1 SIS' E RA, captain of the army of the Canaanitish king, Jabin. He was utterly defeated by Barak. Fleeing on foot, he took refuge in the tent of Jael, wife of Heber. There, while asleep, Jael drove a nail through his temples, and so he died. His mother, finding he did not return from the battle, "looked out at a window, and cried through the lattice, Why is his chariot so long in coming?" Read 4th and 5th chapters of Judges. A MOTHER'S LOVE. ALBERT BARNES. 1. MANY of us who are advanced beyond the period of childhood, went out from home to embark on the stormy sea of life. Of the feelings of a father, and of his interest in our welfare, we have never entertained a doubt, and our home was dear because he was there; but there was a peculiarity in the feeling that it was the home of our mother. Where she lived, there was a place that we felt was home. There was one place where we would always be welcome, one place where we would be met with a smile, one place where we would be sure of a friend. 2. The world might be indifferent to us. We might be unsuccessful in our studies or our business. The new friends which we supposed we had made, might prove to be false. The honor which we thought we deserved, might be withheld from us. We might be chagrined and mortified by seeing a rival outstrip us, and bear away the prize which we sought. But there was a place where no feelings of rivalry were found, and where those whom the world overlooked, would be sure of a friendly greeting. Whether pale and wan by study, care, or sickness, or flushed with health and flattring success, we were sure that we should be welcome 1 ere. 3. Though the world was cold toward us, yet there was one who always rejoiced in our success, and always was affected in our reverses; and there was a place to which we might go back from the storm which began to pelt us, where we might rest, and become encouraged and invigorated for a new conflict. So have I seen a bird, in its first efforts to fly leave its nest, and stretch its wings, and go forth to the wide world. But the wind blew it back, and the rain began to fall, and the darkness of night began to draw on, and there was no shelter abroad, and it sought its way back tɔ its nest, to take shelter beneath its mother's wings, and to be refreshed for the struggles of a new day; but then it flew away to think of its nest and its mother no more. 4. But not thus did we leave our home when we bade adieu to it to go forth alone to the manly duties of life. Even amidst the storms that then beat upon us, and the disappointments that we met with, and the coldness of the world, we felt still that there was one who sympathized in our troubles, as well as rejoiced in our success, and that, whatever might be abroad, when we entered the door of her dwelling, we should be met with a smile. We expected that a mother. like the mother of Sisera, as she "looked out at her window," waiting for the coming of her son laden with the spoils of victory, would look out for our coming, and that our return would renew her joy and ours in our earlier days. 5. It makes a sad desolation when, from such a place, a mother is taken away, and when, whatever may be the sorrows or the successes in life, she is to greet the returning son or daughter no more. The home of our childhood may be still lovely. The old family mansion-the green fields—the running stream the moss-covered well-the trees-the lawn-the rose-the sweet-brier-may be there. Perchance; too, there may be an aged father, with venerable locks, sitting in his loneliness, with every thing to command respect and love; but she is not there. Her familiar voice is not heard. The mother has been borne forth to sleep by the side of her children who went before her, and the place is not what it was. 6. There may be those there whom we much love; but she is not there. We may have formed new relations in life, tender and strong as they can be; we may have another home, dear to us as was the home of our childhood, where there is all in affection, kindness, and religion, to make us happy; but that home is not what it was, and it will never be what it was again. It is a loosening of one of the cords which bound us to earth, designed to prepare us for our eternal flight from every thing dear here below, and to teach us that there is no place here, that is to be our permanent home. QUESTIONS.-1. What renders home doubly endearing? 2. Where are we always welcome? 3. Who always rejoices in our successes, and is 4. Who was Sisera, and what account is given of affected in our reverses? WRITE, mother, write! HOME JOURNAL A new, unspotted book of life before thee, 2. 3. The first few characters, to live in glory, Or live in shame, through long, unending ages Write, mother, write! Thy hand, though woman's, must not faint nor falter; The lot is on thee,-nerve thee then with care, A mother's tracery time may never alter; Be its first impress, then, the breath of prayer Write, father, write! Take thee a pen plucked from an eagle's pinion, Leave on his life-book a fond father's blessing, Write, sister, write! Nay, shrink not, for a sister's love is holy! Something to cheer him, his rough way pursuing, 4. 5. Write, brother, write! Strike a bold blow upon those kindred pages,- Write; shoulder to shoulder, brother, we will go; Heart linked to heart, though wild the conflict rages, We will defy the battle and the foe. Write, brother, write! We who have trodden boyhood's path together, Write, brother, write! Fellow immortal, write! One GOD reigns in the Heavens,-there is no other, Fellow immortal, write! QUESTIONS.-1. What may the mother write in the Life-Book? 2. What, the father? 3. What, the sister? 4. What, the brother? 5. What may all write? ODE, short poem. LESSON LXXXIV. PA TER' NAL, coming by inheritance. REC RE A' TION, amusement. |