THE CHRISTIAN TREASURY. 349 "THE DAY-SPRING FROM ON HIGH." BY THE REV. JAMES ROBERTSON, PORTSBURGH, EDINBURGH. THERE is something beautiful in sunrise. In | human beings were born and died—system after certain favourable circumstances, it is common system of philosophy rose and perished-kingfor individuals to put themselves to no little dom after kingdom flourished and fell. Our inconvenience, and to undergo no slight toil, to longest night is only of a few hours' duration; enjoy the spectacle to advantage. All is still but this lasted four thousand years. It had and dark as the grave. One thick impenetrable set in long before the era at which profane hismantle conceals every object from the view, tory becomes authentic-ages and ages before while so deep is the quiet that prevails, that it a Hesiod, or a Homer, or a Herodotus wrote or seems as if the pulse of Nature had stopped, and sung. It was night long before Nineveh, or the life of the world were extinguished. At Babylon, or Egyptian Thebes was built; and length, a slight flush tinges the horizon, gra- when, after standing for centuries the pride dually deepening in its hue, and spreading more and glory of the world, these fell into decay, it widely over the face of the sky; objects begin was night still. True, the same sun that shines to be descried-now dimly in the extreme-now now shone then, and stars brighter than those more distinctly; what seemed huge, shapeless which adorn our hemisphere burned of old, as masses, assume form; then the sun himself, after now, in eastern skies; but the world spiritually being heralded by many forerunning beams of was without light-the soul of man was imsplendour, rises majestically above the horizon; mersed in deeper than Egyptian darkness — and earth, with its mountains, and streams, and a darkness which grew more intense as time towns-with its numberless sights of sublimity rolled on. and beauty-stands revealed. Now, too, the silence and inactivity that previously reigned, are broken-the lark has begun his minstrelsy, the lowing of herds rises from the valley, and the villages and cities, that seemed so many sepulchres, resound with the hum of busy existThe change is prodigious, and most beneficial is the influence which the great light of heaven puts forth. But there is another Sun than that which shines in these heavens, whose rise and whose influence are blissful beyond the power of language to describe. It is the Sun of Righteousness, and we require only to open our eyes to behold his brightness. It was far other wise with the good and holy men who lived under the former dispensation. O how anxiously did they stand on their watch-towers, and, with what ecstasy, mark every accumulating token of his appearance! But they received not the promise; God having provided some better thing for us, that they without us should not be made perfect. Hence, the language of Jesus to his disciples: "Blessed are the eyes which see the things that ye see; for I tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which ye see, and have not seen them; and to hear those things which ye hear, and have not heard them." The day spring from on high hath visited us. ence. I. These words remind us that NIGHT IS PAST. Our world, morally and spiritually considered, has had its night-a very long night, a very dark night, and a night very fatal to those who were exposed to its noxious influences. It was a very long night. It was no brief space that elapsed between the fall of man and the incarnation. During that period myriads of No. 30. It was a very dark night. Darkness covered the earth, gross darkness the people. One spot excepted, men had nowhere light in their houses. After Palestine, which, from an early period, enjoyed a kind of twilight, Greece was the most enlightened country of the earth. There were to be seen, hand in hand-Science with her torch, Philosophy with her mirrorPoetry with her wand of enchantment; but what of that?-a few tapers do not make day; and such lights served only to render the darkness visible. "The world, by wisdom, knew not God," as Socrates showed when, with his dying breath, he ordered a sacrifice to Asculapius; and as Athens and Corinth demonstrated at large in the gross idolatry and unblushing licentiousness of their population. It was a night most fatal to those who were exposed to its influence. Where there is darkness there is vice-there is crime- there is bloodshed. Where no vision is, the people perish. How few, of all who lived beyond the land of Judea, exhibited anything like moral excellence! They had all their conversation in the lusts of the flesh; fulfilling the desires of the flesh and the mind, and were the children of wrath. Then was the harvest of the god of this world. He reigned supreme. Awful, fatal night! Who can describe its horrors?