tal orders, or institutions of the Jews. He refers to travelers, and to the ancients for illustrations of his argument; and certainly no examples which he adduces are so pertinent to his purpose as many contained in the records of Jewish history. The rational inference, therefore, is, that he lived prior to that period. Notwithstanding what has been written to the contrary, it is highly probable that Job himself was the real author of the Book that bears his name; revising and elaborating all the speeches of the several speakers, subsequent to their delivery. He had ample time to do this, as he lived one hundred and forty years, after his trial and restoration to health, in the midst of domestic tranquillity, in the fulness of his age, in the enjoyment of reduplicated possessions, and, we may suppose, abundant leisure and freedom from care. Besides the internal, external, and collateral evidences, in favor of this opinion, are very strong. The Book itself shows very conclusively that it is not of Hebrew, but Arabian origin. It abounds in Arabian words, unknown to the Hebrew; with no reference to the Exodus from Egypt, the passage of the Red Sea, the promulgation of the law on Mount Sinai, the wanderings of the wilderness, the land of Canaan, Moses, Aaron, the bondage of the Israelites, the oppression and destruction of Pharaoh, the names of Jewish tribes, or the civil, or religious institutions of the Hebrews. But it is replete with Arabian imagery, in oriental ornamentations, in barren plains and sandy deserts, deceitful brooks and failing streams, in nomadic bands, moving caravans, multitudes of camels, dwellings of tents, periodical inundations, the keeping of flocks, trees planted near the streams, roaring lions, goats upon the rocks, ravenous birds, hordes of robbers, the Chaldean and Sabean bands of thieves, respect for age, claims of hospitality, and other peculiar Arabian imagery. The whole cast of the Book is therefore unquestionably Arabian, and not Hebrew. Moses consequently could not have been its author, as some very erroneously allege. Neither the style, nor the allusions are his. Considering also the time and country in which Job lived, we may reasonably conclude that he was himself the real author of the remarkable Book which bears his name;

whose gorgeous imagery, magnificent strains of eloquence, epigrammatic terseness, startling abruptness and energy of expression, compactness of argument, sublime ethical lessons; together with careful observation of natural laws, accurate views of human nature, correct conceptions of the infinite wisdom and power of Jehovah displayed in his works, wonderful demonstrations of divine providence over man, in his development, and preparation, through suffering, for another life, render it unrivaled by any other sacred or profane composition. The scope and design of the poem have profoundly excited the inquiries, and curiosity of the learned and pious of all countries and creeds. Some have regarded it as dramatic, and others as an epic. But when critically examined it cannot be strictly considered either. There is nothing in Grecian, Roman, or modern literature which perfectly resembles it. An epic poem is designed to render conspicuous the hero of the poem, and to develop interesting qualities in the other characters, and to reach some grand and magnificent result, by a regular action systematically conducted. Nor can it be considered entirely dramatic. It is by no means the chief design of the poem to invest Job with a tragic interest. This kind of composition was unknown to the wise men of the east. It was not adapted to Arabian customs. It was composed long before the laws, or rules of epical, or dramatic composition, or the Grecian, or Roman methods of rhythmical harmony were known. The orien tals never introduced among themselves the qualities of dramatic literature. It contains some of the characteristics of both the epic and the dramatic. But it is not exclusively either. Like some taller, grander, sublimer mountain peak of inspiration, where storm, and darkness, and flames, alternately battle, enshroud, and play; it stands alone in its own inimitable grandeur, and sublimity. It has no resemblance to Homer's Iliad, Virgil's Eneid, or Milton's Paradise Lost. Hebrew poetry does not employ the artificial arrangements of rhyme. Similarity of sounds at the close of each line is of modern invention. Nor does rhythm constitute any part of it. Its noble lines are not measured by feet and numbers, length and shortness of

