THE HOLLY-BUSH. 157 



nor spreads its green mantle in cheerful compan- 

 ionship. No gaudy butterfly sports around it, nor 

 does the bee come forth to ply her busy trade 

 among its branches. The snow-drift alone lodges 

 there ; and every howling wind vents upon it a 

 passing murmur. Yet, calm and contented, the 

 beautiful plant uprears its head, well-pleased to 

 put honour upon a season that few of the gay ones 

 of the earth care to adorn. I should be sorry to 

 overlook this ; for it tells me of Him who came 

 into this dark and stormy world, to suffer and to 

 do what nothing but Almighty love could have 

 supported or achieved ; who looked for some to 

 take pity, but there was none ; and for comforters, 

 but found no man : — who not only bore the scorn, 

 the rebuke, and the rejection of those in whose 

 likeness he vouchsafed to appear, but endured the 

 storms of divine wrath, the blasting of the breath 

 of that displeasure which had waxed hot against 

 the inhabitants of the earth, and to which he pre- 

 sented himself, an innocent and a willing mark. 



Then the berries : what a tongue is their's, while 

 they represent to my eye that which speaketh bet- 

 ter things than the blood of Abel. Wrung forth in 

 slow droppings from the agonized body, which 

 sweated blood through the pressure of mental an- 

 guish, before the scourge, the thorn, and the nail 

 had pierced the sinless flesh of their victim, — how 

 precious was that coin which was given to ransom 



14 



