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Text
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”*
BY REV. E. S. ATWOOD, SALEM, MASS.
A leaf is one of tlie most beautiful and
wonderful objects in nature. It fulfils the
double mission of grace and use. Just what
the lungs are to man and animals, that the
leaves are to the trees and shrubs. Vegeta
ble equally with animal life depends upon and
progresses by processes of respiration. We
loosen and fertilize the soil about the roots of
the tree, in order to push on its growth; yet,
with all our pains, we do but a small part of
the work. The silent leaves above us, open
ing a thousand mouths on every branch, are
the great feeders of fertility. All the day
long, under the quickening chemistry of light
and heat, they eliminate and breathe in the
e Preached on board the steamship “William Penn;”
copied by Stephen Massett; publicly read by him on
board the steamship “ China ” on her first voyage from
San Francisco to Yokohama, Japan ; and then printed at
the office of the “China Mail,” Hong-Kong
�2
“NOTHING BUT ’LEAVES.”
healthy oxygen from the air, that vitalizes
the sap, and spreads beauty and strength to
every fibre and cell—and all the night they
breathe out the waste and refuse carbon.
Tender and fragile as they are, veined more
delicately than an infant’s hand, seeming to
cling so timidly to bough and twig; yet with
out them trunk and branch would wither and
stand the dreary skeletons of the life that
had perished. But over and above their pur
poses of use, what grace and goodliness they
give to nature, what marvellous varieties of
form and size and shade they exliibit! Look
at them in spring time, when they are coming
out timidly one by one; in that fresh exquis
ite green attire, quickening the throbbings
of every heart with their hints of life. Look
at them in the thick-leaved splendor of June,
when, massed and matted, they darken the
ground with their cool and grateful shadow;
or watch them hi autumn, when frost and
ripeness fire the trees, and they flame gor/ geous illuminations to swell the splendor of
/ the triumphant march of harvest; and in all
/
their shifting phases alike they rejoice the
/
eyes, and give warmth and color to the most
!
■ unimpressive nature.
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
3
Yet the leaves of a tree once called forth
the condemnation and the. curse of Christ.
Matt. 21:19. Walking with his disciples, he
saw at a distance a fig-tree. In tropical
countries, the broad and luxuriant foliage of
this tree makes it a notable object in the
landscape. Weary and faint, they hastened
towards it, and stood under its shade; be
neath its spreading branches they found shel
ter from the burning heat. Had it been dry
and leafless, he would have passed it by; but
standing there full clothed in the splendor of
Syrian summer, every bough quick with life,
the processes of growth pushing on—because
of its very appearance and seeming perfect
ness he cursed it, so that presently it withered
away.
Because he found thereonnothing but
leaves!” Men plant fr.uit trees, not for /bh'age, but for fruit. A leaf is not the last and
highest result of growth, but only an interme
diate product of the process, meant to be a
help to the perfect consummation. It was
food that Christ was seeking, and not shade.
It was high time that it should be found. The
fig appears before the leaf. That such a tree
should be barren at such a season was sure
�4
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
proof that it was a failure, so far as the high
est end of its existence was concerned; and
so, though it stood out & thing of beauty,
broad branched, thick leaved, still because it
bore “nothing but leaves,” Christ condemned
it, that it might be a type and warning to
generations to come, that lack of fruit-bear
ing is a sin against God, however attractive
or promising a profession and life may be.
And yet how many systems of faith and
practice, accepted by multitudes and com
mended with unmeasured praise, after all
bear “nothing but leaves.” Every thought
ful man admits the legitimacy of this test of
fruitfulness. He has no hope that a barren
theory will win its way in the world. He
hastens to show, when he urges liis scheme
upon you, wliat it has done and what it can
do. We judge of systems as we do of seeds,
which will give us the fullest ears and the
most abundant harvests. But men often fail
to discriminate clearly between leaf and fruit.
It is contended sometimes by the advocates
of an amended gospel and a liberal creed,
that the forth-puttings of that system are its
all-sufficient verification. We are pointed to
the eloquent orators, the elegant scholars, the
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.’
5
graceful poets it produces. But. eloquence
and scholarship and poetry are “nothing but
leaves.” Holiness of heart is the true fruit
of a real gospel; the clusters ripened by the
grace of God hang higher than the growths
of intellect.
We are pointed to the earnest sympathy
with man fostered by this genial faith, to its
varied philanthropic schemes for the better
ment of the laboring classes, for the reclama
tion of the vicious, for the rescue of the down
trodden and oppressed; but all these things,
worthy as they are, are in comparison “noth
ing but leaves.” The ripe fruit of genuine
spiritual faith is salvation—a power that not
merely ministers to bodily necessities or con
strains to outw ard proprieties of conduct, but
a power that goes deeper and does more
thorough work—that purifies and renovates
and sanctifies the soul. All else but this is
as nothing. To mature this royal harvest the
councils of eternity were set. For this, proph
et and apostle were anointed with Chrism di
vine. For this, Jesus wept and suffered and
died. For this, the Holy Ghost, the Com
forter, came, and conies and strives. For this,
all powers of holy growth for ever struggle;
�G
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
and any system, however great its triumphs
in other directions, that cannot show regen
erate souls as its fruits, let it boast as it may,
its best results are “nothing but leaves.”
It is with the single soul, however, that this
truth has the most to do; it has an eminently
practical bearing on the individual well-being.
Let every man take such care of himself that
he shall be genuinely fruitful, and it matters
little about systems. And this is the great
end of our creation. God has put you and me
into this world, not to amass fortunes, not to
win great names, not to live easily and pleas
antly, with as little trouble as possible, but
to glorify him; and “herein is my Father
glorified, that ye bear much fruit.” And yet
most men drive on, as if the great object in
life was to bear “nothing but leaves”—to en
large one’s social influence, to reach a higher
social position, to multiply possessions. For
things like these nine-tenths of human energy
is expended. We are more anxious about the
quantity than the quality of our growth; we
forget the one set purpose of our life. There
are but few v*ho so seclude themselves from
the thrill and stir of the great multitude, that
they hear with distinctness God’s message to
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
7
their souls. We live in a thronged and
busy world. We breathe its feverish air;
we catch the contagion of its enthusiasms
and hopes. We look at its prizes through
the bewildering glare of sense. We wish not
strangely, to be and do as other men, and so
we forget that, in spite of the clamor and roar
that fill the spiritual ear, a voice is sounding
all the day, “ Son—daughter, go work in my
vineyard.” The great end of life is mistaken,
the povrers and possibilities given for holy and
lasting use are employed in unworthy ways
and for inferior ends, and we come to the end
of our years, be they many or few, to find
at the last, and too late, that all our toilsome
probation has borne for us “nothing but
leaves.”
It is of the first importance, therefore, for
the wise conduct of life, that a man should
recognize his true mission as a fruit-bearer.
It is essential to economical and successful
labor that the task should be accurately de
fined. Half the -work in the world is wasted,
because men strike at hap-hazard. They
have no specific aim, only a vague and gen
eral desire to “get on.” The great apostle
gave the rule of success in any direction when
�8
NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
lie said, “I so ran, not as uncertainly; so figlit
I, not as one who beateth the air.” Thrust a
magnet into a heap of metallic particles, and
at once they assume set and crystalline forms.
And distinctness of purpose has a magnetic
power. It brings into proper position and
play every force that can bear upon the end.
to be obtained. It utilizes latent energies,
and originates combinations of powers, and
works every thing at full pressure, and with
all the might of an unconquerable will presses
on to triumph.
Witness in proof of this the methods in
which men of the world win their victories.
Let a man make up his mind, like Girard, to
be rich, and see how that determination works
for him. Every thing else is held subordinate
to that end. Body and soul become mere
slaves to that over-mastering purpose. Hun
ger presses him, but he will not yield to appe
tite any further than is needful to get strength
to make money. Pleasure woos him, but he
turns away from all its enchantments; there
is no “money” to be made by self-gratifica
tion. Taste urges its claim, but it cannot be
heeded, for it takes instead of makes money
to satisfy it. He walks abroad, but it is not
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.
9
to breathe the sweet air, nor gladden the eyes
with the wonders of a world of beauty, but
only to see where some new “dollar” may be
found. Every thing he is, or has, or does
strains towards the same end; and that pas
sionate enthusiasm, laughing at obstacles,
presses on till it grasps the prize for which it
has dared and done all. There is no power
like the might of a great determination.
Nothing less than Divine can match it. When
a thousand wires are welded into one, they
forge The Damascus steel, that can divide the
gossamer or cut the iron bar asunder; and
when all the energies of a man are molten
into one force by the potent heat of purpose,
they shape a blade invincible by aught but
the flashing sword of Almightiness.
Let a man then live, first and most of all,
from the thought that his work in the world
is to bring forth fruit to the honor and glory
of God: that whatever else is left undone,
Z/u's must l)c done; that however promising a
project, it is to be rejected if it interferes with
the sovereign purpose. Let a man live so,
and spiritual success is sure. For whatever
power determination has in other departments,
it is intensified in this. By special aids God
�10
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
speeds tlie purpose of righteousness to fulfil
ment. The best laid human schemes some
times miscarry by reason of perils and hinderances that no man could foresee. But along
the track we travel to do thy will, O God, there
are no hidden reefs to wreck our ships, no bil
lows to engulf them, no tempests to beat them
back. The earnest soul journeys along a safe
and sure highway, over which “ the ransomed
of the Lord come to Mount Zion with songs,
and everlasting joy upon their heads.”
If you and I, then, are so conscious of our
high vocation, and so faithful, that we make
this determination the supreme law of life,
we may reasonably expect that our labor will
ripen abundant fruit. Not necessarily marvels
of growth. It is a vice of human nature that
it cannot be satisfied unless it can do some
tconderftil thing. Every man sets out to be a
great man, but very few get much farther
than the start.
This spirit besets us from the earliest years.
The child poring over the wonderful romances
that form the mental food of his first days,
longs for the time when he shall go out to
slay giants and capture castles. The youth
looks contemptuously upon the routine of
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.
11
daily life as too commonplace for his abilities;
and as men get on to maturer years, do they
quite forget to build castles in the clouds,
whose splendor puts to shame the common
walls in which they live and work ? The de
sire is all well in its way, but the trouble is,
it keeps us dreaming when wTe should be
working, and too often makes us discontented
and disheartened, forgetting that God gives
to the seeds of faithful endeavor we sow such
a body as pleases him, and to every seed his
own body. So long as a man is tnie to the
task which God sets him, let him learn, in
whatsoever state he is, therewith to be con
tent. I cannot be the apostle Paul, but I
will not worry about that; my sole concern is
to ripen the best fruit I may where I am
planted. And, moreover, marvels do not
make up the bulk of life. The few prodigies
of growth which the farmer brings to the
agricultural fair, are exceptions not specimens
of his harvest. His bams and cellars are
filled with something quite different from
what is contained in the single basket. The
most of both nature and life is made up of
what we call commonalties. God never meant
that men should be all the time doing wonder
�12
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
ful tilings; if they did, they would cease to Ire
wonderful. We esteem them marvellous sim
ply because they are infrequent; and if you
come to the real truth of the matter, those
relative epithets, great and small, as we use
them, amount to almost nothing. If an apple
grows till it measures a foot, we call it a prod
igy ; but it is not near so much of a prodigy
as that the smallest apple should grow at all.
The process itself, and not its extent, is the
real wonder. The evening prayer lisped by
the child is just as really, just as worthily,
just as acceptably praise as the triumphant
strain from the harp-strings of the seraphim.
Your victory over some common temptation
is just as wonderful as the rout of the rebel
lious hosts of heaven. The Christian graces
that ripen in your humble life are as great a
marvel, and glow as brightly in the sight of
God, as the twelve manner of fruits that lian"
on the tree planted by the crystal river of
Paradise. And just this kind of fruit men in
every station may bring forth every day.
But my lot in life, you say, is so humble
and my experience has so little that is note
worthy, what can I do ? Whether ye eat or
drink, says the apostle, or whatsoever ye do,
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.
13
do all to the glory of God. Let a man thank
God that he can glorify him in common things.
Nor let him forget that, in modest walks and
unobtrusive ways, he may chance to make
the most acceptable offering. When God
paints a flaunting lily, he dashes on the raw
est of colors; but the little violet is tinted
with heaven’s own hue. The Alpine straw
berry, no larger than a pea, is sweetest of all
thq fruits of the field. Nature compacts her
choicest flavors and colors, and seals them up
in the smallest of flasks, and the man who
pierces down to the lowest stratum of life, and
sanctifies the common word and act, evidences
thereby a richer and fuller grace than he who
stands up in the pulpit to preach, or sets him
self sword in hand at the head of the hosts
of some great reform.
As a general rule, rich and rare fruits are
ripened slowly. Some of the most eminent
forth-puttings of pious growth have been long
in maturing. Men have spent years in push
ing on silent but patient processes; and be
cause there was no speedy result adequate to
the labor, the world said, “Lo, these are bar
ren trees; they bear nothing but leaves.” Yet
just as the unsightly cactus, bequeathed from
�14
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
father to son, wearing away the lifetime of*
three generations, without hint of beauty or
use, at last, when the full century is rounded,
flowers out into one full consummate blossom,
filled with the juices of a hundred years, so
at length the fruit of these earnest workers
appears. For thirty years Jesus was as a root
out of a dry ground, without form or comeli
ness, till the royal hour of his ripeness struck;
and then what age was ever so magnificently
blossomed as the brief years of his ministry?
What other era of time has borne such fruits
as Gethsemane and Calvary? It matters not
though men call our lives barren, if with faith
ful and unwearying culture we are carrying
out the plans of the groat Husbandman..
When God pleases, the harvest long ripening
will appear all the more impressive from the
unsuspected quiet out of which it has grown.
Almost every life has its crises and turningpoints of greater or less magnitude. There
are single hours and acts that, like rudders,
steer us into wide seas of triumph or misfor
tune. In their significance and influence they
stand solemn and apart from the rest of life.
But there is no other so wonderful epoch
in a man’s'history as the time when, after
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
15
years of barrenness, or at best “ nothing but
leaves,” he becomes at last genuinely fruitful.
You have read that thrilling story of the bro
ken cable stretched along the ocean’s bed for
more than a thousand miles; how “night and
day for a whole year the electrician had been
watching its tiny signal ray; how sometimes
wild, incoherent messages came from the
deep, spelt out by magnetic storms and earth
currents, till of a sudden, on a morning, the
unsteady flickering changed to coherency;
and after the long interval that had brought
nothing but the moody and delirious mutter
ings of the sea, stammering over its alphabet
in vain, the cable began to speak, and to
transmit the appointed signals, which indica
ted human purpose and method at the other
end, instead of the hurried signs, broken
speech, and inarticulate cries of the illiterate
Atlantic.”
But that is a more wonderful
hour, when over the living wires of the soul,
long speaking in stammering and incoherent
phrase, as the earth currents and the storms
of sense and sin have uttered themselves,
there comes at length the unmistakable pulse
of thought and feeling from the Infinite wis
dom, and 6rod begins to speak through that
�1G
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
soul to men by tlie signals of holy words and
works. The thrill and ecstacy of that hour
Will never be lost. It will be the bright con
summate centre of life, for not two continents
but two worlds are then wedded into one.
How is it with you, my brother? Does
Christ, when he comes to you, as he comes
daily, find a fruitful life, or “nothing but
leaves ?” Give heed to the lessons of every
autumn hour, that leaves, however fair, soon
fall and perish, while the fruit is gathered into
garners. What provision are you making for
the coming time, when the summer shall be
passed and the frosts of winter fall? Let
you and me strive for lives rich in lasting
results, and whatever of help and success we
may seek for the furtherance of our cherished
plans, still let our supreme prayer be—
Something, my God, for thee,
Something for thee!
That each day’s setting sun may bring
Some penitential offering;
In thy dear name some kindness done;
To thy dear love some wanderer won—
Some trial meekly borne,
Dear Lord, for thee!
t
|
�
Dublin Core
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Title
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Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
Creator
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
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2018
Publisher
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
Text
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Pamphlet
Dublin Core
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Title
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"Nothing but leaves"
Creator
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Atwood, Edward Stanley [1842-1926]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [Hong Kong]
Collation: 16 p. ; 15 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. "Preached on board the steamship 'William Penn' copied by Stephen Massett; publicly read by him on board the steamship 'China' on her first voyage from San Francisco to Yokohama, Japan; and then printed at the office of 'China Mail', Hong Kong. [From title page]. Annotations in ink.
Publisher
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[China Mail]
Date
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[n.d.].
Identifier
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G5325
Subject
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Sermons
Nature
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work ("Nothing but leaves"), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
Type
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Text
Language
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English
Conduct of life
Conway Tracts
Faith
Sermons
-
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ebbf892e7c10a1a7d02319c30bd57ef9
PDF Text
Text
NATIONAL SECULAR SOCIETY
“THE DYER’S HAND:”
A DISCOURSE
PRECEDED BY
THE WAY TO GOD:
A MEDITATION,
DELIVERED AT
SOUTH PLACE CHAPEL,
SUNDAY, 5TH MAY, 1872,
AND REPEATED BY ESPECIAL DESIRE
SUNDAY, 1 8th MAY, 1873.
BY
ALEXANDER J. ELLIS,
B.A.. F.R.S., F.S.A., F.C.P.S., F.C.P.,
Vice-President formerly President) of the Philological Society, &
c
*.
CHIEFLY AS ARRANGED FOR THE SECOND
DELIVERY WITH THE READINGS
THEN USED.
Price 2d,
�ORDER OF THE SERVICE
HYMN 12—Words by Dyer..
“ Greatest of beings, source of life !”
READINGS—
I. “ Love,” from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, in
modem language, as follows, p. 3.
II. “Design,” from Paley’s Natural Theology, as follows,
p. 4.
HYMN 5— Words by Wreford.
“ God of the Ocean, Earth and Sky !”
MEDITATION, “The Way to God,” as follows, p. 9.
ANTHEM 74—From the fourth Gospel.
“ God is a Spirit.”
DISCOURSE, “The Dyer’s Hand,” as follows, p. 13.
HYMN 91—Words by Mrs. Barbauld.
“ As once upon Athenian ground.”
DISMISSAL, as follows, p. 44-
�READINGS.
I.—LOVE.
In listening to an extremely familiar passage rom the first
letter of Paul the Apostle to his Corinthian congregation, which
I shall purposely put into extremely unfamiliar words, in order
to divert your minds from the mere sound to the sense conveyed,
it is as well to recall the context Much confusion, as was
natural, prevailed in all the early Christian congregations as soon
as the founder’s back was turned, and the necessity of correcting
it gave rise to those letters which are the earliest and most
authentic records of the Christian movement that we possess.
Among other troubles in Corinth, every man seems to have
thought himself as good a teacher as any other, save of course the
founder Paul, who therefore strove in his first letter to convince
them of their mistake and induce them to work as parts of a
commonwealth of which there was only one real head, Jesus
himself, in whose ideal image Paul always sank his own per
sonality.
For this purpose, he first applied the well-known
analogy of the body and its members, and then went on to the
Allowing purport (i. Cor. xii., 27, to xiii., 13) :—
“You form collectively Christ’s body upon earth, and each of you
Individually is one of its members. Some of us by God’s disposition
are apostles, others preachers, teachers, sign-workers, healers,
Birectors, speakers in various tongues. Are all apostles, or all
preachers, or all teachers, or all sign-workers, or all healers ?
Can all speak in various tongues, or can all interpret what is
spoken in unknown tongues ? It is certainly the duty of each
individual to do his best to be fitted for the best offices, but I will
shew you a far superior method.
“If I were to speak all human and divine languages, and had
not love, my words would be worthless tinkling. If I had the
highest powers of preaching, if I understood all mysteries, had
�4
gained all knowledge, or had mountain-moving faith, but had not
lave, I should be a mere nothing. I might bestow all my gorJMI
feed the hungry, or deliver my body to the torturer, yet withoB
love, I should have done nothing. Love is long-suffering and
kind. Love knows neither envy nor jealousy, makes no display nor
boasting, behaves decently, insists not on rights, checks anger,,
suspects not evil, has no sympathy with injustice but much with
truth; hides, believes, hopes, endures everything.
“ Love is never wanting. Preachings shall fail, languages shall
cease, knowledge shall die out; (our knowledge is partial and
cur preaching power is partial, and their partial character will not
cease till perfection appears. When I was a child, I spake, I
thought, I reasoned as a child, but when I became a man I put
aside my childish ways. In the same way our vision now is an
enigmatical reflection, but hereafter we shall see face to face.
That is to say, my knowledge is now partial, but hereafter I shall
know as I am known). The power that we now possess, then,
will pass away, but whatever else fails, three things abide, belied
hope, love. And the greatest of these is love}'
IL—DESIGN.
Brief extracts from the three first chapters of Dr. William
Paley’s “ Natural Theology,” (originally published in 1802)
for the purpose of shewing the nature of his argument. fcM
large quantity of intermediate matter has been omitted for
brevity, but nothing is added.
“ In crossing a heath, suppose I pitched my foot against a
sione, and were asked how the stone came to be there : I mighf
possibly answer, that, for anything I knew to the contrary, it had
lain there for ever ; nor would it perhaps be very easy to shew
the absurdity of this answer. But suppose I had found a ivatek
upon the ground, and it should be inquired how the watch hap
�5
pened to be in that place : I should hardly think of the answer
I had before given—that, for anything I knew, the watch might
have been always there. Yet why should not this answer serve
for the watch as well as for the stone ? Why is it not as admis
sible in the second case as in the first ? For this reason, and for
Ho other, namely, that, when we come to inspect the watch, we
perceive (what we could not discover in the stone) that its
several parts are framed and put together for a purpose ; for ex
ample, that they are so formed and adjusted as to produce
motion, and that motion so regulated as to point out the hour of
the day ; that if the different parts had been differently shaped
from what they are, of a different size to what they are, or placed
in any other order than that in which they are placed, either no
Riotion at all would have been carried on in the machine, or
none which would have answered the use that is now served by
it. This mechanism being observed, (it requires indeed an ex
amination of the instrument, and perhaps some previous know
ledge of the subject to perceive and understand it; but being
once, as we have said, observed and understood,) the inference,
We think, is inevitable, that the watch must have had a maker:
Hiat there must have existed, at some time, and at some place
or other, an artificer or artificers who formed it for the purpose
>hich we find it actually to answer ; who comprehended its con
struction, and designedits use.
Nor would it, I apprehend, weaken the conclusion, that we
had never seen a watch made ; that we had never known an
artist capable of making one ; that we were altogether incapable
of executing such a piece of workmanship ourselves, or of under
standing in what manner it was performed; all this being no
Riore than what is true of some exquisite remains of ancient art,
of some lost arts, and, to the generality of mankind, of the more
£tjrious productions of modern manufacture.
Neither, secondly, would it invalidate our conclusion, that the.
�6
watch sometimes went wrong, or that it seldom went exactly
right. The purpose of the machinery, the design, and the
designer, might be evident, and in the case supposed would
be evident, in whatever way we accounted for the irregu
larity of the movement, or whether we could account for
it or not. It is not necessary that a machine be perfect, in
•order to shew with what design it was made : still less necessary,
where the only question is, whether it was made with any design
at all.
Neither, lastly, would our observer be driven out of his con
clusion, or from his confidence in its truth, by being told that he
knew nothing at all about the matter. He knows enough for
his argument: he knows the utility of the end : he knows the
subserviency and adaptation of the means to the end. These
points being known, his ignorance of other points, his doubts
concerning other points, affect not the certainty of his reasoning.
The consciousness of knowing little need not beget a distrust of
that which he does know.
Suppose, in the next place, that the person who found the
watch should, after some time, discover that, in addition to all
the properties which he had hitherto observed in it, it possessed
the unexpected property of producing in the course of its move
ment, another watch like itself (the thing is conceivable); that it
contained within it a mechanism, a system of parts, a mould for
instance, or a complex adjustment of lathes, files, and other tools
evidently and separately calculated for this purpose.
The conclusion which the first examination of the watch, of
its works, construction, and movements, suggested was, that it
must have had, for the cause and author of that construction an
artificer, whojjunderstood its mechanism and designed its use.
This conclusion is invincible. A second examination presents us
with a new discovery. The watch is found, in the course of its
movement, to produce another watch, similar to itself; and riot
�7
only so, but we perceive in it a system or organisation, separately
calculated for that purpose. What effect would this discovery
have, or ought it to have, upon our former inference ? What,
but to increase, beyond measure, our admiration of the skill
which had been employed in the formation of such a machine!
Or shall it, instead of this, all at once turn us round to an oppo
site conclusion—namely, that no art or skill whatever has been
concerned in the business, although all other evidences of art and
skill remain as they were, and this last and supreme piece of art
be now added to the rest ? Can this be maintained without
absurdity ?
Yet this is atheism.
This is atheism ; for every indication of contrivance, every
manifestation of design which existed in the watch exists in the
works of nature; with the difference on the side of nature of
being greater and more, and that in a degree which exceeds all
computation. I mean that the contrivances of nature surpass the
contrivances of art in the complexity, subtlety, and curiosity of
the mechanism ; and still more, if possible, do they go beyond
them in number and variety; yet, in a multitude of cases, are not
less evidently mechanical, not less evidently contrivances, not less
evidently accommodated to their end, or suited to their office,
than are the most perfect productions of human ingenuity.
��THE WAY TO GOD.
A MEDITATION.
“ Little children !” said the dying Elder, “ Little
children ! Love one another.” “ If a man say, I love
God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar; for he that
loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he
love God whom he hath not seen ? And this com
mandment have we from him, That he who loveth
God love his brother also.” (i John iv., 20, 21.)
The way to God is through the heart of man!
Not by metaphysical subtleties, where man turneth
his eye inwards to see outwards, can he hope to reach
God.
