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controversy. Men there have been, driven before the wrath of kings to wander outlaws and exiles, whose musings and actings have been recorded to us in the minstrelsy of their native land. Draw these songs of the exile into comparison with the Psalms of David, and know the spirit of the man after God's own heart; the stern defiance of the one, with the tranquil acquiescence of the other; the deep despair of the one, with the rooted trust. of the other; the vindictive imprecations of the one, with the tender regret and forgiveness of the other. Show us an outlaw who never spoiled the country which had forsaken him, nor turned his hand in selfdefence or revenge against his persecutors,—yea, lifted up his arm in behalf of that mother who had cast her son away from her bosom, and held him. at a distance from her love, and raised the rest of her family to hunt him to the death; in the defiance of that thankless, unnatural mother-country, find us such a repudiated son lifting up his arm and spending his vigor in smiting and utterly discomfiting her enemies, whose spoils he kept not to enrich himself and his ruthless followers, but dispensed to comfort her and her happier children. Find us, among the Themistocles and Coriolani and Cromwells and Napoleons such a man, and we will yield the argument of this controversy which we maintain for the peerless son of Jesse.

But we fear that no such other man is to be found in the recorded annals of men. Though he rose from the peasantry to fill the throne, and enlarge

the borders of his native land, he gave himself neither to ambition nor to glory; though basely treated, he gave not way to despondency or revenge; though of the highest genius in poetry, he gave it not license to sing his own deeds, nor to ennoble any worldly sentiment or attachment of the human heart, however virtuous or honorable, but constrained it to sing the praises of God and the victories of the right hand of the Lord of hosts, and His admirable works which are old from everlasting.

The force of his character was vast, and the scope of his life was immense. His harp was full-stringed, and every angel of joy or of sorrow swept over the chords as he passed, but the melody always breathed of Heaven. And such oceans of affection lay within his breast as could not always slumber in their calmness; for the hearts of a hundred men strove and struggled together within the narrow confines of his single heart. And will the scornful man have no sympathy for one so conditioned, but scorn him because he ruled not with constant quietness the unruly host of divers natures which dwelt within his soul? Of self-command he surely will not be held deficient who endured Saul's javelin to be so often launched at him, while the people without were willing to hail him king; who endured all bodily hardships and taunts of his enemies when revenge was in his hand, and ruled his desperate band, and restrained them from their country's injury. But that he should be able to enact all characters without a fault, the simple shepherd, the

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conquering hero, and the romantic lover; the perfect friend, the innocent outcast, and the royal monarch; the poet and the prophet; and withal the man, the man of vast soul, who played not these parts by turns, but was the original of them all, and wholly present in them all,-oh! that he should have fulfilled this high-priesthood of humanity, this universal ministry of manhood, without an error, were more than human! With the defence of his backslidings, which he hath himself more keenly scrutinized, more clearly discerned against, and more bitterly lamented than any of his censors, we do not charge ourselves; but if, when he became convinced of these acts, he be found less true to God, and to righteousness; indisposed to repentance, and sorrow, and anguish; exculpatory of himself; stout-hearted in his courses; a formalist in his penitence, or in any way less worthy in those than in the rest of his infinite moods, then let his Psalms become legends or what you please. But if those penitential Psalms lay bare the iron ribs of misery whereon the very heart dissolveth,-then, we say, let us keep these records of the Psalmist's grief and despondency as the most precious of his utterances.

EDWARD IRVING

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SOLOMON AND HIS SAGES

One day the Queen of Sheba gave Solomon a ring, with many score of oxen. She bade him bestow it on the wisest of his sages. So Solomon commanded his wise men to appear before him on the feast of the full moon. They came from Bethel and Dan, the court and the school of the prophets.

Then King Solomon, arrayed in his regal robes, sat on his throne, the sceptre of Israel in his right hand. The Queen of Sheba sat beside him. He commanded his sages to speak. Many opened their mouths, and discoursed most eloquently; they told of many things. The eyes of the queen shone like dew-drops which quiver at sunrise on the peachblossoms. Solomon was sad.

At last one arose of courtly mien. He told of wondrous cities in far-off lands; how the sun scalds the dew in Sahara; how it forsakes the chill North for whole months, leaving the cold moon in its place; he spoke of the fleets that go down to the sea; he told how they weave wax at Tyrus, spin gold at Ophir; of the twisted shell that comes from Oroba, and the linen in Egypt that endures the fire; he spoke of fleets, of laws, of the art that makes men happy.

"Truly, he is wise," said the king. others speak."

"But let

Another came forth; he was young in years, his cheek was burning with enthusiasm, the fire of

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genius shone in his eye, like the day-star when all the others are swallowed up in light. He spoke of the works of the great One; told how the cedar of Lebanon, when the sun kisses its forehead, lifts up its great arms with a shout, shaking off the feathery snow in winter, or the pearly dew of autumn, to freshen the late river that glistens at its foot. He spoke of the elephant, the antelope, the jackal, the camel, the eagle; he knew them all. He told of the fish that make glad the waters as the seasons dance and frolic round about their heads. He sang in liquid softness of the daughters of air who melt the heaven into song; he rose to the stars, spoke of old chaos, of the world, of the ladder Jacob saw.

"He is wiser than Solomon," said the king; "to him belongs the prize."

But at that moment some men in humble garb brought a stranger unwillingly along. His raiment was poor, but comely and snow-white. The seal of labor was on his hand; the dust of travel covered his sandals. His beard, long and silvery, went down to his girdle; a sweet smile, like a sleeping infant's, sat unconscious on his lip. As he leaned on his shepherd's staff in the gay court, a blush stole over his cheek.

“I have nothing to say," exclaimed the hoary "I know only how unwise and frail I am. I am no sage."

man.