The Angels Song | Page 8

God, the very gate of
heaven: under this dusty roof, inside those narrow walls, He lodges
whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain: the tenant of this manger
is the Son, who, leaving the bosom of His Father to save us, here
pillows His head on straw; of this feeble babe the hands are to hurl
Satan from his throne, and wrench asunder the strong bars of death; this
one tender life, this single corn-seed is to become the prolific parent of
a thousand harvests, and fill the garners of glory with the fruits of

salvation. Mean as it looks, yet more splendid than marble
palaces,--more sacred than the most venerable and hallowed temples,
here the Son of God was born, and with Him were born Faith, Hope,
and Charity--our Peace, our Liberty, and our Eternal Life. Had He not
been born, we had never been born again; had He not lain in a manger,
we had never lain in Abraham's bosom; had He not been wrapped in
swaddling-clothes, we had been wrapped in everlasting flames; had His
head in infancy not been pillowed on straw, and in death on thorns,
ours had never been crowned in glory. But that He was born, better we
had never been; life had been a misfortune to which time had brought
no change, and death no relief, and the grave no rest. "Glory to God in
the highest" that He was born: we had otherwise been lifting up our
eyes in torment with this unavailing, endless cry, "O that my mother
had been my grave! Cursed be the day wherein I was born?"
If language cannot express the love and gratitude we owe to the
Saviour, let our lives do so. Shallow streams run brawling over their
pebbly beds, but the broad, deep river pursues its course in silence to
the sea; and so is it with our strongest, deepest feelings. Great joy like
great sorrow, great gladness like great grief, great admiration like great
detestation, take breath and speech away. On first seeing Mont Blanc as
the sun rose to light up his summit and irradiate another and another
snow-clad pinnacle, I remember the silent group who had left their
couches to witness and watch the glorious scene: before its majesty and
magnificence all were for awhile dumb, opening not the mouth. I have
read, when travellers reached the crest of the hill, and first looked down
on Jerusalem,--the scene of our Saviour's sorrow, the garden that heard
His groans, the city that led Him out to die, the soil that was bedewed
with His tears and crimsoned with His blood,--how their hearts were
too full for utterance. If a sight of the city where He died so affects
Christians, as the scenes of His last hours rush on their memory and
rise vividly to their imagination, how will they look on that scene
where, surrounded by ten times ten thousand saints and thousands of
angels, He reigns in glory! I can fancy the saint who has shut his eyes
on earth to open them in heaven, standing speechless; and as the flood
of music fills his ear, and the blaze of glory his eye, and the thought of
what he owes to Jesus his heart,--I can fancy him laying the crown,

which he has received from his Saviour's hands, in silent gratitude at
His feet; and as he recovers speech, and sees hell and its torments
beneath him, earth and its sorrows behind him, an eternity of
unchequered, unchanging bliss, before him,--I can fancy the first words
that break from his grateful lips will be, "Glory to God, glory to God in
the highest!" Never till then, nowhere but there, will our praise be
worthy of Jesus and His redemption. Meanwhile, let Him who
demonstrates God's highest glory and fills heaven's highest throne, hold
the highest place in our hearts. Let us surround His name with the
highest honours; and, laying our time and talents, our faculties and our
affections, our wealth, and fame, and fortunes at His feet, crown Him
Lord of all.


PART III.
Some years ago the question which agitated the heart of Europe was,
Peace or War? The interests of commerce, the lives of thousands, the
fate of kingdoms, trembled in the balance. Navies rode at anchor, and
opposing armies, like two black thunder-clouds, waited for statesmen
to issue from the council-chamber, bearing the sword or the
olive-branch. Esteeming the arbitrament of battle one which necessity
only could justify, Britain longed for peace; but, with ships ready to
slip their cables, and soldiers standing by their guns, she was grimly
prepared for war. Had ambassadors from the nation with which we
were ready to join issue approached our shores at this crisis, what eager
crowds would have