The ancient Greek looked longingly for the Olympiad; the Chaldee watched the appearing of a star, to him no higher revelation than the horoscope hung out upon empyrean. But the meek Nazarene, the scoffed of all scoffers, said: "Ye can discern the face of the sky, and how much more should you discern the sign of these times;" and he looked at the ordeal of a perfect Christianity, hated by sinners.
To kindle all minds with a common sentiment of regard the new idea that comes welling up from infinite Truth needs to be understood. The seer of this period should be a sage. Small streams are noisy and rush precipitately in torrents; babbling brooks run to the river, and the river rises in storms to demolish bridges and flood cities. But the still small voice of truth comes to our recognition slowly and silently, changing our natures in its course, and ending in prayer and benediction.
When the keys of thought have been fully swept by some master hand whose mind is a moral musician, their tones at length touch the people's ear, are heard, and the harmony is half acknowledged— the public sentiment is aroused and all are liable to be borne on the current of feeling. Then should men retire temporarily from the tumult to the silent culture of every right idea, and the quiet practice of every duty. After the noise and stir of contending sentiments cease, and the flames fade away on the mount of revelation, we read more clearly the tablets of truth, and write them on the heart.
