Southern Christian Advocate

THE FALLEN ALTAR.

The one we saw was not a relic of ancient days. It had never stood the pride of a pagan temple. We had never roamed through heathen lands to gaze at the memorials of former greatness. Had we done it, we might have felt and proclaimed the melancholy emotions such scenes awaken. But such scenes could not have given us more sadness than the ruin we saw.

It was a fallen family altar! There it lay in the ignoble dust. Once it was erect. The most splendid altar paganism ever erected had no such comeliness; even though made of precious ivory and adorned with "barbaric pearls and gold." Honored that family altar once was. Fragrant incense was burned upon it. The head of that domestic circle was its priest, and laid thereon the pure offering. The gathered household were always present to unite in that sacred, solemn and joyful service. It was more pleasant to behold that scene or even heavenly witnesses, than though, in idol worship. Lebanon should burn and all the beasts thereof should be the burnt offering.

But the altar has fallen! The fire has gone out. The incense was no longer. It was a sad day when the altar fell. The heart of that father was not at ease when he threw it down. But there was sorrow in the bosom of the mother of those children. It was a day of gloom and thick darkness when prayer ceased. "No praise! no thanks! no supplication!" This was the exclamation of her pious, anxious heart. Have we become as the heathen that call not on his name! And one child said to another, "The altar is fallen!" and its fellow in sadness replied, "It is fallen!" They gazed and wondered and inquired. And they went to sleep no longer hearing the sound of prayer, and they awaked to say, "The altar is fallen!" And time ran on. and there lay the altar. The godly saw it and were sad, the wicked saw it and were glad.

God sent prosperity. The passing months were loaded with his benefits. Should there not have been the sweet incense of praise? But there lies the altar!

Then came adversity also. A fair flower fell by the frost of death. One of those loved ones, who had once wondered what had become of the family altar, went down into the dark valley without hearing the voice of prayer. And when the sad funeral scenes were over and the empty place was noticed, and the whip and the rattle unused now, met the eye and spoke to the heart, it was thought the fallen altar would be set up, and that the God of judgment would be sought for his mercy.

But there lies the altar!--Boston Recorder