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The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 227 [12-24-1853]

              mind could ever fictionize such a life as that of Jesus Christ�s.
Shakspere drew �Hamlet,� � but who could invent the character
of him of Nazareth?         And Shakspere, and all the mightiest
minds, before whom our very souls stand in reverence, were but
priests to him.   You can trace Jesus in everything that is divine
in them.       They got all from him.   The greatest poet is
he who is most Christian, who teaches Forgiveness, Love, Un-
Worldliess.          How small they all are, to him.     The whole
life, (put the miracles aside, even,) is such as no human creature
could invent, and no merely human nature could live.    It is
Divine, Un-Earthly, not of Earth, but of Heaven.       A per-
fect life.        Let one of us try to live a perfect day, � half
hour, � and think of the vanities, littlenesses, � think what he
knows of himself  � the very best of us.         And then too, �
his teachings � so Catholic, all embracing.   That God is Our
Father, child and Sage may kneel together.   Besides look
at Christianity, as a trial, and mark the result.    In the
reign of Tiberius C�sar, in an obscure corner of the Romish
Empire, a man is put to death, as a blasphemer, stirrer up of
sedition &c, � an itinerant preacher, you may say.         And now
eighteen centuries and a half have passed, and every country that
is worthy to be thought one, is Christian.          Our best and
wisest are but expositors of his words.        We must believe in him,
our hearts yearn to it, we are Wretched else, and the world
is a cold, blank, Material, Necessitarian, drifting Limbo of
Miserable Men apes.             I do not understand his Concep-
tion, his Miracles, his God-head, but I know that his Life
was divine, that he was tried and tempted to Agony, � that               
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