"My dear Veit," said Luther, "I have said it often and I repeat it again, whoever would know God aright and speculate concerning Him without danger, must look into the manger, and learn first of all to know the Son of the Virgin Mary, born at Bethlehem, lying in His mother's bosom or hanging upon the cross; then will he understand who God is. This will not only then be not terrible, but on the contrary most attractive and comforting. Guard yourself, my dear Veit, from the proud thought of climbing into heaven without this ladder, apart from the Lord Jesus Christ in His humanity. As the Word simple describes Him, stick to this, and do not permit reason to divert you from it; then will you apprehend God aright! I wish to know of no other God than the God who hung upon the cross, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and of the Virgin Mary." 1193 Luther was remarkable for his contempt of riches, though few men had a greater opportunity of obtaining them. The Elector of Saxony offered him the produce of a mine at Sneberg, but he nobly refused it, lest it should prove an injury to him. --_Buck._ 1194 LUXURY. _Dr. Johnson_:--"A man gives half a guinea for a dish of green peas. How much gardening does this occasion? How many laborers must the competition, to have such things early in the market, keep in employment? You will hear it said very gravely, 'Why was not the half-guinea, thus spent in luxury, given to the poor? To how many might it have afforded a good meal? Alas! has it not gone to the _industrious_ poor, whom it is better to support, than the _idle_ poor? You are much surer that you are doing good when you _pay_ money to those who work, as the recompense of their labor, than when you _give_ money merely in charity." M 1195 He who is too much afraid of being duped has lost the power of being magnanimous. --_Amiel._ 1196 A MAIDEN'S LAMENT. Full oft he sware with accents true and tender, "Though years roll by, my love shall ne'er wax old!" And so to him my heart I did surrender, Clear as a mirror of pure burnished gold; And from that day, unlike the seawood bending To every wave raised by the autumn gust, Firm stood my heart, on him alone depending, As the bold seaman in his ship doth trust. Is it some cruel evil one that hath bereft me? Or hath some mortal stolen away his heart? No word, no letter since the day he left me; Nor more he cometh, ne'er again to part! In vain I weep, in helpless, hopeless sorrow, From earliest morn until the close of day; In vain, till radiant dawn brings back the morrow, I sigh the weary, weary nights away. No need to tell how young I am, and slender-- A little maid that in thy palm could lie: Still for some message comforting and tender I pace the room in sad expectancy. 1197