occasionally and very suddenly, and for a brief space of time, to his disciples, in order to satisfy them of the certainty of his resurrection that they might be witnesses of it; and for the purpose of instructing them concerning the mission he was about to commit to them for publishing his gospel to the world. His appearances to his disciples, and his intercourse with them after his resurrection differed very strikingly from those before his crucifixion. Before his crucifixion he always appeared as one of them, and subject to the same conditions and accidents, except sin, and entered fully into their feelings, and freely into conversation with them. After his resurrection his body seemed to have new and wonderful properties, which belong not to matter. He appeared among them in closed rooms, suddenly, without opening the door, and as suddenly vanished out of their sight, as a spirit is supposed to vanish into thin air. His conversation was brief, solemn, and accompanied with a peculiar awe and power. His body was no longer the natural body that was crucified on the cross and laid in the sepulchre, but it was now a spiritual body; for, as St. Paul says, "there is a natural body, and there is a spiritual body." The change in him from a natural to a spiritual body by the resurrection, is the illustration of the change which will take place in his children. His soul also participated in the wonderful advance which the resurrection made in the condition of his being, and hence gave forth the heavenly manifestations witnessed in his occasional intercourse with his disciples. And yet even these wondrous appearances of the Lord failed to keep the disciples free from doubt. So slow were they to admit the miraculous story, instead of eagerly following cunningly devised fables, that they seem to have resolved on resuming their former occupation, *The Evangelists convey the same idea of the appearances and disappearances of our Lord, after his resurrection, as is found in the ancient classics, and still entertained, concerning the appearances and disappearances of departed persons, or supernatural beings. Our Lord had the power to become visible or invisible at pleasure. Luke says, "And their eyes were opened, and they knew him; and he vanished out of their sight." Not that he removed from their vicinity, but that he became invisible to them. So Eneas, in the sack of Troy, was separated from his wife Creusa, who perished unexpectedly. While he was searching for her, Virgil makes Æneas say, the mournful ghost and shade of Creusa appeared before his eyes, her figure larger than the life, and spoke to him. As he was about to reply to her, and throw his arms around her neck, tenuesque recessit in auras, she vanished into thin air. In the same manner, Shakespeare makes the witches vanish. 33 which suggests the probability that they had relinquished all hope of the speedy establishment of the kingdom of God, as promised by their lately crucified Master. As they had been called by the Lord from the shores of the Sea of Galilee, so now, in their disappointment, they return thither; and, after consultation, Peter said to them, "I go a-fishing," that is, I will resume my former occupation, since I see no signs of the kingdom of God; and it is now more than a month since the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. The other disciples said, "We also go with thee." We too will resume our former occupation. The Lord saw their despondency, and heard their consultations. The sun went down, and thus screened from the intense heat of an eastern sun (for it was in the month of May), "they went forth, and entered into a ship immediately, and that night they caught nothing." As the day dawned, and they neared the shore to rest, they saw a stranger standing on the beach. The mildness and majesty of his mien, and the gentleness and tenderness of his address threw a spell over the wearied and desponding fishermen. He said, "Children, have ye any meat?" They answered, "No." "Cast," said he, “your net on the right side, and ye shall find." The sudden and miraculous success opened their eyes, and one said, "It is the Lord." Peter, with his characteristic impetuosity, threw himhis Master. self into the sea, and hastened to the feet of the effect of this sudden appearance of the So profound and convincing was Lord, that the disciples durst not converse with him, only as he drew them on by questions. His followers and friends seem after this to have assembled at Jerusalem in expectation of some decisive event connected with the promised kingdom of God. Doubtless the mysterious influences of the Divine Master had drawn them to the city. The time of his ascension was at hand. Preparatory to this, he joined them and gave them more particular instruction concerning the mission he was about to commit to them. As Jerusalem was to be the centre of this divine mission, he commanded them that they should not depart from the city upon their mishigh to qualify them for it. sion until they should receive power from on But this divine power, the Holy Spirit, which was to be given them, and which was wonderfully shed upon them on the day of Pentecost, was not sufficient to qualify them for their heavenly work. It is particularly recorded, "Then opened he their understanding that they might understand the Scripture." How long the Lord "assembled together with them at Jerusalem" is not certain. The impression made by the Sacred History is, that he was with them for several days, ex plaining "all things written in the law of Moses, in the Prophets, and in the Psalms concerning himself." (Luke, xxiv. 44.) When he had fully instructed them in the Messianic Scriptures, he prepared for his ascension. The power of his presence drew his friends as well as his disciples close around him. And in the dusk of the evening, that he might escape the notice of the multitude, he passed out of the city eastward, crossing the Kidron, and wound round the southern flank of Mount Olivet, all following slowly and in silence, while he announced to his disciples