“built a house, both large and high, And entered in and set him down to sigh; And planted ample woods and gardens fair, And walked with anguish and compunction there; The rich man’s pines to every friend a treat, _He_ saw with pain and _he_ refused to eat; His daintiest food, his richest wines, were all Turned by remorse to vinegar and gall: The softest down by living body pressed The rich man bought, and tried to take his rest; But care had thorns upon his pillow spread, And scattered sand and nettles in his bed: Nervous he grew—would often sigh and groan,— He talked but little, and he walked alone; Till by his priest convinced, that from one deed Of genuine love would joy and health proceed, He from that time with care and zeal began To seek and soothe the grievous ills of man; And as his hands their aid to grief apply, He learns to smile and he forgets to sigh. Now he can drink his wine and taste his food, And feel the blessings Heaven has dealt are good; And since the suffering seek the rich man’s door, He sleeps as soundly as when young and poor.” _WIND, EARTHQUAKE, FIRE, AND STILL SMALL VOICE._ 1 KINGS xix. 11, 12. While Elijah stood upon the mount before the Lord, there arose a great and strong wind that rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake: and after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice. We are not told that the Lord was not in the still small voice. We find that He was. And with that voice He addressed Elijah, reasoned with him, admonished, sustained, and directed him. May it not be said, in applying and adapting the narrative, which things are an allegory? The import of the narrative sublimely anticipates the homely fable of sun and wind. Wind, earthquake, and fire, are mighty agents; but they may pass by without tangible result as regards real influence on the spirit of man; whereas the gentle influence of a still small voice speaks home to it at once, and it responds to the strain, and is subdued by the spell. The drift of the present annotations, in their applied sense, finds expression in Ben Jonson’s reminder: “There is A way of working more by love than fear: Fear works on servile natures, not the free.”