But, from the process in that still retreat, An emblem this of what the sober hour ROCK POOLS. "His to enjoy With a propriety that none can feel, But who, with filial confidence inspired, Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say, 'My Father made them all!'" WHAT a delight it is to scramble among the rough rocks that gird this iron-bound coast, and peer into one after another of the thousand tide-pools that lie in their cavities! * * I do not wonder that when Southey had an opportunity of seeing some of these beautiful quiet basins, hollowed in the living rock, and stocked with elegant plants and animals, having all the charm of novelty to his eye-they should have moved his poetic fancy, and found more than one place in the gorgeous imagery of his oriental romances. Just listen to him. ROCK POOLS. 147 "It was a garden still beyond all price, * * And here were coral bowers, And grots of madrepores, And banks of sponge, as soft and fair to eye Whereon the wood-nymphs lie With languid limbs in Summer's sultry hours. Their purple cups contracted, And now, in open blossom spread, Upon the waves dispread, Others that like the broad banana growing When we look at a lovely object like this, we are conscious of a positive enjoyment, arising from the gratification of our sense of beauty; a sort of appetite, if I may so call it, implanted in our nature by the beneficent Creator, expressly for our satisfaction. The garden which the Lord God prepared for unfallen man was furnished with every tree that was "pleasant to the sight" as well "as good for food." And surely it is not too much to suppose that even in the Infinite Mind of God Himself there is a quality analogous to this in us, the sense of material beauty, the approval of what is in itself lovely in form, and colour, and arrangement, and pleasure in the contemplation of it-distinct from, and independent of the question of relative fitness or moral excellence. If such a supposition needs proof, I would simply adduce the profuse existence of beauty in created things, and refer to the word that, "For His pleasure they are and were created." But there is another point of view from which a Christian-by this expression I mean one who by believing on the Lord Jesus Christ has passed from death unto life, and not one who puts on the title as he would a garment, merely for convenience or custom's sake-looks at the excellent and the beautiful in Nature. He has a personal interest in it all; it is a part of his own inheritance. As a child roams over his father's estate, and is ever finding some quiet nook, or clear pool, or foaming waterfall, some lofty avenue, some bank of sweet flowers, some picturesque or fruitful tree, some noble and wide-spread prospect-how is the pleasure heightened by the thought ever recurring-All this will be mine by-and-by! * * * * The sin-pressed earth, groaning and labouring now under the pressure of the Fall, is a part of the inheritance of the Lord Jesus, bought with His blood. He has paid the price of its redemption, and at the appointed time will reign over it. But when the Lord reigneth, His people shall reign too; and hence their song is, "Thou hast redeemed us to God by Thy blood . . . . and we shall reign on the earth." "For unto the angels hath He not put in subjection the world to come," but unto Him who, though Son of God, is likewise Son of man, even to Him in association with the "many sons" whom He is bringing to glory. And thus I have a right to examine, with as great minuteness as I can bring to the pleasant task, consistently with other claims, what are called the works of Nature. And if any one despise the research as mean and little, I reply that I am scanning the plan of my inheritance. And when I find any tiny object rooted to the rock, or swimming in the sea, in which I trace with more than common measure the grace and delicacy of the Master-hand, I may not only give Him praise for His skill and wisdom, but thanks also, for that He hath taken the pains to contrive, to fashion, to adorn this, for me. FOREST HYMN. FATHER, Thy hand. Hath reared these venerable columns, Thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They in Thy sun Budded, and shook their green leaves in Thy breeze, The boast of our vain race, to change the form That run along the summit of these trees In music;--Thou art in the cooler breath, That, from the inmost darkness of the place, Comes, scarcely felt ;-the barky trunks, the ground, The fresh, moist ground, are all instinct with Thee. Here is continual worship;-Nature, here, In the tranquillity that Thou dost love, Enjoys Thy presence. Thou hast not left Thyself without a witness, in these shades, Of Thy perfections: grandeur, strength, and grace, |