is used for the oft-mentioned river of Paradise, and, in another form, for day regarded as a flowing stream of light. The two related ideas are beautifully united in the lines of Lucretius, V, 282: Largus item liquidi fons luminis, ætherius sol Irrigat assidue coelum candore recenti. In the Hebrew the verb has also the secondary sense of calmn and joyful emotion. As in Psalm xxxiv, 6: "They looked unto him, 77, and flowed with joy." So also Isaiah lx, 5: "Then shall thou see and flow, ; thy face shall shine with exhilaration." Here it is taken, as a noun, in its primary import. It is a pity that we have no English word exactly corresponding to it. The term river has too much of the diminutive sense, and rapid, restless movement of the Latin rivus, which is generally applied to the smaller and swifter streams. Fluvius, if we had the word, would be far better, not only as keeping the radical image of fullness, but also that sense of easy flowing which accompanies it; the Latin fluo, the Greek new, and our Saxon full being etymologically the same radix in all. It denotes a large stream with full banks, unaffected by rapids, freshet, or decline, but moving smoothly, silently, majestically, and ever onward. It is the prophet's image and the prophet's word when he says, Isaiah lxvi, 12: "Peace like a river;" or Isaiah xlviii, 18: "Then had thy peace been like a river, and thy righteousness like the waves of the sea"-Sicut fluvius pax tua, et justitia tua sicut undæ maris. It is by this single word, thus standing separate and alone, that the whole effect is sought to be produced in the Hebrew. Everything of an assertive or qualifying kind is left out, that there may be nothing to detract from the beauty of the single picture thus presented to the mind's eye, and forming the most perfect contrast to the mingled storm and uproar that immediately precede. We are hurting it, perhaps, by the very attempt to explain; but there is no other method to be taken. As we cannot reach the simplicity of the Hebrew, and perfectly imitate that beautiful conciseness in which so much of the charm lies, we might be tempted to come as near as possible by giving the word in the vocative. O river! O gently flowing river! but this would make a discord with the third person pronominal suffix in the following word. Such a change of person, however, it may be remarked, is not an uncommon thing in this sacred language. We might, perhaps, keep near the conciseness, and yet get an assertive force, by emphasizing the pronoun its. "A river, its streams make glad the city of our God." But, after all, there is probably no bettering our translation. The poverty of our language in the emotional element renders the italics necessary; and, conceding this, nothing can be happier than our common version. No translation can be so poor as to destroy the sublime and beautiful idea -this river of the Church, coming out of eternity, flowing into eternity, carrying eternity with it, the calm, immutable truth of eternity, the steady flowing light of eternity, through all the changes and turbulent darkness of time. And here we cannot help remarking again upon the exquisite rhetoric there is in the Hebrew accents, from whatever ancient source, inspired or uninspired, they may have come. After the great preparatory pause, which must have been anciently denoted by selah, the Masorite interpreters have put a strong distinctive accent, or a rhbia as it is called, both on and on the suffix of the word for streams, thus making a pause on each, and separating them both from each other and from what follows. It is as though we read: "A river-its streams-they make glad the city of our God." In this manner each is made an object of contemplation, as though we were stopping to gaze upon a picture, while a new subject is found for the verb in the contained pronoun. This is warranted by the principle of Hebrew grammar, that in ordinary propositions, or where the logical assertion is the chief thing, the noun subject comes after the verb. When it comes before it must ever be regarded as emphatic, or as something on which the mind is to dwell as a thing by itself; in which case the verb following shows its severance from it by oftentimes disregarding its gender and number. We need only say here, that the effect of this may be felt by one accustomed to the Hebrew, but it is impossible to transfer it fully into the English and yet preserve the conciseness. There was doubtless some provision for this in David's grand system of musical accentuation. How far the present scheme of accents represents that is a question that cannot be decided. Some who have been the most pious in the Church, and at the same time among its noblest scholars, have not thought it extravagant to believe that in wholly rejecting these we may lose no unimportant part in the inspiration of that text they have contributed so wonderfully to preserve. We cannot conclude this example without adverting to the fact that the Hebrew word here rendered streams denotes, rather, irrigating canals drawn from the mighty-flowing river for the purpose of fertilizing the surrounding fields. It is the. "river of the water of life," and these are the channels through which its healing powers are conveyed to all things that dwell upon its blessed banks. Watts has paraphrased it in a manner that cannot be surpassed: There is a stream whose gentle flow Life, love, and joy still gliding through, It also strongly calls up the enrapturing images of Numbers xxiv, 5: "How fair are thy tents, O Jacob, thy tabernacles, O Israel! As the valleys are they spread forth, as gardens by the river's side, as the trees of lign-aloes which the Lord hath planted, and as cedar trees beside the waters." The great beauty of such images, and the important place they hold in the sacred language, is our excuse for dwelling so minutely upon them. ART. VI.