soon found ourselves among the ruins of broken thrones and altars. In a valley before us, on the right, were the foundations of the Temple of Jupiter Stator, built by Romulus, the founder of the city. A little further on was the Palace of Augustus, or rather the ruin that remains to show where the palace once stood. We passed through the Basilica. Beyond the Basilica we stood in the Tablinum or Great Hall of the Palace, lighted from above, around the walls of which statues and pictures of the Cæsars used to be ranged. Beyond the Tablinum, we found our way into Triclinium or dining-room, the scene of so many crimes and deaths by poisoning. We threaded our way through the ruins of the Palace of Tiberius and the house of Drusus, till, in the north eastern corner, we came on the vast ruins of the Palace of Caligula. Having made our circuit of the Palatine, our companions left, but we remained behind for another tour of inspection. As it

was approaching sunset, most of the visitors had departed. The feeling of loneliness was very great. The sense of desolation was quite oppressive. But we could not leave the Imperial Mount' till we had seen the Basilica once more, and stood before the bar where Paul stood.

It was the custom of the Roman Magistrates to hear their causes under the open sky. Some even of the Roman emperors sat in judgment in the Forum. Augustus was in the habit of hearing cases of appeal in the Basilica, or Hall of Justice. And Nero, before whose tribunal Paul stood, followed his example. At the end of this hall, lined with precious marbles, sat Nero on the judgment-seat. Up that long hall Paul walked, surrounded by his military guard. At last he reached the bar. Part of it still remains. It is a piece of richly wrought marble sculpture. As we touched it we could not help thinking of the great Apostle who had laid his manacled hands there eighteen centuries before. Within the bar stood Nero's chair. All that remains of it now is a solitary leg standing on the tribunal. Upon the tribunal sat the assessors of the emperor. Upon the chair was the emperor himself, the master and ruler of the whole Roman world. First

of all, the prosecutors would stand forth, declaring the charges against Paul. We know what these charges were that he disturbed the Jews in the exercise of their religion, that he was the leader of a new religious sect not sanctioned by the law, and that he was breaking the peace of the empire by political disturbances. After this the witnesses would be called to support these charges. Then the accused would have an opportunity of defending himself. When the defence was finished, the assessors would give their opinion in writing, and when these opinions had been read, Nero would pronounce sentence. This was the usual practice in the supreme court of justice. There can be little doubt that it was complied with at Paul's trial. The result of the trial was that Paul was aquitted. The chains were struck off his hands. He walked down that hall of justice a free man.

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THE DEATH OF DESUBAS.

This was the end of Paul's imprisonment. His first imprisonment was the lightest possible. He was not condemned, but only waiting his trial. He dwelt two whole years in his own hired house.' He had liberty to receive all that came to him, and to preach to them the gospel. He had all the freedom that was possible to one who was chained night and day to a soldier. He had not only liberty to receive friends and to preach, but liberty to write. Not a few of his epistles were written during this first Roman imprisonment. There are very many allusions to his bonds in the epistles to the Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians. But this state of things came to an end after his trial before Nero. There are many proofs in the epistles written after this that he was at liberty, and moved about from place to place in perfect freedom. In the 1st Epistle to Timothy, he speaks of his going into Macedonia. In that to Titus he speaks of leaving Titus in Crete. In the close of the epistle he tells Titus to come to Nicopolis, for he has determined to spend the winter there. In harmony with all this are the statements of the very earliest writers, that, after his first Roman imprisonment, Paul journeyed into the east, and to the west as far as Spain. After this period of freedom and activity came the second imprisonment, of a far closer and stricter kind, to which there are so many touching allusions in his 2nd Epistle to Timothy. A second time he appeared before Nero, but this time only to be condemned. Our next Peep will describe this, and the scene of his martyrdom.

What a striking picture must have been presented by the meeting of these two, Paul and Nero. Paul the apostle, Nero the emperor; Paul the servant, or as it is in the original, the slave of Jesus Christ, Nero the master of the whole civilized world; Paul comparatively unknown, Nero on the highest pinnacle of reputation; Paul, to outward appearance, poor and wretched, Nero great and happy. In God's sight, however, it was quite different. Nero was the slave, and Paul the king;

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for the emperor was the slave of his bad passions, and Paul was a king and a priest unto God. Nero was poor, for with all his wealth, he was without God; Paul was rich, for all things were his since Christ was his. Nero ended his life as a suicide; Paul closed his career as a martyr of Jesus Christ. Like the palace of the Cæsars,' Nero's life is a great ruin. Whilst Paul's life and memory is a palace beautiful in the eyes of all good men, and eternal in the heavens. May the 'Dayspring' readers not be like the Palace of the Cæsars, leaving only a ruin behind them on earth. May they all be corner-stones polished after the similitude of a palace, built on Christ the one foundation, and daily growing up in all beauty and goodness.