-who enumerate its victims? But it is past. The night of the world is gone. The shadows of ages are fleeing apace-the gloom of more than four thousand years is hastening away. Though every valley is not illuminated, nay, though the greater part of the world is lying in the shadow of death, say not It is night; for, II. The words before us assert, that THE SUN "I am come a light into the world." And how glorious the light he has shed on the character of God, on the requirements of his law, on the doctrine of a divine providence, on the certainty of a future state, and, above all, on the way in which the guilty and polluted children of men may be justified, sanctified, and eternally saved! Life and immortality have been brought to light through the Gospel. And how blissful the influence which this knowledge is exerting, which the risen Sun of Righteousness is putting forth! Wherever its power is felt, the phantoms of superstition are dissipated, and the mists of error melt away. Vice disappears, crimes grow less frequent, and peace, love, and happiness prevail. Such in kind are the effects produced, however limited in extent; but they will not always, they will not long, be so circumscribed. "The beam that shines from Zion hill shall lighten every land." Many people shall go and say: "Come ye, and let us walk in the light of the Lord." For the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea." This leads us to re mark, IS UP, and hastening to its zenith. The dayspring from on high hath visited us. Sunrise is beautiful, but what shall we say of the rising of the Sun of Righteousness after so long, and dark, and fatal, a night? Surely it must have excited the most rapturous emotion, and the whole family of man would hail with enthusiasm his first appearing. But, alas! this was the case only with a very few, who were waiting for the consolation of Israel. To understand this, we must go to Bethlehem-and there, in an inn, and in the stable of the inn, we shall find Him who is "raised up a light to lighten the Gentiles, and to be the glory of his people Israel." How mean his outward condition and appearance !-yet there are circumstances that intimate he was no ordinary person. Let us suppose ourselves in the city of David on this momentous occasion. Day draws to a close. Evening descends, stilling the bustle of the town, at this time unprecedentedly great, and covering the extensive plains that stretch from under Bethlehem to the Dead Sea with its shade. It is night. No stir is heard, except for a moment as the shepherd walks his round. But, lo! of a sudden the stillness is broken-an III. That the words before us assure us that angelic voice is heard, and a form, surrounded PERFECT DAY IS APPROACHING. The sun is up by a supernatural brightness, illuminating far and is waxing to millennial effulgence. Then and wide the plain, bursts upon the view. The the light of the moon shall be as the light of shepherds to whom the vision appeared are con- the sun, and the light of the sun shall be sevenfounded and sore afraid. Conscious of guilt, fold, as the light of seven days. Then the Bible and mindful of the awful fate of those who once will be more thoroughly understood while it lived at the extremity of the plains where they will be universally circulated-the ordinances, now tended their flocks, they probably appre- of the Gospel will be everywhere enjoyed, and hended a similar doom. But "the angel said the Spirit poured down in copious effusion. unto them, Fear not, for behold I bring you Methinks I behold the scene. The sounds of good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all misery that rose from the habitations of man people. For unto you is born this day in the have died away--the din of war is hushedcity of David a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. the smoke of unhallowed sacrifices no longer And suddenly there was with the angel a multi-pollutes the breeze. "The people that walked tude of the heavenly host, praising God and say-in darkness have seen a great light; they that ing, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth dwell in the land and the shadow of death, peace and good will toward men." Looking upon them hath the light shined.” now at that infant lying in the manger, say who is it we behold --"The Shiloh "" the peacemaker"-"the prophet like unto Moses"-"the seed of the woman who is to bruise the serpent's The whole earth is one scene of beauty and head"-" the desire of all nations." No wonder gladness. "The wilderness and the solitary place then, that the Magi, when they saw the star stand- are glad, and the desert rejoices and blossoms ing over where he lay, rejoiced with exceeding as the rose." Nor is this a mere figment of the great joy-that the shepherds returned from imagination never to be realized. "It shall Bethlehem glorifying and praising God, and that come to pass in the last day, that the mountain devout old Simeon, clasping in his arms the child of the Lord's house shall be established on the of promise, exclaimed, "Lord, now lettest thou tops of the mountains, and shall be exalted thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have above the hills, and all nations shall flow unto seen thy salvation!" "O Zion, that bringest it." "From the rising of the sun, even unto good tidings, get thee up into the high mountain the going down of the same, my name shall be O Jerusalem, that bringest good tidings, lift great among the Gentiles; and in every place up thy voice with strength, lift it up, be not incense shall be offered unto my name, and