At that awful hour of the Passion, when the Savior of the world felt deserted in His agony, when — “The sympathizing sun his light withdrew, And wonder’d how the stars their dying Lord could view” — when earth, shaking with horror, rung the passing bell for Deity, and universal nature groaned, then from the loftiest tree to the lowliest flower all felt a sudden thrill, and trembling, bowed their heads all save the proud and obdurate aspen, which said, “Why should we weep and tremble? We trees, and plants, and flowers are pure and never sinned!” Ere it ceased to speak, an involuntary trembling seized its very leaf, and the word went forth that it should never rest, but tremble on until the day of judgment.

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