eep in the mystery of a language lost and dead.
Odin, the author of life and soul, Vili and Ve, and the mighty giant
Ymir, strode long ago from the icy halls of the North; and Thor, with
iron glove and glittering hammer, dashes mountains to the earth no
more. Broken are the circles and cromlechs of the ancient Druids;
fallen upon the summits of the hills, and covered with the centuries'
moss, are the sacred cairns. The divine fires of Persia and of the
Aztecs, have died out in the ashes of the past, and there is none to
rekindle, and none to feed the holy flames. The harp of Orpheus is
still; the drained cup of Bacchus has been thrown aside; Venus lies
dead in stone, and her white bosom heaves no more with love. The
streams still murmur, but no naiads bathe; the trees still wave, but in
the forest aisles no dryads dance. The gods have flown from high
Olympus. Not even the beautiful women can lure them back, and Danee
lies unnoticed, naked to the stars. Hushed forever are the thunders of
Sinai; lost are the voices of the prophets, and the land once flowing
with milk and honey is but a desert and waste.

One by one, the myths have faded from the clouds; one by one, the
phantom host has disappeared, and one by one facts, truths and
realities have taken their places. The supernatural has almost gone,
but the natural remains. The gods have fled, but man is here.

Nations, like individuals, have their periods of youth, of manhood and
decay. Religions are the same. The same inexorable destiny awaits
them all. The gods created by the nations must perish with their
creators. They were created by men, and like men, they must pass away.
The deities of one age are the by-words of the next. The religion of
one day and country, is no more exempt from the sneer of the future
than others have been. When India was supreme, Brahma sat upon the
world's throne. When the scepter passed to Egypt, Isis and Osiris
received the homage of mankind. Greece, with her fierce valor, swept
to empire, and Zeus put on the purple of authority. The earth trembled
with the tread of Rome's intrepid sons, and Jove grasped with mailed
hand the thunderbolts of heaven. Rome fell, and Christians from her
territory, with the red sword of war, carved out the ruling nations of
the world, and now Christ sits upon the old throne. Who will be his
successor?

Day by day, religious conceptions grow less and less intense. Day by
day, the old spirit dies