Not by theological subtleties, where man vainly
strives to fix in words what his mind has failed to
grasp, can he hope to reach God.
Not by creeds and anathemas, where the empty
words of theology are crystallised into a charm or a
curse, can man hope to reach God.
Not by fasting and penance, where man would fain
purchase future bliss by present pain, and mount to
heaven by trampling down earth, can he hope to reach
God.
�IO
Not by fervent prayer, where man vainly beseeches
God to modify eternal laws for temporary ends, can
he hope to reach God.
Not by deep and persistent scientific research, where
the head is awake but the heart sleeps, can man hope
to reach God.
The way to God is through the heart of man!
By mixing with his fellow-men; by learning the
wants of all; by working within his limited circle
towards the general well-being; by identifying him
self with his race ; by feeling that he is above all, and
through all, a man, manly, and is only as a man capable
of effecting aught; by gathering into a focus those
scattered beams of human sympathy which we know
as love; by giving practical direction to vague aspira
tions for improvement; by living for himself but as a
part of others, and for others as for himself; by reach
ing the heart of his fellow-men; thus only can man
hope to reach God.
If man look beyond the present life and indulge in
dreams of a future eternity of well-being, let him not
think of saving his own soul without his brother’s, let
him not expect to enter heaven by a password, let him
not contemplate for a moment the revellers at the
lightsome feast within, and the teeth-gnashers in the
darksome pit without. The heart of man rejects the
contrast, and through the heart of man alone can man
reach God.
�II
Let not man seek to know the counsels of God.
Man is of the earth, earthy ; it is at once his badge
-and his star. What future may be in reserve for our
race none can forecast. If those who have searched
most widely are to be followed most readily, we have
been evolved from very humble beginnings, and may
have a much nobler hereafter. But the future depends
on the present as the present on the past. No nobler
hereafter is possible, if the present fail in its part.
That part is to develop present man ; not to despise
him as worthless, and fix all thought on the super
human. Here is our work, and through it our future.
The heart of man, is man’s noblest organ on earth.
Through the heart of man alone, can he hope to reach
God.
“ Little children !” said the dying Elder, “ Love one
another!”
��“THE DYER’S HAND.”
Walking through a street in Kensington some time
ago, I saw a man without his coat, and with his shirt
sleeves tucked up to the elbows, talking quietly with
another man, now putting one hand in his pocket,
now stroking his chin with the other, evidently in
utter unconsciousness or forgetfulness that his exposed
hands and arms were different from other men’s. But
to me at a distance there was something frightful in
seeing such ordinary living motions performed by
hands and arms which had that green tinge we learn
to associate with putridity. That shiny green arm,
those dead-like fingers that moved with such un
natural life, were a shock to all my sense of the fitness
of things. As I came near, the mystery cleared itself
up in the most prosaic fashion—as all mysteries are
apt to do. I passed before a dye-house, and had
been watching the dyer.
Instantly there came full on my mind that (hundred
and eleventh) sonnet of Shakspere, of which a few
�14
words are so familiar, though the context is little
known. Shakspere laments and excuses his “ public
manners ” as due to the “ public means ” by which
Fortune had provided for his life, and exclaims :—
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
And almost, thence, my nature is subdued
To what it works in, like the dyer’s hand.
That dyer’s hand, tinged with the most ghastly and
inhuman hue, generated by the dye-vat in which it
had worked, and yet moving all unconsciously as if
nothing ailed it, was by a single stroke of Shakspere’s
pen raised into being the most significant symbol of
men’s thoughts and feelings, “ subdued to what they
work in,” the inherited environment, the geographical
environment, the social environment, which colour
them so completely that they live in total uncon
sciousness of their own peculiarity, though they are
acutely conscious of the different tinge imparted by
a neighbouring dye-vat.
Oh, how few are there among us—are there indeed
any among us ?—I don’t mean among tne handful of
people here assembled, but among the whole circle of
humanity,—who can say, as Shakspere said, that their
nature is only “ almost ” subdued ! How many of us
can from our own hearts, from our own knowledge
that we are dyed and must be cleansed, echo the
fervent wish of the poet, and exclaim : —
�i5
Pity me then and wish I were renewed ,
Whilst like a willing patient, I will drink
Potions of eisel ’gainst my strong infection ;
*
No bitterness that I will bitter think,
Nor double penance, to correct correction !
No! dyed through and through, green-blooded to
the heart’s core, and not merely on the surface of
our skin; we persist in thinking green-blood to be
the only blood, and are shocked at the unnatural
redness of another’s. We may laugh at that lady in
the story who was struck with the remarkable fact
that wherever she went, whatever society she entered,
whatever subject she discussed, no one was in the
right but herself; yet the only difference between her
and most of us is, that she ventured to say so; we
are silent, but only think the more steadfastly with the
Mahometan carpenter, who replied to Francis New* Also spelled esile and eysell, meaning vinegar, a common dis
infectant. Old French aisil, aissil, aizil, arzil, esil. The form
aisil has even crept into Anglo-Saxon, which, however, has the
older form, eced. All are supposed to come from the Latin
aceium (vinegar). Shakspere puts “ drinking eisel ” among
practical impossibilities. See Hamlet, Act 5, scene 1, speech
106,
Shew me what thou’It do !
Woo’t weep? woo’t fight? woo’tfast? woo’t tear thyself ?
Woo’t drink up eisel ? eat a crocodile ?
I’ll do’t.
�i6
man’s attempts at conversion: “ God has given you
to know much, but not the true faith.”*
The dye which tinges qur every thought and feel
ing is most general and most “fast,” hardest to be
discharged by argument, or to assume a different hue,
when it is rooted in the language which we speak,
and has thus become ingrained in thought. We learn
then inevitably to think under its influence. The
whole inheritance of preceding human thought comes
to us tinged with the same dye. The very threads by
which we would weave the tissue of our own medita
tions, instead of being susceptible of every hue, so
* The story thus reduced to an allusion, is worth giving at
length : “ While we were at Aleppo I one day got into religious
discourse with a Mohammedan carpenter, which left on me a
lasting impression. Among other matters I was peculiarly
desirous of disabusing him of the current notion of his people
that our Gospels are spurious narratives of late date. I found
great difficulty of expression, but the man listened to me with
much attention, and I was encouraged to exert myself. He
waited patiently till I had done, and then spoke to the following
effect :—‘I will tell you, sir, how the case stands. God has
given to you English a great many good gifts. You make fine
ships and sharp penknives, and good cloth and cottons; and you
have rich nobles and brave soldiers ; and you write and print
many learned books : (dictionaries and grammars :) all this is of
God. But there is one thing which God has withheld from you
■and has revealed to us, and that is the knowledge of the true
religion, by which one may be saved.’ When he thus ignored
my argument (which was probably quite unintelligible to him),
�17
that the pattern may shine bright and pure, beautiful
and true, as we conceived it was conceived, are so
dulled by their previous dye, that the result, true as
it may look to our jaundiced eye, is false to every one
whose vision is truer. The few, the very few, who,
conscious of the radical unfitness of their material for
the effect they would produce, seek to mould it by
limiting the signification of current words, or inventing
new to embody their new thoughts, preach too often
to the winds, or worse,—not understood at all, or
misunderstood,—so that the thinker soon finds rea
son to wonder, not that man knows so little, but that
he knows anything, not that a man so often miscon
ceives another’s thoughts, but that he ever approaches
to a conception of what they really are. I am using
no hyperbole, I am stating a sober conclusion which
and delivered his simple protest, I was silenced, and at the
same time amused. But the more I thought it over the more in
struction I saw in the case. His position towards me was exactly
that of a humble Christian towards an unbelieving philosopher;
nay, that of the early Apostles or Jewish prophets towards the
proud, cultivated, worldly-wise, and powerful heathen. This
not only showed the vanity of any argument to him, except one
purely addressed to his moral and spiritual faculties; but it also
indicated to me that ignorance has its spiritual self-sufficiency as
well as erudition ; and that if there is a Pride of Reason, so there
is a Pride of Unreason.”—Phases of Faith ; or Passages from
the History of My Creed. By Francis William Newman.
Sixth edition, i860, /. 32.
�i8
years of thought and observation have forced upon
me, and which, having often previously stated I find
as I live, only more reason to adopt,—when I say
that probably no man does understand any other man.
The vision of our mind’s eye is too deeply affected,
the dye upon our mind’s hand is too ingrained, our
language is clothed with too patched a harlequin suit,
for us clearly to express or clearly to seize what is
expressed. Only those who have aimed at precision,
and have hopelessly failed, or have laboured con
scientiously but vainly to enter into the thoughts of
one who himself has aimed at precision, can fully
comprehend how utterly our nature is subdued to
what it works in, like the dyer’s hand !
Our first observations, as children, are directed to
objects of sensation. It is only by storing up our
hazy memories of individual impressions that we, in
course of time, very clumsily and defectively group
together the immediate results of sensation into aggre
gates, which seem to us the same as those indicated
by the words we hear from others. Subsequent know
ledge, which in its full force is the lot of but a few
special observers, teaches us that every one of those
individual sensations is altogether vague and wanting
in precision; and that we cannot thoroughly depend
even upon regaining the same sensations in ourselves,
—nay, I may almost say, that we can only thoroughly
depend upon never regaining them. All natural
�i9
philosophers know,—I am saying nothing new, I am
merely repeating the very alphabet of science,—that
sensations do not repeat themselves, that when they
are registered by the most cunning devices of man,
each registration differs from its fellow, and that
we can deal only with averages and not with in
dividuals. There are some of the fixed stars, whose
position it is so important for science to de
termine, that they have been observed by hosts
of the most competent men through many years.
Yet we know that it would be more surprising
for any two determinations to agree than for all to
differ, and that what we conventionally assign as their
real place is only an average drawn by most refined
methods of calculation from an examination of dis
crepant data, and though assumed to be true for the
present, is acknowledged to be liable to subsequent
correction. By means of these positions thus assigned,
an observer learns to determine his own personal
liability to error, and knows that that liability itself
*
fluctuates with the state of his health; nay, with the
length of time since he was roused from sleep, or
since his last meal; and he then contrives to allow
for such errors in subsequent observations. Yet
merely seeing a point of light, like a fixed star, dis
appear behind an opaque bar, such as a telescopic
cobweb, is an observation of extreme simplicity com* Known as his “personal equation.
�20
pared with those by- which we obtain the most ordinary
notions of external objects in common life. And if
each observer is known to differ from others, and
even from himself in a matter of such extreme sim-,
plicity, what trust can we have that our individual
sensations are comparable with our neighbours, and
still more that our groupings of those sensations accu
rately, or even approximately, correspond to those of our
neighbours, in the extremely complex determination of
the commonest objects which form our environment?
But these are only starting points. The greater
part of our thoughts and reasonings are occupied with
matters which cannot be made the subject of direct
observation. It is only in its rudest condition, there
fore, that our language consists of mere names of
groups of sensations, such as man, tree, house, land,
water, give, take, black, white, light, heavy, and so
forth. To give some sort of vent to our bursting
thoughts, to convey them however vaguely and inde
terminately, we are forced to resort to those half-felt,
imperfect, often wholly inadequate, misleading analo
gies, which we call metaphors. A term used in our
own individual sense, according to our own individual
experience for some object or act appreciable by direct
sensation, is transferred to another merely meditational
object or act, some inward feeling, which we know to
have no real connection with the first, but which
we vaguely connect with it, as we vaguely see human
�21
features in a bright coal fire. And then we boldly
use that term when speaking to others without any
security either that their sensations derived from the
external objects were originally the same as ours, or
that their inward connection of those sensations with
the thought and feeling which we desire to excite in
them, may, will, or can have any resemblance to our
own. And thus the maze of language goes on to
confusion worse confounded, the dye in our vats be
comes more and more muddy, and the hand that stirs
them more and more hopelessly bemessed.
When the Elohist or Jehovist spake of God’s eye,
God’s hand, God’s outstretched arm, God’s image, he
had in his mind, no doubt, a real tangible, living eye,
hand, arm, and image. The God of the Jehovist
really walked in the garden of Eden in the cool of the
day, and Adam and Eve could really hear his voice,
and attempt to hide—to hide !—from him among the
trees (Gen. iii. 8). When the God of the Elohist
created man in his own image (Gen. i. 27), the Elohist
himself, as has been truly said, created God in the
image of man, and so thoroughly in that image, that
the God of his creation was, like a man, weary with his
own work of creation, and had to rest on the seventh
day from all the work which he had made (Gen. ii. 2).
To us, now and here, and to the more intelligent
preachers throughout Christendom, such words are
mere transparent metaphors, by which we vainly
�22
endeavour—how vainly but few consider—to prefigure
the unfigurable. But they are all dangerous. They
are so thoroughly human that they unconsciously
sway the mind to accept God as a mere exaggerated
man. The pygmy that can barely descry the giant’s
toes seeks to dogmatise on the giant’s whole structure.
The dyer’s hand finds its own colour in what the
dyer wantonly dares to term a hand. The finite
raises its own mental scale to gauge the Infinite !
The Infinite 1 How easy to say ; how hard to
conceive ! On this day, in thousands of pulpits
throughout our own land, and in other thousands of
Christian congregations, men will be standing up and
telling of God’s infinitude, arguing from his infinite
power, his infinite wrath, his infinite mercy in allow
ing his infinite wrath to be infinitely appeased by the
infinite sacrifice of himself in a finite form at the
hands of Roman soldiers instigated by Jewish priests
and a Jewish rabble, before his own infinite self, and
running over the other changes of infinity which fall
so glibly from their tongue, but which have abso
lutely no root in their intellect. Nay, of that they
are proud. They can know all about the powers, the
acts, the results of infinity. They can tell you what
infinity, so far forth as being infinity, can, will, and
must do, without having even the shadow of a con
ception to put behind the word. The mathematician
and the natural philosopher have to deal constantly
�23
with the ever-increasing and the ever-diminishing, and
many of our preachers (very far from all) have had to
bend their minds when- young to such considerations.
But with most of them it has been mere cram, stuff to
be blurted out in an examination, and then forgotten.
Yet here, and here only, have we the least hope of
arriving at any practical conceptions of a matter which
all religious teachers are apt to treat with easy, selfcomplacent confidence. The course of my own
studies during many years, from opening manhood to
the present day, has often brought me face to face
with this problem of infinity, so well known to all
real mathematicians, in the simplest of all relations,
number and space. I have been compelled to give
it long, continuous, and reiterated consideration; to
ponder over it for weeks and months at a time; to
read and study what the best heads had written of it;
to endeavour by every means in my power to catch
some clue to its real nature; to render my thoughts
precise by writing and re-writing ; to see how, at
least, the effects of infinity might be safely inferred,
or its laws partly divined; to comprehend, if it be
possible, the infinite in the finite, the description of
an endlessly increasing path with an endlessly in
creasing velocity in a strictly limited time; to see in
my mind’s eye the relations of various orders of the
infinitely great and the infinitely small; in short, to
bridge the great gulf between the discontinuous and
�24
the continuous. I need scarcely tell you that I have
not done what I have found no other man has done,
but I have had a deep conviction of the limits of
human power forced upon myself. The matters with
which I dealt were not those highly complex, illdefined, worse comprehended conceptions which form
the staple of theology. They were the very simplest
conceptions which the human mind can form with any
approach to precision. And the result ? Did I seem
to come nearer to the goal ? Nay, was I not rather
like the voyager who day after day sees the same hard
circle of horizon limiting his vision, till he misdoubts
the very motion of his ship ? Or like the mountaineer
who briskly begins his route to top the crest before
him, and, that reached, finds only another and steeper
there he had not previously divined, and, topping
that, another and another, till poor “Excelsior ” falls ex
hausted by the way? And this, where the road has been
marked out with so much skill by minds far above my
own, minds which are the very guiding stars of all
human thought.
*
What, then, of matters where all
is guess, where no road is known, where the trackless
ocean spreads without a compass, where the traveller
is involved in the deepest gorges without power to
see or to divine how to scale their precipitous cliffs ?
When shall we learn the lesson of the Titans, and
• Such as Newton and Leibnitz.
�25
know the fate of those who would scale heaven by
piling the Pelion of presumption on the Ossa of
ignorance ?
*
But while we all, at least I hope all whom I address,
acutely feel the purely metaphorical application of
terms implying human form, or any part of the human
form, to the inapproachable object of all human
thought, yet we, are apt, even the wisest and best of
all mankind are apt, to be led astray by human lan
guage,—the inheritance derived from men who held
to a literally humanesque personality of the Deity,—
when the terms do not imply bodily form, but the
best and least corporeal functions of humanity,—
thought, will, love. We may be, I believe we are,
speaking the highest and noblest thing which man
can say of God, when we declare that God is Love;
but let us never forget that such language is purely
anthropomorphic in its origin, and must be held
purely metaphorical in its application. If we seek to
drive it home, to make God Love as we alone know
love, we do not raise man to God, but degrade God
* The Titans are here, as usual, confounded with the Giants
who were said to have scaled heaven. “Thrice,” says Virgil,
Georgies, book I., vv. 281-3, “thrice they endeavoured to pile
Mount Ossa on to Pelion, and roll the woody Olympus on to
Ossa ; thrice father Jove with his lightning threw down the
mountains they had reared.” See also Ovid’s Metamorphoses,
book 1., vv. 152-5.
�26
to man. What is the love we know, the love which
alone we can have in mind when we apply the term,
as the outcome of all the best we can conceive, to the
Inconceivable itself? Turn to that glowing descrip
tion of love by the noble Paul, that passage to which
every heart instinctively reverts which has once
beaten at its sound, and see how thoroughly human,
how utterly un-Godlike, it is in its every part. Reject
the negatives, which constitute the main portion of
the description, as the painter cannot suggest light
but by the accumulation of shade, and see with what
reality we can say that God, like love, suffereth long
and is kind, rejoiceth in or with the truth, beareth all,
believeth all, hopeth all, endureth all (i Cor. xiii. 4,
6, 7.) Aman, dependent man, may do this. But how
can we even magnify long-suffering, kindliness, delight
at the discovery of truth, endurance, belief, hope,
into any conception of God which is not purely
human ? Let us know that it is only our own help
lessness which leads us to say that God is Love ! and
that these words are but the faintest possible glimmer
of that far-off light which we hope we may forefeel,
but certainly can never actually perceive. Let us
beware of pushing home an analogy which has already
led to the revolting conception of a devil, of a power
antagonistic to the Unassailable, to account for what
our human conception of love cannot contain. Mark
how limited is that conception I Strong between one
�27
man and another, love weakens as the circle widens.
In the family and clan it often mixes up with feelings
of merely personal dignity. Towards the nation, even
when strongest and purest, its character is wholly and
completely changed. And when extended to the whole
of mankind, it dwindles down to a very faint glow
indeed. Often mixed with this love is the strongest
antipathy, the haughtiest contempt, the most trans
parent selfishness. Look at the international re
lations which have convulsed Europe and America,
even within the memory of the youngest adult here
present! But extend your heart to the lower ani
mals, to the living but insentient vegetable, to the
inorganic kingdom, and, by slow degrees, love dwindles
to nonentity. Then think what part the whole of
this earth, with all that it contains, plays in that great
hniverse of bodies which the telescope reveals, com
pared to many of which our whole solar system is as
nothing, nay, perhaps, our whole stellar system but
insignificant. But all these are God’s; all these may,
Ike the earth, swarm with a life, an intelligence, a
love, unlike the earth’s indeed, but, if any twilight
motion we can form of God be even remotely correct,
as much bound up with God as our own puny selves.
And then, straining our minds to grasp this mighty
conception, let us again ask ourselves what resem
blance can that Love which we call God, have to
|hat human conception which alone fills our minds
�28
when we utter the word Love on earth ? It is not to
disparage, but to appreciate, not to lower, but to
elevate, not to put aside God as a loveless, emotion
less stone of an Epicurean deity, but to widen our
minds and hearts to some vague panting hope that
the Ineffable may warm us into some power of feeling
what we can neither conceive nor utter, that I ven
ture to call your attention to the utter inadequacy
of man’s noblest formula : God is Love !
But the dyer’s hand is still more apparent in
the moulding of another conception, which it was
my principal object to bring before your notice,
and which will occupy the rest of the time for
which I can venture to claim your attention.
Every lip is ready to speak of God’s “ design; ” of
God’s will, purpose, intention, final cause, motive;
of the reasons which induce him to make things as
they are; of the plan of the universe and the changes
or amendments (f£ new dispensations ” is the favourite
term) which he has introduced into it; of his scheme
of redemption (which, by-the-bye, seems to be con
ceived as occasionally thwartable); of his contrivances
to produce certain effects; of his elaborate system of
rewards and punishments to keep the world in order
(which, however, altogether fails because he has not
succeeded in keeping the Devil in order); of his
mechanical knowledge in availing himself of the pro
perties of bones and tissues in organisation; and so
�29
on, and so on, from the philosopher to the clown,
from Darwin, whom the necessities of language oblige
to speak of the purpose, intention, use of certain
organs, to the poet’s “ pampered goose,” who finds man
created to feed him. Now, before we proceed to
consider this preposterous nonsense, which would not
be worth a moment’s thought if it had not such a
profoundly distorting effect on our mental vision when
directed to the greatest of all subjects, let us inquire
what is the human meaning of the principal word
throughout this Babel, which I have placed first in
order, because it is the key to all the rest. What is
the human meaning of “ design ” ? Clearly, it is only
by knowing human design that we can infer creative
design, and a little consideration will shew that there
cannot be even a remote analogy between the two.
To design was originally to mark out, to trace out, as
the boundary of a city was traced out by a plough,
put it very early acquired in Rome, where the word
is indigenous, that metaphorical meaning in which it
is generally employed. A man designs a machine—
Paley’s watch, for example—what has he done ? He
has himself, or through his predecessors, discovered
“the laws of geometry, the properties of circles, the
Power exerted by a metal spring in uncoiling, the
difference of that power according to the thickness
and length of the spring, and the kind of metal com
posing it, especially the tempering of the metal, and
�3°
the isochronous vibrations of thin and highly tempered
springs, with various other properties of toothed
wheels and levers, which I need not stay to describe.
Now observe, he has discovered all this, he has invented
nothing as yet. What he wants to do is to make a
rod, the hand of his watch, move round in a circle
at a rate bearing an exact relation to the rate at which the
earth revolves on its axis, which revolution he has also
discovered, not invented. Seizing, then, on the fact of
the isochronous vibration of a hair-spring when
properly weighted and properly jogged, he puts these
parts together so that these properties (which he did
not make, nor invent, but only discovered), acting
according to the laws of geometry and mechanics
(which again he did not make, nor invent, but only
discovered), may really produce the required result.
Observe, too, that his knowledge of the laws of this
action is imperfect; there are certain properties of ex
pansion and contraction with heat, which he has not
become sufficiently familiar with, or known how to bring
into destructive opposition; there are certain difficulties
in cutting geometrical figures truly in metal which he
cannot entirely overcome; so that his watch is at best
a very imperfect affair requiring daily correction by
observations—themselves more or less imperfect—on
the presumably invariable motion of the earth. This
is human design. All man's part is to find the
materials, the laws of their action, and the laws by
�3i
which they can be connected; nothing else whatever.
He puts them together, and we say that that grand
abstraction, “nature,” does the rest. Now, if we
apply this to God, we see that some other god must
have made the materials, and their laws, and the laws
of their connection, and that he merely puts them
together ! What a degrading conception ! The great
God, the expression of utter boundlessness, a
mechanical drudge, a piecer of other gods’ goods!
Shame on man that he ever inculcated such a doctrine I
Shame on those natural theologians who would found
our very reason for believing in the existence of God
on such transparent fallacies, which can be knocked
down like nine-pins by the first bowl of a cunning
atheist!
But the conception recurs again and again. Even
natural philosophers, as distinct from natural
theologers, become occasionally involved in its
meshes. Professor Tyndall, in the second of his
series of lectures on Heat and Light, which he de
livered at the Royal Institution in 1872, brought
forward a notable instance, widely accepted, and
hesitatingly admitted by even the founder of that In
stitution, Count Rumford, for the purpose of shewing
pjiow utterly fallacious and presumptuous it is, like
Phaethon to guide the horses of the Sun. Water, as
every one who has learned anything about its prois aware, is liquid at ordinary temperatures, and
�32
as it is cooled down to about 40 deg. Fahrenheit,
regularly and gradually contracts like the column of
mercury in the thermometer. But then a change ensues.
Increase the cold towards freezing and the mercury
continues to contract, but the water expands, till at
freezing it becomes solid ice, occupying much more
space than the water whence it was generated, as most
householders have learned from broken water-pipes.
Hence, as the water cools to 40 deg., it sinks to the
bottom of any pond, lake or river, because it is
heavier, but after 40 deg., and up to and after its be
coming ice, it is lighter and floats on the top, pre
senting a pad against the cold, and hence keeping
the water liquid below, and preventing the whole mass
from becoming one solid lump, destroying all possi
bility of life within it. The importance of this pro
perty to the inhabitants of temperate and arctic
regions is manifest. Without it these climes could not
be inhabited by man or any other animal, as now con
stituted. No other liquid was known to possess the
same properties. What so natural, then, as to say that
God in his providence designed this solitary exception
from the universal law of contractility by cold, for the
benefit and preservation of man ? And men have said
so one after another. The fact is so striking, the re
lation to man, in regions where ice can form, so cleail
that the boldest denier of God’s providence—gene
rally somebody extremely ignorant—would be shaken
�33
when its bearing was made clear. But in the first
place, the fact clearly could not affect those parts of the
world where ice never forms, and in the second place,
at a time when the present arctic and temperate
regions bore tropical vegetation, this law also did not
affect them, though as yet man was not to be found on
the face of the earth j and, lastly, this is not a solitary
exception. When bismuth is sufficiently heated it be
comes fluid, and as heat is withdrawn that fluid also
first contracts and then expands, although no relations
between this phenomenon and the life of man can
be traced. The whole argument was, therefore, one
from ignorance to ignorance, and its present value is
to shew how dangerous, nay, how illogical, how
thoughtless it is, from an isolated circumstance, which
could only have local value, to infer a general propo
sition of a totally different character about a totally
unknown relation. The preacher who is reported to
have found a special providence in the fact (which he
deemed universal) that great rivers flowed by great
cities, did not more burlesque the ways of God to
man than he who founded an argument for God’s
special care of our race on that other remarkable and
more real property of water.
