St. James the Apostle.

JULY 25.

HIS Apostle owed his peculiar designation to the necessity of discriminating between him and his namesake who was called the Less; although it has been left doubtful whether he received the title of Great on account of his seniority, his superior stature, or the particular favour bestowed upon him by our Lord, of whose kindred he was. His father was Zebedee, a fisherman of some substance; and his mother, Mary, surnamed Salome, was cousin-german-Hebraicè sister-to the Blessed Virgin. James was therefore the Brother of St. John the Evangelist, with whom and St. Peter he was associated in so close an intimacy with Christ as to be admitted to situations of affection and confidence from which the rest of the Twelve were excluded. The two brothers, James and John, were called by Christ, Boanerges, or Sons of Thunder, possibly from the noble vehemence and the moral power of their teaching, which seemed to reverberate throughout the world.

Salome was ambitious for her sons, and they for themselves: and a prayer was presented to Christ, that they might be His assessors, one on the right hand and one on the left, in His kingdom-a prayer which brought down upon them a rebuke from our Lord, and which stirred the indignation and jealousy of the other disciples.

Rash was the tongue, and unadvisedly bold,

Which sought, Salome, for thy favoured twain
Above their fellows in Messiah's reign
On right, on left, the foremost place to hold.
More rash, perhaps, and bolder, that which told
Of power the Saviour's bitter cup to drain,
And, passing stretch of human strength, sustain

His bath baptismal. Lord, by Thee enrolled
Thy servant, grant me Thy Almighty grace,
My destined portion of Thy griefs to bear,
Even what Thou wilt! But chiefly grant, Thy face
Within Thy glory's realm to see, where'er

Most meet Thy wisdom deems; whate'er the place,
It must be blest, for Thou, my God, art there!

The foregoing Sonnet is taken from the late Bishop Mant's 'Happiness of the Blessed,' in which volume it has for its title, 'The Ambitious Disciples;' and the one which follows, from the same volume, defines the spirituality of the method to be observed in order to attain the objects of Christian Ambition.'

'Ambition is the vice of noble souls!'

If 'tis a vice, then let those souls beware,
Thrice noble though they be, and passing fair
In the world's eye, and high upon the scrolls,
Her favoured minions where the world inrolls,
Lest it conduct to shame! Be thine the care,
Soldier of Christ, that nobler strife to dare,
Which the rash spirit of the world controls,
And makes ambition virtue! Be it thine

To win thy bright unfading diadem

By works of love!-Around his brows shall shine
In heaven from glory's source the purest beam,
Whose aspect here, with beauty most divine,

Reflects the image of the GOOD SUPREME.

Ambition is one of the most common phases of discontent; but although its spring be simple and readily intelligible, its streams and currents are many and perplexing. Its phenomena are wellnigh endless. Now it would rule, now it would love, now it would execute justice, now it would bring hope and safety-but always without and beyond the bounds of ordained and legitimate activity. In the series of Sonnets which we are about to present to the reader, the changing desire to stand in different, though always in spectacular and magnificent, relations to the world according to its different phases is exhibited, and, in the last of them, rebuked. The cravings of an indiscriminating benevolence, equally with the impulses of an utterly selfish ambition, must be tamed to acquiescence. Neither the sovereignity of the world, nor the salvation of the world, can be relegated to any hand which is less than divine; and a reasonable humility will forbid the violent appropriation of any peculium, as well that of a fellow-man as of the Creator of all men. The words of Jesus may in this respect be regarded as a universal canon of life and practice :- Render to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's, and to God the things that are God's.' The 'Sonnets' referred to are transcribed from the 'Churchman's Family Magazine' for December, 1866.

PHASES OF AMBITION.

Ten fathoms on the other side of steep,

The mighty cliff on whose bare top I stood O'erhung the ravings of the breaking flood, And mocked unmoved the trouble of the deep; It seemed nor land nor sky, but more the keep Where spirits of a godlike hardihood

Planned all aloft their own aërial good,
And left the pitiful earth to smile or weep.
The eagle fed her brood a mile below,

The arch of heaven seemed scarce a mile above;
And from my loftiness, all undismayed,

In sunshine higher than the line of snow,

I scorned Olympus and its puny Jove:
'Lord, let me rule the world!' I proudly prayed.
O'er seas remote and near, and many a land,

And many a gossamer cloud that sailed between,
Taking all colours from the constant sheen,

I looked before, behind, on either hand;
Whilst Beauty smote the distance with her wand,
Till lands and seas wore purple over green,

And to my thought Earth seemed a sleeping queen.

I. who, upon my glorious vantage-stand,
Felt every inch a King, and more than all,

Yet stooped to tenderness for things so fair;
And, growing larger-hearted in my pride,

Commended Nature in her regal pall;

And as she dearer grew, and yet more dear,
'Lord, let me love the world!' I fondly sighed.
Then, as my gaze grew ever more intense,

Keener my eye became, so that the whole
Unveiled its parts from pole to distant pole ;

And, peering from my aëry eminence,

Cities and men first fixed my wandering sense

Of sight; then struck my ear; then vexed my soul,
Till wrath took hold on me without control,

And all things grouped in one supreme offence.
Theft cheated theft; and lie lied back to lie ;

And murder murder slew; and crime shamed crime;
And oath at oath, and curse at curse was hurled,
Till the charged air shook with the blasphemy.

Then, in a grand impatience of the time,

Fiercely I prayed, 'Lord, let me smite the world!'
Then up from seething city and from plain,

And up from battle-field and flowery mead,
Went forth a mighty cry as if of dread,
And fear, and terror, and of bitter pain;
The giant anguish echoed from the main ;

All life to all things but to woe was dead,
And suffering sin did for a Saviour plead.
Arose a mist as if of floating rain,

A bank of clouds formed out of countless tears
And infinite human weeping, and before

Where all guilt's banners flaunted forth unfurled,

The signals of a myriad deep despairs

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