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proud; and in the Jew, austere. Against Jesus, this temper came in deadly conflict; and from none was the opposition fiercer than from his own countrymen. In one form or another, the temper pervaded Jewish life.--It sat in the chair of the scribe : it presided on the tribunal of the judge: it walked in the market-place: it took the chief rooms at feasts: it claimed the highest seats in the synagogues : and it prayed with lofty looks in the temple. Our Lord scouted this ungodliness with a holy opposition. He met it by the inculcation of a humble and a loving spirit; by the revelation of a heavenly dignity in humanity, which rebuked scornful assumption as both mean and blasphemous. And then to words, such as men had never heard, he added an example such as men had never seen. He went, himself, among the out-cast. He took his part with the despised. He sojourned among the scorned. He was to be found mixed with the vulgar multitude. He was to be met in poor men's homes, and at poor men's meals. The publican whom the pharisee spurned, received from Jesus no rebuke. The sinner and Samaritan addressed him as their friend. And those wbom all had given to reprobation, whom the world had marked with ineffable infamy, came to Jesus, attracted by the grace that was around him, and took from his lips the word of forgiveness, and the assurance of peace. And that his example might in all things be complete, his ministry ended as it had begun. He came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance : and as in life he did not shun the wretched, he was numbered with the transgressors in his death. Contumely, hatred, insult, collected together to hoot him from existence, until nailed upon a cross—the instrument of vile and ignominious torturebetween two thieves, he gave up the ghost. The spirit of that life—the spirit of that death, yet maintained the contest : and the contest will not end, until this fated temper is subdued; until every man has due honor, as a child of God, and a brother of Jesus; until every man feels in himself, and recognizes in his fellow, the divinity of an immortal soul, and the dignity of everlasting relations : not until right is founded on reverence, will it be secure; not until duty is based upon love, will it be complete; not until liberty is based upon eternal principles, will it be full, equal, lofty, and universal. Then, and only then, will the mind of Christ have entered into the heart of the millions, who, as yet, have but his name upon their lips: then will his true kingdom have enlarged its bounds and increased its glory: then shall his sceptre have sway, and his throne be established in justice, in virtue, and in freedom.
THE MARTYR OF LOVE.*
BY R. H. STODARD.
“ Had we never loved so fondly,
Some time has vanished since we parted last
And beggared his rich heart, and even you,
I have not seen you since, and never will,
Success had sated me like all the rest,
* In these sonnets I have endeavoured to picture the history of a fine mind suffering from a hopeless passion. Such an one I knew-a playmate of my boyhood—a gentle, loving, longing heart he had, and brave and high withal. But it was soon wrecked. And the tomb covers him now, and all his sorrows are forgotten.
I've loved you deeply, Thirza, many years;
And poured the wine of Life away like rain,
Oh Love, we take a fatal thing into
Stinging the heart that warms thee ; but in vainI have grown callous now, I cannot feel again.
I'm altered, Thirza, since I saw you last,
And brood above my wasted heart alone
I've met with naught but mockery and wrong
And hate and slay the souls that love them bestI would not marvel much to find you like the rest.
I feel, alas ! your scorner feels the most-
Dying with smiles at last and not in vain :
Man thinks his fellow man what he appears,
But this is idle-let me end the strain.
And thou wilt weep my sad and dark decay,
Alas! how dark and sinful I have grown,
A subterranean stream it seeks the main,
I stand apart with all the world at strife,
hand Is raised against me I must turn again :
I wonder what my lot in future years
A destiny obscure, a fate unknown,
I look around the peopled earth and see
To break her heart for him who loves her not,
Oh Love, thou art a fallen child of light,
Old histories show it, and a thousand hearts, Breaking from day to day, attest the solemn truth.
Ah, Thirza ! were my bosom bare to thee,