The proof of design is now generally sought for in
organisation, and not in the inanimate world. Paley
“ pitched his foot ” unconcernedly against the ££ stone ”
he found on the heath; for anything he knew, as he
�34
says, it might have lain there for ever. When he was
writing this, at the beginning of the nineteenth cerH
tury, geology was practically an unknown science, or
he might have found a history in the stone which
would have led him to the conception of epochs of
creation preparing the way for man, gravel collected
here to be subsequently dug up, coal gathered there
storing up the sun’s heat for man’s benefit hereafter,
perhaps the very mammoths would have been found
made to yield ivory or bone manure for future genera
tions. Again he was no chemist, or he might have
dwelled much on the chemical constitution of his stone,
and its remarkable adaptation for man’s future habita
tions. He was no natural philosopher, or he might
have dwelled on its specific gravity, and the wonder
ful contrivance by which, though water is lighter and
more mobile than rock, the dry land could appear for
man’s existence. In short, he was only a not very
learned theologian, who, recommended by his bishop
to turn his thoughts to the argument from design,
crammed up his subjects, and, more or less correctly-J
never with the grasp of real knowledge—wove them
into a treatise, with the valuable assistance, as we
have lately learned, of a French book on the same
*
subject.
He was a good plain writer, and, his half
* This last piece of information has been added since this
discourse was delivered. The information was given in the Academy
or Athenceum at the end of 1875 or beginning of 1876, butunfor*
�35
faawledge enabling him to skim over all difficulties, he
has produced a seductive book, which has done an
immense amount of harm in deteriorating our concep
tions of God, and in leading Englishmen to notions
thoroughly anthropomorphic in content, though avoid
ing anthropomorphism in appearance. But the pro
blem of design in older times, when organisation was
less understood, was treated with especial reference to
the subordination of the inorganic to the use of man.
The Elohist, ignorant that rain was formed in clouds
but slightly distant from our earth, placed the
“ extension,” (as the Hebrew word means which we
translate “firmament”) called “heaven,” to divide
the seas from the rain ; and put the sun above us in
this same firmament to rule the day, and the moon to
rule the night (when it was visible), and that wondrous
multitude of other suns, among which our own is
only a third or fourth rate body, he brought in paren
thetically, as “the stars also,” their chief “use ” being,
course, “ for signs and for seasons, for days and for
years,” that is, for man to reckon seed time and harvest
by. The continual addition that God saw that it was
“ good,” naturally implies that it was effected for a
tunately I neglected to make a note at the time, and have been
unable to recover the reference. It was stated, however, that
the resemblance between the French work and Paley’s was
very close, and that even the incident of the ‘ ‘ watch ” is due to
the French original. August, 1876.
�3<S
certain purpose or design beneficial to man (Gen.
chap, i.) All this has gradually gone out. Coperni
can astronomy dissipated the reference of all celestial
bodies to man.
Geology and natural philosophy
ousted design from inanimate objects. But organisa
tion remained, and remains a stronghold.
Who can regard the human eye, the lens, the retina,
the chamber through which the beams pass, the
diaphragm of the iris, the varying aperture of the
pupil, without, in these photographic days especially,
being forcibly reminded of the object glass, the
sensitised plate, the camera, the movable diaphragm ?
And as all these latter are known to be the works of
design, based upon laws of light as regards its refrac
tion through glass, and its chemical action, what is
more natural for the mind just receiving the idea, than
to jump to the conclusion, that, as man adapted the
camera, so God adapted the eye to the laws of light ?
True ; but for the laws of light the eye would not see.
We might almost feel inclined to say that light was
invented for the eye. But the Elohist having placed
light at the earliest epoch (before the sun and the
stars, indeed, whence comes all the light, even the
so-called artificial light that we know}, no theologer
would hit upon this conception, which is not a bit
more extravagant than that the sun was made to rule
the day, which, therefore, must have existed before
the sun. But here, as in the moral government of
�37
the world (which religion had to supplement by a
devil), we run great danger, if we press the argument
home, of imagining the Unerring to be as great a
bungler as poor, designing, fractionally informed man.
If the eye was “designed” for sight, why should so many
exquisite “ contrivances ” exist for defeating that
object? Why should this man be born blind, why
should an Egyptian sun make that man sightless, why
should the focal power of the lens be often—generally,
I may say—so ill adapted to the position of the
retina, that no distinct image can be formed till man’s
knowledge of the laws of optics has taught him the
effect of lenses of glass, and how to grind them ? The
man is yet alive who first found what form of lens
should Ibe given to remedy a not uncommon, but
hitherto unsuspected defect existing in his own eye,
and now generally known to oculists. If the Jews
could ask, in order to explain a certain man’s blind
ness, “ Who did sin, this man or his parents, that he
was born blind ? ” are we right in parodying the
answer, and replying, “ Neither has the AstronomerRoyal sinned, nor his parents; but he was born with
astigmatic vision, that the works of God should be made
*
* A point of light is seen in correct vision as a single point,
but in astigmatic vision not, stigma, a point), it is seen as a
line of very perceptible length. If any one looks at himself in the
hollow or projection of a bright silver table-spoon he sees the
effect of astigmatism, which prolongs or shortens objects, as his
�3§
manifest in him?” (John ix., 2, 3.) Do not such
phrases grate on every soul attuned to God-like har
mony ? And what shall we say of the colour-blind for
whom no cure has been devised, but who as railway
porters on land, or as the look-out at sea, may
imperil or destroy hundreds of lives in a moment
by confusing green with red? The man most capable
*
own face, according to the position in which the spoon is held.
The Astronomer-Royal, Sir George Biddell Airy, when a pro
fessor at Cambridge, used to relate to his class (of which I was a
member) how he detected the nature of the error in his own
eyes, and calculated the proper shape of the lenses (cylindrical
and not spherical) for his spectacles to correct the defect, and
how he found it impossible for years to get any optician who
would undertake to grind them. Now the malformation is well
known and studied, and several oculists (as Liebreich, Bowman,
&c.) are prepared to measure the error, often very complicated,
and order the construction of proper lenses. It is also found that
many eyes, with correct vision when young, became astigmatic
with age. Dr. Liebreich considers this to have been the cause
of the extraordinary vertical lengthening in the drawing of objects
introduced into Turner’s latest pictures.
* See ‘ ‘ Researches on Colour-blindness, with a supplement on
the danger attending the Present System of Railway and Marine
Coloured Signals,” by the late Prof. George Wilson, of Edin
burgh, 1855. “ The great majority of the colour-blind distin
guish two of the primary colours, yellow and blue, but they err
with the third red, which they confound with green, with brown,
with grey, with drab, and occasionally with other colours; and
not. unfrequently red is invisible to them, or appears black”
�39
of passing an opinion on any point of physiological,
optics, the great physiologist, physicist, and mathe
matician, Helmholtz, who had devoted many years
of study to this special subject, and written a classical
work upon it, says, of the human eye, as Professor
Clifford has told us (Macmillan!s Magazine, October,
1872, p. 507, col. 2) : “If an optician sent me that
as an instrument, I should send it back to him with
grave reproaches for the carelessness of his work, and
demand the return of my money.” * Is there, indeed,
a single organ in the human body ordinarily so perfect
that it needs no help from man ? On what do our
physicians and surgeons live ? Was disease part of
God’s design for the doctor’s benefit, or was it a
punishment for the patient’s sin ? And how can we
avoid that last old Judaic notion if we see design in
everything ? Aye, but to give up design is to throw
p. 129. It is now not usual to consider blue a primary colour
a colour-blind friend of my own could not distinguish red from
dark blue ; I have known others who could not distinguish red
from green. “There is every reason to believe that the number
of males in this country who are subject in some degree to thisaffection of vision, is not less than one in twenty, and that the
number markedly colour-blind, that is, given to mistake red
for green, brown for green, purple for blue, and occasionally
red for black, is not less than one in fifty,” p. 130.
* This sentence was added for the second delivery, 18th May,.
‘873-
�4°
everything into the power of chance. Who is this
grim goddess Chance that can assume the reins of the
world because one man differs from another in
opinion ? When the Pope and Cardinals condemned
Galileo for affirming the world’s motion, they were, as
it has been happily said, at that instant whirling round
with it. Our views of the world and its constitution
cannot alter the macrocosm without, but may materially
affect the microcosm within. Let us face this Chance,
and ask again, who art thou ? And in ultimate resort
all the best philosophy of the day replies : Chance is
the sum of all those laws which we have still to
■learn. To say that the world is what it is, bating the
laws we know, through the laws we know not, is surely
nothing terrible, is the merest truism of modern science.
But by all means avoid a name which conjures up a
foul Python that it would need another Phoebus to
destroy.
What, then, can we mean by God’s design, or rather
by that which we humanly call design ? Again, all
the best philosophy has its answer ready: we mean
solely the conditions of existence, that without
which—or that which changed—things would not be
what they are.
*
Stated baldly thus, it seems a most
* It will be at once objected that there is nothing even
approaching to the conception of human design in such a
■statement. Quite true. If we attempted to introduce anything
-approaching to human design, we should have to suppose that
�4i
barren proposition. Most laws of primary importance
have that appearance till their consequences are traced.
As long as we conceive that God meant every particular
state to be what it is, it remains a sin to touch it. We
have even now among us a “ peculiar people,” as they
call themselves, who decline to summon a physician
in case of illness. I have not heard that they insisted
on eating grains of wild wheat instead of bread artfully
prepared with unholy leaven from the bruised com.
Directly we look upon things as being what they are,
owing to certain conditions of existence, we inquire
are these modifiable ? and if so, with what result ?
We experiment, we modify. As the peculiar people—
an “unconditioned” Creator fell into a profound study resulting
in his devising not merely materials, but their laws, all fitting
into some vast and complicated machine, embracing the whole
universe, and having some distinct object which, as w’ell as all
the incidents accompanying its action, (the “evil” as well as
the “good,”) was conceived and intended beforehand, and
which he preferred to effect in this way instead of by a single
hat. Not venturing to claim that intimate acquaintance w'ith
God’s mind, which most preachers practically assert themselves
to possess, I cannot put forward such an hypothesis. It does
not appear to be a particularly edifying conception, and on closer
inspection I find it totally incomprehensible. But “conditions of
existence ” imply no hypothesis. They are a mere statement of
what we find, without superadding any imaginary cause, and
may be, or rather must be, accepted, whatever cause may be
Assigned to them.
�42
and others by no means peculiar, I am sorry to say—
might declare, we dare to correct God’s handiwork.
Think of the sheer blasphemy of such a notion ! Think
how deep that dye must be which could thus obliterate
-every trace of all that is true and beautiful and good I
During an expedition to study the effects of a total
•eclipse of the sun a few years ago, as the astronomers
were preparing to make those observations which tend
•so greatly to establish oneness amidst the diversity of
the universe, some ignorant natives lighted a fire to
frighten off the dragon that was consuming the sun,
and the whole observations would have been nullified
by the smoke had not some English officer seen and
bravely stamped it out. And we here, here in England,
*
here in London, here in the largest city of the world,
speaking a language more widely spoken than any in
the world, need a brave officer like him to stamp out
the fumes which would thwart the only means we have
of even vaguely forefeeling that Being whom no epithet
■Can describe, but which an ignorant crowd believes to
be succumbing to the serpent knowledge.
The dye of humanity is on our hand. Wash it
as we may, either in the Abana and Pharpar of stately
theology that arrogates to itself universal
priort
* So far as I can recollect, this refers to the total eclipse of
the sun on the 12th December, 1871, and the incident mentioned
is illustrated by a drawing in the Illustrated London News of
the time. August, 1876.
�43
knowledge, or in the Jordan of lowly science
(2 Kings, v. 10, 12), that lays down as its first principle,
ignorance of all not yet discovered—wash it as we may,
we cannot wash it clean—but we can know that it A
dyed, and we can lift it up with a clear conscience,
that while panting after God as the hart for the water
brooks (Ps. xlii. 1), we have never knowingly let a
single drop of the dye fall on our shapeless conception
of the Inconceivable. Let us take a lesson from the
Greek myth of Semele. As we can only converse with
the Deity through human conceptions, let us be
content that they are human, and not entreat a
presence which no man can see and live. And, in
*
order that our nature may not be more than “ almost”
subdued to what it works in, let us wear in our “ heart
of heart,”f never to be forgotten, cherished as a
constant warning, as a safeguard against presumption,
as the token of self-knowledge, Shakspeare’s badge of
the Dyer’s Hand 1
* Semele “ was beloved by Zeus (Jupiter), and Here (Juno),
stimulated by jealousy, appeared to her in the form of her aged
nurse Beroe, and induced her to pray Zeus to visit her in the
same splendour and majesty with which he appeared to Here.
Zeus, who had promised that he would grant her every request,
did as she desired. He appeared to her as the god of thunder,
and Semele was consumed by the fire of lightning.” (W.
Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and
Mythology.)
f {Hamlet, act 3, scene 2, speech 14.)
�44
DISMISSAL.
May we each ponder in private, and shew forth in
public, that the way to God is through the heart of
man I
�
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"The dyer's hand": a discourse preceded by The way to God: a meditation, delivered at South Place Chapel, Sunday 5th May 1872, and repeated by especial desire Sunday, 19th May 1873
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Ellis, Alexander John [1814-1890]
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“WHAT IS CHRISTIANITY?”
A SERMON,
.
JI •
■
PREACHED AT THE REV. C. VOYSEY’S SERVICE, ATj
ST. GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM PLACE,
* '
AUGUST |3rd, 1873, by an
M.A.,
OF
OXFORD.
[From the Eastern Post, August 9th, 1873.]
Summary :—The Question and the Answer. Not the Answer
of the Churches. Two objections anticipated. Religious wars and
hostile Churches are proofs that the Church has not answered the
question correctly. The position further illustrated by two
instances in which Christianity apparently breaks down. True
Christianity not easy.
Father—ff indeed to Thee we owe our longing to raise the veil
that hides Thee from our understandings, pardon our imperfect
service. .We speak of righteousness, striving against sin—help us
Father. We speak of truth, struggling in the toils of our ignor
ance—teach us Father. May that which is untrue perish in the
speaking; may that which is true be preserved for the use of Thy
children until, perchance, the veil is removed, and this our hour
of darkness gives place to Eternal Light.
What is Christianity? A strange question to ask, perhaps,
after eighteen centuries of experience.
“Have I been so
long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me Christen
dom ?” It would almost appear so. For there is no Church that
tells us truly and distinctly what is Christianity. If we go by
what Churches sec forth in their Confessions of Faith, and by what
the members of those Churches are most vehement about, we must
suppose that Christianity means believing something, having some
clear and strong convictions about God and Jesus Christ. If we
go by what Churches set forth in their formularies, and by what
their members are most particular about, we must suppose that
Christianity means observing some religious rite or ceremony,
�2
adhering to some one form of worship rather than another—but
this is not Christianity. Believing and worshiping are very
secondary aspects of the Christian religion. Christianity is not
believing something, but being something; not worshipping in a
particular way, but living in a particular way. Christianity is
not a Creed but a Life, the Life of Love.
And when I say Life, of course I do not mean anything so
superficial and imperfect as a mere external life. You may tie good
fruit and beautiful flowers to a dead tree, but that fruit will soon
perish, and those flowers will soon fade. You may be constantly
taking the chair at public meetings on behalf of the distressed, you
may build schools and endow churches, or, as St Paul puts it, you
may give all your goods to feed the poor, and even give your body
to be burned, and yet know nothing of the Life of Love. By Life
of Love I mean the inner life of heart-kindness from which
beneficent acts proceed as a matter of course and necessity, even as
from the living tree there grow the leaves and fruit. That is
Christianity. Christianity in its most essential aspect is a Life of
heart-kindness.
This is mere assertion. It requires proof, but I shall not have
time to go into the proofs to-day. I must be satisfied with trying
to explain in a few simple words what I mean by saying that
Christianity is before all things a Life of Love, but that the
Churches do not set it forth to us as such.
We must give all their due. Churches would agree in admitting
that the Life of Love is an important feature in Christianity; but
the Christianity that remains to be tried is not a Christianity of
which Love is an important feature, but a Christianity which is
Love. You see the difference, I am sure. It is what we are in
the habit of calling 1 all the difference in the world.’ I will try to
illustrate it. You have a dear friend to whom your heart is knit,
but from whom you have to part for a time. You do not take
with you, photographed, the fold of the dress, the hands, or the
hair, but you take the face, and why ? Because that is herself, she
speaks to you in that—and in a like sort of way Love is not an
adjunct of Christianity, not an accident of Christianity, not even
an important feature of Christianity, Love is the sweet face of
Christianity—her own blessed self.
�3
It might occur to you to object that this is no new aspect of
Christianity. That numbers of believers in all ages have cherished
it and lived in its sunshine. Quite so, and thank God for it.
Marvellous would be the presumption and ignorance of any one
who supposed that he could reveal a new aspect of a religion which
has bee n before the world so long. God be thanked that thousands
of saintly men and women, whose shoe’s latchet I should be un
worthy to unloose, have known that Christianity is Love, and in
the power of that conviction have led lives which we can but con
template with tears of mingled shame, veneration, and joy. But
they drew their knowledge from the words of Jesus, not from the
declarations of their Church. Churches have been very silent
about the Life of Love, very eloquent about their beliefs, their rites
their ceremonies, and the consequence ha3 been that whilst
individuals here and there have risen to higher things, the masses
have been content to suppose that what the Church took most
care of and made most fuss about, was the most important element
in their religion, and so zeal has been hot and love has been cold.
Again you might be inclined to say that the love aspect of
Christianity has been very well known to the Churches, but that
being of one mind with regard to it they have not cared to talk much
about it. To some extent this is true. In her earliest years the
Church kept love in her proper place, that is the first place, and
by that she conquered. But before long, and more because of the
infirmity of our nature than for any other reason, love was put
in the background, and other things were brought to the front. In
any case it is a misiake not to talk much on a point that is vitally
important. If we agree not to speak of anything we generally
come not to think about it. It is not easy to keep up a strong and
perpetual interest in an idea to which we seldom give expression
and of which we are seldom visibly reminded. But, however,
without, going now into the question as to how it came about, the
fact encounters us on nearly every page of history, that the Church
lost sight to a great extent of the truth that Christirnity is love.
Religious wars and persecutions are a proof that she did lose sight
of it. Religious wars! Curious collocation of incompatible ideas!
A war in behalf of the Christian religion is an absurdity. It
proves at once that the Christianity in question is not the real
�thing. Am I to fight with my brother to make him love me 1 It
is true we are weak and inconsistent creatures, but men would
scarcely have been so irrational and obtuse as to engage in religious
wars if they had been alive to the truth that Christianity is love.
Again the very fact of Christendom breaking up into hostile
Churches is a proof that the Church- whatever we mean by that
much debated word—had come to forget or to deny that religion
is essentially a Life,—Christianity essentially a Love.
National Churches may be a practical necessity, but there is no
necessity for their being hostile, hostile even in the extremely
mitigated sense that a minister of one may not regard himself as
the minister of another j much less hostile in the sense that half
the energy of one is spent in trying to neutralise the efforts of
another. It surely is a great mistake that there should exist
Churches hostile in this sense ! It leads to waste of power, and
worse than waste, to misuse and abuse of time, energy, money, and
all our talents, until the devil’s own work, which is strife, is done,
as is profanely said, for the Glory of God. If the test of disciple
ship is love for one another, as was once stated on the highest
authority, we don’t want many Churches. One would be
sufficient. The flocks indeed might, be many, but the fold could
be one. When the heart of this city is stirred on some great
question, and the people hold a meeting in the Park, they may form
into separate gatherings, guided by the necessities of the ground,
or drawn towards a favourite speaker, but it is still one meeting,
having one object, animated by a common purpose. So might it be,
so should it be, with all who profess and call themselves Christians.
But suppose those scattered crowds, forgetful of their great
object, their common purpose, should take to fighting about matters
of secondary importance, and when they had fought themselves
tired, should build barriers, and dig trenches to keep themselves
away from their neighbours and their neighbours away from
themselves—what a melancholy spectacle ! Melancholy at least for
the friends of the cause. This is the spectacle presented by the
Christian wor.d.
Yes ! I repeat, the fact that Christendom broke up into hostile
Churches, the fact that parties hostile to each other, jealous of each
other, exist in the same Church, are proofs that we have not
�5
sufficiently taken in the idea that Christianity is love. And what
about the oure? Is there a remedy for all this ? Is there a solvent
before which these hapless barriers will melt away ? Can » “ Peace,
be still I” be uttered to the broken waters of the world ? There
is ! There can ! And they will be—the solvent will be applied, the
word will be spoken when a Church has the brave simplicity to
declare.
Creeds matter little, Forms matter little, we priests and our
functions matter little—little, aye nothing!—nothing by the side of
that which is the essence, and sweetness, and glory, and treasure of
Christianity, the Life of Love.
It is sometimes said that Christianity has fai'ed, and no doubt
there are some facts which look like failure, 1 ub they need not
really frighten us ; you cannot truly say of anything that it has
failed before it has been tried, and I do not doubt that Christianity
will succeed, will establish its place in the hearts of men, will get
the better of human weakness and human selfishness when it is
fairly tried. But a man cannot reasonably complain of losing a
race if he ride3 the wrong horse. Let us consider two cases in
which it would look as if Christianity had failed ; it will help us
to see still further what the real thing is, and also what comes of
not trying it. .
One illustration shall be taken from the individual life, the
other from social life in one of its broade;t manifestations. And
bear in mind that I am net now contemplating those departures
from the Christian life which result either from indifference to it
or from great empba ion. To do so would be beside our present
purpose, for they might co-exist with any Development of Christi
anity. The phenomena we are now concerned with are the c trious
anomalies that arise—not from wilful divergence from Christianity
but from the cultivation of a wrong or secondary form of it.
How often this is seen. An earnest, well-intentioned, mtn is
appointed to a parish where the people are fairly intelligent, re
spectable, and well-affected. He might have it all his own wav with
them, for a new parson is generally looked at with a sort of kindly
interest; we have the prospect of listening t> him for some years
perhaps, and it is well to think the best of him. In a short time,
to use a familiar expression, parson and people are at loggerheads
with each other; confusion and strife take the place of order and
goodwill, a Samaria is established in the parish, and a new
temple is probably built on Gerizim. And why? Because the
clergyman is a bad man, or especially silly, or unkind ? Not at
all—but he has probably introduced something new, something
new in his service, or in the arrangement of the Church furniture,
or in his own personal get up. The people don’t like it and obj ict.
�He, instead of saying—“friends, this doesnot matter, the Christian
life is what we are concerned about, loving hearts are the crown of
my ministry,” he insists upon his crotchet, and excuses himself by
calling it a, principle. And this is just where Church Christianity
breaks down, that it permits men to call those things principles
which are no principles, and to lose sight of the principle of
Christianity, which is love. What should we say of a scheme for
increasing our sense of the sanctity of human life if it encouraged
us to cut off each others heads whenever we objected to the colour
of each others hair ?
Some will try to excuse themselves on the ground that all this
sort of difference and opposition may go on without loss of love.
Vain delusion ! In human strife he alone may fancy he loves his
brother who gets the better of him. If we could be sure of a
candid answer, I should not mind bringing the master to this test.
I would say to the controversialists ‘ do you love your brother when
you find he is too much for you ?’ When there is motion
without heat we may have theological strife without ill-will.
Did John love Cerinthus when (accoraing to the legend) he would
not stay in the same baths with him. Do we love our brother
when we will not go under his roof, will not take him by the hand,
will not bid him God-speed, and pass him when we meet him, on
the other side. If you suspect this to be an exaggerated view
turn to “Phases of Faith” and see the treatment experienced by
Mr Newman when he began to question the doctrines of the Church.
There probably has been no delusion more fatal to Christian life
and to the happiness of men than that which has permitted our
poor hearts to hide their rottenness from themselves, and to
indulge in ill-will, grudging, envy, pride, and all uncharity, under
cover of the pretence that it is zeal for the Lord. We may hold
it to be a certain truth that the pearl of Christianity, which is
Love, will get mislaid when men take to squabbling about the
shell.
Another point at which Church Christianity has broken down
is exposed in the condition of our poor. Individuals here and
there are kind-hearted and self-sacrificing, but where is that thought
of class for class which could not but be generated in a truly
Christian society. The facility with which we bear the distresses
of the poor, the reluctance of the powerful to legislate in the
interests of the weak, of the rich to legislate in the interests of the
poor, I attribute, not so much to the selfishness of our nature as
to the fact that the Church does not keep steadily before our
faces and close to our eyes the love aspect of Christianity.
Look at the dwellings of the poor in our large cities. The
desire for a good investment will cover the country with
�7
a network of railways, for which land is taken and money found,
but Christianity has not induced our rich and influential classes
to insist that the homes of the poor shall be made a State
question, to go to Parliament for power to take land and find
money, so that our poor may live decently in the presence of
their brethern. Call ourselves Christians ! Do you thiuk that
Jesus would call it a Christian land if he walked about the.
