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Rh ! how many sweet reveries are held within the glistening halo of this enchantment! But, alas, there are seasons when these elements of the eternal are oppressive and overwhelming. How awful is their loveliness and grandeur when encountering sin! then the conscience is smitten—ashy pallor spreads over the countenance—the eye sinks—the iris is turgescent—the sclerotica is covered with a thick film—the blood of sin seems congealed in the presence of the great Spirit of night: then to be alone with even but one apparition of beauty is the depth and darkness of woe. Nature changes not—the queen of night rides forth in her silver chariot; onward she moves in obedience to the laws of beauty. How placid is all nature's beauty? The mendacious attractions of the world may distract our affections, and we may wander far from beauty, but we shall see its glory again.

To us the arch of the rainbow, its shape, its evanescent colours (blending so softly that none may tell how far the first bright tint extends, or whence it comes), are all emanations of beauty. We follow the lonely sea in its wanderings; we see God; we worship Him in a thousand ways, and at a thousand times unseen by man. We live a life of idealism in relation to his presence and his ministering servants. We dream of his dire indignation and approving consolations. We see Him the Author of beauty, the centre of a boundless sphere; and we bow in veneration. This is another expression of beauty—an apparition of Divinity. As time advances, youth recedes; the world presents its fashions and mistaken presentiments of beauty, and on them we gaze awhile and are entranced. We are too soon disposed to believe, and become lovers of science. We are told, the principles of these our new delights are to be known and reasoned upon, so that we may set up a carnal judgment and appreciation, free from any Divine