ed as sheep for the slaughter," naught could
separate them from the love of Christ. Wrapped in their fiery vesture
and shroud of flame, they yet exulted in their glorious victory. While
the leaden hail fell on the mangled frame, and the eyes filmed with the
shadows of death, the spirit was enbraved by the beatific vision of the
opening heaven, and above the roar of the mob fell sweetly on the inner
sense the assurance of eternal life. "No group, indeed, of Oceanides was
there to console the Christian Prometheus; yet to his upturned eye
countless angels were visible--their anthem swept solemnly to his ear
--and the odours of an opening paradise filled the air. Though the dull
ear of sense heard nothing, he could listen to the invisible Coryph[ae]us
as he invited him to heaven and promised him an eternal crown."[45] The
names of the "great army of martyrs," though forgotten by men, are
written in the Book of Life. "The Lord knoweth them that are His."

There is a record, traced on high,
That shall endure eternally;
The angel standing by God's throne
Treasures there each word and groan;
And not the martyr's speech alone,
But every wound is there depicted,
With every circumstance of pain
The crimson stream, the gash inflicted
And not a drop is shed in vain.[46]

This spirit of martyrdom was a new principle in society. It had no
classical counterpart.[47] Socrates and Seneca suffered with fortitude,
but not with faith. The loftiest pagan philosophy dwindled into
insignificance before the sublimity of Christian hope. This looked
beyond the shadows of time and the sordid cares of earth to the grandeur
of the Infinite and the Eternal. The heroic deaths of the believers
exhibited a spiritual power mightier than the primal instincts of
nature, the love of wife or child, or even of life itself. Like a solemn
voice falling on the dull ear of mankind, these holy examples urged the
inquiry, "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose
his own soul?" And that voice awakened an echo in full many a heart. The
martyrs made more converts by their deaths than in their lives. "Kill
us, rack us condemn us, grind us to powder," exclaims the intrepid
Christian Apologist; "our numbers increase in proportion as you mow us
down."[47] The earth was drunk with the blood of the saints, but still
they multiplied and grew, gloriously illustrating the perennial
truth--_Sanguis martyrum semen ec