Year: 1870




The sere and yellow leaf of Autumn
lies prone upon the ground, at last vic
tim to its destroying power. The lofty
trees stand shivering in the sunlight,
stretching their naked limbs toward the
cold blue expansc of heaven as if craving
its protection. The piercing winds whis-
per mournfully through the desolate for
est, where the solitary notes of the dove
die away in lingering echoes on the dis
tant hills.


The sumner is past; the harvest is
ended, and with the fruits of his industry
stored, a" ere the coming of wintry wealth
er," the farmer and husbandman rest until
the glad coming of spring again. The
delicate flowers which could scarce with
stand the gentlest breeze of heaven are
faded and gone; the gentle lily which
bowed its lowly head before the approach
ing storm; ; the timii bud, deprived of its
unfolding leaves by the cruel showers,
were unequal for the fercer contest, and
lie mouldering in the dust. High upon
the topmost branch of a. stately elm, sits
little robin cheerfully singing his accus-
toned song, in the vain hopes of awaken
ing q responsive echo. But, all in vain.
No familiar sound greets his listening ear
the dry leaves whirling by, the wind moan
ing through the barring limbs, whisper
" all are gone" A moment more, and he
too has flown to q warmer cline, eer
Winter chains him in her icy embrace.


The leason of our Church has closed.
We haze followed, with oft faltering steps,
the progress of our Saviour from the lowly
Babe in the manger to His glorious as
sension into the realms of Glory. On
Christmas Day we assembled to celebrate
the dawning into the world of that Light,
which still steadily burns to every faith
full follower, and as we listened to the joy
GUS anthem which swelled triumphantly
even to the arches of Heaven, we were
ready to exclaim in the words of the
hymn


would that his hands had been placed on my head
That His arms had been thrown around me-


And so time rolls on the short life of
the Redecmer is over His work is ended
and on Good Friday we again assemble,
but on what different occasion The
earth is vciled in gloom; the stars have
ceased to shine; and Sorrows voice chants
requiem for the Son of Col destroyed
by sinful men. The day is over; and as
the shadows lengthen from the hillside, a
solemn sadness falls upon the face of Ma
ture. We see in imagination, that awful
group upon Calvary; the armed soldiers;
our Saviour's bleeding form; and the
=" faithful few" gathered near him. We
here the rocks bursting asunder; We see
the ghastly dead rise from their silent
sleep; and, last OF all, comes the voice of
that patient sufIerer--' 1t is finished. p"


Again VIC gather together and with
burst of heavenly music, the Church pro-
has burst the barriers of the tomb, and is
" King" With grateful hearts we ." shout
the glad tidinga, exultingly sing" and
wonder not at the awe which fell upon the
shepherds of Judca. On Ascension Day
we watched with the people of old His
ascent into the regions of Glory, and al
most hear the voice of that Father who
sent his only Son into the world, exclaim
-" This is my beloved Son. Again on
Trinity Sunday we celebrate that holy
mystcry-thc Three in One, which our
weaker intcllects cannot grasp, but which
we believe upon " the evidence of things
not SEEN" And SO the seasons come and
go, each with its peculiar pains and plea
sures. The sadiest time of all the year
is Autumn, when every feature of the
fading landscape speaks in language in
telligible to the dullcst observer, the SOL
emn words" Passing away Autumn
sunlight glances among the gaily colored
heavens; the sharp winds impart richer
bloom to the cheek of health, but, like the
hectic it warns US of approaching dissolu-
ton of the time when fair Summer with
rcgretful signs gathers her draperies about
her and lies down to rest. 1RTNB.


New Castle, Del.