He drew a copy of the Scriptures from his bosom, and read the famous Haphtorah.  “Who hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?  For he shall grow up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground; he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty, that we should desire him.  He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows!” He stopped, laid his hand upon my arm, and asked, “Of whom hath the prophet spoken?  Him that is to come, still to come?” Then he left me.

Some years passed away; the burden remained upon my soul.  One day, as I dwelt among my kinsmen in Naphtali, I was watching a great storm, when suddenly there stood before me a spirit, accursed and evil, Epiphanes, one of those spirits of the evil dead who are allowed from time to time to reappear on earth.

“Power you shall have, and hate it,” he announced; “wealth and life, and hate them.  You shall be the worm among a nation of worms—­you shall be steeped in poverty to the lips—­you shall undergo the bitterness of death, until——­Come,” he cried suddenly, “son of misfortune, emblem of the nation, that living shall die, and dying shall live; that, trampled by all, shall trample on all; that, bleeding from a thousand wounds, shall be unhurt; that, beggared, shall wield the wealth of nations; that, without a name, shall sway the council of kings; that, without a city, shall inhabit in all the kingdoms; that, scattered like the dust, shall be bound together like the rock; that, perishing by the sword, chain, famine, and fire, shall be imperishable, unnumbered, glorious as the stars of heaven.”

I was caught up and swept towards Jerusalem.  It was the twilight of a summer evening.  Town and wall lay bathed in a sea of purple; the Temple rose from its centre like an island of light; the host of Heaven came riding up the blue fields alone; all was the sweetness, calm, and splendour of a painted vision.  As the night deepened, a murmur from the city caught my ear; it grew loud, various, wild; it was soon mixed with the clash of arms; trumpets rang, torches blazed along battlements and turrets; the roar of battle rose, deepened into cries of agony, swelled into furious exultation.  “Behold,” said the possessed, “these are but the beginnings of evil!” I looked up; the spirit was gone.  In another minute I was plunging into the valley, and rushing forward to the battle.

From that moment I became a chieftain of Israel, and as Prince of Naphtali led my people against the legions of Rome.  I came to be a priest, I became a captain.  I was ever in the midst of battle; I was cast into dungeons; brought to the cross; cast among lions; shipwrecked, driven out to sea on a blazing trireme; accused before Nero and Titus; exposed a thousand times to death; and yet ever at the extreme moment some mysterious hand interfered between my life and its destruction.  I could not die.