a afraid, say unto the cities of Judah, Behold your pure offering; for my name shall be great among God!" Henceforth a new order of things be- the heathen, saith the Lord of hosts." "There gins. What was prophecy has become history-shall be an handful of corn on the earth upon what was type and figure, reality and substance. The darkness is past, and the true light now shineth. Hence the language of Jesus himself, "One song employs all nations; and all cry. the top of the mountains; the fruit thereof shall shake like Lebanon; and they of the city shall flourish like grass of the earth. His name RODOLPHE PEYRANI, shall endure for ever: his name shall be continued as long as the sun; and men shall be blessed in him: all nations shall call him blessed." Nor is this all. Looking beyond millennial times to the restitution of all things, we recognise a scene more glowing still a sky without a cloud-a sun without a spot-a soil without a curse a people who are forgiven all their iniquities: "And the city has no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it; for the glory of God lightens it, and the Lamb is the light thereof." RODOLPHE PEYRANI, A PASTOR OF THE VAUDOIS. [THIS graphic and affecting account of a visit to the aged and well known Waldensian pastor, Rodolphe Peyrani, is from the pen of Dr Gilly.] We were received at the door by a mild, sensible, and modest-looking young man, dressed in faded black, to whom we communicated our wish of being introduced to M. Peyrani. He replied, that his father was very unwell, but would be happy to see any English gentleman, who did him the honour of a visit. We were afraid that we might disturb the invalid, and therefore hesitated to intrude, until we had begged M. Vertu to see M. Peyrani first, and ascertain whether the sight of strangers would be agreeable. The answer was in our favour, and we were now conducted up a narrow stair-case, through a very small bed-room, whose size was still further contracted by several book-cases, This led into another bed-room, more amply provided still with shelves and books. The apartment was about fourteen feet square, low, and without any kind of decoration of paint or paper hanging. At a small fire, where the fuel was supplied in too scanty a portion to impart warmth to the room, and by the side of a table covered with books, parchments, and manuscripts, sat a slender, feeble-looking old man, whose whole frame was bowed down by infirmity. A nightcap was on his head, and at first sight we supposed he had a long white beard hanging down upon his neck; but, upon his rising to welcome us, we perceived that it was no beard, but whiskers of a length which are not often seen, and which had a very singular effect. His dress consisted of a shabby, timeworn, black suit, and white worsted stockings, so darned and patched that it is difficult to say whether any portion of the original hose remained. Over his shoulder was thrown what once had been a cloak, but now a shred only, and more like the remains of a horse-cloth, than part of a clerical dress. This cloak, in the animation of his discourse, frequently fell from his shoulders, and was replaced by his son with a degree of filial tenderness and attention extremely prepossessing. The sickly-looking sufferer, in this humble costume-in this garb of indigence-was the moderator of the Vaudois; the successor of a line of prelates, whom tradition would extend to the apostles themselves; the high priest of a Church, which is, beyond all shadow of doubt, the parent Church of every Protestant community in Europe, and which centuries of persecution have not been able to destroy. The welcome which we received from our venerable host, was expressed with all the warmth and sincerity of one whose kindly feelings had not yet been chilled by years or sufferings; and the manner in which it was delivered, displayed a knowledge of the world, and a fine tact of good breeding, which are 351 not looked for in Alpine solitudes, or in the dusty study of a recluse. We were predisposed to respect his virtues and piety, and had been given to understand that he was a man of the first literary acquirements; but we did not expect to find the tone and manners of one whose brows would do honour to the mitre of any diocese in Europe. There was nothing of querulousness in any of his observations, nor did he once express himself with the least degree of bitterness upon the subject of his own grievances, from him upon these topics, was related more in the or those of his community. That which we gathered form of historical detail, than as matters which so materially concerned himself and connections. Our conversation was held generally in French; sometimes we addressed him in English, which he understood, but did not speak; but when I engrossed his discourse to myself, we spoke in Latin, as being the language in which we could not mistake each other, and affording the most certain medium of communication upon ecclesiastical subjects, where I was anxious to ascertain facts with precision. Nothing could be more choice or classical than his selection of words; and I was not more surprised by his fluency of diction, than by the extraordinary