flesh and blood, here to-day, to-morrow in the grave; whose anger, however vehement, cannot be eternal,—whose punishment, however severe, cannot last forever,—who might indeed kill me, but could not deprive me of a future life,—nay, perhaps I might pacify him with words, or bribe him with money or valuable presents,—notwithstanding all which, I should tremble, fear, and weep. Now I am to be conducted before the awful majesty of the King of kings; before the holy and blessed God, who is, and liveth forever. Whose just anger may be eternal,—who may doom me to everlasting punishment; and should he condemn me to death, it is a death without further hope. Nor can I pacify him with words, nor bribe him with money. Neither is this all: but there are two roads before me, one leading to paradise, the other to hell; but I know not by which of these I shall be conveyed. Have I not cause to weep?"—The disciples, although convinced of their master's piety, and the purity of his past life, yet felt the truth of his observation, and entreated him to bestow his last blessing upon them. "O! may ye," said their master, "fear God as much as one fears a mortal king, made of flesh and blood."—"Rabbi," said his disciples, "is this all, and no more?" "O!" replied the dying sage, "would it were even so! Consider, my children, how tremblingly alive men are for their reputation.
