THE BIBLE. BY HENRY M. HASKELL, DOVER, N. H. A BOOK has come down to us, distinguished alike for its antiquity, its literary excellency and its moral teachings. It originated in some remote age in the past, was once almost hid in obscurity, and confined to a narrow sphere, but that sphere has been widening, till in its greatness it begins to be proportionate to its value. That book is the Bible. It is placed in our hands in childhood, and is the last that is looked upon by declining old age. Considered as a literary work, it surpasses all other writings of antiquity, and stands forth in unrivaled preeminence. But the consideration, that we of the present generation have been witnesses of the sublime spectacle of its becoming a monument of literature upon which the sun never sets, greatly heightens our interest in it. We seem to be living in an age when it is acquiring new glory. If, then, we lay aside all the evidences of its divine origin, the number of its copies and the extent to which it is now read, are enough to fix our attention upon And while the greatness of the subject itself would intimidate us, this interest will not suffer us to let it pass without consideration. I shall attempt nothing like a full investigation of what would require volumes, but content myself with a few remarks upon its origin, authors, character, object, and final destiny. it. More justly does it deserve to be called a monument of the early ages, than any other work. In its origin it runs far beyond the days of Homer, and presents to us a picture of what was to him the ancient world. It is not the creation of one man, but the accumulated writings of many. Not the product of one generation, but running through many centuries. It dates its beginning almost at the origin of nations, and emanated from nearly the same point which was the centre of the human race. But who were its authors? In speaking of them, it is worthy of observation that the variety of their acquirements and the cultivation of their minds are lost sight of behind the greatness and majesty of the truths which they utter. To many they seem only wise teachers, when in truth some of them at least unite the loftiest sublimity of the poet, and the profoundest knowledge of the scholar; are imbued with all the learning of the preceding ages, and gifted with minds to grasp and mould all into one symmetrical whole, and stamp that whole with the marks of their power. They lived not in the ideal, dreamy worlds of blind philosophy, nor yet under the misty darkness of superstition. Truth they set as the sun in their intellectual heavens, and in obedience to its laws, all the old discordant elements assumed their proper sphere and revolved in harmony. They bound together their accumulated fragments of knowledge by a mysterious bond, and then into that bond they breathed, from their own glowing belief of the truths which they uttered, the elements of life. From the pastures of the shepherd, from the brooks of the plain, from the sands of the desert, from the troubled waters of the sea, and from the mountains of oak and cedar, they collected materials, and from them reared fabrics of glory and beauty which have only grown brighter by the lapse of ages. While they show all that universality which marks the highest intellect, they are still more transcendant for their unity-unity in object and unity in plan. Though delighting in variety of illustration, and ever ready to drink from the fountains of nature, they make all unite in setting forth more clearly that unity. So strong and unchanging is it, and so uniformly set before the mind, that it seems as if they delighted in bringing the gems of every age and making them contribute to its, splendor. They felt that the resources of nature were not too vast to be brought under the assimilating power of that unity. Nature everywhere proclaims unity. They ask us to hear it. They felt themselves the harmony of nature's voice, surrendered themselves to its enchantments and gave us their echo. The whole world was the field from which they gathered richness. All nature their Parnassus. Their writings remind us of the roar of the forest, which melts all sounds into one. They make the stars that glitter in the firmament, and the worm that glows at our feet, utter the same truth. The man that builds his house upon a rock, and he who builds upon the sand; the king going forth to battle, and the potter moulding the clay; the archangel flying through the heavens, and the humble flower that blooms unseen, all speak in harmony. The universe which is unlimited in diversity and variety of parts, yet one in action, is made to yield its tribute to one object. It owes nothing to the fame of its authors. It is not because it contains the opinions of great men that it is valued, but the grandeur and purity of its teachings, that give it power. Man, after a toilsome search, among the philosophy of the most gifted minds of every age, for the chief good, loves to cling to this as the nearest approach to