and all the cities thereof were broken down at the presence of the Lord." * If we lift our eyes from the plain immediately below, and extend our gaze around, we behold a scene of inexpressible grandeur, every object in which gives birth to associations of the most solemn kind, and awakens the remembrance of events of eternal renown. In the distant north-west appears Mount Carmel; its foot laved by the river Kishon, and its summit erewhile, the scene where Elijah contended with an idolatrous king, and where the great controversy between Baal and Jehovah was decided by fire from heaven. Turning to the south, we behold the mountains of Samaria running from west to east, and bounding the plain: we think of the day when the chariot of Ahab rolled along their foot, as the monarch sped before the storm. Immediately in front of the mountains we have just named, are the hills of Gilboa, where "the shield of the Mighty was vilely cast away:" and still nearer to us, aud in the same direction, we behold the little Hermon, and at its foot the villages of Endor, and Nain, where the Saviour of men bound up the broken heart of the widow, by recalling her son to life. Turning to the east, the eye rests on a region where the Son of God often journeyed, and where a great part of his ministry was discharged: we obtain a glimpse of the lake of Gennesareth, sleeping peacefully amid the mountains, whose dark and lofty summits invest it with an air of solemn grandeur. To the south of the lake is seen part of the plain of Jericho: beyond are the hills of the Hauran; the glittering top of the great Hermon, and the peaks of the anti-Lebanon chain. In the north are the hills of Nazareth, running in successive ranges, and in lines parallel to the mountains of Samaria on the south. Beyond the Nazareth range are the plains of Galilee. The back ground is filled up with the mighty mass of Lebanon, whole snowy summits confine the view which otherwise would extend into Syria.

Tabor has frequently been occupied as a military post. Its commanding position in the plain of Esdraelon; its steep acclivities; and the facility with which its summit may be enclosed and fortified, have recommended it to warriors of every age. In the early times of Israel we read that " Barak went down from Tabor with ten thousand men after him," to fight with Sisera whose iron chariots were gathered together on the plain. In the last struggles of the Jewish nation, it became a post of some importance; Josephus, then governor of Galilee, fortified it with a wall, which he drew all round its summit, and within which, he and the garrison under his command defied the Roman armies, till at last a scarcity of water, occasioned by the excessive heats, obliged them to surrender. Three centuries after, the Empress Helena covered it with churches, in honour of an event commonly supposed, then, as now, to have taken place upon its summit-the transfiguration. In the twelfth century it was taken by the Saracens, who demolished its churches and convents, and slaughtered the monks whom they found residing on it. Its buildings, after having been successively restored and destroyed, have for many ages lien in ruins. At this day, a thick wall constructed with large stones may be traced quite round the summit, close to the edge of the

6

* Jeremiah iv. 26.

precipice on several parts of it are the remains of bastions.' There is no doubt that these are the ruins of the wall which Josephus constructed. Here too, is shown a grotto under ground, containing three altars, in allusion to the three tabernacles which Peter proposed

to erect.

Every year on the anniversary of the transfiguration, the monks of Nazareth ascend the mountain in solemn procession, and celebrate mass on these altars; they are accompanied by the whole Christian population of the town, tents are raised on the summit of Tabor, and the night is passed in riotous mirth.

A spectator on the top of Tabor is in the most favourable circumstances for forming a correct judgment of the position and geographical arrangement of the hills of the little Hermon, and Gilboa.

This part of the country has been very loosely described by travellers, and certainly very inaccurately represented on the maps. Stephens speaks in such a way of the hills of Gilboa as would lead us to suppose that they lay across the plain.* And such is the position commonly given to them in maps, while the little Hermon is placed almost on the banks of the Jordan. The most intelligent account of the site and arrangement of these mountains, we conceive, is that which has been given by Professor Robinson and Elliot; † and a comparison of their accounts has led us to the conclusion that the hills of Hermon and Gilboa are merely advanced ranges of the mountains of Samaria.

