is not an individual, it
is not So-and-so, who has shown his gratitude, but all the world by
the mouth of one. "The kindnesses I receive," he thought, "are
indeed trials; but yet I ought to accept them with thanks. I will try
henceforth to be a benefactor to others as others are to me, without
display, and with grateful thanks to God, our highest Benefactor: this
will I do, and search no further for the why and for the wherefore." And
once more a voice spoke within him, and he stood erect, and raised his
arms on high. "Who knows," he thought, "whether at this moment I have
not been in this or that place, to this or that man, a brother, a
friend, a comforter, a saviour; and from house to house, may be, my
spirit travels, awakening, enlivening, refreshing--yonder in the attic,
where burns a solitary light; and afar in some village a mother is
sitting by her child, and hearing him repeat the thoughts I have
arranged in verse; and peradventure some solitary old man, who is
waiting for death, is now sitting by his fireside, and his lips are
uttering my words."

"And yonder in the church, the choir is chanting a hymn of yours; could
you have written this hymn without its vigor in your heart? Oh! no, it
_must_ be there." And with trembling he thought: "There is nothing so
small as to have no place in the government of God! Should you not then
believe that He suffered this day's incident to happen for your joy? Oh!
were it so, what happiness were yours! A heart renewed."... He moved to
the window, looked up to heaven, and prayed inwardly: "My soul is
with my brothers and my sisters: nay, it is with Thee, my God, and in
humility I acknowledge how richly Thou hast blessed me. And if, in the
kingdom of the world to come, a soul should cry to me: 'Thou didst
guide and cheer me on to happiness eternal!' all hail! my friend, my
benefactor, my glory in the presence of God.... In these thoughts let me
die, and pardon me my weakness and my sins!"

"And the evening and morning were the first day."

At early morning, Gellert was sitting at his table, and reading
according to his invariable custom, first of all in the Bible. He never
left the Bible open--he always shut it with a peaceful, devotional
air, after he had read therein: there was something grateful as well as
reverential in his manner of closing the volume; the holy words should
not lie uncovered.

To-day, however, the Bible was lying open when he rose. His eye fell
upon t