the import and prospect of their perilous mission. "Ye shall be witnesses unto me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost parts of the earth. Go ye, therefore, | into all the world, teach all nations, and preach the gospel to every creature, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. All power is given to me in heaven and in earth, and lo! I am with you always even unto the end of the world." As he pronounced these words he had advanced round the southern flank of the mountain, leading his disciples, "as far as to Bethany." There, as he uttered the last words of the divine benediction, he lifted up his hands, spreading them out, perhaps over, and perhaps touching the heads of his apostles. While in this act he was parted from them. He threw aside the restraint which for the time weighed down his glorious resurrection body, and it rose majestically and was carried up into heaven; and the clouds received him out of their sight, into that spiritual and glorious world where he sat down on the right hand of the throne of God, to make intercession for us. It was at nightfall, and the parting was so solemn and glorious, and his pathway to heaven so resplendent, and the majesty and benignancy of his ascending person so enrapturing, that his friends stood motionless and speechless, "gazing up into heaven," through the bright opening which his ascension had left in the sky. There probably they would have continued to stand had not the spell been broken by two of the heavenly visiters who had descended to witness the ascension. From the midst of the illuminated clouds, where they lingered in pity and admiration of the astonished and bereaved disciples, they descended to the earth, and "stood among them in white apparel, and said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven." The charm was broken. Ascending Mount Olivet from the edge of the village of Bethany (for this was as near, and a more private way back to the city), they halted on the summit to look once more into the heavens, after their ascended Lord. But the sky had recovered its usual serenity, and spread out its calm blue canopy, lit up with the countless stars of heaven. On the spot where they halted, the piety of subsequent ages erected a magnificent church, and that same piety, sublimated into enthusiasm and credulity, transferred the scene of the ascension from the humble village of Bethany, far down on the southern flank of the mountain, to its summit. Hence the church, which is seen in the engraving, is called the Church of the Ascension. It is about half a mile due east from St. Stephen's gate, and about three hundred feet above the city. It is alone; neither tent nor hut is near it. And the only worshippers in it are a few monks; sometimes of the Greek order, and sometimes of the Armenian; as the gold of the one outweighs, in the judgment of the Pacha of Jerusalem, the gold of the other. And not unfrequently very unchristian contests occur for the possession of the church; and in these contests, it has more than once been reduced to ashes. The traveller sees it from the northeast part of the city, sitting beautifully on the sacred Mount of Olivet; and if his piety or curiosity should lead him to ascend to it, he will be shown the footprint of our Lord, impressed in the solid rock, as he made the first bound towards Heaven. To this he will kneel, and will kiss it, if his faith waver not; or will turn away with regret and sorrow at the weak superstition that guards and worships an object so obviously apocryphal. In the general uncertainty, and frequent absurdity of the sacred places shown to the traveller in the Holy Land, the free and intelligent Christian will see the wisdom and goodness of God. Had he designed those spots to be reverenced and worshipped, he would have provided for the certain knowledge of them. But in the kingdom of his Son he has made the divine glory and power to appear in the new and divine life which the gospel imparts to individuals and to nations, and not in sacred localities, or buildings, or relics. A SMILE. BY MRS. C. H. ESLING. I LOOKED upon thy youthful face, It seemed as though the gates of heaven So radiant was that face of thine, MADELENA'S CONFESSION. BY EDITH MAY. THE Bride of Christ! oh, at those words there swept The lattice where the black-veiled nuns looked through, It seems not long since I, a little child, It seems not long, Jacopo, since we twain Have patience, Father, Thou knowest well my father was a noble, Clasped on her throat, and round, pure, dewy arms. I loved my nurse to bear me to the window, But this was for a season-Many months Or Stephen, stoned and prone; perchance, to mark And red drops trickling from the crown of thorns! There came a message That said Ginevra, weary of the court, "Twas early noon; I, overwearied, dreamed upon my couch, I never knew What sorrow, like a tearful angel, rent The veil between my sister's heart and God. Bearing the marks of thorns, and on her face None looked, except to breathe a sigh that tracked Paced the long galleries, where ranged silver sconces I listened, while the stealthy-footed night I remember Once more Ginevra stood From her brow 36 To that place I crept at noonday. There I treasured all I peopled all the dark nooks of the palace Thrilled with the rapturous history. I could dream Hung pondering steadfastly; one pale, fair hand The first star Was a true prophet of thy step, Jacopo! Her white hand freely, while her laughter mixed Did homage to his strength. The life that coiled His footfall ring. Oh, Father, when he left, I was a child. Ginevra fled the world, So to her heart, rent, filled with bitter dust, Youth was too mighty! I grew faint. My heart I strove to read; or if I knelt to pray, My aimless thoughts went wandering blindly on, I stood within Saint Peter's But through my soul the slow-paced, cloistered thoughts That from the shores of that hushed music stretched On one bruised wing, athwart the chapel roof As 'twere a scimitar quick bared, a shaft I saw the darkness cloven by wings that took |