The Portland Sketch Book Part 6

It was a perfect Eden for beauty. The scent of flowers came up on the gale, the swift stream sparkled like a flow of diamonds in the sun, and a smile of soft light glistened on every leaf and blade, as they drank in the life-giving ray.

Its significant loveliness was eloquent to the eye and the heart--but a strange deep silence reigned over it all. So perfect was the unearthly stillness, you could almost hear yourself think.--_Katahdin._

Has thy foot ever trod that silent dell?

'Tis a place for the voiceless thought to swell And the eloquent song to go up unspoken, Like the incense of flowers whose urns are broken; And the unveiled heart may look in, and see, In that deep strange silence, its motions free, And learn how the pure in spirit feel That unseen Presence to which they kneel.

No sound goes up from the quivering trees, When they spread their arms to the welcome breeze; They wave in the Zephyr--they bow to the blast-- But they breathe not a word of the power that pa.s.sed; And their leaves come down on the turf and the stream, With as noiseless a fall as the step of a dream; And the breath that is bending the gra.s.s and the flowers, Moves o'er them as lightly as evening hours.

The merry bird lights down on that dell, And, hus.h.i.+ng his breath, lest the song should swell, Sits with folded wing in the balmy shade, Like a musical thought in the soul unsaid.

And they of strong pinion and loftier flight, Pa.s.s over that valley, like clouds in the night-- They move not a wing in that solemn sky, But sail in a reverent silence by.

The deer, in his flight, has pa.s.sed that way, And felt the deep spell's mysterious sway-- He hears not the rush of the path he cleaves, Nor his bounding step on the trampled leaves.

The hare goes up on that sunny hill, And the footsteps of morning are not more still, And the wild, and the fierce, and the mighty are there, Unheard in the hush of that slumbering air.

The stream rolls down in that valley serene, Content in its beautiful flow to be seen, And its fresh flowery banks, and its pebbly bed Were never yet told of its fountain head; And it still rushes on--but they ask not why, With its smile of light, it is hurrying by; Still, gliding, or leaping, unwhispered, unsung, Like the flow of bright fancies, it flashes along.

The wind sweeps by, and the leaves are stirred, But never a whisper or sigh is heard; And when its strong rush laid low the oak, Not a murmur the eloquent stillness broke.

And the gay young echoes--those mockers that lie In the dark mountain-sides--make no reply, But, hushed in their caves, they are listening still For the songs of that valley to burst o'er the hill.

I love society;--I am o'erblest to hear The mingling voices of a world; mine ear Drinks in their music with a spiritual taste; I love companions.h.i.+p on life's dark waste, And could not live unheard;--yet that still vale-- It had no fearful mystery in its tale;-- Its hush was grand, not awful, as if there The voice of nature were a breathing prayer.

'Twas like a holy temple, where the pure Might blend in their heart-wors.h.i.+p, and be sure No sound of earth could come--a soul kept still, In faith's unanswering meekness, for heaven's will, Its eloquent thoughts sent upward and abroad, But all its deep hushed voices kept for G.o.d!

DESCRIPTIONS OF THE DIVINE BEING.

By Gershom F. c.o.x.

It is a difficult task to shadow forth spirit. The best emblems of the earth can give but faint and distant views of its incomprehensible nature. Our own consciousness, too, must fail to give us adequate notions of the mysterious traits of its character. Aided by the brightest images of earth, or the most subtle principles of philosophy, who can bring to view any tolerably good picture of a HUMAN SOUL!--who can draw the outlines of thought!--thought that is as immeasurable as the universe!--thought that _could encompa.s.s_, with more than the quickness of the lightning's flash, all that G.o.d has made!--thought that gives to us, at once, the gravity of the merest atom, the beauties and properties of the petal of a single flower, or the structure, density, size and weight of the worlds that border on the outskirts of our own universe; and when it has done its n.o.ble work, as if plumed for fresh conquests, stretches itself far beyond the material universe, into the deep solitudes of eternity, in quest of something more! Who, we ask again, can give the outlines of thought? Who can tell us of its yet hidden resources; or of a mind like that of Newton, or of Bacon, which, after they had taken from the arcana of nature some of her most hidden principles, "entered the secret place of the Most High, and lodged beneath the shadow of the Almighty?" How much less, then, can we give just descriptions of the DEITY! How can we describe Him "who covereth himself with LIGHT as with a garment,"--whom no man hath seen, nor can see.