West-end in the morning and about the East-end in the aftere
noon. Do you think he would accept the trumpery excuses w>
make for letting our brothers and sisters starve, and rot, and sin K
into abysses of degradation, or at the best live lives of mono
tonous toil, in wretched homes, with scarce a motive to industry
their future being without hope ? I know the wretched objections
which Dives makes to getting up from his table when his servants
tell him that Lazarus is really in a bad way. “I cannot help
him ; Political economy forbids.” Christianity says, “ So much
the worse for political economy.” “The poor shali never cease out
of the land.” “No Reason for not doing our best for them, there need
not be such poor, and scripture you know can be quoted by the
most disreputable people.” “They must help themselves.” “True
in some things, but in some they depend on you.” “ Charity
demoralises.” “Notall charity.” The fact is, it is easy to see why
Dives is slow to go out to Lazarus. The mothers here would tell
me. Your child is ill, he has brought it on himself, he will get
better if he does what he is told; but you do not like to leave
him to himself, you do not neglect him, you take every care of him,
and if you scold, you scold him gently, and why? Ah ! you know.
And Dives, whose name now is Legion, whose habitations in this
city are stree’S of palaces, would Dives leave his brothers and
sisters to themselves and their sufferings if he loved them ? Yet
to love them is Christianity.
If he loved them, how could he bear the luxuries of his home,
the ample board, the cheerful fire, the sunshine of the presence he
loves, the music of the laughter of his little ones, remembering
those outside, cold, and hungry, and ignorant, and degraded, sick,
and in misery, and unloved ? May God forgive us—we cannot
forgive ourselves.
Yet, as I said at starting, those to whom Christianity is dear need
not be cast down. The real thing has not failed because it has not
been fairly tried. The Church has fought her battle against the
world with the scabbard, she has yet to try the sword. We have
yet to see what Christianity might do for us in our conflicts with
temptation, in all our warfare with evil within and without, if from
the dawn of understanding we were taught to feel that Christianity
was love. We have yet to see the mighty effects that might be
�produced upon society if the religion of love and love only were
preached from every pulpit in the land. Then should we see the
rich and influential amongst us, those who have time on their hands,
and balances at their bankers, forming themsel es into societies to
consider what they could do for their poor brothers and sisters ; then
should we see Parliament overwhelmed with petitions from leisured
men. Take counsel ye that are wise and prudent, ye Bezaleels and
Aholiabs of the State, what can ye do for this congregation ? Here
we are ready for the work, and here are witling offerings,—our
bracelets and earrings, and any amount of income tax, our rings
and tablets, and heavy succession duties; only find ye the
knowledge and understanding to devise and do for these our
brethren. For how can we enjoy the sweetness and light of life,
whilst they are in bitterness and gloom 1 our purple and fine linen
are robes of shame to us whilst they are naked and cold, our bread
is turned to ashes in our teeth when we think of them that perish
for lack of food.
Ah ! my friends, when Christianity is tried we shall stand in
no fear of Socialism or revolution. We shall indeed have agita
tion, there may be monster processions in the streets and mass
meetings in the parks, but it will not be the agitation of them that
toil, bent on wrenching some measure of power, or some crumbs of
comfort, from the superfluities of privilege and wealth—it will be
the agitation of the powerful and rich, yearning to diminish some
thing from the sadnesses of the poor.
One last thought, Christianity is Love. Does any one feel
inclined to say “ Is that all 1”—It is enough my brother—more
than enough for most of us. There is much to learn in that school.
In fact, down here, I suspect we may be always learning, and still
have to look for the completion of the course in the upper school.
For all that it sounds so simple the life is very hard. The spirit
I spe*k of is coy to win, and difficult to keep. If it is to abide
with us for ever it must be cherished with no transient courtship,
but with the devotion of a life. To seek each others good, to shun
each others harm, to wrestle with the temptarions that are breaches
of love, to keep under and stamp out all the unloving thoughts
that are so easily engendered in the friction and turmoil of life, to
nuture in the place of them feelings of forbearance, gentleness,
ami good-will—this is not easy. Yet our religion requires no less.
For the creed of Christianity begins with these words, “ Whoso
ever will be saved before all things it is necessary that he live the
Life of Love.
Eastern Post Steam Printing Works, 89, Worship Street, Finsbury E.C.
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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2018
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"What is Christianity?": a sermon, preached at the Rev. C. Voysey's service, at St. George's Hall, Langham Place August 3rd, 1873 by an M.A. of Oxford
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 8 p. ; 22 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Two corrections, in ink, to typos. From the Eastern Post, August 9th, 1873
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Text
3b
A DISCOURSE
ON THE
PRESENCE OF GOD,
DELIVERED BY
Professor F. W. NEWMAN,
AT THE
FREE CHRISTIAN CHURCH, CROYDON, LONDON.
PUBLISHED
BY THOMAS
SCOTT,
11 THE TERRACE, FARQUHAR ROAD, UPPER NORWOOD,
LONDON, S.E.
1875.
Price Threepence.
�LONDON:
PRINTED BY C. W. REYNELL, LITTLE IHLTENEY STREET,
HAYMARKET, W.
�THE
PRESENCE
OF
GOD.
“Thus saith the high and. lofty One that inhabiteth eternity,
whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with
him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the
spirit of the humble and the heart of those that are contrite. ”
—Isaiah lvii. 15.
O undervalue knowledge and learning never can
be wise; nor do we undervalue them in saying
that moral qualities and strong common sense are of
more avail for religious wisdom than any special or
scholastic attainments. How indeed could religion
be an affair for all men on any other condition ?
Nevertheless, as the mind of nations has grown, so
has the grandeur of their ideas concerning God. The
eye of man takes in at a glance the vast interval from
this earth to a brilliant star; hence it is easy for a
savage to conceive of God as sitting- in the heavens,
and yet seeing and watching the deeds of mankind.
The early Hebrews had not reached the idea that God
is present here, and everywhere on earth, as much as
in heaven. They certainly supposed him to have a
peculiar dwelling-place in the sky. But the master
of a house, who sits in the principal chair and can
give orders to all who sit or stand in the same room,
may be said to be present in every part of that roopi,
in which nothing escapes his eye or his authority. In
the same manner, ancient men represented to them
selves the universal presence of God, without resign
ing the imagination that he has a local throne and is
surrounded by a special circle of ministering spirits.
The moral effect of such belief is nearly the same as
that which we now regard as more correct. If the
T
�6
'
The Presence of God.
Supreme Spirit knows everything that goes on every
where—if, also, his power (or, as the ancients called
it, his hand) reaches to every spot, the result to us is
just that of his universal presence.
All ancient peoples imagined the Heaven in which
God dwelt to be uZo/Z, over our heads. Locally, as
well as morally, he was to them the High and Lofty
One. The grosser idea that he had some definite shape
was at an earlier period effaced among the Hebrews
by the belief that he was ever shrouded in a luminous
cloud. To this the Apostle Paul alludes, when he
entitles God “ the Blessed and Only Potentate, who
only hath immortality, dwelling in the light which no
man can approach unto ; whom no man hath seen,
nor can see.” This is a splendid advance on the mean
ideas of God set forth in Genesis and Exodus, and in
every moral aspect is as noble and pure a representa
tion as any that we can now attain. Yet a modifica
tion has been made inevitable by the discoveries of
modern science. We know, beyond contradiction,
that we are living on the surface of a globe; that,
when a ship sails from England to the Cape of Good
Hope, the stars overhead change, week by week; the
mid-day sun rises higher and higher, being at first to
the south, but at length right overhead, and afterwards
is left to the north ; also, that if the voyage be con
tinued to Australia and New Zealand, the opposite
side of our globe is at length reached. The stars
which are above our head are beneath their feet. If
Tartarus, or the region of the Dead, were, as the
ancients supposed, immeasurably deep, then our Tar
tarus would be to the dwellers in New Zealand Heaven,
and their Heaven would be our Tartarus. Thus, to
mankind at large, no one direction is up or down, and
it becomes an arbitrary fancy to fix the divine abode
in one part of the heavenly vault rather than in
another. Moreover, science has discovered that the
stars are at distances from us vastly diverse ; that the
�The Presence tfGod.
7
nearest star is prodigiously more remote from us than
is our own sun; and that the idea of a blue crystal
vault in which sun and stars are fixed is a mere illu
sion of the eye. We now understand that God is
not more immediately present in one point of space
than in another, but, wherever we are—in this chapel
or in a private chamber—we are for ever in God’s
immediate presence, for ever in God’s own Heaven.
There are many who speak with shuddering of
Death, as a passing into the immediate presence of
God. Dear friends, the shudder is certainly need
less. Solemn the thought must be, happy it ought
to be, that God is here, and that you cannot get
nearer to him by dying. Many talk of the flesh as
a curtain that hides him from us. Only in so far as
the flesh is able to distract, to dull, to defile the spirit,
can that statement be true. But God certainly is not
the less present when our eyes are blinded to the fact
of his presence. Man differs from man, and each of
us differs from himself, in vividness of conception that
God is present; and on this vividness largely depends
the energy of spiritual life. In the Sermon on the
Mount, according to Matthew, Jesus is reported to
say, “ Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see
God; ” but in the Arabic translation (which of all
modern tongues comes nearest in genius to the
Hebrew in which he spoke), the verb is in the pre
sent tense : “ Blessed are the pure in heart, for they
have vision (or insight) of God; ” and to me this
carries conviction.
Akin to this thought, though
not identical, are the epithets in the passage with
which I opened, where the prophet makes the High
and Holy One say, “ I dwell with him who is of a
contrite and humble spirit.” Moral conditions are
primarily needed by those who believe in a Holy God,
that they may be able to live in a realization of his
presence. The Hebrew prophet seems to have be
lieved, on the one hand, that God sympathizes with
�8
The Presence of God.
those who are crushed in body or soul, and, on the
other hand, that the consciousness of his presence is
not a terror, but a comfort, to the afflicted. It
revives their heart. And, without further discussing
what he meant by contrite, we may from this point of
view examine the subject.
What makes the thought of a Holy God terrible ?
Perhaps it will be replied, The consciousness of sin.
That is partly true, yet it is not the whole truth. If
sin mean only moral imperfection, sin is our state for
ever. “ God putteth no trust in his servants, and
his angels he chargeth with folly”—says the poet in
the Book of Job. Surely it is not a sense of imper
fection, but a sense of hostility, that makes the near
ness of a mighty superior painful. The humble man
may perhaps think himself not only lower than the
lowest of all saints, but guiltier than many a pro
fligate ; nevertheless, if he be contrite in heart, he
hates his own iniquity, he longs for holiness, while
he knows himself unholy; hence the thought of the
Holy God revives his heart, and the consciousness of
that purifying presence is a delight. With this har
monizes that utterance of Jesus, “ The pure of heart
have vision of God.” We see most distinctly that
for which we look eagerly.
The life of religion is not opposed to nature;
rather, it is in fullest accordance with our best nor
mal state. Yet it certainly is not natural, in the
sense of coming easily or without effort to the
individual or to the race. Mankind through long
ages had a dim perception of the superior Power in
which it unhesitatingly believed, and went through
various forms of absurd opinion and wild fancy, the
vulgar through ignorance, or the poets through
wilfulness, spoiling the best thoughts of more earnest
meditators.
Thus numerous fantastic religions,
which we now call Pagan, arose, some with many
noble elements predominant; but in most the baser
�Phe Presence of God,
9
•and sillier fancies swamped the better thoughts.
Very slowly indeed has mankind collectively moved
towards more reasonable notions of the divine exist
ence and character. Moreover a constant tendency
displays itself to degeneracy and retrogression into
old error, so that the latest stages of each creed are
apt to be the worst. These facts have occurred on a
very wide scale, and scarcely can be mistaken.
Maturity of mind, which combines sobriety with active
thought, is needed as an intellectual condition for a
reasonable theology; also, if national morals be in a
degraded state, the same degradation will appear in
the religious notions. We now inherit the net results
of at least four thousand years’ mental history; yet
not very many among us can wholly avoid the puerile
errors of the past. At the same time, individuals
often pass through a special history of their own,
ere they can attain for themselves practical results
from the notions which they theoretically receive. I
do not speak of those who are content with a reli
gion that rests in the head ; nor may I digress con
cerning others who are disquieted by superstitious
error. But, apart from all these, some of us are
strongly impressed with the conviction, that, if man
alone of earthly beings has a discernment of God, man
cannot be without moral relations to God. Then follows
the question, What are those moral relations ? and
the individual perhaps asks, “Wherein does my per
ception that Grod is my Crod, affect my life ? ” I call
your close attention to this deeply practical question.
No two human minds are quite alike, and the
richer the soil the more various is the plant. But
though the course by which religion is developed and
practically established probably differs in all, yet all
these have in common a deep sense that religion is
not a mere theory of the intellect, but is a state of
heart pervading the whole life. Many go through a
process which the old divines call, “ Seeking after
�io
The Presence of God.
God,” while the heart is inwardly striving to ascer
tain its due moral relation to him, and keep up a
happy perception of his near presence. Each of us
can but guess at the pains or pleasures in other souls;
nevertheless it is reasonable to believe, that, unless
some moral frailty darken and distort the inward
actions, this solemn seeking after God will have its
appropriate delight. A Hebrew Psalm seems to
allude to it with beautiful simplicity. “ O Lord,
when thou saidst, ‘ Seek ye my face,’ my heart
replied, ‘ Thy face, Lord ! will I seek.’ ” How child
like and straightforward! No artificial straining,
no distraction by bashfulness, no alarm at God’s
immeasurable grandeur; but, as the philosopher
believes that Man has natural relations to Infinite
Truth, and that the universe (as it were), calls aloud,
inviting us to the study, so the practical worshipper of
the Most High believes that man has natural rela
tions with him, and that the Infinite One virtually
invites his finite creature to fellowship and intimacy.
This is that, which religious people call the Spirit
of God moving witbin them. They know not what
impels them, some day, to address the Unseen Pre
sence as a child speaks to a father. It appears an
impulse not their own. When innocent instinct per
vades an entire race, we do not ascribe it to the
individuals of the race, but to the Author of their
nature: much more then the nobler movements of
the soul, so far as they are normal to man, may not
unreasonably be called the workings of God within
us. Hence, says Paul, God has sent forth the spirit
of sonship into our hearts. Ordinarily this is the
result of the heart’s full surrender to God as the
centre of all righteousness. When we deliberately
judge that the highest virtue is man’s best portion
and that all sin is shameful and miserable, then the
law of the Spirit is to us perfect freedom; a righteous
God becomes a lovely object, and our'earnest aspira
�The Presence of God.
Ii
tion is that his holy fire may burn out all our unholi
ness. This desire is the germ of perfect peace; for,
our will being subdued to God’s will, the sense of his
nearness is delightful; and inevitably with it the
faith springs up, that the holy will of God must
triumph over human sin. No one who is conscious
that his will is on God’s side, can dread the thought
of God’s immediate presence; and the belief of our
direct moral relations with him is likely to grow up
into gradually increasing strength with inward exer
cises of the heart in this communion.
Does any one present say, that such thoughts are
too lofty,—are mystical,—are fanciful ? If I could
for a moment'believe them fanciful, if I did not deem
them to be words of entire soberness, I could not
utter them here ; but that they are mystical, I freely
concede. Spiritual religion is nothing, if it be not
mystical. To walk as seeing him who is invisible, to
be conscious that God is in us, and that we have our
life in him, is essentially mystical and mysterious ;
yet not the less true and certain. Of God himself
we can only speak by metaphor and analogy, because
our primitive vocabulary is made for things of sense,
and is only gradually added to, as experience in things
supersensible accumulates. If any one wants a reli
gion which is developed out of, and measured by,
Physical Science, he can get it; but it will have no
element of spirituality, no relation to human morals,
and will be of no concern whatever for daily life, any
more than a theory concerning Gravitation or Elec
tricity. But if Religion is to be a universal and
moral bond, its very nature is inward, spiritual, mys
tical; but not the less,—nay, so much the more,
accessible and important to every human soul. If
we were to allege that “ Religion is the true poetry
of life,” we should misrepresent it; yet in common
with poetry and all high Art it must have a mystical
element.
�12
The Presence of God.
Sound religion never can delude us into the immo
ralities of fanaticism: for it does not prescribe and
dominate the law of morals, but is dominated thereby.
Moral law rests on the universal reason of mankind,
and prescribes to religion. True religion submits to
this law, not accounting i't a yoke or a burden, but a
basis, and a purpose for which we are made and live.
On this critical point depends its perfect sobriety.
The very idea of a Holy God (whether primitively
Egyptian or Hebrew or Persian or Buddhist, let an
tiquarians settle), distinguishes the noble tradition
which Christians, Jews, Mohammedans, andBrahmoes
honour, from the defective counterfeit. “ Thus saith
the high and lofty One whose name is Holy.” Neither
to the Pagan nor to the mere Physical philosopher is
the supreme Power a Holy Spirit. But when we
cannot conceive of God himself but as in harmony
with moral law, much more do we regard subjection
to moral law as our own noblest and best state ; and
this is the fit interpretation of the words: “ Be ye
holy, for I am holy.” No inward impressions, ima
gined to be divine, must be adduced as dictating to
us right and wrong. Only when we know our in
ward suggestions to be intrinsically good, can we
presume to attribute them to the Father of Lights,
from whom cometh down every good and perfect gift.
Such is the sufficient reply to those who dread lest
spiritual impetus dictate some new and false morality.
A vivid sense of God’s presence cannot alter our
tranquil estimate of the right and the wrong in
human action. It leaves our code of morals wholly
undisturbed. It does but stimulate us to act up to
our highest convictions of right, and brace us up
(where needful) to brave self-sacrifice.
In this
respect it is comparable to the presence of a revered
and elder friend: at least the comparison makes it
easy to understand the moral influence of this sub
lime faith. If our creed no longer comprizes many
�The Presence of God.
i3
matters believed by pious men of old, still for us as
for them remains the truth, that a life of religion is a
life of faith. Still, as ever, it conduces to the eleva
tion of man by exercising him in the noblest sorrows
and the loftiest joys, while it tends also to maintain
him in that imperturbable state which Stoicism ad
mired, without any danger of losing tenderness. A
hitter and painfully true complaint has of late been
uttered against certain physical and metaphysical phi
losophers, that with Reverence towards God they had
lost Mercy towards Brutes, even while maintaining that
the human race is derived from brute progenitors.
But if we love and'trust in a glorious and holy God,
who, though he be the lofty One that inhabiteth
eternity, yet by his in-dwelling revives every contrite
and weak soul of man,—how can we but feel tenderly
towards those who are weaker than ourselves ? Nay,
love to the Unseen and Mighty One is so much harder
than compassion to those whom we see, that the
higher attainment pre-supposes the lower; insomuch
that John the Elder asks, How shall a man who loves
not his brother whom he hath seen, love God whom
he hath not seen ?
Let no one then suppose that religion is or ever
could be an affair of opinions and notions, whether
concerning historical facts, physics, or metaphysics,
any more than it can consist in the endless genea
logies and old wives’ fables at which good Paul scoffs.
What we need is a heart harmonized to our highest
attainable morality, devoted to justice and mercy, and
thereby to tenderness and purity; a heart thus pre
pared to rejoice in the belief of a holy God, and
esteeming his approbation more than all worldly
objects. Through all the devotional Hebrew litera
ture which has been esteemed sacred, and equally in
the Christian Scriptures, a remarkable metaphor is
stereotyped. The light of God's countenance is identi
fied with the highest spiritual joy. That which the
�14
The Presence of God.
eye cannot' see, faith alone sees. Thus, to behold the
face of God is the bliss of Heaven itself, and is sup
posed to have a transforming effect on the beholder.
“We shall be like him ; for we shall see him as he
is.” “I shall behold thy face in righteousness: I
shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness.”
So deep, fervent, and continuous for more than 2000
years has been the conviction, that mentally to see and?
know God is both the highest bliss and the. most
purifying influence. Have we not here an instructive
assurance that my present topic is one of sober reality,
not of flighty and personal fantasy F Brethren andi
sisters of my own age, we have not long to abide in
this tabernacle of flesh ; we are ripe for the supremacy
of the spirit. It is high time for us to stay our souls
on the thought of the Eternal. And oh ye who areeither in full maturity or in the dawn of life, receive
kindly the word of exhortation. We have inherited
a vast series of noble and instructive experiences,
chiefly of Jews and Christians, most diverse in detail,,
but agreeing notably in the simple faith that God isholy, just, and tender, and that to live in a daily sense
of his presence is to walk by faith, and enter into
intimate relation with him. Such communion cannot
be long together conscious, nor would that be health
ful ; for it would impede our practical duties, to man,
which (in my judgment) are the end for which we
exist. But the remembrance of God ought to be the
happy home, to which the secret heart naturally falls
back in the intervals of duty and business. Ourstrength for self-sacrifice and our buoyancy on the
waves of life, the soundness of our moral judgments
and the nobleness of our characters, can hardly fail of
being increased, when we habitually take delight in a
tranquil sense that God is within us and around us..
Cultivate this heavenly intimacy in your secret
moments, and your reward from it will be great. A
�The Presence of God.
15
Hebrew Psalmist of old, in his own peculiar dialect,
expressed this thought energetically :—
“ Justice and Judgment are the habitation of thy throne:
Mercy and Truth go before thy face.
Blessed is the people that know this joyful tiding :
They shall walk, 0 Lord, in the light of thy countenance.
In thy name shall they rejoice all the day,
And in thy righteousness shall they be exalted.”
Let me, in conclusion, quote side by side the words
of our poet Cowper, where he speaks, not as a sec
tarian Christian, but as uttering the essence of
Christianity:—
“ But oh! Thou bounteous giver of all good,
Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown.
Give what thou wilt, without thee we are poor,
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.”
Such, in my vehement conviction, is to be the Reli
gion of the Future.
PRINTED BY C. W. REYNELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET.
�
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A discourse on the presence of God
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Newman, Francis William [1805-1897]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 15 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: Delivered by Professor F.W. Newman, at the Free Christian Church, Croydon, London. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Printed by C.W. Reynell.
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Thomas Scott
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1875
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Sermons
God
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Conway Tracts
Metaphysics
Spiritual Life
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Text
A
DISCOURSE
ON THE
SERVICE OF GOD,
DELIVERED BY
Professor F. W. NEWMAN,
AT THE
FREE CHRISTIAN CHURCH, CROYDON,< LONDON
PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT,
II THE TERRACE, FARQUHAR ROAD, UPPER NORWOOD?
LONDON, S.E.
■ 1875.
Price Threepence.
�LONDON:
PRINTED BY C. W. BEYNELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET,
HAYMARKET.
�THE
SERVICE OF GOD.
“0 Lord, truly I am thy servant. I am thy servant, and
the son of thy handmaid. Thou hast broken my bonds. ”—
Psalm cxvi. 16.
ELIGION has a long history. It is perhaps as
old as human nature. At every time it reflects
our moral and intellectual state. It is barbarous in
our barbarism. It is puerile, while our intellects are
immature. It becomes more manly with our manlier
thoughts, pure and tender with our more refined
morals. The rude or savage man, who discovers in
the vast world Powers greater than himself and
older than the solid globe, easily believes that some
gods are kindly and others cruel. The God who
gives genial harvests and healthful seasons is the
good God; but the power who wields the hurricane
and the lightning seems to be a demon. We know,
as a fact, particular tribes to have argued frankly,
that it is not necessary to concern ourselves about the
good God, who is sure to be kind. The only matter
of importance (they said) is, to propitiate the evil
demons, and avert their anger. Thus, as a matter of
policy, demon-worship is put forward as the cardinal
task of religion.
But wherein does this worship or service consist ?
It is assumed that the mighty Being who sometimes
crushes feeble man, crushes him through malevolence
and cruelty. Such a Being is likely to be proud,
vain, jealous; easily affronted, but appeased by sub
mission, by gifts and by flattery. Therefore the
service of the god becomes like to that of an earthly
tyrant. Worship paid to one somewhat lower in
B
�6
The Service of God.
morals than ourselves is degrading to the votary and
demoralizing. No one can say into what depths of
cruelty to man such fantastic service may descend f
once the ceremonies of worship are systematized and
receive traditional sanction from national usages and
law.
Thus, in order that worship or service to God may
be healthful, rightful, elevating, ennobling, the first
essential condition is, that we believe God to be Setter
than ourselves ; not merely more powerful, but better,
in every sense in which we can understand goodness’
It needs no high effort of thought, no especial power
of insight, to establish as a sure foundation, that, if
a Supreme God have any moral character at all, his
morality must be nobler than ours. In any case our
petty vices are in him simply impossible. He cannot
be irritable, jealous, thinking of his own honour, capricious, malignant, fickle, fantastic. He does not
need offerings of food or of flowers, roast flesh or
honey-cakes, garlands of leaves, nor crowns of gold.
He needs no house built for his dwelling-place or
sleeping-rooms. He will not wear robes of State,
though they be woven for him of fine purple and
edged with gold . brocade. What then can we do to
serve such a Being, who wants for himself nothing
at our hands ?
It is within the compass of the humblest intellect,
so soon as man or woman thinks freely and defi
nitely, to make sure, that if God desire us to serve
him, it is not for his advantage or comfort or pride,
but for our benefit. We ought to revere him; why ?’
Because we are the better for revering him. But
again, why so F Because reverence intrinsically
befits us, if he indeed be supreme in goodness and
wisdom, as well as in duration and power. For one
who is still a child to look up with admiration to a
loving father, is always good, because a mature man
is far higher in wisdom and goodness than a child;
�The Service of God.
7
but reverence of one naan for another man is not, as
such, intrinsically good, and may be pernicious.
Reverence rightly directed, towards one who unques
tionably deserves it, softens, chastens, and confirms
moral character, and has no element of servility in
it. To have no object whom we revere generally
belongs to self-conceit, flippancy, shallowness of heart.
