marvellous disclosures of the Gospel history, our experience would fall short of that which was felt by those who saw His youth, and "were astonished at His understanding and answers." From what we know of His subsequent teaching, we may infer that the subject was the Scripture testimony to the Messiah-expounding the declarations of the Old Testament respecting Himself. The same may be inferred from His own avowal, that He "must be about His Father's business;" for the great object for which He was sent into this world, was to reveal Himself as the Messiah, and to accomplish His work, so far as this earth was to be the scene of it. He did not assert His own claim, for the time for its full proclamation was not yet come. "This He conceals, in deep and pure humility, from the astonished ones around Him; but this first reproof of His parents, now least expected,, extorts from its profoundest sanctuary this great utterance.'

He

Jesus said, "My Father"-untaught by his mother He yet knew to distinguish Him from Joseph, to whom Mary alluded under that hallowed name-and His words imply that His true Father was the Lord of heaven and earth, in whose temple He now stood. asserts, "I must be about my Father's business,"-literally, in the things of my Father. Some critics say His house is meant, others say His work; but the expression is general, including both. He was wholly given up to His Father's will, which He recognized as a higher obligation than can exist with reference to an earthly parent. To refer to His own memorable words, it was His meat to do the will of Him that sent Him,-He lived on earth, acted, and died with this great end in view. Being now a son of the law, He calls God His Father, His Master, His Teacher, and He cannot but obey Him in all things.

III. The mild remonstrance.-It is worthy of remark, that He acknowledges no wrong, and expresses no sorrow, for having caused anxiety to His parents. The absence of such acknowledgment seems, at first glance, strange and unfeeling; but the matter is explained when we remember the Scripture testimony regarding Him, that He "did no sin" (Is. 53:9; 1 Peter 2: 22). He here meets His mother's question by proposing other two. The first is, "Wherefore is it that ye sought me?" This. is certainly the language of remonstrance, though mild. Their anxiety, on His account, was quite uncalled for and misplaced. What they knew of His destiny, and what they had seen of His previous conduct, combined to reprove their fears. It was not properly His conduct, but their forgetfulness, which caused their sorrowing search. The second question is, "Knew ye not that it is necessary for me to be engrossed with the concerns of my Father?" This implies that they might have known, they had the means of knowing,-else how could

* Stier.

Wist is the preterite of the verb to wis or wit, i. e. to know, as the Greek word signifies.

they be culpable? They were, in fact, aware of His relation to God; but, familiar with His humanity, they overlooked it. This relation implied a Father's care, and protection of an Almighty hand.

Joseph and Mary "understood not" the words of Jesus at that time, but after the descent of the Holy Ghost at Pentecost, their meaning became clear to Mary. Jesus now went down with them to Nazareth, and "was subject unto them" for eighteen years more. He increased in wisdom as in years, His human nature being susceptible of improvement. He grew "in favour with God," and when, by baptism, He entered on his public ministry, a voice from heaven proclaimed,-" This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." He increased in favour also with man; for the gentle and genial feelings of His loving heart gradually developed themselves, and He had not yet begun to reprove them for their follies and

sins.

Our Saviour's conduct on the memorable occasion to which we have referred, memorable to His parents, and to all who heard Him, ought to be instructive as it is interesting to us. It commends the duty of waiting on God in His ordinances. His parents went annually to Jerusalem at the passover, and at the age of twelve, according to the custom of the Jews, He went with them. Nor were the holy family in any haste to leave the holy city; for, while many of the worshippers departed after the first of the seven days of unleavened bread that immediately followed the passover, they "fulfilled the days."

The example of our Saviour here enforces another duty-that of obedience to parents. When the parents of Jesus came up to the temple and found Him, "He went down with them, and came to Nazareth;" and it is added, that He continued to be "subject to them." The fact of a personal responsibility, devolving on Him now at the age of twelve years, in relation to the public worship of God, in the great congregation of Israel, at the solemn festivals, did not annul his obligation to obey His parents. In this He has set us an example, which is, no doubt, the great reason why the fact is recorded. Disrespect to parents is extremely unseemly, and is often the first step in the path to ruin,-an admonitory fact, which has been attested by many a criminal, with unavailing regret. To prevent this great evil, parents ought to be careful, kindly but firmly, to exact a steady obedience in early life. When the child is accustomed to it, and knows nothing else, he feels it to be a pleasing habit. The command is explicit, "Honour thy father and thy mother;" and the appended promise is precious, presenting a powerful motive," That thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee."

M.

(For the Presbyterian Magazine.)

"MY FATHER'S HEAD."

For resistance offered to the Stuart kings of Scotland, when they sought to overthrow Christian monarchy and substitute despotism in its place, James Guthrie, a Presbyterian pastor, perished on the scaffold, in February, 1661. When the following lines, relating to that event, were written, A. D. 1847, the author did not know that the subject was employing a bright heart and a fair hand in Great Britain. The incident can bear repetition. The attempt to treat it, as below, was made in the southern hemisphere, as is perhaps sufficiently indicated by allusions to external nature in those regions.

"I HAVE BEEN TO SEE MY FATHER'S HEAD."
THE Stuart came, and falsehood filled the land.
The Stuart reigned. High lineage had become
The nurse of hot-hatched vice. A gory hand

Held bare the axe of law. Justice was dumb,
And pleading silenced, as the nation's eye

Shrank from its thirsty glitter; for the brave
In throngs had been its harvest, and the high
In faith, fell-reaped into a bloody grave.