We are aware that every thing speaks of _a_ G.o.d. All nature has its language; and however dark the alphabet, it still speaks, and speaks every where; for there is no place where he has not "left a witness." We acknowledge, too, that the only reason why the deep tones of nature are not more audible, may be found in the imbecilities or transgressions of man. But, while the babbling brook hath its story to tell of its Maker, and the willow that bends and sighs by its side, and the pebble o'er which the streamlet rolls;--while the glorious dew-drop has its power of speech--the soft south breeze, and "the h.o.a.r-frost of heaven;" while the deep vale may offer its chorus to the waving corn, or to the lofty summit by its side; while often may be heard the full notes of the angry tempest, and of the tornado as it sweeps by us, carrying fearful desolation in its path; although these may all speak forcibly of the power, of the goodness, of the wisdom, of the terrible justice of G.o.d; yet, without divine revelation, like the inscription at Athens, they only point to a G.o.d UNKNOWN. The awful precipice, where

"Leaps the live thunder,"

in the hour of the tempest, doth but stun the intellect of man with its overhanging and dizzy heights. And "the sound of many waters," or "the deep, lifting up his hands on high,"--although they may arouse every pa.s.sion of the spirit, and address it as with the voice of G.o.d; yet, to man, these all want an interpreter. Lo! these are but "_parts_ of his ways." But what a mere "_whisper_ of the matter is heard in it, and the thunder of his power who can understand!"

Nature speaks--we repeat it--but her language, to us, is often indefinite; like the dream of Nebuchadnezzar, it may arouse the spirit to inquiry--agitate every pa.s.sion to consternation; but without a Daniel to interpret her admonitions, "the thing is pa.s.sed from us." Else why this gross ignorance of the character of G.o.d among even the enlightened, or rather civilized, nations of antiquity? Why did not Egypt, when all the "wisdom of the east" was concentrated in her sons, have _some_ notions of the Deity that would have raised their minds above the serpent or crocodile, or some insignificant article of the vegetable creation? Why did not the savage, roaming in the freedom of his interminable forests, have some correct views of G.o.d? He had talked with the sun, and heard the roar of the tempest; the evening sky in its grandeur was an everlasting map spread out before him, and the broad lake mirrored back to him its glories. But how confused--how degraded were the loftiest notions of the Deity, among the most powerful of Indian minds!

But I have already strayed from my purpose. I intended only to give a specimen or two, of attempted descriptions of the Deity, for the purpose of showing the infinite superiority of those contained in the bible, above every other in the world.

It ought, however, to be recollected, that the descriptions we find among heathen authors, are doubtless more or less indebted to sentiments borrowed from the Jewish scriptures; although we believe the contrast will show that they have pa.s.sed through heathen hands. One of the most sublime to be met with in the world, out of the bible, was engraved in hieroglyphics upon the temple of Neith, the Egyptian Minerva. It is as follows:

"I am that which is, was, and shall be: no mortal hath lifted up my veil: the offspring of my power is the sun."

A similar inscription still remains at Capua, on the temple of Isis:

"Thou art one, and from thee all things proceed."

In the above, evident traces are to be seen of the Hebrew term JEHOVAH.

Some of Homer's descriptions have their excellencies; but they all suffer from the fact, that he clothes the deities he describes, not only with human pa.s.sions, but with human appet.i.tes of the most degrading character. And he never seems more satisfied with himself than when he represents them heated for war! "Warring G.o.ds," when placed at the foot of Calvary, or contrasted with any just description of the true G.o.d, is certainly a revolting idea; and it is still worse to introduce them as does Homer, with the shuddering thought that,

"G.o.ds on G.o.ds exert _eternal rage_!"

And our impressions are scarcely more favorable when he presents us with an _un_incarnate, and yet "bleeding G.o.d," retiring from the field of battle, "pierced with Grecian darts," "though fatal, not to die." The following from this author is singular indeed:

"Of lawless force shall _lawless_ MARS complain?