“ To be Reverent is Wisdom,” says a philosophic
Greek poet; and the voice of mankind classes irre
verence among vices. Yet (as above said) to revere
a God, to whom we attribute mean vices, is evil and
not good. That religion may be beneficial, it must
be pure; that it may be. pure, criticism of it must be
free; no worship of false gods is endurable to true
piety. If it be possible sincerely to adore a being
morally below us (which may greatly.be doubted),
.such worship is at best a galling slavery. But when
the worshipper discerns that his God is supremely
good, and deserves to be loved with all the heart and
soul, his chains drop off, and he may justly cry:
“ Thou hast broken my bonds. Thy service is perfect
freedom. Oh tell me what I am to do. Speak,
Lord! for thy servant heareth. Blessed are they
who do thy commandments. Lord 1 teach me thy
statutes. Oh that I could hear thy voice ! ”
But no voice from heaven is heard in reply to such
aspirations. The wisdom of God draws out our own
powers, and, to do this, never dictates as an earthly
preceptor, but works on our hearts and intellects by
many an inward experience and many an outward
event. That elementary religion which we call Pagan
can hardly now be recognized by us as religion at all.
We may contemptuously call it “carnal ordinances,”
so long as it is external and corporate. But from
the day that religion is treated as no longer a cor
porate affair to be transacted by a priest or a church,
but a matter internal to the individual soul,—thence
forward it is nearly true to say that each of us has to
�8
The Service of God.
earn his own religious beliefs. Morals are dictated
to us by the human race in the most critical matters;
but neither mankind nor any individual can profitably
dictate on spiritual religion. At most one may con
fidentially tell to another his inward convictions, and
how his doubts and difficulties were removed; but
different minds are liable to (what may be called}
different diseases, and are relieved by different reme
dies. It is lovely and truly hopeful when, in opening
youth, ardent hearts aspire to dedicate life to the
service of God; yet nothing is commoner than for
the worshipper, after a glow of zealous devotion, to
lament that his earthly heart cannot keep it up.
Then he inquires, “ Is there any means of sustaining
religious affection, so that I may always feel that I
love God, as I did feel for a little while ? Is it a sin
that I am cold and dead, when I know that I ought
to rejoice in his supreme goodness ? ” This is but
one of many ways in which sincere hearts are dis
quieted ; yet a few words may here be in place.
We must not mistake religious emotion for religion.
Reverence implies a definite position of the under
standing and the moral judgment. This ought to be
a permanent state, which shows itself whenever the
thought of the Most High recurs to the mind. But
every emotion is transitory. Each is most healthy
when most spontaneous. To excite feeling artificially
is unhealthful, and tends to increase deadness. It
suffices to have the conviction deep in our under
standings that God deserves to be loved; we cannot
always have love to Him active and sensible. But
to say this is not to say half of what truth seems to
demand. The religious affections are good in their
place; they are right (as above said) because they
intrinsically befit us ; in greater or less intensity they
are necessary to religion. But as we must refuse to
believe that God, like a weak, vain man, is jealous
for his own honour, so must we beware of the stealthy
�The Service of God.
g
idea that he resents coldness or exacts gratitude.
The religious affections are not the service of God.
Religion itself is the true service of God, and it is
exhibited mainly in right conduct towards man. This,
in my apprehension, is the cardinal doctrine which
the Church of the Future has to make prominent,
and, as it were, bear aloft upon her flag. It certainly
has not been duly prominent in the past, and is very
often flatly denied. As the Hebrew prophets repre
sented Jehovah saying, “ I need not your sacrifices of
bullocks and rams: if I am hungry, I will not ask
food of you,” so must we now insist that God is not
benefited by our psalms and hymns, nor is less
glorious or less blessed, if defrauded of our praise
and gratitude. On our own account it is good to
draw near to him and worship inwardly ; but to
make the service of God consist in this is, at bottom,
the same error as to identify the useless and selfish
life of a hermit with religious life.
That-wise religion has its highest and ultimate goal
in right behaviour towards our fellow-men is not dis
tinctly expressed in the Hebrew or Christian Scrip
tures ; yet (I think) is often implied by Christian
Apostles and by Jesus himself; also in the celebrated
passage of Micah, which sums up man’s duty to God
in justice and mercy, and humility or sobriety before
God. It seems impossible to find books richer in
urgent exhortations concerning outward conduct than
the Apostolic Epistles and the three first Gospels.
Nevertheless, all the books of the New Testament are
so overlaid with notional matter that the historical
Christian Church was seduced into making doctrines
and creeds paramount. In consequence men, cele
brated as eminent philosophers, have imagined that
in Christianity practical virtue is disesteemed. That
ceremonies may and do choke and bury true religion
is a familiar thought to all who honour the name
Protestant. That theories, doctrines, controversies,
�IO
The Service of God.
religious emotion and efforts to kindle emotion may
be mischievous in the same way, many Protestants
are not duly aware. Theology, as science or art, is
but a means; our social perfection is the end which
theology ought to subserve. To attain such perfection
as men and women can attain in their mutual rela
tions is the highest service of God.
A misconception of this statement is more than
possible, and must be carefully guarded against. Mis
conception may arise out of the common distinction
between personal vice and crimes or offences against
society; also between personal virtue and social
virtue. We must not mistake such outward action
as alone the law of the land can command, or even
such, as alone society can claim from us, for the sub
stance of religious life. Every personal vice, in truth,
makes us worse citizens, nor do any virtues so redound
in blessing to society as purely spiritual virtues. The
earliest scientific treatise on morals known to the
Western world maintained that justice included all
virtue, for to be defective in any virtue was a fraud
on society. Justice, strictly interpreted, was identical
with righteousness. There is truth in this.
To do an act of kindness is acceptable to our neigh
bours, but to do it ungraciously may destroy all plea
sure from it and nearly all its value. It is not the
outward act only which kindles gratitude or affection,
but the act as indicating the temper of the doer. The
dullest of us is, after all, a spiritual being; we love
men for their goodness, even more than for their
usefulness to ourselves. If destitute, we covet sup
plies necessary to life; but man does not love for
bread alone. We wish for respect, for good-will, for
friendliness. We are quick to discern when another
is contemptuous, proud, selfish, ungoverned, grasping.
All vices, however internal and hidden away, are dis
agreeable to us ; and, if they abound in our neigh
bours, lessen our happiness and even our sense of
�The Service of God.
11
security. Sensual vice, it need hardly be insisted, is
manifestly pernicious to others as well as to the vicious
person. A drunkard is a bad husband, a bad father,
a bad son, a bad citizen in general. The seducer of
female virtue is pernicious in the highest degree; the.
man of impure life is a centre of corruption and a
propagator of misery. Gluttony is the greatest cause
of disease, and variously incapacitates us. Those who
make their gain by encouraging vice are among the
very worst citizens. To foster hatred within, of that
which would degrade us without, to simplify our habits
so as to be contented with little, may seem at first
purely personal virtues, yet without them we are not
armed against temptation, nor competent for warfare
with social misery. Hence a Christian Apostle re
garded spiritual virtues collectively as the weapons
and armour of God, for battle against the wicked
spirits who domineer in the world. In this noble
combat we need to put on not only tender mercies,
patience, and universal good-will, but also those vir
tues of the soldier—hardihood and self-denial, fru
gality and bravery. Paul is represented (in substance,
I doubt not, correctly) as leaving with the elders of
Ephesus his last solemn charges, and, as it were, his
dying words: “ I have coveted no man’s silver, or gold,
or apparel: yea, ye yourselves know that these hands
have ministered to my necessities and to them that
were with me. I have showed you that so labouring
ye ought to support the weak, and remember those
words of the Lord Jesus,—It is more blessed to give
than to receive.” Some one has said that Jesus
kindled on earth an enthusiasm of humanity. To me
it is clear that through the whole book, which we call
the New Testament, there burns an enthusiasm for
moral perfection. Our task in this later age is to cull
the noblest flowers of Christian precepts, just as did
the Apostles from the Prophets and Psalmists who had
preceded them, avoiding the errors incident to the
�12
The Service of God.
earlier era, and adding whatever wisdom the long
lapse of time has bequeathed to us.
Is then the service of God, as interpreted by Chris
tian Apostles, quite identical with that to which we
now ought to exhort one another ? Not quite iden
tical, I think. They believed that King Messiah
would return in the clouds of heaven, to set up a
rule of righteousness on earth. They saw the gross
injustices of princely power and institutions founded
on conquest; but to defeat iniquity enthroned in
high station seemed to them far too hard a task for
any one but the Lord from heaven. To behold the
kingdoms of this world under the reign of God and
his Christ was the sight for which their hearts ached ;
but the only work for others to which they believed
themselves called, was, to prepare the elect,—a small
remnant of mankind,—for entering into God’s king
dom. We cannot blame them as weak in faith,
because they despaired of overthrowing organized
violence without miraculous intervention. In fact,
the primitive gospel or good news announced, what
long experience has convicted as an error ;—namely,
that the Lord Messiah himself would very shortly
descend from heaven with innumerable angels and a
trumpet sound, to claim his rightful. royalty over
earth, and trample down the wicked princes who
ruled by the unseen might of Satan, God’s arch
enemy. Then would come the times of refreshing from
the presence of the Lord ; then righteousness would
flourish, and all the prophecies be gloriously fulfilled.
Reluctantly, slowly, and by necessity, Christians at
length resigned this splendid vision, and learned that
to leave political affairs to the management of bad
men was not the part of wisdom and duty : but
alas 1 forthwith arose an insatiable ambition to invest
Church Officers with the wealth, power, and prero
gatives of Pagan princes. Out of this has flowed a
total perversion of Christianity, and, for 1500 years,
�The Service of God.
T3
incessant conflicts which abounded with misery and
innumerable moral evils; yet probably were inevit
able in some other shape, if they had not come in this
shape. From her more than millennial agony Chris
tendom emerges far stronger and far wiser. We
now discern what has been the error. True religion
ought to consecrate all our worldly action, not to dis
parage, to decry, and to desecrate the world. Herein
is the pivot of our new departure. We need to
revert to an older wisdom, which taught* that
“ God hath granted to us on this earth a small plot;
and this is that which we must cultivate and glorify.”
Religious action does not consist in propagating
religious opinions, nor even in cherishing religious
emotions; but in being good and doing good. To
desecrate the word secular, is akin to desecrating
marriage ; each should be ennobled, not disparaged.
This world is not to be abandoned to men selfishly
greedy and ambitious, but is to be defended and
rescued from them by the concordant efforts of God’s
true servants. Unjust and corrupting institutions,
evil laws, reckless government, are not to be left
unmolested. Since bad law is of all bad things most
widely and deeply efficacious for evil, while good law
is of all good influences the mildest and most
effective for good; therefore, to purify laws and
institutions is a primary mode of establishing the
kingdom of God on earth. In no other way can the
roots of moral evil be torn up. It has often been
said, that three days’ drunkenness, fostered by ambi
tion to aid electioneering intrigues, undo the work of
three years’ preaching. This is but one illustration
out of fifty, and not at all the strongest, denoting
how futile is a moral crusade,- if it will not attack
political villainies. Hitherto, among Protestants, all
national progress in morals has been retarded, just
'2,'irdp'njv eAa%es ‘ Tavrriv Koffp.n,
�14
The Service of God.
in proportion as they have recalled from the first
Christian ages the doctrine that the saint is not a
citizen of this world; that the kingdoms of this
world are incurably wicked ; that the devil and his
angels are to be left in possession of political princi
pality ; that Christians have nothing to do with
making the national institutions just, and the law
moral. The doctrine of Geneva, of Scotland and of
the English Puritans, took a course which avoided
this rock of offence, but ran upon another, nearly as
Rome has done,—a rock which we mis-call Theo
cracy : but the Lutherans, and the Anglican Evan
gelicals, the Moravians, the Quietists, and other sects,
with many estimable persons, in striving to recover
the original position of the Christian Church, over
looked both our vast differences of circumstance, and
the glaring fact that that Church erred in expecting
the speedy overthrow of political wrong by a miracu
lous intervention. Without full self-consciousness or
any clear knowledge of the past, all the Churches of
England are now waking to their duty of purifying
the fountains of our daily life. Herein lies the germ
of a new religion ; new to us, if in some sense old.
There are those who believe that this new religion is
what Jesus meant to teach (but his words, say they,
have been garbled),—that when from human sym
pathy one man relieves another, who is a captive, or
sick, or hungry, or naked, though he do it without
dreaming to serve God or thinking of God at all, yet
the Supreme Judge recognizes it as service done to
himself. This is neither place nor time for inquiring
into the truth of the interpretation. Suffice it to
say, that goodness is amiable, with or without reli
gious thought; that man needs our services, and
God does not need our love any more than our
flattery, and that in affectionate, dutiful or merciful
acts towards our fellow-men we best become joint
workers with God. This is the earliest religion
�The Service of God.
15
possible to childhood, the only religion which can
commend itself to the barbarian conscience.
Will any one call it a poetical fiction, that all the
universe, inorganic, brute or barbarian, is doing the
work of God, obeying his command, fulfilling his
service ? alike the suns and planets, the elements and
seasons, the beasts and birds, tribes of savages and
ignorant masses of men ? God makes the very
wrath of man to praise him, out of discord bringing
harmony. How much more ought we to recognize
as his servants that vast army of mute toilers, the
poor of every nation, prevalently simple and ignorant,
and despised as “ the herd of mankind,” though
often nobly unselfish and gloriously heroic ? The
same may be said of the patient inventors and perfectors of mechanical and other civilizing art. Let
no man despise man; for we are all of one blood,
though Abraham be ignorant of us, and Adam
acknowledge us not. The love of God embraces us
all; therefore it is very fit, right, and our bounden
duty, to study the benefit of this human family as
our highest service to the common Father. Serving
man we best serve God; he that will be greatest
among us, let him be the servant of all. In that
service is love and joy; love, which is forgetful of
self; joy, in the lofty faith, which is sure that Right
must triumph.
PRINTED BY C. W. REYNELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET, HAYMARKET.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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A discourse on the service of God
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Newman, Francis William [1805-1897]
Description
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 15 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: Delivered by Professor F.W. Newman, at the Free Christian Church, Croydon, London. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Printed by C.W. Reynell.
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Thomas Scott
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1875
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CT133
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (A discourse on the service of God), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Text
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English
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Sermons
God
Christian Life
Conway Tracts
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Text
DISCOURSE
UPON
CAUSES FOR THANKSGIVING:
PREACHED AT
WATERTOWN, NOV. 30, 1862.
By JOHN WEISS.
BOSTON:
WRIGHT & POTTER, PRINTERS, 4 SPRING LANE.
1 8 6 2.
�J
�DISCOURSE.
Make: iv: 28.
FIRST THE BLADE, THEN THE EAR, AFTER THAT- THE FULL CORN IN THE EAR.
The content and thankfulness of New England are committed
every spring to her soil by fee hand! oft farmers, who find it
again spreading the color of California gold over their autumn
fields. And what an alchemist is a former, to get that color out
of land so poor and climate so harshgwhefe, what with the
prices of labor, the expense of implements;,;' of draining, manur
ing, keeping of stock and buildings,; and a comfortable life
through a tedious winter not a great deal of feat color finds its
way into his pockety however much he may store in his bins
or send to market. And W;herever.,a ploughmans, from the
Kennebec to the Mississippi, turniiig^fat or meagre soils to the
sun of a temperate summer^ there springs the beautiful thanks
giving harvest of New England# and of the North. Manufac
tures, shoe and leather dealing, all. the trades and inventions,
eat the pumpkins and the corn of fee farmer. And the pursuits
which are closely allied to^agideulture,such as, the breeding
of cattle and the growing of wool, foelp the farmer to create
and feed a North. Lawrence# and Lowell can consume all the
cotton they get, when the farmer of the East and West dumps
his potatoes at the ^factory door. ■ When the great arm of the
engine vibrates, and a million spindles and the hearts of those
who tend them sing, see how fee sJendentferead goes up from
the ball, carrying all the. crops of the year wife it to spin them
into Wamsutta or Merrimac, or other famous brands. The morn
ing tattoo which the Lynn shoemakers beat on their lap-stones
is the echo of flails in a thousand barns. Genesis says, that the
Lord God took a little earth to make the first man ; now man
�4
breathes his own breath of life into the earth again, and it
makes him and sustains him every day.
There is not much land, even among the rich river-bottoms
and prairies of the West, so genial that man has “ only to tickle
it with a hoe to make it laugh with a harvest.” What would
our farmers think of that great tract of black earth in the
empire of Russia, “ lying between the fifty-first and fifty-seventh
parallels of latitude, comprising about 247,000,000 acres, so rich
that if manured the first years of culture, the crops often prove
abortive from excessive vegetation. The thickness of this deposit
varies from three to six feet, and in many places it runs to an
unknown depth.”* But how hard it is to evoke civilization and
knowledge out of that depth, because neither of them cultivate
it. Yet it is in that great temperate plateau of Russia, called
“ The Industrial Region,” that freedom and religion when
planted may be expected to subdue the rankness of the soil.
Here freedom and religion coax and flatter sterility till it fairly
forgets itself and smiles.
In a still autumn morning, when the brown roads have
drift-heaps of red and yellow leaves, and the air seems to be
nothing but a mingling of shine and warmth, what a ride
it is to take up and down the valleys here, through the north
part of Watertown, where the first farmers of New England
sowed their English grass, and across Beaver brook through
the uplands of Waltham, and behind Prospect-hill, where
the farms and wood-lots stretch pleasantly away. Perhaps you
turn off towards Lexington, and cross the famous turnpike
down which the farmers “fired the first shot heard round
the world,” when, as minute-men, they top-dressed their
fields with English blood, and were not chary of their own.
Religion and liberty have grown well ever since. You ride past
their manifest tokens; you pause at their memorial when you
hitch your horse at a farmer’s door, and ask the price of his
potatoes and pumpkins which lie there, great heaps of plenty,
before barns bursting with corn-shucks and upland grass, the
sinews of war and of peace. No sharp-shooting behind the stone
fences now, nor irregular firing up and down the road. The
cricket chirps from the door-step a tranquil song, whose burden
Patent Office Report, 1861. Agricultural.
�5
’seems to be that Nature is laying in sunshine, with good hus
bandry, for another spring. The children break out of the little
primary school-house, where New England planting is carried
on too,—boys and girls trained to grow straight and sturdy, to
handle some day the plough, the loom, or the musket, as the
country needs. Now they are the finest of all the crops on the
slopes which they shall one day inherit. What a ride you can
take through the country lanes, bordered with nothing finer
than the pendent barberry and the purpling sumach, unless you
have an eye for the comfort, and thanksgiving, and popular
Liberty, whose stateliness lines all the road, and stretches far
away between the hills.
When a people own the land, wd own themselves, and conse
quently do not depend upon oiid product and one employment
for their means of intelligence and happiness, they are superior
to bad luck, and know little of the discomforts of a crisis. In
this respect what a different sight meets the traveller who is
passing to-day through the cotton districts of Lancashire,
England, where a population offl nearly three millions have
their welfare entangled in the will-machinery, and cease to
hope as the factory ©fiimnies Q,ease to smoke. They are as
piuch the slaves of thll cotton-plant as the negroes who hoe it
and gin its blossoms. They belong to a style of civilization
*
which thinks little of man, but a great deal of trade ; which
dooms a man all his life, and his? children after him, to make
the head of a pin, to pick under grouffl. at a stratum of coal, to
pull and ripple flaxjfe1 tend a machine in a mill. Take away
his pin-head, his pick-axe, or fail to. feed his machine with
cotton, and he is a p^w^ef| he,,comes upon the parish for his
daily support, or has a^frowl of soup ladled out to him at the
door of some charity. In Manchester, which has a population
of 357,604, the pauperism is-Bow 10f per cent., and out-door
relief is distributed to 16,334 persons at the rate of Is. 4d. per
head per week—about two shillings of ©Mr money. Out of
eighty-four cotton mills, twenty-two
are
**
stopped, and thirty are
working short time. But Manchester is comparatively well off.
The town of Stockport, about six miles from Manchester, has,
out of a population of 54,681, 18,000 engaged in the factories,
in good times; but now there are only 4,000 working on full
�6
time, 7,283 are wholly unemployed, and 7,000 are working on
short time. Then 1,000 people belonging to other trades
depend upon the staple trade, thrown out of work. 30,000
people in Stockport receive relief. But what an amount of
misery do those figures represent. The more able-bodied men
go tramping over the country to seek work, but spinners and
weavers are not able-bodied, and a day’s march often lays them
up. Some of them who can sing form a little company, and
go singing glees, “ with nobody minding,” and few farthings for
their half-starved music. The women also try to win a’bitter
meal with the sweetness of their voice. A spectator describes
a scene of this kind : “ One young woman, about thirty years of
age, with a child in her arms, was standing in a by-street,
singing in a sweet, plaintive voice, a Lancashire song. It was
her first song in public ; and the tremulous voice and downcast
look, as she hugged with nervous grasp her little one, was very
touching. When the song was over, the poor creature looked
round with a timid air to the bystanders ; but she had miscalcu
lated her strength—the occasion was beyond her power of
endurance—and she burst into a passionate flood of tears.”*
I see m that womaU, the patient England held in slavery by a
selfish Toryism, which would be. glad to-morrow to recognize
another slavery in order to keep its own fed and quiet. A
relieving officer in Stockport, says : “ I have gone into the
rooms of the English operatives when they have not had a
mouthful of bread under the roof, and perhaps not had what
you may call a meal the whole $ay, and nothing but shavings to
sleep on through the night, yet they talked as cheerfully and
resignedly as if there was every prospect of employment on the
morrow.” These are subjects of a government which has
trained their bodies and souls to do only one thing, to mind the
brutifying monotony of one machine, and is now exulting over
what it calls the failure of a Democracy, as it lets arms and
steamers for a Southern aristocracy slip through one hand, and
a little soup for its starving poor through the other. This,
then, is the largess of a constitutional monarchy,—piratical
cannon and comfort for slave-drivers abroad, and the great
institution of Soup for slaves at home I
* A Visit to the Cotton Districts, 1862, p. 4.
�7
Even this latter is grudgingly bestowed. Many of the richest
mill-owners have not yet subscribed a farthing to the relief
funds, so that it is a difficult matter to secure a shilling a head
per week to the poor applicants. Yet who subscribed to the
“Alabama?” Whose money fits out steamer after steamer with
munitions to keep the life in Southern slavery ? What capital
is it that buys Confederate bonds at eighty-four cents, and that
is willing to take the risks of sea and a blockade to help in
undermining the great Republic whose manifold prosperity it
dreads ? Thank God, the elements of an American Thanks
giving, material and spiritual, are, and forever will be, beyond
the reach of open levy dr secret m^lfe'e of itsjiearty haters.
In Ashton-under-eLyne, whose population is 36,791, there are
10,933 hands employed tdfi^^MH^^^iting a population of
nearly 22,000. The existing means Of relief reach only 9,000
of these; that is, there are moi^thanb 10,000 dependent on
private charity, or their own eesoffm^ The 9,000 cost <£480
per week. The mill-owners in this place have been disposed to
help the operativestfff'Someof thdm have allowed their unem
ployed hands as much as two^and^shipen'c’e a week, some lend
them money, others maintain a daily distribution of food.
In Preston the progress of the distress is shown by the fol
lowing figures : in August of this year fehe number of poor
relieved by the rates was fe,2'0l| and by' the Public Relief
Committee, 21,616 ; but in September the number had swelled
to 14,289 relieved by the rates, and 23,932 by the Committee.
“ During the week ending September 13, the Relief Committee
distributed 16,832 loaves, weighing;, 601:6 lbs.; 11,301 quarts
of soup, and 4,820 qaaafts' of coffee.” There are seventy-one
firms owning mills imPr^stbff ^ ofthese,. forty-eight contributed
the pitiful sum of :£l,9f8
a re^ifwd of £12,000. Yet
there are 27,600 factory operatives; whose actual financial loss
per week amounts to mop® than £11,00'0. This happens every
week, and one in every seveii and a half of the entire popula
*
tion of Preston become entirely pauperized. To counterbalance
this, forty-eight rich mill-owners contributed less than £2,000,
not per week, but their definitive subscription for the year !
See how these poor men were obliged to take their money
out of the savings banks. In the single town of Blackburn
�8
the annual deposits, from 1855 to 1861, “ had risen from
£18,118 to £49,943, or more than £30,000.” But what was
that sum to the working classes who had lost since August,
1861, at least £350,000 in wages, “ and that amount is now
being increased at the rate of £12,000 per week.” During six
months, down to last May, the withdrawals from the banks were
£10,000 in excess of the usual amount. These savings have
been all swallowed up by this time. “ A lass, thinly clad, but
bearing evidence of better days, saw a dog with a bone. She
tried to take it away. The dog snarled—would not give it up ;
and she stood foiled, in hungry attitude. A tradesman seeing
her said, £ What did you want with that bone ? ’ c I could have
swapped it for salt,’ she replied, £ and the salt I might have
swapped for a bit of bread.’ As she said this she burst into
tears.”
In the midst of this distress, the painful and touching
instances of which need not be repeated, the Boards of Guard
ians in many places have established what is called the ££ Labor
Test,” to protect the parish funds from the poaching of profes
sional paupers and vagabonds. They commence an excavation,
or provide work in stone-yards and on the roads, where every
unemployed man must do his choice in order to draw his relief.
These honest and unfortunate operatives are reduced to labor
at these aimless tasks by the side of vagrants, ragamuffins, gam
blers, “ and corrupt old hucksters,” to get a miserable dole of
parish bread. Whiat a poisoned mess is this which the proud old
monarchy tosses jealously to her plain, straightforward children,
who have woven, spun, carded,, drawn and pieced her million
bales of goods, which stock the markets of the world !