perfection. Its character then claims our attention. A book of Composed of the writings of men from every rank, and embracing an equal variety in style, it is adapted to every class. light, it will not fall before enlightened civilization. While its principles are immovable, they are not opposed to onward movement in human society. Although written in times comparatively dark, it rejects not the idea of improvement. If it dates its origin far in the past, in its character, it looks forward to, and foreshadows a perfection, which, though not yet attained, is still to be the glory of the world. It is not a book of forms. These become old and are laid aside. It inculcates principles which everywhere bear marks of far-reaching intelligence. Its spirit is that of freedom. Even now, when the world is waking up to this great idea, we can look forward to a free dom nobler than the nations have yet attained, the freedom which this book presents. It establishes its throne, places upon it its king, but owns only a voluntary allegiance. It is not a collection of dogmas to which we are compelled to assent, but a declaration of the spirit of divinity, which beams on its pages and illumines the path to moral perfection. It inculcates harmony among men. It would break down all earthly, clay-built barriers, which now separate men from one another, make all wear the same character, and then gather all into one holy communion. It speaks to all the language of universal love and universal justice. In it the rights of all beings are held sacred. There is none so obscure as to suffer wrong without hearing words of condemnation pronounced upon the wrong-doer. "Impartial, uncompromising, fearless, it screens no favorites, is dazzled by no power, spreads its shield over the weakest, summons the mightiest to its bar, and speaks to the conscience in tones under which the mightiest have quailed." It may be said to comprehend all subjects. In it are intimations of great laws, which it has been the boast of modern science to unfold. Moral Philosophy and physical science are joined together. The principles of all law are there contained; the fundamental elements of national prosperity are there pointed out; instructions too, both for ruler and people, by which each can contribute to the happiness of the other. But," says Robert Boyle, "I use the Bible as a matchless Temple, where I delight to contemplate the beauty, the symmetry, and the magnificence of the structure." Let us turn then to some of its beauties. We Its poetry first claims our attention. As I approach it I almost shrink from the transcendant sublimity in which it is enveloped. Here it seems as if Divinity were breathing out its own nature. are so far below it that its cold exterior is all that we can feel. we to inhale its warm gushings as it comes glowing from the heart, it would be too much for human nature. man. Were True poetry is the expression of the loftiest feelings of the heart of It is the outgushing of thought, glowing with all the intensity of feeling. It is emotion gifted with life and form; the embodiment of those aspirations of the soul for something more lofty, purer, and lovelier than the scenes which the world presents. Its tendency is to raise and elevate; to lift the mind above the chill, damp, deadly vapors which hang around the ordinary road of human life, into purer regions, where it can roam creation in innocency, breathe the life-giving air of perennial sweetness, drink in the uncontaminated waters of immortal vigor, and plume its wings for a heavenward flight. ennobles all the attributes of the soul. Under its influence it rises, expands, brightens, and more nearly reflects the image of its Creator. The grosser passions, though in its abuse they have been fed, flee before its legitimate influence. Under its almost creative power, sensualism and excess present an aspect so horrid, that we involuntarily shrink from their repulsive nature. It reveals the desires and longings of the soul, portrays its joys, echoes its lamentations, and re It cords the struggles and emotions which it undergoes. It purifies and strengthens the affections, and by its soft and benign influence makes the will its subject. The external universe also feels its power. It imparts new beauty to surrounding objects, and clothes nature in brighter colors, reveals new charms, and gives them a double existence. Nor does it present nature merely as stationary, but gives it life, and makes it pass before us and repeat its wondrous changes. It links together elements of beauty, and delights to endow them with life and perpetuity. All these qualities does the poetry of the Bible possess, and in the highest degree. When we rise to it we must breathe sublimity itself, for that is its only atmosphere. We must forget for a time that we are mortal and exist in spirit. Then only can we follow the flight of the sacred poets. With soul raised above the gross, material objects of earth, and fixed on the invisible essence of purity, they rise involuntarily, or