felicity with which he applied whole sentences from ancient poets, and even prose authors, to convey his sentiments. M. Peyrani spoke with so much rapidity, and his thoughts followed each other in such quick succession, that he never suffered himself to be at a loss for words. If the Latin term did not immediately occur to him, he made no pause, but instantly supplied its place by a French or Italian phrase. This animation of manner had such an effect upon his whole frame, that very soon after we began to converse with him, the wrinkles seemed to fall from his brow, a hectic colour succeeded to the pallidness of his countenance, and the feeble and stooping figure, which first stood before us, elevated itself by degrees, and acquired new strength and energy. In fact, while he was favouring me with a short history of himself, I might have forgotten that he had exceeded the usual limits of man's short span; and I must repeat, that it is impossible to admire sufficiently the Christian character of the individual, or of the Church which he represented, when I recollect the meek resignation with which he submitted to his hard fate, and the forbearance he exhibited, whenever his remarks led him to talk of the vexatious and oppressive proceedings, which have never ceased to mark the line of conduct pursued by the Sardinian Government in regard to the Churches of the Waldenses. M. Peyrani's book-shelves were loaded with more than they could well bear; and when I noticed the number of the volumes which lay scattered about the room, or were disposed in order, wherever a place could be found for them, he told me, that if he were now in possession of all that once were his, the whole of his own and the adjoining house would be insufficient to contain them. He said he had bought a great many himself; but the principal portion of his library was the accumulation of his father and grandfather, and of more distant ancestors; and expressed much regret that he could no longer display the folios, and curious old manuscripts that had been handed down to him. I asked what had become of them. "They have been sold," he replied, with considerable emotion; for he had been compelled to part with them from time to time to purchase clothes, and even food, for himself and family! It was with extreme regret we witnessed the approach of the hour which told us we must take leave of the venerable Peyrani. The good humour, cheerfulness, and resignation of the old man-his perfect recollection of events and conversations which took place years ago-his profound erudition and general information, lent a deep and peculiar interest to his discourse. My young companions were rivetted with attention. He appeared to them like a being of a different order to what they had been used to see; all that they heard and saw had more the air of romance than reality. The little window of the room opened upon the wild mountain scenery of Pomaretto; the roar of the distant torrents was heard through the casement; and the impression left by the whole scene was so much the greater, from the contrast between the elevated character of the noble old man, and the circumstances in which he was placed. Poverty within, and desolation without, formed a dark and striking back-ground to the portrait of the philosophic minister, whose lips teemed with eloquence, and whose mind was stored with all the riches of the most intellectual society. The looks of my friends, as they wandered from the window to the moderator, sufficiently told me what was passing within their breasts; and they did not escape the notice of M. Vertu, who watched with an inquiring eye, to observe what impression the aged moderator of his Church would make upon the strangers. Holding him in the utmost reverence himself, he was all anxiety that we should do the same; and could not disguise his feelings of delight at every mark of respect which we paid to the sacred representative of this primitive Christian community. Before we parted, I looked several times earnestly round the room, that I might carry away with me every possible recollection of the chamber in which Rodolphe Peyrani was likely to finish his days. The ordinary and antique furniture, and the prints which hung upon the walls, were all objects of interest; and some of them illustrated the character of the man. In the centre, and directly over the fire-place, was the moderator's diploma, presented to him by the Royal Academy of Turin. On one side of the diploma was George IV., taken when he was Prince of Wales; on the other, the King of Sardinia; for no sufferings or injustice done to him could efface the loyal principles of M. Peyrani. Several kings of Prussia, Isaac Newton, Luther, and Calvin, occupied another place; and the Duke of Wellington, and Lord William Bentinck, were in a very conspicuous situation. The good man pointed to the latter, and spoke of him with much gratitude. "If anything could have been done for the Vaudois, Lord William would have effected it," he said; "but the restored king was deaf even to his intercessions." As M. Peyrani followed us feebly down stairs, he showed us the door of an apartment which had never been opened, he told us, since the day