The resort to Indian cotton, which is carelessly gathered and
imperfectly cleaned, appears only to have aggravated the pre
vailing wretchedness. Overseers and ££ managers report the
most harrowing scenes in the factories,
o
*wing
to the exhaustion
of the patience of the men and the women who £ cannot go on
with their work, owing to constant breakages.’ The machines
which they tend stand idle, whilst innumerable threads break
rom sheer rottenness, and almost before the wheels are again
in motion the work is again required to be suspended, from a
cause which had but the moment before been remedied. The
�9
worry of such work is exhausting; it depresses the physical
energies and wears the heart. Some give up in despair, and
leave the factory to beg or work on the moor or in the stone
yard ; others grow haggard or pale under the trial; the strong
men grow weak,—the weak, ill. The men curse, and the
women sit down and cry bitterly. A manufacturer resident in
Manchester, who is by no means a tender-hearted gentleman,
said, that instances of the kind were of daily occurrence in his
factory, and that he had ceased to go into most of the rooms,
4 for the women were all crying over their work.’ ”*
The London 44 Times” informs jks, tl«from the first of Sep
tember to the twenty-fifth of October, the number of persons
receiving parochial relief in all the cotton districts had increased
by 68,456, and that there <ere in ^11
^
*08,621.
In addition to
this, there are 143,870 persons who receive their aid from local
committees. Total, 352,491. jfTJie weekly loss of wages is
estimated at ^136,094,- and th^amou^at^to <^7,000,000 a year.
44 Nor does this prodigious sunu| says the 44 Times,” 44 represent
the whole loss incurred by, these districts, for the ordinary
*
receipts of a manufacturer mutst be such as to cover not only
wages, but the expense of machine^, and the interest of capital
sunk in buildings and land, besides a^handsome^ofit.” It is the
loss of this handsome, profit wshich, more than all the suffering of
the men and women who used to egtrn it, inspires the 44Times”
to unroll its columns of appalling figures in the interest of inter
vention and Southern slavery. The l$ss5..of this profit, and the
discomfort of having- 40.0.,000 gjesh (paupers added in one year
to its list of vagabonds, isthe on® .d^w^ack to English satisfac
tion at seeing the great Republic ,shrivelling from loss of blood,
and sinking from the menace of^its, former estate to insignifi
cance beneath debt, dismembermenti. ^nd national disgrace.
But it reminds me of. .the. principaL.cause for thanksgiving
which we have to-day. J>i;^rea.dmgt;.b,efQye you a few facts in
relation to the distress o%ihe^ng^jwofci^n, my object was
not only to contrast it with the suhgtap^al comfort which the
institutions of a Democracy sustain, at the same time that it
can wage war at the rate of $2,000,000 a day, and deaths and
* Visit to the Cotton Districts, p. 75.
2
�10
wounds incomputable, but to bring that rebellious aristocracy,
to whose bad cause this distress is incidental, before the tribunal
of our grateful thoughts.
Men of New England never had such a reason for returning
thanks as to-day, when they can perceive so clearly that the
whole history of their country has inevitably led to this death
struggle between two ideas as incompatible in the same civil
society as deceit and sincerity in the same heart; an Aristocracy
founded upon depriving men of natural rights, and a Democracy
founded upon securing them to men. We are thankful that
the issue is honestly and squarely made at last, and lurks no
longer behind politics and compromises, and that every measure
of the past which expected to stifle it has distinctly led, by the
logic of a God who cannot bear iniquity, to a great historical
situation, which tears the mask from the evil tendency, and bids
a good tendency assume its grand proportions. The first Revo
lution of ’76 was only a graft upon the rugged American stock,
which blossomed in these latter years, and is now maturing
its fruit. It will be the task of some future pen to show how
the divine thought has picked its way through the political
confusion and disgraces of a generation, to finish its work of
founding a Republic.
How premature were all our notions that we were citizens
of an America. We have been in our minority all the time
—a lusty, passionate and unsettled one, out of which we are
stepping now, to the rights and privileges of an honest demo
cratic manhood. To show how we grew to this, will one
day be the task of some man who will devote to it the flower
and prudence of his life. He will have to divide it into three
epochs—the first comprising the establishment of the Constitu
tion, and the subsequent years to the abolition of the slavetrade. This was the epoch when the rights of man were the
accepted theory of the country, slavery was supposed to be a
self-limited disease, and the Revolution slumbered after resisting
one aristocracy, till it was awakened by another. The second
epoch will tell the great material and political story of the
growth of slavery, in a generation which forgot the feeling of
the fathers from interest and ambition. It will show how
adroitly the new aristocratic ideas helped themselves to power
�11
witir the country’s great watchword—Democracy—by relating
the successive encroachments of an unconstitutional tendency
1 in the name of the Constitution, in each of which free-labor
voted to extend and protect slave-labor, and our mother, with
the Revolution’s blood yet hallowing her starry garments, was
scorned and almost turned out of her own children’s house.
This epoch, with its three sub-divisions of nullification, the
territorial questions, and the reaction of Republicanism, will
extend to the election of Abraham Lincoln. The third epoch
will open with secession, and tell the story of the reappearance
of the rights of man in the reawakening of the Revolution, *
1
when the Democrat and the Aristocrat see each other clearly at
last, only a bayonet’s length
as they did at Bunker’s
Hill and Yorktown. And as-it 4s •jushjis impossible to write
history without idea® as it iatqinake nations and epochs without
them, so the idea of thist, history will be to show how provi
dential and inevitable was the -rise of thisparistocracy and the
resistance of this democracy, with all the triumphs, disgraces,
defeats and miseries qf their irrepressible conflict, with all the
accidents, treasons, indecisions and weaknesses of the people’s
war ; and that these things were for the sake of having a People
at last to illustrate, uphold, and organize.the rights of mankind,
first for America, but no less for th©wo$id^ It will be a history
of two necessities born^of ,£ws> incompatible tendencies: the
necessity of aristocracy, born of slavery, and the necessity of
democracy born of freqdqm. Those, two necessities not only
account for all that ha$ happened, but show how nothing could
*
have happened otherwise^ not eyen military disappointments,
delays and imbecilities;, how, in short, slavery would never
have been destroyed by freedom in any other way, or upon other
terms, or at any other period.
We never believed thi®, and yet we see that it comes true,
and every fresh bulletin ‘^nfirms it; for if, out of all the
crowd of events which makes the history of a country, a few
of them happened by chance alone, the whole series of events
would be vitiated, and the divine intentions, if there are any
such, would be spoiled. If even one event occurred by chance,
that is, illogically, shoved in, on slovenly, like the dropping
of a stitch, the splendid web which we call history would
.1
�12
be shoddy. All the great forces of the world make all their
slightest movements in obedience to law. The only mistake
which slavery makes is in being slavery; that will destroy it,
but in the meantime it is consistent and fatal as consumption.
And God means that it shall be, for consistency’s sake, to
show the necessity of health and freedom. Therefore, we
shall find that there was never a moment previous to the war
when slavery could have been overcome by freedom, and never
a moment during the war. We return thanks for the presence
of God in every disappointment of our history.
Let us look at this point a little closer. When the Constitu
tion became the charter of a Federal Union, slavery had just
strength enough to prevent freedom from destroying it, and not
strength enough to pique freedom in making the attempt. The
two tendencies were neutral, but it was because one tendency
was felt to be evil and unrepublican, and short-lived. In 1790,
’91 and ’92, only 733,044 pounds of cotton were exported from
the United States, a great deal of which was foreign cotton which
had been previously imported.
*
The total value of this export
was only $137,737 ; an amount that would not keep an aristoc
racy in tobacco. But the development of the cotton-crop has
been unchecked and regular ever since, excepting in the year
of the embargo, 1808, and the three years of war, 1812, ’13 and
’14. In 1805, the value of the export was $32,004,005; in
1821, it was $64,638,062; and in 1850, it was $118,393,952.
The “ cotton zone ” extended from the Atlantic to the Rio del
Norte, including the States and portions of States lying between
the 27th and 35th parallels of latitude, “and all of the State
of Texas between the Gulf of Mexico, and the 34th parallel of
* Before the Revolution, hemp and silk competed with cotton for preponder
ance. In a copy of Nathaniel Ames’s Almanac for 1765, I find the following
item : “March 14; above 20,000 cwt. of|iemp has been exported from South
Carolina since Nov. 1. Several stalks measured 17 feet long and 2 inches
diameter at the base.” Thus hemp was exported while foreign cotton was
imported, and more pounds of hemp were raised than of cotton. In a copy of
the Almanac for 1766, is another item: “June 30. Last Triday voted by ye
House of Commons of ye Province (S. Carolina) £1,000 towards establishing a
Silk Filature in this town under the direction of Rev’d Mr. Gilbert. Mrs.
Pinckney of Belmont Plantation, within four miles of Charleston, has made
near 50 bushels of Cocoons this season, which are esteemed of the best kind.”
�13
North latitude.” In this vast area of upwards of 450,000 square
miles, nearly a third is adapted to the growing of cotton.
*
Here,
if any where, was the development of a geographical party with
sectional politics. But at the same period, in 1850, the value
of the crop of Indian corn was $456,091,491; of wheat, $156,786,068 ; and of hay, $254,334,316.f Cotton was smaller than
each of these great staples, being only one hundred and eighteen
millions. Why did no aristocracy spring from those enormous
figures, whose growth is maifilylNorthern ? Because the men
who owned the crops raised them^ and therein lies the difference
between a sectional party and tw national life.
At what period during tliS’ great development of the cotton
staple would yoUr-haw expected ’slavery to come to an end by
the operation of natural laws ?' Wei
®
* sbd
to hear a good deal
about letting slavery alone Mhat it might die out. Why, the
operation of natural laws-was faWrafole ‘to slavery—to the
protection both of slaves and cotton. We might have expected
to see Northern agriculture die out as soon.
The abolition of the slave-trade, in 1808, which the South
regarded at the timAas' a hostile mewurwhas proved immensely
favorable to slavery. It was indeed the first act of positive
legislation with a tendency to ncMrish and protect that institu
tion. For when artohial cargoes of half-barbarous Africans are
introduced into a eoiaAffy, local ' disturbances occur more
frequently, the- mortalitynin'ong' the sWbi W greater, and their
increase comparativelyTeebl'S. t The abolition of the trade gave
•t «
* Andrews’ Report on Colonial, and Lake Trade... 1852.
f These figures, taken from the Agricultural Report, 1861, vary from those
which had been previously given in the Census for 1850. Of wheat alone, the
two States of Pennsylvania! and New York, raised of course more bushels than
the aggregate of all the Southern and Middle Slave States.
t In 1714, the number of slaves; was 55,850; and 30,000 of these had been
brought from Africa,
Between 1715 and 1750 there were imported 90,000 slaves.
cc
6t
■ CC
1751
1760 CC
35,000 11
Cl
Ct
1761 “ 1770 CC
74,000 “
CC
CC
CC 1
1771 “ 1790 CC
34,000 “
CC
CC
1790 “ 1808 CC
70,000 “
These amount to 303,000; but the total number of native and imported slaves
in 1808, was only 1,100,000, showing a feeble increase for a century. But from
1808 to 1850 the number leaped to 3,204,373. The slave-ships always landed
more men than women.
�14
to Southern slavery all those peculiarities which the masters
are pleased to call patriarchal. Plantation life has reared two
generations of American slaves, in a climate comparatively
temperate, where they have preserved and propagated all
their native excellencies undisturbed by the annual relays
of native vices which the slave-ship brought. A good many
savage habits have dropped away from them. Fetichism
and serpent-worship lingers only in a few places in Mississippi,
and perhaps in Louisiana, where the slave-trade lasted longer.
The natural religiousness of the negro is more healthily devel
oped by Methodism aiid the Baptist sects, as in Jamaica, than
by Catholicism, as in Hayti, or by the half-savage rites of
Africa. When the “ Wanderer,” in 1858, landed a cargo of
native negroes on the coast of 'Georgia, the better portion of the
Southern press and people were alarmed and indignant; many
disliked the violation of law; the rest felt that it was an infrac
tion of law which brought harm instead of benefit to the insti
tution. A few papers were clamorous with approbation, but the
more influential recorded their disgust at the sight of the sickly
and savage cargo.
*
In 1850 it was calculated that not more
than eight or ten thousand of originally imported Africans were
yet alive.
It was not long before the polities of the South represented
its controlling interest, in the doctrine of State rights, the
interpretation of the Constitution, the jealous safeguards thrown
around the property in man, the absolute necessity to encroach
and domineer, to invent new compromises, to abolish old ones,
to thrust the fatal tendency into the courts and every depart
ment of government. The South never did a single act that
was not strictly in harmony with the exigencies of its position.
It had recovered from the amiable expectation of the fathers,
that slavery would disappear. Figures, which are said to never
lie, began to prove slavery a divine institution. It was the
cotton crop which sent Southerners to the Old Testament after
a divine sanction for slavery, and to the New, to applaud Paul
for remanding Onesimus to his master. Washington, Jefferson,
Lee, and Lowndes and Mason never cared to build a hedge of
* See Charleston and Savannah papers of that date.
�15
texts around the institution. If they thought there was no
attribute of God that could take the part of the slaveholder, they
would not dare to search their Bibles for slaveholding texts.
But their sons of the next generation saw an undoubted law of
God whitening all their fields with the cotton-bloom. Then the
Bible texts became pods that burst with the doctrines of Cal
houn and his descendants ; for men search the Scriptures to
justify their interest as often as to control their passions *
There was an anti-slavery party in Virginia as late as 1832.
Worn out tobacco-fields helped it to chew the cud of bitter
fancy, as it revolved the sentiments of Jefferson and Mason. An
act of emancipation narrowly escaped passing the legislature of
that State. Why did it not pass,
the prosecution of slave
labor was hostile to the interest of Virginia? We have heard
that the efforts of anti-slavery men in that State were paralyzed
by the commencement, of an anti-slavery agitation at the North.
Slavery was just on the point of dying out, when the publica
tion of the “Liberator,” infused a new and antagonistic life into
its decrepit frame. How farmen have to go for nothing, when
their prejudices, drive! That publication heralded a great
awakening of the republican. tendency, but the Southern
tendency was already pledge^ to its own laws and obedient to
their direction; a “ Liberator < in ^verytown and village of the
North could have neither accelerated nor retarded the march of
natural laws. Just look at ..the facts. In 1832, while the legis
lature of Virginia was discussing, laws relative to emancipation,
the slaves rose immensely ^.pripe- They should have fallen.
The discussion itself was in conseqpence ,of their being worth so
little. Why did they rise ? Did slaveholders give three or four
times as much for able-bodied negroes,- against their own
interest, and to spite the “ Liberatoy
It was the increasing
demand for slaves, the growing activity of the internal slavetrade, the imperious necessity of slave labor, the prospect of new
territory and an expansion of the cottorf zone, that caused the
* Descourtilz, a French. Naturalist, was in Charleston in 1798, and heard a
Quaker declaiming in the square, to quite a gathering of people, against the
enormity of separating and selling some slaves who were exposed there on a
platform. The sale went on, and so did the Quaker. But the snake had a full
equipment of rattles by the time of Mr. Hoar’s mission.
�16
price to rise and emancipation to be shelved as a Virginia
abstraction. It was found to be against nature, and against the
dreadful fatality of Southern wants. An act of emancipation
would have been as much waste paper in Virginia, as if it had
been passed in Massachusetts. The “ corner-stone ” would have
fallen upon it and ground it to powder. It was not the aboli
tionist alone who was antagonistic to slavery, but the spirit of
the age itself.
*
The savage instinct of slavery divined this
enmity which pervaded the air; steadily but resolutely, because
pushed on by the necessity of self-defence, and the necessity of
working out its bitter problem, it sought for guarantees and
for expansion, and stuck at nothing to attain its end. Only
revolution can bleed and pacify such passion ; its logic will not
come to the ground until i bipod does. The whole long story of
*
Southern aggression is a story of Southern self-defence, from the
expulsion of Mr. Hoar, through the annexation of Texas, Fugitive
Slave bills, Kansas-Nebraska, bills, border and senatorial ruffian
ism, Ostend conferences, Illlibusterfsm, to the secret treason
which armed and comforted" secessabSa.
Slavery gradually dying out! Slavery was a system which
decreed its own expansion. It was mightier than 350,000 slave
holders. Do we suppose1 it is that insignificant body of men
which has controlled the politics of this country for fifty years,
and is now dashing its arahed' columns against the bosses of the
shield of Liberty ? It ds a naturafl»8brce hidden in slave-labor,
and enslaving the slaveholder. It ensnared him through his
lust, his pride, his political ambition, his tocal prejudices, and
his pocket. It invigorates his arm, and employs all his gifts to
enforce the extremity of its passion against the vigor of liberty.
The moment when slavery can Jbe artestecl is the moment when
it bleeds to death, and not before.
*How clearly this is shown 'by the scorn and contempt with which for
twenty years the prominent men and journals of the South met the most con
servative advice which its own Northern friends ventured to offer. The vitriol
dashed into the face of the abolitionist was not diluted before being used to
asperse the genteelest remonstrants. The Southern exigency was long ago
betrayed by the passionate tone of able editors. For specimens of rhetoric
hitherto unequalled at the North, see the Richmond “Examiner,” 1853, “The
Paramount Question; ” March 7 and 31, 1854; May 19, “ Every Northern Man
a Swindler;” July 4, 1854; October 16, 1855, etc.
�What moment of the past would you select now, upon delibe
rate afterthought, when, if things had turned out differently,
you can imagine that the Southern tendency would have been
checked ? When great natural elements are at their work of
making history, things happen naturally, and could never
happen differently ; they express with mathematical accuracy
the state of the elements. To suppose a change in the circum
stances you must previously suppose a change in the forces that
are at work, including the mental and spiritual condition of the
people. Sometimes men speculate that if the events of a period
had been different the results would have been different.”*
There is but little virtu© in that “ If,” for an event, by occur
ring, shows that it could not have been different. Events are
always the products of all the forces at the period of their occur
rence. While one force checks, and another force propels, still
another must lie dormant? and others do little but appear upon
the field. And masses of men are butw®§ embodiments of the
forces, which they help at every moment to create, and which
illustrate their period. It is as absurd to wonder what would
have happened if William the Conqueror had not invaded
England, or Washington had not organized the spirit of ’76, or if
Daniel Webster had made a different speech on the 7th of March,
1850, or if Fremont had been elected'President six years ago, or if
Buchanan had garrisoned the Southern forts, as to wonder what
*
the movements of the solar system would have been if the
planets had no moons, or if the sun were half its present bulk.
The good and ill of history combine to repeat the wondrous tale
of the divine necessities. England was invaded, Washington
arose, Webster fell back before advancing slavery, Fremont
lacked three hundred thousand votes, and Buchanan loaded the
first gun and trained it on Fort Sumter, from combinations and
foregoing influences and momentary moods that expressed
themselves thus, in scorn of all ifs and buts, and leaving the
future to explain them. Even the disgraceful things which men
do at critical moments are nice expressions of an evil tendency,
show how far it is disposed to go at every point where a good
tendency does not yet suflice, and are the unconscious menials
* See, for instance, Niebuhr’s Lectures, ii. 59.
�18
of goodness. The vices of men finish up a great deal of
scavenger-work in the housekeeping of God.
Examine any political moment of the past thirty years, when,
if there had been a united and indignant North, you think that
the career of slavery would have been checked, and you will
find nothing out of which to make your supposition. Such a
North was an impossibility. Examine the same period of time
for the moment when the natural decay of slavery might have
commenced, and you will find that the natural growth of slavery
forbade that supposition also. When the Republican party
triumphed in 1860, its leaders thought that slavery was hemmed
in. by a permanent change in Northern sentiment, expressed by
a majority of votes, and that the time had at last arrived when
we should see slavery commencing its decline. This shallow
expectation was soon corrected, because it underrated the logical
necessities of slavery, and overrated the vitality of republicanism.
The triumph of the latter was a moment most dangerous for
real democracy, because the North proposed to be content with
the election of a president. The danger was that republicanism
would have burnt itself out in four years with making a Cabinet
pot to boil. Any Secretary of State might keep that fire well
fed with old speeches that were once plump with generous
abstractions, but served at last only for a crackling of thorns.
After the pot had boiled itself dry, and republicanism had
shrivelled all up inside and scorched sadly to the bottom, it
would have been lifted off the political crane, and a new demo
cratic pot hung in its place, with the South to blow up a fresh
fire of cotton-waste and bagasse, and the North to watch and
stir the new pottage of compromise for the the homely Esau of
liberty. It was a dangerous and almost fatal moment, not only
because the North was disposed to be content, but because a
large portion of the South was disposed to wait for the reaction
in its favor which would have certainly taken place. But
slavery is stronger than the -South, just as liberty is stronger
than the North. And there is always one place where a tendency
comes to its focus of white heat which shrivels up reserve, pru
dential consideration, and all respect: a moment and a place
where a domineering passion breaks through every restraint to
ravish its object. The focus of slavery was in South Carolina.
�19
FEvery channel in her body sent the black blood rushing to her
brain, and congested it with fatal suggestions. How plain it is
now that the temporizing policy, which was always the trait of
half-living republicanism, was the instrument in the hands of
Mr. Buchanan to conjure liberty out of republicanism, decision
out of uncertainty, and draw the bolt out of the gates of the
great North-wind. History will return thanks that the Southern
forts were left without their garrisons, seeing that God meant to
garrison them with liberty. At first it seems clear that there
was a moment when the whole Revolution was in the power of a
few hundred men to be judiciously posted where slavery under
stood itself the best, and was thwbbing with evil purposes. No,
we do wrong to say there was iSBCh a moment. If such a
moment had been essential or possible, it would have become
actual. But the strength of slavery appeared just as much in
the weakness of Mr. Buchanan as in the determination of
Jefferson Davis; it was , against the divine logic that a few
hundred men should tear a glorious page of history.
Seeds are not ready to germinate in April, but after the first
thunder how they swell and burst their flinty husks and send
up shoots like sword-blades over all -the . soil I Liberty was
waiting for the thunder. The awful-looking cloud that blotted
out half her sky and the stars whieh ought to shine there,
gathered and gloomed continually, rolling in upon itself as if
to concentrate and fiercely hearten,
till!
*
the passion that red
dened its great edges could not, bide there another moment, and
forth it sprung. The lightning, Was. neither premature nor
disastrous. It sub^yed the needs/.of liberty, which had lain
frost-bound through a long northern winter, waiting for a genial
hour.
But green shoots do not make a.harvest. There is never a
moment in the summer when the corn might stop growing, with
the delusion that it was ready to furnish food for man. What
moment would you select to break off your corn-tops, expecting
to leave full ears upon the stumps.to ripen in the sun,—when the
joints send forth their ribands, or when the mealy tassels come,
or when the first silk is spun out of the future husk ? Sum
mer’s sun is a growing sun, fierce and almost intolerable.
Autumn points with long shadows to the ripening hours.
�20
Was the corn ripe in the early July sun of the first Manassas;
was it ripe at New Orleans, or ready to be picked at Shiloh ?
Was it mildewed at Ball’s Bluff, or blasted on the Peninsula, or
did the husbandry of God come to nought in the sunless and
chilly days of the second Manassas ?
You cannot mention a single moment in this thunderous
war-summer when liberty could have found her crop. If the
war had closed with early successes, the cause of the war would
have been preserved. Every mistake that we have made,
especially the mistake of underrating the power of slavery,
every lukewarm general who has been commissioned for the
field, every traitor in the cabinet or the camp, every check
experienced by our arms, every example of mediocrity holding
critical command, has precisely represented our immature and
growing condition, and was its logical necessity.
Beauregard hammering at Sumter nailed a flag to the mast
in every village of the North. But though a Republic ran up
all its bunting and had none to spare, it was not till summer
and winter had weather-stained those brave flags and almost
fretted them from the poles, that they began to signalize the
rights of man to every portion of the country, and to stream
like a torn aurora with true American influence from the lakes
to the gulf. Death and sorrow pry up the lids of the heaviest
sleepers; we are all awake now; but when General Banks said
to the North, “ Rais® fl©0,000 men and hold the South as a
conquered province till she is regenerated,” we were astonished
at his exaggeration. And when, still later, General Fremont
said, “ The strength of slavery is in slave-labor, and the sinews
of war are concealed beneath black skins,” the North shuddered
at the bold invasion of property in man, and was not prepared
to see the country itself th© sole owner of its men and women.
So that if a Wellington had gained a complete and subjugating
victory at any of the points where we fondly expected one, he
would have subjugated liberty, and clapped the North again into
the harness of compromises and adjustments. The dreariest
moments have seemed to me the lightest, because I heard the
corn filling with milk under the shadow of the cloud. The
bloodiest days have yielded the finest growing weather to
liberty.
�21
“ Then,” you say to me, “ you do not care for the loss of men
and the anguish of women ? Your liberty is a hyena which
snatches a loathsome feast from lost fields of battle ? ” No
more than she was when Washington seized her hand as he
retreated, and nourished her in his winter-tent upon the gloom
and foreboding of America. No—I am so little careless about
the bloQd which has been shed, that I want to see for what use •
it has gone forever out of the dear hearts of Northern homes.
It is not enough for me that you repeat the hackneyed senti
ment that it is beautiful to die for one’s country. There must
be use as well as beauty, or there is no such thing as a country
to die for. Things that are useful lay the corner-stones of a
great Commonwealth, and build the shafts around which beauties
cluster. If you wish to see thernen who care nothing for the
blood of your kindred, look at those who shout how beautiful it
is to die to keep the cause of death alive, the men who could
stretch a hand to slavery across; three hundred thousand graves,
with a welcome back into a country full of the widows and
orphans she has made. We thank God that His thoughts are
not as such thoughts. A balance in His hand has held a scale
weighted with the glorious truths of this Republic; into it He
has thrown free-labor, knowledge, art and beauty, the common
school, the pulpit and. the plough^ all of these moulded into
liberty in the shape of a winged victory. Into the other scale
the lacerated days of two campaigns! have dripped with blood ;
every precious drop has been marked by that unslumbering
eye to be heavy with New England and Western homes, and
rich with privileges dearly bought y the scale sinks slowly—they
are almost even—the winged victory rises to its equivalent of
blood.