The doom of death was calmly borne; and ere

The day had passed, which sent the patriot home,
When his head bounded in the dust before

The headsman's stroke, and the moved city's hum
Was mute, as were the lips of that pale face,

Late heralding the words of hope and love,
In earnest pleadings, from Heaven's tender grace,
To man, the source of life and peace above,

The haughty murmur of heart agony,

The strong resolve of vengeance, faith, and grief,
Stirred their mind's depths, as they stood awed to see
That pale face waved before their eyes; but chief
The soul sobbed forth its moan of horror low,

When the tall spike received its ghastly load
O'er the thronged gate, where, hurrying to and fro,
Men, in their daily cares, with shuddering silence trode.

Their rustling steps were past and gone.
The widowed mother wept alone.
His dark-haired boy, their common pride,
Had wandered from her sheltering side;
Threading his way amid the throng,
Back crept he late, though sought for long,
And to her tearful whisper plead,-
"I have been to see my father's head."

The wintry wind moaned low. The lash
Swept tardily the watery flash

Of the dewed eyeball, and the snow
Melted in cold drops from the brow
Of the pale boy; when shivering eve,
Swift closing, brought him to receive
His mother's blessing, still he said-
"I have been to see my father's head."

The soft spring came. A higher sun
Threw shorter shadows o'er the dun
And misty street. Bright showery rays
To him recalled the streams, the sprays,
The flowers, the young heart's joy; but still
The gentle boy there, cold and chill,
Sought for the evening kiss, and said,-
"I have been to see my father's head."

The sky glows warm with summer's breath,
The wild bee hums along the heath;
The swallow sweeps the glassy pool;
The flocks kneel low in shadows cool.
Still from the dusty street returned
The orphan, as his thin cheek burned,
And to his mother, drooping, said,-
"I have been to see my father's head."

In winter's blast, in spring's cold rain,-
When summer's breathing scorched the plain,-
When autumn gleamed with whitening grain,-
When the sun glowed bright in the steadfast sky,
Or lightning streaked the gloom on high,
And the storm's loud shout in the thunder rolled,
Or the chilling mist swept drear and cold,—
On the damp stone seated, sorrowing, by,
That meek child gazed with glistening eye;
As morning's dewy rays were shed,
Or the glow of noon, on that ghastly head,
Till the twinkling star flashed clear behind,
Through tresses shook in the vesper wind,
Which hung with a dark and clinging streak,
As the moonbeam silvered the wasting cheek.
In sun, or moon, or flame of heaven,
Still to that child was patience given
To gaze,-remembering the sweet smile
Which would his infant woes beguile.
And fluttering memory, wet with tears,
Flew back o'er scenes of other years;
As the green sun-bird shakes his wings
From autumn's rain, and, as he flings
The cold dews off, quick, soars away,
Where summer gives a brighter day.

But still that unclosed eye above
Drew there his looks of shuddering love;
As it wasted deeper with passing days,
And met his glance with a hollower gaze.
Till he crept where he could weep awhile
On the gentle breast, which would beguile
His eyes to sleep, with the tenderness
Of their common woe, whose deep distress,
Apart from earth, was all their own.
So mourned the mother and the son;
As the pearly Ixia's starry flower
Perfumes the breath of the evening hour,
And folds her fragrance in her breast,
Till the sun's fierce ray has fallen to rest.

They sorrowed; but the eye of faith,
Clear-sighted, on him, torn away

In blood and shame, by the grasp of death,
Reposed in heavenly hope; and they
Partook of that heroic strength

In him, which tyranny had tried,

And failed to shake. Though stretched at length
There lay one stem, it was beside
A root, which yet retained the power
In fresher shoots to spring to life.
Till came, at length, the glorious hour,
When Faith o'ermastered Force in strife,
And scorched corruption, as the blaze
Shrivels the dark kloof's mushroom weeds,
That winter's rain and spring's bright rays
May nurse to beauty purer seeds,
And scatter gem-like buds, to flower
In waving streams along the rock.
Too soon, alas! the summer hour

May strip them from the withered stock.
So fled the freshness, which was breathed
A few short years upon our land.
The stranger bribed, and bribery wreathed
Its slimy links around our hand.

But loftier scenes, and fairer still,

There are, where such are not forgot,
And greetings on yon heavenly hill,
Where Zion's fragrance withers not.
And there, reclining by his knees,

And being taught the heavenly tone
Of Love's bright harp, the younger sees
The features of that older one,-
The gory head, whose shrinking eye
Froze in the winter's stormy breath,
Now bright with immortality,

And sweet in living love, beneath
The lofty crown, whose splendors flash
With more than starry rays, upon
The harp, from which his fingers dash
Love's song unto the Living One.

Another sits there, and the flowers

Wave brightly o'er her sunny brow,
Once steeped in sorrows, as the showers
Of winter load the Protea's bough.
To other scenes her thoughts flow back,
Nor shrink to meet earth's woes again;
When comes a pause on glory's track,

And gladness yields to short sweet pain.
She seemed to hear the low-breathed tone
Of dread, and love, and hope, and daring.
Her lip the cold cheek pressed alone,
Its glistening tear in sorrow sharing;
When, in the city's stifling room,

She watched the fair child's evening tread,
And heard him whisper in the gloom,-
"I have been to see my father's head."

But freshening glories, with their rush

Of wakening splendours, have recalled