When will the true prophet, priest, poet, preacher come to us?
For we are continually reminded that it is by the voice of the
poet only that a nation is permitted to survive. Jerusalem
has been permitted to come down to us forever glorified;
she cherished the poets; but where is Babylon, who cast the
prophets in the lion’s den? Nineveh was a city of three days’
journey; Nineveh would not hear; and where is Nineveh now?
But, Jerusalem, city of poetry and song! A little place; you
can cover it with a pin’s head on the maps of the world; and
yet she covers more space in history, sacred and profane, than
all the other cities of the world together. And this is simply
because she had faith and hope; and so had her poets, and did
not despise them, and her poets made her immortal. The cloven
foot of the golden calf is stamping out every page of this
great, neglected book. So great is the wealth of the leading
families of our cities that almost every hearthstone might be
paved with gold. Yet Socrates died for want of money enough
to pay a fine. True or false, the Greeks had gods, even the
unknown God of which Paul spoke, and they believed. They had
faith and hope. And so their poets sang, sang in marble. Song is
music, song is the eternal melody of beauty, and their country
lives.--JOAQUIN MILLER, _Belford’s Magazine_.
(2657)
=Religion Demanded=--See INFLUENCE, PERSONAL.