And what thought of the most.ardent worshipper of the liberty
that costs so much can embrace the future which waits at the
outposts of this emancipating "war! After every field-battery
has rolled away into the distance of peace, and the bayonet
hides a strange blush within its sheath, and the last tent is
folded, that future shall step from grave to grave, bringing new
life, new duties, great trials and appropriate joys into the heart
of America. Nations who have been astonished to see how a
free people can organize war by sea and land, will admire its
�22
greater victories over the embarrassments and trials which must
still dispute its path to the highest glory.
When peace returns, it will prove to be a heavy assessor of
our common sense and patience. The problem of self-govern
ment will include the governing and rearing of four millions of
people, richly endowed with affection, veneration and docility,
• but ignorant and awkward, superstitious, full of childish tricks,
and unconscious of the duties of a freeman. Their feeble
ambition has been hitherto one of the advantages of the slave
holder in perpetuating their servile state. But it is also
fostered by the tone of religious instruction among their own
preachers, who represent and confirm the gentle tendencies of
the African. Mr. Pierce describes, in his first report to Secre
tary Chase, a sermon which he hea^d at Port Royal, from the
text, “ Blessed are the meek.” The slaveholder may well
tremble for his acres when he recalls the promise of that text.
It was characteristic of the American slave that the preacher
urged upon his hearers not to try to be “ stout-minded.” How
congenial this advice is to the average negro is shown by the
infrequency and feebleness of all insurrectionary movements. It
was not possible for the slave to organize a formidable insurrection
while the South was in full strength, nor will he ever be disposed
to hazard the attempt, except, perhaps, in case the Proclama
tion of Emancipation is recalled, or hampered with gradualism,
or local efforts are made to reestablish or continue the status
of slavery. Then their scattered condition and the geography
of the country would be less unfavorable to a successful rising
than the slave’s inborn predisposition for bloodless and pacific
ways. Not that the negro dreads death: his mobile and flutter
ing imagination becomes fixed in the presence of a real danger.
He is impassive or frenzied^ and will charge up to the very
mouths of cannon and coil about them. He is singularly cool
to meet what he cannot avoid, but night-fears and fancied
terrors make a child of him. The threat of a novel mode of
torture is too much for him. It is imagination only that makes
a coward of a negro.
If the Proclamation wins, we shall find among the slaves a
general deference to the plans of Government for confirming
their freedom, to make it useful to themselves and to the
country.
�23
And mixed with these four millions of children are the poor
whites, a great horde of immature and stupid boys instead
of men, who never sat at the forms of liberty nor worked out
one of her sums. The North must call its master-builders
together, and those whose business it is to raise and trans
port habitations, for the primary school-house must be shifted
South, and in the little wake which it creates the people’s
chapels must follow, till along that highway of our God, the
court and the jury, the ballot-box and printing-press can safely
pass to disinfect all half-civilized neighborhoods. And wherever
a plough can run, the power-wheel shall follow, and its band
shall turn new wants and enterprises, and hum worthy ambi
tions into ears that have been tuned only to slavery’s lash. And
the great turbine shall go down to put to perpetual labor the
streams that have carried so much of our blood into the sea.
Everywhere the North shall take its revenge, deep, thorough, to
the uttermost farthingJby imposing all the firm and gentle arts
of liberty, with the uplifted ferule of the school-master, at the
edges of reaping-blades, and beneath the weight of every
material and mental instrument that can crush clods, pulverize
a soil, And scatter seed.
There will be a new meaning for. the phrase “ a geographical
party,” for the new Union will circulate by all the great chan
nels of internal navigation, arteries which God opened for
distributing the red blood of an undivided heart. Geography
itself, with mountains, streams, lakes, prairies and defiles, shall
write a people’s creed; and all platforms, whether made at
Buffalo, Chicago, Baltimore or Charleston, shall be supplanted
by the square miles of the national domain. And it seems as if
nature, foreseeing that not cotton but man would be king of this
domain, had sealed up craters, cleared out earthquakes, warned
off the hurricane, and spread a firm soil for every product, from
kitchen comforts to sovereign luxuries—a zone for the orange
and the fig, a zone for cotton, rice and sugar, for flax, for wool,
for wheat, for cattle ; districts for grapes, for the silk-worm and
the cochineal, so that the democrat can dress for dinner and
dine in his own house, if he will; and when he wants to ship his
surplus to feed and clothe the English pauper, every spar that
the wind can stretch without breaking grows, from the live oak
�24
to the mountain pine. Florida and Georgia will lay the ribs
and knees, North Carolina will careen and caulk the democrat’s
vessel, Lake Superior mines will bolt and sheathe it, Maine will
send its suit of spars, and Kentucky strain them with her hemp.
Pennsylvania shall build the boiler and feed the fires beneath it,
and the Great West shall victual New England sailors as they
go floating round the world with a cargo of Rights, Intelligence
and Freedom, samples of the failure of a Democracy.
What a house this is to build, furnish and stock with com
forts, to set wide open to starving spinners and weavers, colliers,
peat-burners, all the landless and the hopeless, where they can
come to hear our mother’s daily lessors of thrift, usefulness and
the true dignity of man, as she goes in and out of all her rooms,
cleanly, cheerily, helpfully, with fends whose touch is order,
with a shape whose noble lines are full of grace, with a counte
nance that can leap from serenity to power, and unchain pure
lightnings at those eyes. She is the mother of us all, Thanks
giving America, divorced from hideous wedlock with slavery, all
her beauty coming back to her, all her gifts enhanced, and with
a deeper meaning in her I-ace than ever when she bids all her
children again to the glittering board which she spreads between
the Atlantic and Pacific seas..
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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A discourse upon causes for Thanksgiving: preached at Watertown, Nov. 30, 1862
Creator
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Weiss, John [1832-1907.]
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Place of publication: Boston
Collation: 24 p. ; 24 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Includes bibliographical references. Sermon taken from the Bible. Mark, IV,28
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Wright & Potter, printers
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1862
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G5352
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (A discourse upon causes for Thanksgiving: preached at Watertown, Nov. 30, 1862), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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English
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Sermons
Slavery
USA
Conway Tracts
Sermons
Slavery-United States
Thanksgiving Day
United States-History
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��*
A PIONEER CHURCH—A Sermon preached in Pioneer Hall, February 7, 1869, by REV. H.
W. BROWN, Minister of the First Unitarian Church of Sacramento.
Let us congratulate one another, friends, upon a new year of
our church. Let us be thankful that the “ lines are fallen unto ”
us in such “pleasant places?’ We may feel at home in Pioneer
Hall, for we are a Pioneer Church.
We are organized upon a principle which is in advance of the
practice of churches in general; the principle of union in the
spirit of religion without any formal expression of belief. We
are a church without a creed. The principle itself is not a new
one. We are not the first church to organize upon this basis,
but we are among the first; we are of those who have caught
the sound of the evangel before the main body, and who go
forward to prepare the way. It is pioneer work to remove ob
structions, to prepare the way for others. We remove the creed
from the threshold of the temple of worship, where we feel that
it has too long been an obstruction to fellowship in the spirit.
This will be called negative work. Is it negative work when
the pioneer cuts down and digs away, that there may be free
entrance to fair fields and broad rivers, so that willing multi
tudes may settle in the rich domain? Here are the “green
pastures” and “still waters” of Beligion—of reverent adora
tion and trust and communion, of kindly sympathy and humane
activity—-and many are kept from entering in and dwelling
joyously in company with their brethren and friends, by the re
quirement of assent to doctrinal statements of belief. Por our
selves, and for others so far as they choose to avail themselves
of our efforts, we do away with the obstacle. We found our
church on the basis of the religious purpose. We say to all : Do
you wish to unite with men and women to worship God and to
serve men ? we welcome you to our fellowship; to full fellow
ship, with all the privileges which any of us enjoy. We do not
ask what your beliefs are. We shall try to have the truth
preached among us from week to week, and we think you will
�believe that when you hear it; will very likely find it just what
you already believe, though you may not have admitted it to
yourself, or acted upon it.
Be it understood, however, that in doing away with creed we
are not doing away with belief. We are not saying that we
have no belief as individuals or as a church; we are not saying
that we think belief of no consequence. We think the belief of
the individual of so much consequence that we will not ask him
to surrender it, to limit it, to trim it in any manner, in order to
avail himself of the benefit of our fellowship or to give us the
advantage of his company. We thus recognize, we thus help
men to feel, the importance and the responsibility of individual
conviction. And as a church we have beliefs, beliefs implied in
the very purpose on which we are founded. We are united for
the Worship of God and the Service of Men. The worship of
God implies belief in God. And although it is impossible for
any one to express his whole thought about God, and none can
give satisfactory expression to the thought of others, it would
not be difficult, probably, to make some general statement about
the Divine Being and Character in which we should all agree.
That God is One, with various manifestations in nature and in
humanity; that His Spirit is in our minds and consciences and
hearts, and may be communed with there so as to be the strength
and joy of our lives; that He is good, too good to create any
being that shall by any possibility come to suffer eternal tor
ment; that the best names we can give him are Light, and Life,
and Truth, and Righteousness, and Love, and Father—I sup
pose all of us believe this about God. Why should we not say
so in a formal statement, and make it a platform on which all
who join us shall stand ? Because the platform is already under
us and does not require to be laid down; and because the laying
it down would give to belief a prominence which we wish, in a
religious organization, to give to religious purpose. We want
to emphasize the religious purpose as the main thing in a church.'
A belief may be a dead thing, but a purpose is a live thing. And
so we ask not Do you believe in God ? but Do you want to
worship Him ? If you do, we know you believe in him.
And the purpose to serve Men implies belief in men; belief
that men are worth serving. We believe in men as spiritual
beings; and we want to serve them as such by ministering to
�[3]
their spiritual nature. To that end we have prayer, and sing
ing, and preaching, and try to have it of a spiritual sort, such
as will do spiritual service to those who join in it. We believe
in men as moral beings; and we try to serve them as such by
moral education, by appealing to the sense of Eight in them, by
urging them to cultivate the conscience, by applying the laws
of Justice to practical affairs, and by pointing out the way of
Duty. We believe in men as social beings, and we try to serve
them as such by cherishing the social sentiment, in its deeper
and its lighter forms; by proclaiming Brotherhood and acting it
out as far as we can, by sympathy and help for one another and
for all within our range, and even by providing amusement and
entertainment of an innocent kind. And wTe believe in men as
rational beings, and we try to serve them as such by addressing
their reason, not endeavoring to exercise religious dominion
over them or authority upon them, which would be like the
princes of the Gentiles, though done by those who would be
great among the Christians. We believe in men after this fash
ion j that they are not so good but they need to be better, and
not so bad but they'may become good by the help of God and
men. But we have no dogma about their “ Fall,” or about their
rise and progress, which one must agree to before he can take
hold with us to keep them up and on. And so we enquire not
Do you believe in the Depravity of men, or their Regeneration
but do you want to serve them ? If you do, you believe enough,
at least to begin with.
We apply no test of character as a condition of membership
in our church, but we do not thereby imply that character is of
little consequence. If there is anything we are agreed on, I
suppose it is that character is of first consequence; that it is
more than belief, more than action. Belief is what a man thinks?
action what a man does, character what a man is. One may be
saved by “faith,” if his faith be such as to transform his char
acter ; one may be saved by “ works,” if his works induce in
him the righteousness of heart which did not spring up till he
forsook his bad ways and began to do right ; faith or works may
thus lead to salvation, but character is salvation. We do not
make it a condition of fellowship in our church, however, be
cause of the impossibility of our judging it accurately. We
can’t undertake to divide men into saints and sinners. We
�[4]
think if men are very bad they will not feel much at home with
us until they change for the better; and we are very sure that
if they resolve to do that, and try to do it, we can put up with
them if they can put up with us; for we all need that change*
As an organization we stand simply on the ground of the reli
gious purpose. That is the thread on which we are all strung;
not for us to say who of us are precious stones, who only beads
of glass; not to be determined by any profession of faith or
performance of ceremonial, but by the Lord of the hosts of
men, in the day when He makes up His jewels.
What makes us a pioneer church is that we organize the re
ligious spirit in its two-fold relation toward God and toward
men, without the ordinary obstacles of fellowship. We believe
a great deal—a great deal more than we could put into any
creed; but if people want to know what it is, we ask them to
come and hear oui’ preaching, or to talk with us as individuals.
We lay great stress on character, but whether our character is
good or not, people will judge for themselves.
We feel that we are really organizing religion by the method
we adopt. It seems to us that to lay down tests such as are
employed in most of the churches is, as has been well said, to
organize not religion but the negation of religion, viz -: “ exclu
siveness, limitation, privilege.” The profession of belief in cer
tain doctrines unites those, doubtless, who agree in those doc
trines and in professing them, but it separates them from others;
marks them off as distinct: and' all that “ union” can mean in
a Church which insists on belief in these doctrines as a condi
tion of fellowship is a union of those who thus believe, with
separation from those who believe differently. And the inevi
table differences of opinion must forever prevent the union
which Christians are so much desiring to secure. Opinion is
divisive; theological opinion as much as any. It makes sects,
that is, portions cut off from a main body. Religion means
“binding together.” The religious spirit would bind together
all who share it, and the church which would organize that
spirit should welcome all in w'hom that spirit moves. It is true
that, practically, differences of theological opinion, when they
are great, will prevent men from working together in a religious
organization; that, in fact, the members of any church will
agree in the main, and those who do not believe as they do will
�[5]
remain apart from them. But this very fact makes it unneces
sary to enact any exclusion. The centrifugal force of opinion
is strong enough without our pushing one another away in the
name of religion. Differences of political opinion often prevent
men from worshipping together, but would it be wise to make
a man’s politics a test of church membership ? Is that a very
different matter? Not so different, when the fact is that what
is called political opinion is sometimes a moral judgment, far
more intimately connected with religion than a question of
mere speculative theology or religious history. So also differ
ences of social position, of wealth, or of general culture, will
work in religious bodies, and people will be brought in or kept
out more or less by facts of this nature; but would it be the
part of religion to insist on any special degree or rank in such
matters ? It cannot be said that these are unimportant; they
are of more consequence than theological notions ovei’ which
churches have sometimes quarreled to the death. There are
circumstances in which it is of far more consequence to us what
a man’s tastes, habits, manners arc, than what arc his religious
professions. It is for those who would organize religion not to
encourage any of these divisive-tendencies, but to unite in the
central purpose of religion. This holds them together and does
not cut them off from others. Others may not come to them,
but the door is not shut against any, and none will be or will
feel excluded. The Church likes to be figured as an ark, in
which alone is safety in the flood of divine retribution that
sweeps over the earth. Is it for those who see men struggling
in the waters to say to them : “ Come in hither I This is your
only chance; but before you can be taken aboard you must
believe as we do; must believe that this ark was made by a
different process from anything else in the world, and out of
different timber, grown by miracle and put together by miracle.’’
And if those in the ark do act thus, is it strange, that the strong
swimmers say irreverently : “Go along with your old ark;
there won’t be much of a shower I”—while the weak and
struggling feel that such offers have very little “ grace” in them.
Is it not the part of the Church to say, Welcome to such shelter
as we can give ! we will do all we can to save you. You want
to .come—that is enough. Such a church is not exclusive, but
reaches out its hands to all with a free invitation. It is not in
�[6]
an attitude of separation from other churches, on the one hand,
or from the multitude who are outside the churches on the
other. We may feel that we are with the other churches in
this city, not- against them; we stand for religion, as they do,
against irreligion; for morality, as they do, against vice and.
iniquity. If they shut us out by any test of belief, we do not
put up any barrier against them; there will never be more than
one wall between us—the one they erect. And, on the other
hand, we are with the multitudes of people who do not belong
to the churches. We are with ^those who do not and cannot
assent to creeds and ceremonies which have no truth or interest
for them, but who desire a fresh interpretation of the everlasting
gospel of Truth and Righteousness, of the Divine in Humanity,
of the Kingdom of God on Earth. We know, indeed, that
there are many outside the churches who do not care for this
gospel or any other; who are utterly indifferent to spiritual
growth and health, given over to sensual and wicked living.
We are with these, not to encourage them in their wrong but to
help them to the right; we are for them, to help and rescue
them, and we wish we could make them feel that if they have
any earnest desire to forsake evil courses, and to lead a better
life, they may find with us tender reception and sympathy,
encouragement and aid. Peace and Good Will to churched and
unchurched 1 these are in the principle of our organization. If
we Will live up to the principle we shall get religious union
embodied in our Church.
Is it a cold intellectualism, this religion we are undertaking to
organize? It means a piety so genuine that it can employ no
forms which are not the natural expression and furtherance of
its own spirit of devotion; it means a sympathy so deep and
tender that it will reach out after the lowly, though in order to
save them it must let go the hand and lose the company of the
high. It means devout aspiration, consecration, holiness of
heart and life; it means kindly feeling and helpful deed. It
means Love to God and to Man; it means “doing justly, and
loving mercy, and walking humbly with God;” it means “visit*
ing the fatherless and widows in their affliction and keeping one’s
self unspotted from the world.”
Is it not Christian ? Then so much the worse for Christianity,
For this is the divinest religion yet revealed to man. But we
�[7]
think it is the very sum and substance of the religion of Jesus of
glazareth, as it is also of the Hebrew Law and the Prophets.
Some may question the need of a church like ours, on the
ground that the free thought and the liberal opinions which are
recognized and entertained by us make their way of themselves,
without the aid of special organizations to promote them. There
would be force in this if free thought and liberal opinion were
the chief need of society, and the only or the main purpose of
our union. Society wants freedom of thought, will have it;
and does not ask any church to give it, having learned to get it
in spite of the Church and to regard the Church as an adversary
of it. But society needs also religious impulse and inspiration,
needs moral instruction and education, needs humane develop
ment. It is the office of a church to give these, but the churches
in general give them in connection with a creed and a discipline
which repel free-thinkers, liberal minds. Hence the need of a
church which will do its religious work without limiting freedom
of thought. And it is for the lack of such a church that many
people are outside of all religious and moral influence whatever,
and others, who will have these in some shape for themselves
and their children, feel their common sense, and their inalien
able right to liberty of thought, attacked Sunday after Sunday,
and see their children taught doctrines which will be a burden to
them in mature years. We are not undertaking to organize
freedom of thought; we believe that might do very well without
a church, might get along by itself, or by the agency of the
press, or by a system of lecturing. We are trying to organize
Religion, allowing freedom. We want to impart vigor to the
sense of the Divine in men; to educate the conscience, and to
stimulate the sentiment of humanity; and to dok it without
infringing in the least upon the natural and sacred rights of the
mind, and we feel that the need of doing this is great. There is
a demand for the religious pioneering which we propose to do.
People might get along somehow in the ways of the spirit, but
with stumbling and delay; we want to make the road easy and
inviting, to bring low the mountains and hills and to bring up
the valleys; “ to make straight in the desert a highway ” for
religious progress.
Some will tell us that we cannot succeed, that we cannot hold
together without a common profession, of belief, and distinctions
�[8]
between godly and ungodly among us. But jve think that a
union in the religious spirit will bind us more firmly than a
profession of faith, by as much as sympathy is more than agree
ment. There is no need of laying down a platform of theolog
ical opinion. A platform does not hold together the people who
are standing on it. What holds them together is the purpose
with which they stepped upon it. And as to distinction between
“ converted” and “ unconverted,” they are no more essential in
a religious society than the distinctions of noble and commoner,
patrician and plebeian, in civil society. Our forefathers were
told that their community would go to pieces because they left
out these things. But they thought not; they thought these
divisions were divisive, that partitions kept people apart, and
that the best hope of union was in having no upstairs and down
stairs, no parlor and kitchen, built into the national mansion,
but in living on the same floor and meeting in a common room.
Differences would come, no doubt; the less need of enforcing
them; better keep as clear of them as possible. Is there less
union, less strength of cohesion, in the United States than in
governments that recognize and sanction differences of rank and
quality ? Differences will exist in a church ; noble and villain ;
no criterion of professed religious experience will avail to
prevent them; the spiritual peerage is not pure in any of the
churches about us, and among those not admittted to it there
are many nobly born ; but a stronger union is probable where
no artificial division is wrought into the ecclesiastical constitu
tion.
Of course there is question of every experiment so long as
it is an experiment. Pioneering is work that calls for trust and
energy and endurance. The main question of our success is
whether we have it in us. There is going to be outward
growth enough in this city to ensure the stability of our organ
ization, if we can answer for its inward growth. We must
not be easily discouraged. We are trying to raise the religious
grade of this city, which some think is as low as the natural
level of the soil. We are a corporation to effect just that. We
want to to make healthful and clean and convenient the ways of
social and moral life for this community; to get rid of theo
logical sloughs, and to lift men out of the mud of sensuality.
It will cost us money and labor, and it will be hard to get all
♦
�[9]
we want of both, and it will take time. And to make a good
road we may have to be put to inconvenience, and the new way
for a while way seem not so pleasant as the old; and it may
have a bad odor, as of tar and asphaltum in the nostrils of some
of the community; and some of the work may be poorly done
and need to be done over again ; and those for whom we work
may be dissatisfied with our survey and our plans, and our
execution of them, and we rnay sometimes be dissatisfied
ourselves. But we are doing a good work and one which
the city will yet bless us for.
It is work we are put
into the world, into our generation, for.If we can realize
that, we shall do it cheerfully; shall not be surprised that
it grows upon us, but shall expect it to make more and
more demand upon us, and only desire that our ability and
our will may increase with our opportunities. We need some
thing more than belief in the ends we propose ; we need devo
tion to them; as in order to be a California Pioneei’ it was not
enough to believe in California, but to go there, and to go early.
If we are content to forget our own comfort and convenience
in consecration to the common good, we shall not be discour
aged, and we shall succeed.
When I say we are a pioneel’ church, I do not claim that we
are discoverers of any new or unknown country of the spirit.
We are merely taking possession of the region of religious
faith and humane work which has been heard of from the
earliest times, and where the great leaders of religion have al
ways pitched their tents. There may be truth which we have
not yet come up with even in our belief, to say nothing of our
practice. Let us always keep an open ear for that! But we
propose to camp on what seems to us the most advanced
ground; to settle down here into some sort of orderly living—to
become a religious community. There is a respectable number
of us already; we are not scattered so much as to be out of
hail of one another’s homes, and we want to make society. We
want to concentrate and organize our religious sentiment and
conviction, that they may be more efficient, may make better
way. And we invite and welcome the fellowship and assistance
of all, though we depend mainly on ourselves—on the Div ine
Spirit in us which leads into all Truth and Right if we only
follow.
��
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Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
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2018
Publisher
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
Text
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Pamphlet
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Title
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A pioneer church: a sermon preached in Pioneer Hall, February 7 1869
Creator
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Brown, H.W.
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: Sacramento
Collation: 9 p. ; 22 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. By Rev. H.W. Brown, minister of the First Unitarian Church of Sacramento. Printed by request.
Publisher
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H.S. Crocker & Co.
Date
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1869
Identifier
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G5264
Subject
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Unitarianism
Sermons
Rights
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (A pioneer church: a sermon preached in Pioneer Hall, February 7 1869), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
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Text
Language
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English
Conway Tracts
Unitarianism
-
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PDF Text
Text
^nnibrmrg <Simbag, 1874.
I
-A- szeie^zveozlst;
PREACHED
AT
ST. GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM
PLACE, OCTOBER 11, 1874,
REV.
CHARLES
BY THE
VOYSEY.
The text was taken from Psalm cxxiv., 7, “ Our help
standeth in the Name of the Lord.”
He said—With these hopeful words we concluded our
three years ago. We began, as all good
and great works must begin, in the face of many obstacles and
discouragements. Beyond the earnestness and zeal of the
little band of men and women who had pledged themselves
to the work, there was not much ground for the hope of per
manence or success. The whole thing was an experiment;
the country, as it were, was unexplored, the invaders were
unfamiliar with its aspects, their weapons of attack and
Het). C. Voysey’s sermons are to be obtained at St. George’s
Hall, every Sunday morning, or from the Author (by post), Camden
Hottse^ Dulwich^ S.H Price one penny, postage a halfpenny.
�2
defence as yet untried. Among the earliest recruits were
some who did not quite know their own minds, who hardlyrecognized in these eccentric efforts the real object in view.
Some joined our forces for the mere pleasure of witnessing
assaults on orthodox belief, and were disappointed to find
that these assaults were only preliminary to the building up
of a rational faith. Others helped us in the hope of seeing
established a new church, or a new sect, with banners of new
dogma around which they might rally, and thus form a
society which would replace the social losses they had for
their heresy incurred. There were, too, those who came
armed to the teeth with their own peculiar prejudices, who
Jiad built up an adamantine barrier beyond which they would
not advance, and who resented our refusal of their shibboleths
with quite orthodox indignation.
Custom, also, had its obstacles to throw in our path. Some
could not endure a religious worship held in a j/wasz-theatre,
nor patiently bear the necessary discomforts of a building
not our own. Others objected to the form of prayer which
had been adopted; others to the minister continuing to use
the raiment to which all his life he had been accustomed;
others found fault with the music that it was not congrega
tional, while nearly all were found to be unwilling to repeat
responses in an audible voice, thus rendering a choral service
an absolute necessity.
Well do I remember the anxiety and misery of those early
days in our undertaking, and hdw much patience and perse
verance and kindly feeling were requisite from every member
of our congregation in order to tide-over the period of
unsettlement.
