“My lover goes down into his garden, to the beds of spices, to wander about in the garden and pluck roses.” (Song of Songs).

The world is the garden of my lover, and he my lover is the King of kings.  Like a bed of fragrant spices is Israel, the sweet savour of piety ascends on high, the perfume of learning lingers on the passing breeze, and the bed of beauty is fenced round by gentle peace.  The plants flourish and put forth leaves, leaves giving grateful shelter to those who suffer from the heats and disappointment of life, and my lover seeking the most beautiful blossom, plucks the roses, the students of the law, whose belief is their delight.

When the devouring flames seize upon the cedar, shall not the lowly hyssop fear and tremble?  When anglers draw the great leviathan from his mighty deeps, what hope have the fish of the shallow pond?  When the fishing-line is dropped into the dashing torrent, can they feel secure, the waters of the purling brook?

Mourn for those who are left; mourn not for the one taken by God from earth.  He has entered into the eternal rest, while we are bowed with sorrow.

Rabbi Akiba was once traveling through the country, and he had with him an ass, a rooster, and a lamp.

At nightfall he reached a village where he sought shelter for the night without success.

“All that God does is done well,” said the Rabbi, and proceeding toward the forest he resolved to pass the night there.  He lit his lamp, but the wind extinguished it.  “All that God does is done well,” he said.  The ass and the rooster were devoured by wild beasts; yet still he said no more than “All that God does is done well.”

Next day he learned that a troop of the enemy’s soldiers had passed through the forest that night.  If the ass had brayed, if the rooster had crowed, or if the soldiers had seen his light he would surely have met with death, therefore he said again, “All that God does is done well.”

* * * * *

Once when Rabbi Gamliel, Rabbi Eleazer, the son of Azaria, Rabbi Judah, and Rabbi Akiba were walking together, they heard the shouts and laughter and joyous tones of a multitude of people at a distance.  Four of the Rabbis wept; but Akiba laughed aloud.

“Akiba,” said the others to him, “wherefore laugh?  These heathens who worship idols live in peace, and are merry, while our holy city lies in ruins; weep, do not laugh.”

“For that very reason I laugh, and am glad,” answered Rabbi Akiba.  “If God allows those who transgress His will to live happily on earth, how infinitely great must be the happiness which He has stored up in the world to come for those who observe His commands.”

Upon another occasion these same Rabbis went up to Jerusalem.  When they reached Mount Zophim and saw the desolation about them they rent their garments, and when they reached the spot where the Temple had stood and saw a fox run out from the very site of the holy of holies four of them wept bitterly; but again Rabbi Akiba appeared merry.  His comrades again rebuked him for this, to them, unseemly state of feeling.