syllables, nor equilibrated by any regular, or successive flow of sweet-sounding words. Unlike the Greek and Roman poetry, which paid such particular care to unity, harmony, quantity, inflection, accentuation, and euphonic construction, and arrangement of periods; Hebrew poetry, with here and there a few exceptions of measured feet, and similarity of terminal sounds, is totally devoid of this arti ficial contrivance. It is the oldest form of poetical composition extant, and antedates all modern rules which only cramp and bind the freedom of modern poets. It is characterised by a sublime style, epigrammatic brevity, a peculiar construction of sentences, and use of choice words. It is the natural outburst of nature, pouring forth forms of sudden wonder, and triumphant exultation; employing the boldest, and most vivid imagery, concise and abrupt language; yet touching, beautiful, and sublime. In Hebrew poetry there is a peculiar alphabetical arrangement. Sometimes each line begins with each succeeding letter of the alphabet. Sometimes every alternate verse begins with a following letter. Sometimes a series of verses have the same initial letters. Generally each verse commences with one of the letters of the alphabet in regular order. Some suppose this was to assist the memory; others to aid the mourners in funeral dirges; and others that it was only a mere matter of taste. But the grand characteristic of Hebrew poetry which distinguishes it from all Grecian, Roman, or modern poetry is a system of parallelism. This consists in repeating the principal thought, in a second clause, or sometimes in a succession of clauses, in a modified manner. The Hebrew poet appeared to be intensely excited, to be lifted up out of himself, to be partially, plenarily, or intermittently inspired. He was struck by astonishment at new and strange objects, or thoughts, and sought, by sudden ejaculations, short and abrupt sentences, and struggling language, to give vent to his pent up feelings. The main thought is first uttered, then follows the echo of that thought in other utterances. This is the parallelism of Hebrew poetry. Several of the ancient litanies of the Catholic Church are of this style of poetry. These parallelisms, differently employed, constitute almost

entirely the Book of Job. They appear chiefly under three forms; namely: the synonymous, the antithetic, and the synthetic. The synonymous parallelism is employed when the second clause is the echo, or repetition of the first, with a slight alteration of the method of expression. The following is an example:

"Wherefore, O, Job, I pray thee hear my speeches, And hearken to my words."

The second line is but a repetition of the identical thought of the first.

Again:

Behold, now I have opened my mouth,

My tongue hath spoken in my mouth.

My words shall be of the uprightness of my heart,

And my lips shall utter knowledge clearly.

The Spirit of God hath made me,

And the breath of the Almighty hath given me understanding."

Ch. 23: 1-4.

One will be surprised to see how large a portion of the Book of Job is composed of this kind of parallelism. An example of the antithetical parallelism, also frequently employed where the second line, or close of several lines is the converse of the first, or several preceding clauses, appears in the following illustration:

"Though wickedness be sweet in his mouth,
Though he hide it under his tongue;
Though he spare it, and forsake it not,
But keep it still within his mouth;
Yet his meat in his bowels is turned,
It is the gall of asps within him."

Ch. 20 12-14.

The above is a very beautiful double antithetical parallelism. The synthetical form is employed when neither repetition, nor a converse idea is intended to be conveyed in the second clause, but only similarity of construction is used to elaborate, and spin out, in several succeeding clauses, the thoughts expressed in the first, by new modifications of words. The two following examples are beautiful illustrations of this sort of synthetical parallelism.

"Let that day be darkness,

Let not God regard it from above;

Neither let the light shine upon it,

Let darkness, and the shadow of death stain it;

Let a cloud dwell upon it,

Let the blackness of the day terrify it."

Again:

"As for that night let darkness seize upon it,
Let it not be joined unto the days of the year;
Let it not come into the number of the months,
Lo! let that night be solitary;

Let no joyful voice come therein,

Let them curse it that curse the day;

Who are ready to raise up their mourning,

Let the stars of the twilight thereof be dark;
Let it look for light, but have none,
Neither let it see the dawning of the day."

Ch. 2: 4, 5.

Ch. 2: 6-9.

In the above example of the synthetical parallelism the first line expresses a distinct thought in the mind of the poet. Yet his soul was not relieved by the utterance. The nine following lines are only amplifications of the first by new modifications of words. These three forms of parallelisms constitute the chief peculiarity of Hebrew poetry. This style enables the poet to express his ideas with untrammeled freedom, with entire abandonment to the influence of the divine afflatus that moves him, with abrupt vehemence, and wild, ejaculatory terseness, and sublimity, which the measured, mellifluous, equilibrated, and rhythmical meter of the Grecian, and Roman, and modern art for ever precludes. Hence it is obvious how exceedingly difficult it is to warp, and bend, and cramp the wild, unfettered strains of Job into the tight-jacket, strait-laced, arbitrary confines of modern poetry. The material is so immensely native and virgin, uncut and unfitted by modern art, that the scoring, hewing, and framing process necessary to bring it together, without the sound of axe or hammer, into the harmonic temple of modern rhyme and meter, is very likely to cut away its strength, and emasculate the noble timbers, by attempting to make the crooked places