Turn to the New Testament. How touching those simple narratives! Hard indeed must be the heart of him who can read without deep emotion, that truly affecting account of the return of the prodigal son to the father of his early love, the home and scenes of his childhood.
Behold that aged man, as with tottering step, forgetful of the pressing weight of his many years, he runs to meet his poor wayward boy, clasps him to his yearning bosom, falls on his neck and kisses him.
Stand beside the grave of Lazarus; look at those loving sisters of Bethany, as with throbbing hearts and swollen eyes they gather around the last resting-place of that much-loved and only brother. Is your heart more unfeeling than the heart of Him of whom it was said, “Behold how he loved him?” If not, then moisten his grave with a tear of sympathy for those heart-stricken sisters; for it is not unmanly to weep,—
“That noble gift! that privilege of man.”
Let us leave these scenes, so well calculated to sadden the heart and moisten the eye, and turn to others of a far different nature.
Look at that stranger standing on Mars Hill. ’Tis true he is not commanding in person; neither is his speech in itself eloquent; but there is an electric current which continually passes from his soul to his eye, making it to flash with dazzling brilliancy.
With the deep blue sky as his canopy, and standing where Socrates once stood, he begins one of the most highly finished and closely argued orations on record.
With kindling features and burning ardor, he enters at once into the mysteries of his subject,—The nature of God. What eloquence!
“It wields at will that fierce democracy.”
John Milton has truly remarked: “There are no songs comparable to the songs of Zion; no orations equal to those of the prophets; no politics like those which the Scriptures teach.”