A. G. F.

STORIES OF THE HUGUENOTS. THE DEATH OF DESUBAS.

DE

ESUBAS was a young pastor, much beloved by the people. He wandered about the south of France, preaching to the poor Protestants. But the King, as you know, had commanded that none should preach thus. Desubas, was in constant danger of discovery, and death.

One night, in a lonely farm-house, the pastor Desubas slept.

"To the clefts of the mountains
The homeless may fly,
And perchance find the refuge
Their valleys deny.

'But nowhere is covert

So peaceful and sure
As found 'neath Thy shadow,
Lord Christ, 'twill endure.
"There, there let us rest,

Till, the storms all blown past,
We wake to Thy sunshine,
Father, at last.'

Perhaps with some such thoughts, the pastor fell asleep-thoughts like these, and the sweet French psalms that they had sung beneath the chestnuts and he slept sweetly; and securely, trusting in God, and his friends.

But among his true friends there was one traitor-one who knew him well, one who

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THE DEATH OF DESUBAS.

had heard his holy words-but through fear and faithlessness, had left the religion Desubas taught.

This man knew where the pastor slept that night-he knew what a lonely place it was, with no friends near. It would have raised a great tumult, to have taken him in any town or village in the neighbourhood. For the pastor was so beloved, the people would have risen up, and made with their own lives a guard round his. But here, in this solitary place, with the trees and the night-birds round, he might be taken quietly; so the traitor brought his foes. He was sleeping when they came to seize him; he woke to find himself a prisoner.

A guard of soldiers was sent to take him to Montpellier. Several times on the way thither, parties of armed Huguenots attempted to rescue him. But the king's troops were much stronger than the poor country people. Rescue was impossibleonly slain and wounded Huguenots were left upon the road.

At the gates of the little town of Vernoux, great crowds came-men and women and children; unarmed, but with tears and prayers, seeking to have their pastor restored. The soldiers and the catholic inhabitants of the town, fired upon the supplicants. Thirty people were killed, and two hundred wounded. The efforts of the captive minister himself, at last calmed the tumult. But next day a still larger party of Protestants gathered together - this time armed for battle.

Again the pastor Desubas, beseeched the people from his prison. He circulated among them a little note in which this was written ;

'I earnestly entreat you, gentlemen, to retire. There has only been too much blood already shed. I am very tranquil, and entirely resigned to the will of God.'

The people listened to his words, and sorrowfully went to their homes.

When Desubas had been taken to Montpellier, he was imprisoned in the castle. And soon he was brought before the commander La Devèze, to answer for the crime he was charged with.

A rude little French ballad tells how he was charged, and what he answered. Here is a translation of it.

THE COMMANDER.

'Art thou, then, the preacher
Whose troublesome case
As a Protestant preacher,
We try in this place?
Wilt thou dare to proclaim
Without the king's leave,
Or in France to maintain

We thy law should receive?
Our great prince has decreed,

And henceforth will take care That his realms shall be freed

From this Protestant snare;
You are doing great ill,

Thus his laws to defy,
And if obstinate still
You are worthy to die.'

THE MINISTER.

Thus Lubac explained

To his lordship severe:
'If in France I've proclaimed
The great Master, I fear
I but follow those saints
In Judea oppressed,
Who braved Cæsar's restraints,
And the Saviour confessed.
'No rebels are they,

Who, with zeal, in all lands
Only seek to obey

God's most sacred commands, Say, my lord, can we dare, This submission to make, And thereby declare

That our God we forsake? 'If indeed by our laws

I am worthy to die,
The Almighty our cause
Shall adjudge from on high.
In that Father above

All my hopes find their place; I rejoice in his love,

His salvation embrace.
'None can compass my fall,
Unless He ordain;
He is sovereign of all,

His power shall sustain,
With submission I go

Your stern sentence to meet, In His service I know

Even death will be sweet.' * Translated in the 'Pastor of the Desert.'

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