Of all the _most unjust_, most odious in our eyes!

In human discord is thy dire delight, The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight.

No bound, no law thy fiery temper quells, And all _thy mother_ in thy soul rebels!"--_Illiad, Book 5._

The following is far less exceptionable:

"And know, the Almighty is the G.o.d of G.o.ds.

League all your forces then, ye powers above, Join all, and try the omnipotence of Jove; Let down our golden everlasting chain, Whose strong embrace holds heaven, and earth and main: Strive all, of mortal or immortal birth, To draw, by this, the thunderer down to earth: Ye strive in vain! If I but stretch this hand, I heave the G.o.ds, the ocean, and the land; I fix the chain to great Olympus' height, And the vast world hangs trembling in my sight!

For such I reign unbounded and above; And such are men, and G.o.ds, compared to Jove."--Ill. b. vi.

Some of the above ideas are certainly sublime, and considering the age that produced them, they have no superior but the bible.

As the KORAN has attained considerable celebrity, we should hardly be pardoned should we not notice it. The pa.s.sage on which the Mohammedan rests his whole faith, for sublimity, and which is confessedly unapproached by any thing else in the koran, is the following:

"G.o.d! There is no G.o.d but he; the living, the self-subsisting; neither slumber nor sleep seizeth him; to him belongeth whatsoever is in heaven, and on earth. Who is he that can intercede with him but through his good pleasure? He knoweth that which is past, and that which is to come. His throne is extended over heaven and earth, and the preservation of both is to him no burden. He is the High, the Mighty."

If the above pa.s.sage contained a single _original_ thought, it might ent.i.tle it to higher praise than it can now receive. But as there is no thought expressed, but may be found in the book of Job, or among the inimitable Psalms of David, written from sixteen hundred to two thousand years before Mohammed, and which this pretended prophet had before him--and as we can hardly allow their originality of expression--the only praise that can be bestowed upon its author is, that of having studied the Jewish scriptures pretty closely, a fact that is exhibited throughout his famous production. But while we acknowledge that this is a brilliant pa.s.sage, it evidently does not surpa.s.s, nor even equal, either of the following, selected from our own times.

"Eternal Spirit! G.o.d of truth! to whom All things seem as they are. Thou who of old The prophet's eye unsealed, that nightly saw While heavy sleep fell down on other men, In holy vision tranced, the future pa.s.s Before him, and to Judah's harp attuned Burdens which make the pagan mountains shake, And Zion's cedars bow,--inspire my song; My eye unscale; me what is substance teach, And shadow what, while I of things to come, As past rehearsing, sing the course of time.

--Hold my right hand, Almighty! and me teach To strike the lyre----to notes Which wake the echoes of Eternity."--_Pollok._

In the above extracts there is this remarkable difference: Mohammed, in his description of Deity, has _no thought_ that refers to a _moral perfection_ of G.o.d! And indeed gross sensuality, and a dest.i.tution of high and spiritual views, characterize his whole work.

But with Pollok, the first thought is SPIRIT--a second, TRUTH. And aside from this peculiarity, although you turn over every leaf of the koran, we affirm that you cannot find so sublime a conception as the following:

"Hold my right hand, Almighty! and me teach To strike the lyre,----to notes That wake the echoes of eternity."

But how infinitely, both in grandeur and simplicity, do all these fall short of the inimitable _original_ of most of these, penned by David of the Old, or Paul of the New Testament.

"O, my G.o.d, take me not away in the midst of my days: THY years are throughout all generations. Of old hast THOU laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of thine hands. They shall perish, but THOU shalt endure; yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed. BUT THOU ART THE SAME, AND THY YEARS SHALL HAVE NO END."

"Who is the blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings, and the Lord of lords; who only hath IMMORTALITY, dwelling in Light which no man can approach unto,--whom no man hath seen, nor can see!"

Or as in another place, "The King eternal, immortal, invisible,--the only wise G.o.d."

In the above specimens, there is a grandeur and simplicity not to be found in any merely human composition.

The following is very fine, from Habakkuk:

"G.o.d came from Teman, The Holy One from Mount Paran.

His glory covered the heavens, And his praise filled the earth.