-HENGSTENBERG AND HIS INFLUENCE ON GERMAN PROTESTANTISM. THE development of German Protestantism during the first half of the nineteenth century forms one of the most interesting and eventful chapters in modern Church history. At the beginning of this period rationalism reigned supreme in literature as well as in the Church. It was in possession of the universities and colleges, of the high Church offices, of the churches, of the book-market. The defenders of the supernatural origin and character of Christianity were few; and these few were so timid, and occupied so doubtful a position, that the historian finds it difficult to state in what points the "supernaturalist” theologians of this time differed from the rationalist. Contrary to general expectation, the predominance of rationalism was of short duration. From a feeble beginning a new evangelical school slowly but steadily arose, and after a hot and long-protracted contest dislodged rationalism from all its strongholds-from the schools, the churches, the offices, from literature. Evangelical literature in particular attained to a prosperity which benefited all Protestant countries and challenged the admiration of the entire world. Unfortunately, this return of a great people to the principles of evangelical Christianity was soon followed by another movement less gratifying. That fatal error of High Churchism, which had in England deluded so many men of great talent and high social position, took root also in the national Church of Germany. The High Church Lutherans rebuilt a wall of separation between themselves and their Protestant brethren of other denominations, and, rather than consent to the tearing down of this barrier, they showed themselves ready to make an advance toward the archfoe of Protestantism, the Church of Rome. It cannot be doubted that the High Church movement has already become in Germany a great power and a serious danger to Protestantism. It counts among its leaders some of the ablest theologians and laymen of the country, and some of the very men who led in the overthrow of Rationalism. The most prominent representative of this latter class is Professor Hengstenberg, of Berlin, a man who has had a greater influence on the recent history of German theology and the German Churches than any other theologian living, and whose life and labors therefore well deserve to enlist the special interest of foreign Protestant Churches. Ernst Wilhelm Hengstenberg was born October 20, 1802, at a village in Westphalia. After passing through his gymnasial course, he went, for the sake of further pursuing theological and philological studies, to the University of Bonn, which the Prussian government had recently reorganized for the benefit of the western provinces of the kingdom, Westphalia and the Rhine provinces. At Bonn Hengstenberg joined an asso ciation of students, which at that time extended its ramifications throughout Germany, and already began to exert a powerful influence on the religious life of the country no less than on the political. It was the so-called Burschenschaft, an association originally (in 1815) founded for the purpose of opposing to the hereditary carousing and dueling habits of the German student an earnest devotion to study, and substituting a symbol of German unity to the old Landmanschaften, which by their very names reminded of and actually perpetuated the political dismemberment of the fatherland. The fire of patriotism, strengthened by the successful termination of a glorious war of independence, at that time animated, with purifying and vivifying power, the hearts of the nation. It soon communicated itself, with the greatest intensity, to the glowing imagination of the young students' association, and inspired them, with the boldest and grandest, though often visionary projects of a reconstitution of the old German empire. The movement was characterized from the beginning by its profoundly religious character. During the years of suffering, when the yoke of the haughty French had been heavily weighing on the neck of the suppressed people, the conviction spread widely through all classes that the much-boasted-of age of "enlightenment" and rationalism had sapped the firmest basis of national prosperity, and laid the people, prostrate and nerveless, at the feet of the conqueror. The greatest and most respected among the reformers of Germany, the Prussian minister, Baron von Stein, had spoken noble words of censure and of exhortation to his countrymen, and they fell everywhere on fertile soil. The Burschenschaft, in particular, proclaimed with youthful enthusiasm the necessity of returning to practical religion, and made the concurrence with these views a term of membership. Two years after its foundation, on October 18, 1817, about five hundred students, representing twelve universities, celebrated with patriotic devotion the third centennial jubilee of the German Reformation in the same castle in which, three hundred years before, Luther had translated the New Testament and cast his inkstand at the devil. In the next year the Burschenschaft adopted a national organization, and explicitly stated its object to be the "Christian German development of every spiritual and physical faculty for the serv |