Looking from the top of Tabor, they are seen almost due south, running in lines parallel to each other, and to the range of Samaria. First the range of Hermon ; next come the hills of Gilboa, divided from the former by a valley of about six miles in breadth, and backing the whole is the Samaritan chain. On the east, the hills now under our notice run nearly as far as the Jordan, on the west they extend a very little way beyond the site of Tabor.

FAMILY HARMONY.

"Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity."PSALM CXXXIII. 1.

The

IN my journeyings through this valley of tears, there is nothing more reviving to my spirits than the occasional sight of a scene of family harmony. Among professing Christians you would suppose nothing was more common, and yet, in reality, there is nothing so rare. great Creator has formed the several members of families with different dispositions, not in order that they may clash and dispute, but that they may endeavour to conquer what is censurable in their own characters, to repress and amend what is disagreeable in their own manners, and to bear with the infirmities of others. "Those that are,

* Stephens, Vol. II. p. 318. Amer. Bib. Rep. Ser. II. Vol. I. p. 429. + Elliot, Vol. II. p. 365.

strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please themselves." Is this generally the case? Far from it: each one diverts his or her scrutiny from the investigation of his or her own character, to spy out the faults of the others; and when any dispute arises, each attributes it to the unyielding disposition of the others, instead of acknowledging their individual culpability. The most unamiable always censure others most severely, because they feel uneasy in their own minds; but those who enjoy peace within, and know, from experience, how very difficult it is to conquer one's self, make every charitable allowance for the frailties of others. Oh! how it has grieved me to see relations and connexions whom I have observed, during the week, fomenting family quarrels, by artful insinuations and wilful misrepresentations, approach the Lord's Supper, to celebrate the dying love of Him who declared, "by this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another." How can these children of the devil who are filled with the cunning and venom of the old serpent, which breathes in their conversation, deceive themselves into a belief that they are children of God. "Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of God." There is no character invested with such dignity and glory, in my estimation, as that of a peace-maker, and yet how few maintain that attitude in family dissensions. Even where there is much love in a family, and where relatives will make great exertions and sacrifices for each other, peace and happiness are often destroyed by contending about insignificant trifles that are not worth a second thought. Each one adheres most pertinaciously to his or her own little peculiarities, and expects the others to yield to them. If they would only consider it magnanimous to yield to others in immaterial matters, they would consult their own tranquillity, and promote the comfort of all around them. Very few are exempt from some annoying peculiarity, and very few are aware of their existence, or will bear the merited accusation with equanimity. The most effectual way to promote and maintain the general harmony is, for every one to mend one,' viz. : himself or herself. One day while I was indulging similar meditations, I called upon a friend who introduced me to her happy family circle. The pleasure I enjoyed upon that occasion, left an indelible impression upon my mind, and I have often wished to communicate the satisfaction I experienced to others. It was one of the most beautiful exemplifications of family harmony I ever witnessed. The venerable and dignified grandmother formed the centre of attraction in their little circle. Age had not dimmed her brilliant hazel eye, which beamed with love on all around; serenity was enthroned on her placid forehead; and a benignant smile embellished her benevolent mouth. Every sentiment she uttered breathed either gratitude to her heavenly Father, for his distinguishing and long-continued mercies, or affection and good-will to her fellow-creatures. She appeared to me to speak the language of heaven, as well befitted one who was so soon to be divested of the shackles of mortality, and to converse with glorified saints and happy angels. Amidst a multitude of care-worn, discontented countenances, how delightful it is to repose the eye upon one who is enjoying "the peace of God which passeth all understanding." Such an one diffuses sunshine on all around; their conversation is like a re

viving cordial to the drooping spirits, and soothes and enlivens the mind like the perfumes wafted from a garden of sweet flowers, or the spicy gales from Araby the blest.' I regard such cheerful Christians as public benefactors, and consider those of a contrary disposition to be guilty of petty larceny, in constantly robbing others of their peace and comfort by their sour humours. They are like a blighting east wind, and their discourse irritates like a blister. Their discontented countenances accuse God of injustice, and their fellow-mortals of unkindness; when, if they would only exercise the humility that would become them, they would gratefully acknowledge that they were less than the least of God's mercies, and were held in much higher estimation by their friends, than they deserved.