rather are drawn upward by a sweet attraction, as though that were their native element. No flight is too high for them to attempt, no subject too grand for them to contemplate. The grandeur and sublimity of their subject only kindles a brighter flame, and inspires them with new vigor for a higher flight. We see them boldly soaring up to the portals of heaven. But they stop not here. They raise "the everlasting doors" of the temple of God, people its bright mansions with beings worthy of a paradise, crown them with joys fit only for their exalted nature, call forth from them songs which ring through the celestial arches, and make their king the embodiment of infinite perfection. Though this is beyond the conception of mortals, they shrink not from attempting to approach it. Though we cannot see God himself, yet we can look upon the clouds and thick darkness which veil his majesty. Heaven and heaven's King have a sublime harmony, and their grandeur and awfulness increase, the more clearly they are set before us. The intensity of the light of heaven yields only to that of the soul from which it emanates. The cherubim that sit on each side of the throne, point to the greatness of Him who occupies it. We see seraphs bowing before Him. We see the river of life watering forever the tree whose fruit is their food. But still greater majesty encompasses God when He appears in wrath, charioted on the whirlwind; when His "voice is hailstones and coals of fire,” and “at the blast of His nostrils the foundations of the hills are shaken." We follow His enemies as He pursues them with his glittering sword, and see them plunge into a "bottomless pit," from which the smoke of their torment rises forever. Hell, too, has its king; a monster, combining the powers of an archangel and the spirit of a demon. We see him with lineaments distorted, presenting at once defiance, hate, and despair, seated on his infernal throne, in the midst of a cavern without bottom, walled with eternal darkness, whose vaulted roof ever echoes back shrieks and groans mingled with bitter blasphemous curses. We see him moving with malignant spirit to his accursed task; sending forth from the dark abyss which is his realm, savage fiends who wander in endless crowds, ready to mingle the poison of death and make new victims. We hear the hideous clamor of maniac rage and agony tearing the walls of the infernal prison-house throughout the slow, unnumbered years of eternity. But my limits forbid me to follow them farther; and I need not. Enough has been already seen to show what was the power and grandeur of the intellect and imagination of those authors who contributed to the poetry of the Bible. I turn now to another and more pleasing character which they present. I refer to the tenderness and sensibility which breathes in so many passages. The spirit bowed down with disappointment, and sorrowing under the wounds of blasted hope, can there find words of sympathy. There can the out-gushings of happiness find a response. There is the voice of gentleness, pouring forth the living sensibilities of the soul, kindling generous emotion, and giving energy and power to the softer and finer feelings of our nature. What more touching than the elegiac lamentations of Israel's king, as he sings, "O Jonathan! slain on thy own mountains! I am grieved for thee, O Jonathan, my brother. Wonderful was thy love to me, Surpassing the love of women." Again we hear him breaking out in the most impassioned strain over the lovely, but unfortunate Absalom; and as the "weeping prophet" mourns over the afflictions of his people, we see melodious wo mingling in harmonious symphony with every line. The Bible is equally remarkable in its historical character. It is the very commencement of human history. It comprehends God and man, heaven, earth, and hell-begins in eternity past and runs forward to eternity future. It glances back beyond the limits of time, and tells of a mysterious communion between the Father and Son before the world was touches at the morn of creation, and seems almost to prolong the harmony of the song which the morning stars sang together. It plunges beneath the waters of a deluge and gives us the groans of a drowning world-then sets before us the man who floated on the billows of that flood as the second father of the human race. Descending from these great works of the Creator, it gives us a record of individual men and of nations. Here a wonderful series of events is made to pass before us. We see an obscure man leaving the land of his nativity, and becoming the father of a mighty nation; that nation appears before us in bondage. A child is born, and under the edict of an oppressor is cast into the waters of the Nile; but instead of destroying him, they bear him to a throne. Again, we see that mighty nation with this man at its head, wandering through the wilderness, from the land of its possessor. As they approach the sea, its waters part before them, and as they close upon their pursuers, we hear their |