Sabbath Reading

A Vision. Tale, blood-stained, who are these that are throng ing the Ib ron e of God ? Tboir laces aro ashen witb anguisc, their garincnts soiJed f rom tbo eod ; Wide and wan as a fcunless ocean, iho uiultitude stands, Wilh silcnt )ips, and with pitoous eyca, and with prajing hands, Thero is none tbat ppeaks, and none thatstirs in the nnmhcrless bosta, Like the stijl white clouds in starlcea hcavcna- an arm y of ghostB ; Slain in the battlo aome, with the curses of war in their inouth ; Some in wautonness slaughtered; some stricken o: hunger or drouih. Who will stand for them, who will plead for them there at the throne ? Are they uot a!l God'a cbildren, wliom Chriet has claimed for bis own ? Sinners - but all are ainnera, and who can teil their doom ? If ihere be room in hfll, yet in heaven is there Dol roem ? Like the motes of dust from a sunbeam, when a Biidden wind han blown, LiXe the Btars from the prepence of God, when a universo is o'erthrown, They are gone from our gaze, thcy are ga'hered and garnered for bliss or pain, Woman and warrior,Turk and Ohrifitian, slayer ancl slain. Is there no elgn, then, is there no wonder, is there no cry ? Are the dad as a wind that passes, are they gone aa the waves go by ? Lieten ! is there no sound of a BObbiiig that shakeB the air, And the wail of au unseen inultitude, waked from a mute despair! Do we dream, or aro dead men weeping, as they wept in the world below, For the sceds of war untrodden, and the bitter harvest of woc, And the guiltiess herds that are marched, üko the beasts to sacrifico, That can save not them, nor their rulcrB, from the heil of falsehood and vice? And they weep that they see no end, and they cry that the end ehould be ! Ah, God ,' send down Thine angel, that the rest die not aa wp I As Tiiou didst send Thy Son, to die tbat sin might cease-, Send down one lowcst of angels, only to breathe of Peace [ To breathe Thy pcace in tho counsels, whero the rulera, unconcemed, Siake for a perilous glory the honor tbat Pcace haa earned ; And the happy homes of a nation they stakefor a statcBman'a pride; Oh, send Thy Peace ! oh, save them, for whose aakes the Savior died ! -The Spectator.