I was introduced to Mrs. D. as the grand-child of one of her earliest friends. All the warm fountains of youthful affection appeared to gush forth afresh at the sight of a descendant of one who has sympathized with her in many a joy, and in many a grief. She pressed my hand with great cordiality, and rivetted her eyes on my face, hoping to trace some resemblance in my lineaments to those of her former beautiful friend. I read the disappointment which she endeavoured to conceal by expressing the gratification my visit afforded her. Being a member of the Society of Friends, she had none of that artificial courtesy which is cultivated by those who merely seek the admiration of the world, but she possessed that essential innate politeness which arises from a benevolent heart, and that elegance and simplicity combined which proceed from a refined soul and a cultivated intellect, which are incomparably superior, and more uniform and durable. How much happiness must have been felt and communicated by one through whose heart a perennial current of benevolence had been flowing for nearly ninety years. She early taught her children that "love is the fulfilling of the law," and exemplified its influence over her own heart, through a long life. She never censured others, and when their conduct was pronounced unjustifiable by others, her ingenious charity suggested some extenuating circumstance. She exercised all her sagacity in discovering the good qualities of her relations, friends and acquaintances, and thus cherished and nourished many a latent germ and blossom of virtue, that others would have crushed by harshness and neglect. And well was she repaid by the tranquillity of her own well-regulated mind, the devoted affection of every member of her family, and the respect of her numerous friends. Even her great grandchildren enjoyed their youthful sports and frolics more when they were allowed to spend the day with dear grandmamma D. (which was the case the day I called,) as she participated in their amusements and encouraged their innocent mirth. Old age was divested of all the horrors with which my imagination had depicted the winter of life, when I beheld one who had grown old so gracefully. There was no parade of affection, exhibited before strangers, by her family, but I observed that confiding affectionate expression of eye, which characterizes those who read each other's souls, and interpret their thoughts and feelings by those which exist in their own hearts, which cannot be counterfeited to suit the occasion. Every varying expression of that beloved countenance was observed by her vigilant daughter and grandchildren, and every wish

anticipated and gratified with alacrity. Let all parents who wish to reap a rich harvest in the love and veneration of their children, imitate Mrs. D. in inculcating the principle of love as the essence of religion; and teach their children not only to love one another, but uniformly to evince their attachment by gentle tones, kind words, and affectionate little attentions, as well as by great exertions and selfdenying actions. In this way may every parent not only prevent domestic quarrels and dissension, but also prevent duels and bloodshed, and promote domestic, civil and social happiness; and also assist in hastening the coming of the Messiah's kingdom, by promoting love and unity among Christians. If the hearts of children were attuned to love from infancy, the perishing heathen would not call in vain for missionaries, as there would be as many candidates as there are now destitute stations. If this discursive little essay should, through the Divine blessing, suggest any useful reflections in the thoughtless, or awaken any good resolutions which will eventuate in an increase of family love and harmony, I shall consider my morning well spent in writing it.

S.

"THY WILL BE DONE IN EARTH AS IT IS IN

HEAVEN."

BY THE REV. S. H. TYNG, D.D. OF PHILADELPHIA.

THE will of God is his revealed commands, constituting the line and system of human duty. It is done, when men render universal obedience to his commands, and become holy as he is holy. That this may be the gracious work and blessing of God upon a fallen world, we are here taught to pray. But there is a special import, I think, in the pronoun thy, which ought not to be passed without remark. "Thy will be done." There is here a particular designation of the commands of God, in their reference to his authority, because they are his. And we desire not merely, that men should do the things which God commands, but that they should do them, because he commands them, from a direct regard to his authority, and a desire to please and honour him. Under this view, I would remark upon the word thy.

It is the will of God, by way of emphasis, above all others, because of its superior authority. However the commands of others may be right in their degree, because they are conformed to his will, we are even in reference to them, to render obedience to the will of God, being not men-pleasers, but the servants of Christ, doing the will of God from our hearts. Even when the will of inferior authority is conformed to his will, our duty is to obey, because it is his will, and not merely because it is the will of others. But it is possible that the will of rightful inferior authority may be opposed to his will, and we are then to remember that the will of God