on which his brother had been carried out of it, to be consigned to the grave. I asked what brother, and the answer was a momentary shock. It was Ferdinand Peyrani, the pastor of Pramol. It was like hearing the knell of a dear friend. Ferdinand Peyrani was the first person who interested me in the history of the Vaudois. It was his letter, addressed to the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, which directed my attention to them, and occasioned this excursion to their Alpine retreats. He was one of the pastors to whom I felt so anxious to be introduced, and this was the first news of his being no more. His death was hastened by the scurvy, a disorder increased by poverty and want. At the door of his humble presbytery the aged moderator wrung our hands, and said farewell with every symptom of regret at parting. He stood at the threshold, watching our departing steps, and the last sight that I had of his long grey locks, floating in the wind, left an impression that will not soon be removed. I am sure nobody could take leave, as we did, of M. Peyrani, with the certainty of seeing him no more, without being sensibly affected. His son accompanied us to the edge of the torrent, and there we said adieu to him.. The venerable Peyrani has since died. Dr Gilly visited his grave on his return to the valleys. He says in his second work : Before we entered the village, we made a pilgrimage to the new church and church-yard; but I find it inpossible to describe our reflections as we stood over the grave of Peyrani, surrounded by his son and grandson, and nephew, Timoleon Peyrani. Six years have but just passed away since my interview with him, and now the sods that cover him have nearly sunk to the level of the ground; the letters, that were faintly traced upon his rude tomb-stone, are almost obliterated, and in a few years nothing will remain to mark the place where his ashes repose-so neglected is the spot which is called the cemetery of Pomaretto. As in my last communication I stated that, from the smallness of our craft, we had been constrained to set part of our boating company ashore, and as I took no further notice of them, some may suspect that we left them to shift for themselves in a barren, and at that time, I believe, an uninhabited island.* In justice to ourselves we must render an account. On landing them at the pier, I told them that they might either climb the hill or walk southward along the shore, and visit, if they chose, St Molios' Cave. They chose the walk by the shore. Neither of the walks would have been new to me. I have both circumnavigated and circumambulated the isle, and ¦ I have been more than once at its summit; but the years that have since fled have carried away with As the conical isle is nearly one thousand feet in them the remembrance of much that saw and felt. height, the view from the top, of the mainland on one side, and of Arran on the other, is very magnificent. The only plants that I remember are Pyrola minor, found among the heath in ascending from the north; and abundance of Arbutus uva-ursi, covering with its trailing branches a great extent of the southern descent. It has a fine appearance, the scarlet berries contrasting so well with its dark evergreen leaves. The berries are tempting to the eye; but they are of an austere taste. So think not the moor-fowl, whose favourite food they seem to be, and many a fine repast they must furnish. God has other creatures besides man to provide for; and where provision has been made for them, there they abound in Arran, know well where juniper-berries, take up their abode. The grouse and black-game which craw-berries, blae-berries, and the bear-berries of the Arbutus uva-ursi, are to be found. When Arran was richly wooded, as it continued to be in the end of the sixteenth century, we are told that it was one of * The only house on the Isle is the occasional residence of James Oswald, Esq., M.P. He has erected a nice wooden pier near his house. the favourite resorts of the capercailzie, or cock of the level was higher than at present, with its mouth dewoods. The forests perished, and the capercailzie fended by a wall of loose stones. On the roof of the disappeared. His Grace the Duke of Hamilton is cave, there is a Runic inscription, stating the name trying to re-establish them in their ancient place of and office of the saint; and, a little raised above its resort; but the attempt is premature. Arran must floor, a shelf of rock, said to have been his bed. In again be, partially at least, covered with woods, ere the neighbourhood of the cave, there is a large flat the capercailzie will be tempted to abide in it. By stone, called his dining-table, and a spring of pure putting the eggs of this bird, large as a turkey, into water (his bath), much resorted to in the ages of the nests of the grouse, on the mountain side, many superstition, and celebrated for the healing virtues of them have been hatched; but when reared, they alleged to have been communicated to it by the either die or make their escape. A few weeks ago, prayers and blessings of the saint." I heard of one of the game-keepers returning with a stray one which he had captured in the Lowlands, where