The Rabbis used to say that David, the sweet singer of Israel, had a harp hung over his bed, which sounded at midnight of its own accord, and woke the king to prayer. And the children may remember that our own King Alfred is reported to have used graduated candles to measure the hours of the night. But until the advent of the pendulum, the accurate measurement of time was impossible. The face of the sky or the crowing of the cock could not give an exact chronometry. Nevertheless it had one clear advantage. It kept man in touch with nature. It made him listen reverently to the voices of the night. And that was an education which we can ill afford to disregard. We are not made richer by its loss. We may only have lost our reverence for the sake of our mathematics. Influenced by it, the pious Jew responded to every voice of nature by uttering a blessing on the divine name. Even when the crow of the cock fell on his ear he was instructed to say, "Blessed is He who hath given wisdom to the bird." If our modern chronometry has abolished that, perhaps we have paid too dear for our clocks and watches. To have time-pieces that go to the minute is a great deal; but to hear voices that keep us in touch with God is a great deal more. "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth." Rise up and pray at "_the voice of the bird_." We are even told that God giveth _songs_ in the night (Job xxxv. 10). "They err who say that music dwells Alone within the halls of light; In anthems loud it also swells Within the temple of the night. The happy birds that soar and sing May all be mute when day is done, The hum of insects on the wing May sink to silence with the sun. But when the sounds of toil are o’er, And silence reigns beneath the stars, A murmur runs along the shore, Where ocean smites his sandy bars. Its echo floats upon the wind, Beneath the moonbeam’s mystic light, And stealing o’er the listening mind, Produces music in the night. While far among the stars, as runs The legend through a thousand years, Amid the rolling of the suns Is heard the _music of the spheres_. The roll of ocean and of star Dispensing music through the night; The one behind its sandy bar, The other in the realms of light. But both to teach the human breast That He who guides the star and wave Can also breathe a psalm of rest Around the portal of the grave. The night of grief, of sin, of death, Is not impervious to His power; It feels the influence of His breath, Like springtime come to woo the flower. It melts in music o’er the soul, For grief has caught the glorious light, And rolling as the billows roll, _His_ songs are heard within the night." II.—THE COCK-CROWING AND THE FALL OF PETER.