And rolls through all things,"
he conveys the fundamental idea which was at the bottom of these earliest religions, and which has been perpetuated in the East through their successors, Brahmanism and Buddhism—the idea of Pantheism, or of an universe which is one with its First Cause, and not a mechanical work called into existence from without by a personal Creator.
An ancient priest of Egypt or Chaldæa might have written these verses of the philosophic poet of the nineteenth century, only he would have written Horus or Bel for the "setting sun"; Ea for the "round ocean"; Anur for the "sky," and so on. Side by side with these intellectual and philosophical conceptions of these ancient religions, we find the element of personal piety occupying a place which contrasts wonderfully with the childish and superstitious idea of evil spirits, magical spells, and omens. We read in the same collections of tablets, of mares bringing forth dogs and women lions; and psalms, which in their elevation of moral tone and intensity of personal devotion might readily be mistaken for the Hebrew Psalms attributed to David. There is a large collection of what are known as "the Penitential Psalms," in which the Chaldæan penitent confesses his sins, pleads ignorance, and sues for mercy, almost in the identical words of the sweet singer of Israel. In one of these, headed "The complaints of the repentant heart," we find such verses as these—
"I eat the food of wrath, and drink the waters of anguish."
"Oh, my God, my transgressions are very great, very great my sins.
"The Lord in his wrath has overwhelmed me with confusion."
"I lie on the ground, and none reaches a hand to me. I am silent and in tears, and none takes me by the hand. I cry out, and there is none who hears me."