Our monthly will enter many a home during the coming holidays--the eight
days consecrated to the memory of the most sublime record in the history
of mankind, the union of the Divine with the human, the introduction of
a human heart into the impenetrable but truly philosophical mystery of
the Trinity. Do we ever sufficiently realize the duties which this
marvellous union has enjoined upon us, the privileges with which it has
endowed us?
We shall enter many a home--some joyous with the mirth of children, the
hopefulness of youth, the serene happiness of useful and contented men
and women;--some shadowed by recent sorrow, where perhaps patriots, as
in the olden time, learn to endure for the sake of a beloved
country;--or others, perchance, where worldliness, discord, and egotism
have severed hearts that should be united. God grant the number of the
latter may be few! Happy should we be, could we know that our arrival
would bring one more smile to the lips of the gay, a single ray of
support or consolation to the souls of the sorrowing--could we cause the
world-worn to dream of better and brighter things than mere matter can
ever afford, give the thinker a pregnant thought, soothe earth's weary
art-children with the hope of wider comprehension and sympathy, lead the
rich to open upward paths to their poorer brethren, or the poor nobly to
bear or to better their humble condition--in a word, could we offer but
single drops of that wine of immortal life for which every human soul is
thirsting.
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