Morning Star

From the Christian Sentinel.

CAMP-MEETING SCENE AT NIGHT
Administration of the sacrament.

The dark gloom of night had succeeded the golden beams of one of the loveliest days of September, and the pale glimmering of the fires and innumerable torches, admonished us that the hour was approaching when the sacred emblems of a Redeemer's broken body, and shed blood, were to be solemnly administered to the little flock that had assembled in the sacred grove to

"Swell devotion's song & drop devotion's tear."

The scene was calculated to awaken all the faculties of the soul in lively remembrance of the affecting event about to be commemorated. The encampment was situated at the foot of the Blue Ridge, and surrounded with lofty oak and chestnut, that had defied the mountain storm for many generations, and stood like the inaccessible summits of the lofty ridge, a connecting link between the associations of the past, and the distant future.

The giant shadow of the mountain thrown across the grove, rendered the darkness more impervious, while the moaning of the wind among the trees, added to the deep solemnity which the scene was calculated to produce. I stood on the outskirts of the camp, and thought of the gloomy garden, the tragic scenes of the judgment hall, the pillar and the cross; my mind wandered through the intervening ages to the moment that gave birth to my reflections—how changed the scene: then the poor weeping disciples, bereft of their only friend, stood unsustained and exposed to persecution; to-day, the church in all the glory of the Redeemer's bride, triumphs over fallen thrones and exploded systems. Through intervening ages oppressed and contemned, to-day the glory of the whole earth—the power of the living God attending her ministrations. Though still exposed to persecution, proudly bidding defiance to the army of aliens, as in every age, turning aside the fiery darts of her adversaries with the shield of faith. To-day she lifts up the curtain of time yet to come, and looking along the vista made luminous with the smile of her countenance, she points to the dawning of that day when her militant state shall cease, and her crowns of glory and palms of victory shall be distributed.

In the language of the seer-like bard that sung the "Course of Time:"

"How fair the daughter of Jerusalem, then!
How gloriously from Zion's hill she looked!
Clothed with the sun—and in her train the moon;
And on her head a coronet of stars;
And girding round her waist, with heav'nly grace,
The bow of mercy bright; and in her hand
Immanuel's cross—her sceptre and her hope."

The trumpet sounded, and I hasted to the stand. The beautiful hymn, "That doleful night before his death," &c. broke the stillness of the forest, and re-echoed through the unnumbered recesses of the mountain, as though the spirits of the just were joining in the celebration of the Eucharistic feast. The sacred elements were distributed, and every heart felt anew "that the blood of Christ was drink indeed." The scene around called forcibly to mind the gloomy garden, and under the strong illuminations of faith,

"We saw him heave, and heard him groan,
And felt his gushing blood."

Often in imagination have I visited "Mauping's Camp Ground," and gone through the pleasing solemn scenes I witnessed there. Again have I heard the voice of the Elder,—again have I seen the lurid glare of the fires, imparting an unearthly appearance to the surrounding atmosphere, spangling with particles of light the sable curtains of darkness. Oft have I held converse, in imagination, with many that feasted there—Even at this moment the recollection is as vivid as when the scenes transpired. Some of the communicants have gone to the distant west, others have been gathered to the tombs of their fathers; but the day is approaching, when the little flock that broke bread in the forest, shall again meet, where the sigh of parting and the voice of distance will no longer be heard, and shall drink the wine anew in the Master's Kingdom.

W.