CHRISTIAN ASPIRATION. From the French by Lamartine. BY MARY ELLEN. Oh that I had befitting words, O holy law, a mystery! The universe enthrones. One voice alone, these all employ, When winds the crested waves caress, Or sea doth roar in wild distress, When thunders war on high Ah! who as ignorant as we, One says:-'tis grand-sublimity! But man, Thine own immortal child, But simple words can find E'en these unmeaning-yea too frail, His soul, e'en like the storm confin'd Or like the foaming captive wave, As 'gainst the shore, it breaks-doth raveThen rolls into the sea. It wastes and wears itself away, 'Tis not an endless life that most I envy in th' angelic host— Nor glorious destiny. It is their harp, their heav'nly lyre, Ah! yes, within me something sighs, Ocean, upon whose peerless shore My longing soul-Oh! could it be, One word, to speak His name! His Name as Nature evermore, That Name the heav'ns e'er know. The thunder, yea, the hurricane, To hear, in silence wait. Hearing, with wonder thrill'd, the air, Delays to learn, the accent rare The skies-to iterate! That Name, repeated o'er and o'er, I then would say, without regret, THE WANDERING JEW. BY PERKIOMEN. I do not at all refer to Eugene Sue's. No; but to the wandering Jew of Providence. He is an extraordinary character, indeed, whether viewed from or independent of the Christian stand-point. You meet him every where--in city, town, and country; and always on the go. If the term "sinner" implies a wanderer, then is he a sinner beyond everybody else. Some one calls the Jews the pegs and nails in the great social edifice, since, disseminated as they are through all parts of the world, they become a medium by which mankind are knit and held together. The figure assigns but an inferior office to the chosen seed, it is true; but pegs and nails are nevertheless necessary to keep the framework in one. Before the telegraph stretched its slender arms out to embrace the nations, the Jew served its place, as an instrument by which the most distant people held converse with one another. Should any one call this idea "far-fetched," let it not be forgotten that our theme is of the far-and-wide order. He is as the bush ever-burning and not consumed. The coral animal is ever dying below and growing above-living and dying at once. (Is that some faint symbol of Eternal Death)? He has been slaughtered under the Roman Emperors; I cannot just say how often. Many hundred thousand times has he fallen in wars, in massacres, and in persecutions. Pagan and Christian nations have felled him to the earth. The Rabbins say: "Such torrents of his blood have been shed as carried rocks of an hundred yards in circumference above three miles into the sea!" But is he not just as much alive to-day as he was in the land of Canaan? He is a ubiquitous character. His faded and fresh footsteps may be traced all over Europe, Asia, Africa, and America. În the interior and on the frontiers he walks to day, as he walked yesterday and the day before. Like as with a singular earthworm-dismember him as you will, every particle will mature and perfect itself to the full measure again. His very ashes are seed, as they say of the phoenix bird. How tenacious he is of his creed! He had indeed been as fickle as the wind, right after his exodus from Egypt, and during his stay in his native land. Then he seemed an incorrigible apostate. Prophets, priests, and kings could not prevent him from bowing before the altars of idols. The slightest temptation could sway him over. But what a remarkable change came over him. Leech-like, he adheres to his religion. New sects may swarm around him; persecution and banishment may set against his religion; still he adheres. When the temple stood in sight he turned his back on it. Now, since it is no longer, he prays even towards its former site. What an extremist! Is there any accounting for these singularities? Why so undying? so ubiquitous? so tenacious of his faith? He lives and thrives ever, let us say, because he is ever busy. Did you ever see a lazy wandering Jew? Constant employment is with him a standing rule. From first a trade had to be acquired. It has rooted itself in him never to be lost. "Do something," is his motto. You see him often; but always with a little basket or bundle, if not with a larger one-never empty-handed, or a begging. And running waters are fresh and living, you know. So are busy inen healthy. Hence the wandering Jew is ever hearty. He is a temperate man. How abstemious he lives. He doesn't eat anything and everything the cook sets before him. High living cannot so easily move him. The market entices him in vain. Unless it is slain and dressed after the manner of his ancestry, he will not touch it. And temperance prolongs life. He is a non-combatant, though his hand is against every man, and every man's hand against him; yet he won't fight. He runs away and lives. The wandering Jew in military dress is a rare spectacle. In his eyes a bachelor is contraband. Generally before or about his twentieth year he is a married man. Now, add all these causes together and you know why the wandering Jew ever lives so thrivingly: His diligence, his temperance, his anti-war ideas, and his glorification of the family. Why is he so ubiquitous, though? Well, some fish delight in cloudy waters. The Jew is a rebellious character. "We are Abraham's seed, and were never in bondage to any man," is an idea that will never make him a good citizen anywhere. He was troublesome in this respect from his earliest day; he is so still; he will continue so. Hence he is driven out of all quarters. Banishment is dispersion. For a long while, too, no government cared to invest him in the land or office; and so he turned to trading. That turns him into a wanderer; and so he goes everywhere"never continuing in one stay." His restlessness and trading life account for his being everywhere-in a measure, at least. And why, finally, is he so firmly riveted to his creed? Say, why should he not be, rather? He is exclusive, and associates only with his kith and kin. He is at home only within the enclosure of his own colony. All without are unclean. He eats his own meats, you know. His exclusiveness in life presents a barrier to his conversion. But after all, may be, Providence has a hand in all this too. Perhaps the wandering Jew must serve as a living witness for the truth of the Christian Religion. The Divine Record foretold all concerning him that has come to pass. He bears the marks in his own person; because he must serve his mission in this respect, to the end of time; he must ever live. To serve as such everywhere he must wander. That he adheres so firmly to his own faith, and yet bears witness for another creed, even against his will, this, we say, renders his testimony all the more disinterested and true. "Give us a proof of the Christian Religion," cried an infidel emperor at the dinner-table. His chaplain looked up and answered, "Your Majesty, the wandering Jew." LUTHER'S SNOW SONG. On a cold, dark night, when the wind was blowing hard and the snow was falling fast, Conrad, a worthy citizen of a little town in Germany, sat playing his flute, while Ursula, his wife, was preparing supper. They heard a sweet voice singing outside: "Foxes to their holes have gone, Every bird unto its nest; But I wander here alone, And for me there is no rest." Tears filled the good man's eyes as he said, "What a fine, sweet voice! What a pity it should be spoiled by being tried in such weather!" "I think it is the voice of a child. Let us open the door and see," said his wife, who had lost a little boy not long before, and whose heart was open to take pity on the little wanderer. Conrad opened the door, and saw a ragged child, who said: "Charity, good sir, for Christ's sake! |