I make but little of his praises of Allah,
which many praise; they are borrowed I suppose mainly from the Hebrew,
at least they are far surpassed there. But the eye that flashes direct
into the heart of things, and _sees_ the truth of them; this is to me a
highly interesting object. Great Nature's own gift; which she bestows on
all; but which only one in the thousand does not cast sorrowfully away:
it is what I call sincerity of vision; the test of a sincere heart.
Mohammed can work no miracles; he often answers impatiently: I can work
no miracles. I? "I am a Public Preacher"; appointed to preach this
doctrine to all creatures. Yet the world, as we can see, had really from
of old been all one great miracle to him. Look over the world, says he;
is it not wonderful, the work of Allah; wholly "a sign to you," if your
eyes were open! This Earth, God made it for you; "appointed paths in
it"; you can live in it, go to and fro on it.--The clouds in the dry
country of Arabia, to Mohammed they are very wonderful: Great clouds, he
says, born in the deep bosom of the Upper Immensity, where do they come
from! They hang there, the great black monsters; pour-down their
rain-deluges "to revive a dead earth," and grass springs, and "tall
leafy palm-trees with their date-clusters hanging round. Is not that a
sign?" Your cattle too,--Allah made them; serviceable dumb creatures;
they change the grass into milk; you have your clothing from them, very
strange creatures; they come ranking home at evening-time, "and," adds
he, "and are a credit to you"! Ships also,--he talks often about ships:
Huge moving mountains, they spread-out their cloth wings, go bounding
through the water there, Heaven's wind driving them; anon they lie
motionless, God has withdrawn the wind, they lie dead, and cannot stir!
Miracles? cries he; What miracle would you have? Are not you yourselves
there? God made _you_, "shaped you out of a little clay.
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