THE GREAT COMET
The Lord his signs makes to appear,
To call us to repentance:
A monstrous comet standeth there
That we our sins shall flee from,
But we, alas! scarce give it a thought
For each one thinks it cometh not,
The punishment and danger.
The winter winds had swept o'er the grave of our dear sister not a month, and hardly had our little camp on the Cocalico been restored to its usual evenness of temper after the wordy warfare Brother Hildebrand and I, under the leadership of Brother Beissel, had waged against our ancient foes, the Moravians at Bethlehem—for they believed not in celibacy—when we were again roused to a high pitch of excitement by that which was no less than a second comet which, following closely upon the one that flashed so suddenly upon us the preceding February, left no longer any doubts even in the minds of the most skeptical and unbelieving, that we were within the portent of some great crisis.
It was on the evening of Christmas a number of the Brotherhood, among them the Eckerlings and Brother Weiser—for though he had gone back to the world he oft revisited us—our superintendent and Sonnlein and I, were gathered on the highest point of Mount Sinai, nigh to the Brother woods. The sun had hardly sunk from view and the twilight begun to deepen over the unbroken expanse of forest and upon the slopes of the distant hills to the west, when suddenly Brother Jephune, our astronomer, clutched Brother Weiser by the arm, and exclaimed in awe-struck tones, "See, look, the comet!" as he pointed all in a tremble to where the sun had just disappeared.
Startled by his voice and his intense gaze, we turned sharply. I could see naught but a single small star, shining dimly, but I held my peace.
Brother Weiser was the first to break the strain in a cold, calm, judge-like tone, "I see naught but a small star; Brother Jephune, thou seest ever visions."
"It were better for thee, our Brother Enoch, didst thou see more visions instead of having thine eyes stubbornly sealed against the mysteries of God," quietly interrupted Brother Onesimus.
"Brother Jephune, mine eyes are yet strong. I see naught but a star, nor do our brethren see thy comet," said our leader.
Brother Jephune apparently heard not his critics, for he still stood motionless and gazed most intensely upon what appeared to us an innocent star.
Suddenly he turned to us again and whispered, "'Tis the very comet of last winter. I told ye the sun had swallowed it and now the sun hath spit out again the fiery monster," and then he wailed, "Woe, woe, be unto all the ungodly who shall be destroyed by this fiery serpent!"