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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 101 pages of information about The Wandering Jew Volume 08.
violence, and despair.  Those false shepherds, supported ay the powerful and wealthy of the world, who in all times have been their accomplices, instead of asking here below a little happiness for my brethren, who have been suffering and groaning for centuries, dare to utter, in Thy name, O Lord! that the poor must always be doomed to the tortures of this world, and that it is criminal in Thine eyes that they should either wish for or hope a mitigation of their sufferings on earth, because the happiness of the few and the wretchedness of nearly all mankind is Thine almighty will.  Blasphemies! is it not the contrary of these homicidal words that is more worthy of the name of Divine will?  Hear, me, O Lord! for mercy’s sake.  Snatch from their enemies the descendants of my sister, from the artisan up to the king’s son.  Do not permit them to crush the germ of a mighty and fruitful association, which, perhaps, under Thy protection, may take its place among the records of the happiness of mankind.  Suffer me, O Lord! to unite those whom they are endeavoring to divide—­to defend those whom they are attacking.  Suffer me to bring hope to those from whom hope has fled, to give courage to those who are weak, to uphold those whom evil threatens, and to sustain those who would persevere in well-doing.  And then, perhaps, their struggles, their devotedness, their virtues, this miseries might expiate my sin.  Yes, mine—­misfortune, misfortune alone, made me unjust and wicked.  O Lord! since Thine almighty hand hath brought me hither, for some end unknown to me, disarm Thyself, I implore Thee, of Thine anger, and let not me be the instrument of Thy vengeance!  There is enough of mourning in the earth these two years past—­Thy creatures have fallen by millions in my footsteps.  The world is decimated.  A veil of mourning extends from one end of the globe to the other.  I have traveled from Asia even to the Frozen Pole, and death has followed in my wake.  Dost Thou not hear, O Lord! the universal wailings that mount up to Thee?  Have mercy upon all, and upon me.  One day, grant me but a single day, that I may collect the descendants of my sister together, and save them!” And uttering these words, the wanderer fell upon his knees, and raised his hands to heaven in a suppliant attitude.

Suddenly, the wind howled with redoubled violence; its sharp whistlings changed to a tempest.  The Wanderer trembled, and exclaimed in a voice of terror, “O Lord! the blast of death is howling in its rage.  It appears as though a whirlwind were lifting me up.  Lord, wilt Thou not, then, hear my prayer?  The spectre!  O! do I behold the spectre?  Yes, there it is; its cadaverous countenance is agitated by convulsive throes, its red eyes are rolling in their orbits.  Begone! begone!  Oh! its hand—­its icy hand has seized on mine!  Mercy, Lord, have mercy!  ‘Onward!’ Oh, Lord! this scourge, this terrible avenging scourge!  Must I, then, again carry it into this city, must my poor wretched

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