it had probably been in search of fir-woods, in which they find suitable nourishment. In "An Original Survey of the Geology of the Island of Arran, by Andrew C. Ramsay, Esq.," which led to his being placed at the head, in Scotland, of the great national geological survey which is now going on, we are informed that the coast of Lamlash Bay is composed of red sandstone, intersected by numerous dykes. Three of these are of claystone, and eleven of greenstone. "The dependency of Holy Isle does not differ in structure from the southern district of Arran; presenting the common red sandstone occasionally visible on the shore, overflowed by a great mass of claystone, and claystone porphyry, to the height of about one thousand feet. In the southeastern district, veins of trap may be seen penetrating the sandstone horizontally." Much of the porphyry is the variety called clinkstone porphyry, which here ranges itself in rude columns, placed over each other, and resting on the red sandstone. As our young wanderers, instead of climbing among elinkstone rocks, went along the shore in the direction of St Molios' Cave, we shall follow them. They had not proceeded far till Isabella, having got the start of the other two, had nearly stepped on a grisly native of the island, in the form of a large venomous adder. "Obstupuit, retroque pedem cum voce repressit : Anguem, trepidaque repente refugit,* Attollentem iras, et cærula colla tumentem," Without waiting to spout Latin-wiser on this occasion than our first mother Eve-she took to flight, and brought up her sisters as a reinforcement; but the subtle serpent, not choosing to abide the rencounter, had glided away to some safe lurking-place among the heather. The Cave of St Molios (pronounced Molees) is on the upper side of the path which winds along the shore on the western side of the isle. I have repeatedly visited, and with considerable interest examined, this cave; but as several years have since intervened,instead of trusting to my memory, I shall quote from the New Statistical Account of Scotland. It is therein stated that St Molios, or, as the name means in Gaelic, the shaved or bare-headed servant of Jesus, being a disciple of St Columba, came from Iona, and took up his residence "in this lonely isle, whence he diffused the light of Christianity, among the formerly Pagan inhabitants of Arran. The cave which formed his residence, is merely an excavation in the red sandstone, hollowed out by the sea when its I beg Virgil's pardon for spoiling one of his noble lines. The Lord has been good and kind to Scotland. With the exception of Judea, there is no other land on the face of the earth, the religious history of which is so deeply interesting. Even within the boundaries of Arran, there are vestiges by which we can trace some of the great religious changes which have taken place in our land. Time has spread his dark wing over the state of the inhabitants of this island before the introduction of Christianity. Pagans they were, undoubtedly; but whether they were Druids, or worshippers of the imaginary gods of Scandinavia, is matter of uncertainty. Some think that the circles of stone found in several places of Arran are the remains of Druidical temples. At Tormore, for instance, the large trunks of oak trees still imbedded in the surrounding moss, are evidently the remains of a forest; and as the Druids worshipped in oak forests, it is thought by many that the remarkable circles at Tormore are the remains of one of their great temples. A well-worn perforation in the side of one of the stones was pointed out to me as the hole through which the cord went that bound the victim when brought to the altar, though some of the Highlanders say that it was here that Fingal fastened his stag-hound, Bran. It must have been for some important purpose that these circles were formed. Near these circles there are three upright columns of stone, about fifteen feet in height, and eleven or twelve feet in circumference. From the top of one of them I, with some difficulty, brought down a fine large specimen of the lichen, called Ramalina Scopulorum, which I still have in my possession. The stones are old red sandstone; and making allowance for what is under ground, they cannot be less than twenty feet in length. It would be no easy task, even in the present day, with all the progress we think we have made in the arts and sciences, to bring stones of such magnitude to this place, and to erect them so as that they would stand for many ages. The great uncertainty as to the purpose for which these were erected, and our utter ignorance of the name even of one of those who must have exulted in their erection, as an achievement well fitted to hand down their names to posterity, is humbling to the vanity of man. "Let us build us a city, and a tower whose top may reach unto heaven; and let us make us a name, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth," said the impious builders of Babel. "But the Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth;" their unfinished tower has crumbled they soon returned to the dust; and though they are held up to posterity, it is as vain shadows, unworthy even of "a name." |