To-day I have no thoughts but those of satisfaction and
�3
gratitude in the retrospect. It is almost marvellous how
these difficulties were one by one cleared away, how members
one after another laid aside or smothered their prejudices in
order to promote good-will, and to secure the final triumph
of our endeavours. Compared with the large number oftliose
who worship here whenever they can, the seceders are com
paratively few. Not more than a score do I know of, who
having given these services a fair trial have deserted them
from dislike or on principle.
I see some before me now, and I know of many more who
are only temporarily absent from us to-day, who, at the sacri
fice of their own prejudices and tastes, have held on to our
society for the sake of those aims which in importance are ’
far above the trifling details of our worship or the
idiosyncrasies of the preacher with which they have no
sympathy. I honour them, and I thank them publicly with
my whole heart, not only for their manly and faithful support
of an unpopular cause, but also for setting before us all the
beautiful example of self-denial and devotion in not permitting
any private sentiments to interfere with their well-chosen
duty. Believe me, they will discover that they have lost
nothing by their generous concessions, which would beget
on my part, were it ever wanting, a desire to adapt both
service and discourse to their tastes, so far as can be
done consistently with honour and with the common good.
There remain with us to this day, some who look upon
our prayers and praises as idle words, some who dislike our
music, some who prefer a methodistical to an ecclesiastical
form and accessories, some who never can feel contented with
our present place of worship. More gratifying still is the
fact that some are still with us, rendering most valuable aid
�4
with a regularity that passes praise, who object to the dis
courses, some alleging that not enough is made of Christ
and Christianity, others saying that there is too much
religious sentiment and not enough of polemic. Many, too,
are here with patient constancy, who are far better fitted than
I to occupy this part.
Now all this is to us a source of comfort and encourage
ment beyond that which we find even in closer agreement and
sympathy. It leads us to ask once more, what is it that binds
us together? What is that noble aim which acts like a
spell upon such apparently incongruous and unruly
elements ?
My friends, I believe I shall speak only your own thoughts
when I say that the bond of union between us is our common
aim—to endeavour to solve what Professor Tyndall has
called “ that problem of problems, the reasonable satisfaction
of the religious emotions.” It is for this we have in various
ways and degrees sacrificed earthly comfort and advantage,
have stifled our own petty and private crotchets, have been
willing to put up with this, that, or the other thing which has
been distasteful. You are as sure of my loyalty to this grand
aim, as I am of yours; and it is to this loyalty alone that we
owe our assembling here to day, keeping our anniversary and
inaugurating the fourth year of our history as one of the
most remarkable religious movements in this century. This
is also why, in distant parts of Great Britain, and in north,
south, east, and west of the whole earth, thoughts of joyous
sympathy with us are throbbing, hands of generous help are
being held out to us, blessings are invoked, and prayers are
being uttered for the success of our enterprise.
With all its faults, and not one of them incurable, our
�5
service is as yet as reasonable as any service in existence, if
not the most reasonable of all; and whatever be the faults
and short-comings of the discourses added to it, the principle
on which they are delivered, and on which it is known they
are received, is that of perfect reasonableness;—the right on
the one hand of the absolutely unfettered speech of honest
thought, and the equal right, on the other, of accepting or
rejecting what is said, at will.
We have a great deal of faith, but we have no formu
lated creed; we have very strong opinions, and tena
ciously cling to certain doctrines; but we have not a
syllable of dogma; not an opinion which may not be chal
lenged, nor a doctrine not open to question. We are tied to
no Scripture, ancient or modern ; we are beholden to no
prophet, old or new, that we should obey his voice as Divine;
we lean on no Christ, Galileean or British, that we must bend
our thoughts to his thoughts, or take him for our master or
guide.
The best and the worst, the truest and the most false must
bring their doctrines to the same test in each of us. The
Reason, the Conscience, and the Affections.
Whatever
harmonizes with these we will accept, because of the harmony,
and not for the speaker’s renown. Whatever jars upon them,
we reject, for its intrinsic falsehood, regardless of the speaker’s
authority.
And still we leave ourselves open to correction. We are
not going to deify, and to worship as infallible, our Reason,
our Conscience, or our Affections, We expect our reason to
err sometimes; but we listen to it because it is better than
the authority of another man’s reason. We expect our con
sciences to be warped or stunted sometimes; but we do better
�6
in walking by our own conscience than by that of the priest.
We expect even our affections to err through deficiency
sometimes, perhaps even through excess, but it is better to be
guided through them to the light of love Divine than to
search for it in external nature or metaphysics, and worse
still to stifle our affections as unholy.
Moreover, we aim at the proper and harmonious action of
all the three, that none may be unduly exalted at the expense
of the other two. Were a man all reason, he would only
think rightly without right action. Were he to be all'con
science, he could nut perceive the reasonableness or the beauty
of right conduct. Were he all love, he would be foolish and
extravagant, though, perhaps, more likely to go right by
instinct than in the other two cases.
As religious enquirers, and even as religious believers, the
chief field of our enquiry, and the chief ground of our belief
is man. By the study and cultivation of our best human
faculties we are on the road to the discovery of Him to whom
our common human instinct points as the Ruler and Friend
of the universe.
But in doing this we absolutely forswear that very certainty
and infallibility, which at present are the life of all dogmatic
churches. We have such unbounded confidence in man, and
in Natural Religion, that we will not encumber ourselves with
those expedients which have hitherto proved so successful
in the machinations of priestcraft. We prefer our uncer
tainty and consciousness of the possibility of error, to a
certainty which has no solid foundation, to the claims of an
infallibility, which we can prove to be false. We are quite
as much in earnest to be right as the Christians are; but we
are not so much afraid to be mistaken. As believers, we
�■{
w ffg> o*d
'■:'
7
trust God’s entire justice to visit upon us no calamity which,
we do not deserve, to punish us with no penalty for what we
could not help, still less to inflict permanent misery and
disappointment in returu for our most loyal endeavours to
gain the truth. We are not afraid to be mistaken, in the
old sense of that awful fear of Hell-fire which is the
threatened doom of the Churches against any intellectual
error.
We are afraid of error only so far as we
may do mischief to other people, or fail of our own
proper improvement; and our worst errors, we believe,
will one day be thoroughly corrected, and we shall know
all the truth. A dear friend of mine, a convert to Roman
ism, confessed that he could not possibly understand this
perfect calm in a mind wide-awake to the possibility, and
even probability, of being in error. My reply was “ It is
because I believe in a God as good as myself—not to say
better ; that is enough to make me sure that, so long as I
honestly desire to go right, I shall be certain to know the
truth at last. He will not damn me for rejecting what seems
to me unreasonable and even blasphemous.
This, my friends, is where we stand; and more unfettered
than this, no man, or body of men can be; this is the secret
of our firm bond of union, and let me add the secret of our
past and future success. All will depend on keeping clear of
dogmatism, or the attempt to tie down each other, or the
future generation, to special modes of thought which may
suit ourselves.
In the Inaugural Discourse to which I have referred, I
took pains to shew what lines our several efforts ought to
take. 1st. That we should do all we could to expose the
falseness and absurdity and impiety of the orthodox doctrines..
i
I
�8
'2nd. That we should let the world know what religious
beliefs and hopes we had to put in their place. 3rd. That,
-at all events, we might hope in this generation to wean the
people from their insane dread of damnation for opinion. 4th.
That we should help those who had no faith at all towards
a reasonable trust in the goodness of G-od. And 5th. I dwelt
upon the necessity, on every ground, of the cultivation of
personal beauty of character and conduct, as the only condi
tion in which religious emotions could thrive.
From careful observation, I have come to the conclusion
that we are not held together by a common hatred and
rejection of orthodox Creeds, so much as by our mutual
agreement in the main on the subjects of G-od and immor
tality. I mean that there is far more sympathy between us
as to what we believe than as to what we deny. This sympathy
is not only deeper than the other but more general. It is but
a small minority who only enjoy discourses of attack upon
prevailing beliefs. With very few exceptions, we all like
best those subjects which help to clear our own insight and
to add to the foundation of a reasonable faith. To me this
fact is more than any other significant of progress and
^endurance. Had it been the reverse we could not have lasted
long. People not only weary in time of polemics, but the
function of polemics dies with the perishing superstition at
which they are aimed, and then the controversialist has
nothing more to do ; his mission is soon done and over. But
when people are united in the pursuit of that knowledge or
belief, which by its very nature cannot be exhausted, the
interest in it cannot die, its investigators become more eager
-and fascinated the longer they search. I am inclined to
think not only with Theodore Parker but with Tyndall, that
�9
the interest in religious enquiry is inexhaustible, and of such
a nature as to engage and engross the highest faculties of
the best of our race. And therefore if, as is the case, we are
linked together in sympathy, not merely to uproot hoary and
decaying superstitions, but above all things to find out all
that is true about the vast mystery of Grod and man, and to
strengthen each other in our faith and hope whenever they
rest on reasonable foundations, then indeed my heart leaps
up with renewed courage to feel sure that this our work will
prosper, that in time it will leaven the whole world, that what
is true and sound in our principles will prevail, and that in
ages to come we shall have made it an easier task for
posterity to correct our errors, than it has been for us to
uproot the errors of our forefathers.
Fifteen years ago, Francis William Newman said these
words, or words of the same meaning, “For the truly religious
in this age, there is no Temple.” We cannot yet ask that
this most just and severe sentence be withdrawn; but we may
ask the venerable professor, and the world of lofty minds and
souls like his who sigh for such a temple, to recognize, at all
events, our most earnest endeavours to erect such a Temple,
to mould such a form of worship. Ours at least has the
germs of self-improvement, ours is designed to be severely
subject to the dictates of reason and yet open to the embellish
ments which poetry and the highest aesthetic taste can provide.
To be worship at all, it must be emotional, and emotion is a
subtle thing very variable and transitory, soon satisfied
and soon repelled. The whole of the Service cannot then in
the nature of things be equally tasteful to every worshipper
alike. But we have entire liberty to make it what we please;
as the changes in, and additions to, it during the past three
�10
years will shew. We know it to be the envy of many clergy
men and others who are tied to old forms; and it has been
adopted in whole or in part by some who are free.
Is it not then somewhat of a reproach to us—or rather to
those who are one at heart with us, but who are afraid or un
willing to confess it—is it not a reproach, I ask, that such a
service should have as yet no local habitation, should be
relegated to a Music Hall, and be performed with all the
drawbacks of a small- theatre ? Is it not a reproach that
while Mr. Spurgeon (whom I personally greatly respect)
could get a Tabernacle built to hold 6,000 persons on purpose
to hear the Gospel of Hell Fire, the Religious Free-thinkers
of this Country cannot raise enough money even to buy a
bit of land for such a building as our Service and our
cause deserve ?
While his sermons are circulated by the million, we are
thankful to get ours sold by the thousand. While a little
book which in all good-nature I call a “wicked book” by a
Scotch Minister, entitled Grace and Truth, but which ought
to be entitled Disgrace and Falsehood, has been sold to the
amount of 70,000 copies since November last, we have still
on hand volumes which have never passed into a second
edition.
A Ritualistic Church in the suburbs which can scarcely
scrape together £20 for the London Hospitals, can raise
£300 at any time for a new set of vestments.
Again, as an instance of hearty earnestness, a handful of
Jews agree to build a new synagogue, and they raise
amongst themselves the sum of £80,000 for its erection.
For once I must reproach my countrymen, and say that,
although considering the agency at work, to have held on for
�three years is more than one could have expected : yet con
sidering the cause in question and its bearing on the interests
of humanity all over the world, such neglect is a discredit.
And it is a reproach to this wealthy country that we have
not in possession, this day, the finest Temple that could
be built in all London.
We are quite sure that there are at least 50 persons in this
country (probably ten times as many) who are in entire sym
pathy with our work and who could afford to put down
£1,000 each, as easily as we shall contribute our sovereigns
to the offertory to-day. We are bound to ask them why they
any longer hesitate to give the world such a pledge and
token of their honest belief? The moral value of their con
tribution will be lost, if it be.delayed till the cause becomes
a fashion. On the other hand, it is earnestness which wins
men’s confidence and does more to make converts than years
of talking and preaching.
While, however, this main ultimate object be kept in view,
the current expenses must not be forgotten; nor must it be
imagined that the sum of £100 a month can be defrayed out
of the ordinary receipts. Our weekly collection, as is well
known, is to enable non seat-holders and visitors to contribute
what they please towards the expenses ; and we need there
fore two or three special offertories in the course of the year
to make up deficiencies.
This is the first time in three years that I have made any
appeal to yourselves or to our country friends for greater
exertion. I am the worst pleader for money that ever spoke,
but I can refrain no longer from asking everyone, who at heart
wishes us well, to do his or her utmost to carry those kind
wishes promptly into effect. Let us endeavour to earn what
�12
Dr. Davies said of us in the Daily Telegraphy “ These people
are terribly in earnest.”
Still we must be patient; for we have even greater cause
for rejoicing and hope than if we had at command the wealth
of the country. The leaven is working more rapidly than we
could have expected. On every side, in every church and sect,
our denials and our beliefs are spreading with a speed that
must strike dismay into the very hearts of the champions of
orthodoxy. Truly this is all we want, a fruition more welcome
than any amount of worldly success. With the most modest
and truthful estimate of our own small powers to work so
mighty a change, we yet thankfully recognize that we have
had some share in it, and that it is the truth and the reason
ableness of what we proclaim, and not the mode of its
proclamation, which is working so mightily upon this
generation.
To conclude in the key-note with which we began, while
doing our best to ensure progress let us remember Him whose
truth we are patiently and honestly seeking to discover and
to declare ; whose Divine call first awakened our souls to this
holy service and has all along fortified'us . to encounter the
perils and to.conquer the obstacles which opposed our march;
whose assurances of final enlightenment and whose words of
Heavenly peace have led us on calm and unflinching in our
darkest hours ; and whose Love, bountifully shed over all his
creatures, has set us on the Rock of Haith and Trust, and
filled our hearts with songs of Praise.
“ Our help standeth in the Name of the Lord.”
CABTEB&WnllAMS, General Steam Printers, 14, Bishopsgate Avenue, Camomile-street,E.O
�
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Victorian Blogging
Description
An account of the resource
A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Conway Hall Ethical Society
Text
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text.
Original Format
The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Pamphlet
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Anniversary Sunday, 1874: a sermon preached at St. George's Hall, Langham Place, October 11, 1874
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Voysey, Charles [1828-1912.]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [London]
Collation: 13 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 6.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
[Carter & Williams]
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1874]
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
G4828
Subject
The topic of the resource
Sermons
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Anniversary Sunday, 1874: a sermon preached at St. George's Hall, Langham Place, October 11, 1874), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
Format
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application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Morris Tracts
Religion
Sermons
-
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ANNIVERSARY SUNDAY.
A SERMON,
PREACHED AT ST. GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM PLACE,
OCTOBER 5th, 1873, by the
REV. CHARLES VOYSEY.
[From the Eastern Post, October Wth, 1873.]
On Sunday (October 5 th) at St. George’s Hall, Langham-place,
the Rev. C. Voysey took his text from Nehemiah ii., 20, “ The
God of Heaven, he will prosper us; therefore we, his servants,
will arise and build.”
He said—Readers of the Bible must be familiar with the
interesting book from which my text is taken, which tells the
simple story of the re-building of the walls of Jerusalem after it
had been almost destroyed by the Babylonian armies. The hero
of this great event seems to have been singularly well fitted for his
patriotic work ; for he had three great gifts. He had rare tact,
very high moral principle, and what we might call a desperate
determination. With the first he conciliated the conquerors of his
nation; with the second he kept in order and elevated the half
trained fellow-countrymen on whose exertions he depended; and
with the third he fought hi# way over every obstacle and finished
the work which God had given him to do.
But although these great gifts were natural endowments and
might, have rendered their possessor eminently successful in any under
taking, I believe they were heightened and enlarged by his equally
remarkable faith. Though a captive in the Court of Artaxerxes, to
whom he was cup-bearer, he could not forget the God of his fathers;
while he was surrounded by the luxuries of a King’s palace, he
still remembered with shame and sorrow the daughter of Zion clad
in sackcloth and sitting in ashes. As long as Jerusalem lay in
ruins, there was no joy for him. As long as his countrymen were
captives in a foreign land, there could be no charm for him in
courtly dignity. Identifying Jerusalem with the honour of his God^
�knd regarding its temple as the witness of the Divine presence and
rule, it was a matter of religion with him to seek its restoration, and
to rebuild its ruined walls. Strong in mind and will though he was,
he was not ashamed to lay his cause at the footstool of the most
High, he scrupled not to pray for heavenly strength, for divine
wisdom and for the success of his undertaking, but went as a little
child to his Father’s knee, and besought His blessing and help :—
“ O Lord, I beseech thee, let now thine ear be attentive to the
prayer of thy servant, and to the prayer of thy servants, who desire
to fear thy name, and prosper, I pray thee, thy servant this day.”
Having sought God’s blessing and favour upon his work, he
roused the enthusiasm of the Jews who still dwelt in the ruined
city, and they said, “ Let us rise up and build.” “ So they
strengthened their hands for this good work.” Nehemiah then
goes on to describe his first encounter with opposition and how he
met it. “ When Sanballat the Horonite, and Tobiah, the servant,
the Ammonite, and Geshem the Arabian, heard it, they laughed
us to scorn, and despised us, and said What is this thing that ye
do? Will ye rebel against the King? Then answered I and
said unto to them, ‘The God of heaven, he will prosper us, there
fore, we his servants will arise and build.’” We will not pursue
the narrative further into details. It is enough to see how this
brave and strong-minded man, who was the burning sun of
enthusiasm to the hundreds of colder spirits around him, drew
all his courage, and zeal, and hope, from his conscious dependence
upon God, from his intense desire to do His will, and above all,
from the aasurance that “God’s thoughts towards him were
thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give him an expected end.”
I cannot help feeling that this same spirit of dependence on God
is the secret of whatever courage and determination have been
manifested by those who are working in this age to build again the
walls of a mined Faith, and to combat the opponents on all sides
who would have us rather remain in the shackles of a spiritual
slavery or in the lonely wilderness of infidelity.
The gift of tact, which implies a quick discernment of other
men’s moods and wants, and a ready and versatile adaptation of our
conduct and speech in order to win rather than to repel the un
settled inquirer, is no doubt a most needful auxiliary to such work
�3
as ours. But tact is not everything; and this age shows, I think, a
tendency to exalt this happy facility into a virtue, and to prefer
its exercise to that of .the less polished but more serviceable weapon
of plain speech.
The high principle which was so conspicuous in Nehemiah is
the very alpha and omega of success in work like ours. Absolutely,
and before all things else, it is necessary to maintain an
unimpeachable honesty of word or deed, if we would hope to do
the slightest good in the way of emancipating the minds of others.
But this weapon of our warfare is wielded also by many of our
adversaries. Let us say it thankfully, we are well-matched in this
matter of integrity, and the battle would have to be drawn, if the
truer views were to be decided by the greater virtue. As yet,
the struggle cannot be finished on such terms alone, and our
enthusiasm would perish if it were not fed from other streams.
• Of all three, perhaps, a desperate determination is the most
powerful human aid to success in such an enterprise as ours.
Force of will we know can emove mountains, can defy and
dethrone the most ancient of dynasties, «an uproot the most wide
spread of traditions. All the great deeds for good or for evil have
been done by determination, by individual energy of purpose;
men once committed to a cause, holy or unholy, are rendered, by
their self-consecration, dangerous to those things which they oppose.
Half-hearted, luke-warm people are good for nothing but impedi
ment ; never succeed in anything but in getting in the way of the
earnest, and causing an obstruction.
The Nehemiahs of the world are none of these. To have simple
aims like his, to let neither himself nor friend, nor foe, ever come
between h’m and his duty; to win and defy by turns ; to slay
opponents who will take no other warning, and to rebuke and
chastise unfaithful or sleepy allies; to make every event, calculated
or unforeseen, further the sacred end in view; to live in the hottest
toil of the work, yet all a-glow with delight in it; and to be ready
to suffer and die for it when necessary, quite as willingly as to live
and to fight for it; this is to have power—power not easily defeated
not soon exhausted—power that grows by exercise and gathers
force, like the descending avalanche, from the irresistible attraction
which it exercises over surrounding souls.
�4
But not even this, mighty as it is, can always conquer. Some
times “ the weak things of the world confound the things that are
mighty, and things that are not will bring to naught things that
are.” All depends ultimately on the cause itself and not on the
brave men who fight for it. It must be a cause of light, or right,
or truth, or it will surely fail. It must be for the ultimate good
of mankind, or it will surely come to naught. In the language of
religion it must be the cause of God, and not merely a caprice of
man. If this thing be of man, i.e., of man’s ignorance or selfish
ness, it will surely come to naught; but if it be of God, i.e.,
accoding to His most holy and loving will; then who can overthrow
it 1 Nay, who would be so mad as to fight against God 1
Unman gifts, however well-fitted, then, will not by themselves
always accomplish the work on which they are expended. And
those who are wise enough to perceive this fact will not rush hastily
or wildly into any great undertaking relying solely on their own
powers and qualifications; but they will turn it about first in their
own minds to see whether it be a cause likely to benefit mankind
the increase of knowledge, of virtue, or of general happiness;
to discover through these enquiries whether the great will of
Heaven is for them or against them; whether, in the language of
Nehemiah, God will prosper the work of their hands. I feel sure
that it was with this manly deference to God’s Holy Will, and
reliance on His blessing, that we began our united work in this
place two years ago. Not one of ns would have put our hands to
it, had we thought it was against God’s will or to the detriment of
man. Not one of us would have had the heart to begin, as we
did, under such discouragements without the assurance that God
approved our undertaking, and would cause it to prosper. I
honestly say that I don’t know what would have become of me,
under the peculiar pressure of obligations upon most feeble powers,
but for this constant and refreshing comfort of believing that eur
work was a little portion of God’s wosk, and that He would make
good to me those words of peace, “ As thy day, so shall thy
strength be.”
As a society, necessarily compelled to raise funds, we have had
our dark days and gloomy anticipations —not that any one of us
feared for a moment that the cause of pure Theism even in this
�5
city, not to say in the wide world, depended upon the success of
this particular and comparatively insignificant movement—but we
naturally contemplated, with no little sorrow, the possibility of
our share in the great work passing away from us after all we had
gone through to maintain it. In such hours of anxiety, and they
are real though few, we know the blessedness of referring it all
back to God’s blessed will, and of knowing that it must prosper if
it be in harmony with the eternal laws; and if it be in discord with
them, well, the sooner it perish the better. Faith, then gives
fresh courage and determination, as well as keeps the mind in its
original integrity bent not on self-will, but supremely and entirely
given to the will of God.
And observe how entirely different this is from that spirit of
dogmatism which is merely faith in our own opinions. Of course
we must first believe that a thing is true before we can proclaim
it; and we must be persuaded of its essential value to mankind
before we can incur any suffering or odium as a penalty for its
proclamation. But we can feel' this perfect confidence in the
rectitude and value of our opinions, and yet consciously put God’s
will and wisdom above them all; and at the very bottom of our
hearts only wish to serve Him faithfully and to declare His truth,
whatever it be.
Skill, self-reliance, courage and determination are all to be
elevated by the inspiration of faith, and to be refreshed and
re-invigorated by it when wearied and discouraged.
Some, however, may say, How can you be sure that you are
right? In one sense we are not sure, i.e., we are not so arrogant as to
be sure that God has imparted all His truth to us, and to us only;
neither would we dare to say that even if God prospers our work
therefore, the work of other men is wrong and against His will.
But while we are thus decently modest, and confess further the
impossibility of proving that we are right, we feel very very sure
that we are right; so far from holding these opinions for gain, we
are in many cases going against all the predilections of the past,
aud flying in the face of an army of hostile and cruel prejudices.
Our convictions have been forced upon us. The soil of our minds
has been under the tillage of a husbandman mightier than ourselves.
Its rank foliage has been eleared and burnt, the roots of early
�6
culture have been dug up and the sweetly seasoned ground has
been sown with seeds of holy and life-giving fruit—not of our
choosing. The field with its golden harvest is our own, not so the
labour to which we owe its wealth. But once planted with this
precious seed, we cannot reap an alien grain; nor sow again the
tares which the great husbandman has burnt. Whatever grain we
have to give it must be our own or none; we will not lend a borrowed
word; or steal a neighbour’s thought, and say, “ The Lord hath
spoken it.” We speak only that that we do know or firmly believe,
and our surety is not of ourselves; it is the gift of God. Less than
this assurance will not work. Less than this degree of confidence
that we are right would disqualify us for the duties we have assumed.
For any one to speak of God as an hypothesis or probable theory may
be justifiable in itself; but it becomes absolutely misplaced on the
lips of any professed advocate of religion ; the rostrum of a place of
worship is not the suitable place from which to express grave
doubts as to the Being and character of God. Such doubts may,
of course, arise, and Ought not to be suppressed; nothing honest
ought to labour under disabilities of any kind ; but the office of a
religious teacher on religious subjects to an audience whose prayers
and praises to God are just silenced, demands some degree of
certainty and conviction as the raison d’etre of the function. But
there are two ways of doing everything ; and it is quite possible
to avoid dogmatic or dictatorial language while expressing to the
full one’s own earnest convictions.
It is my fervent hope that the truly religious spirit in which
this work of ours was begun may never cease to animate it; if
we are bearing witness in a world darkened by superstition, and
likely to be still more darkened by Atheism, bearing witness of
the love and friendliness of a perfect God, it becomes us both
individually and collectively to live and walk by that faith which
we profess, not to be ashamed of the core and kernel of those
principles which we all hold so dear, and for which so many are
suffering. We stand mid-way between those who have made the
very name of religion a by vord and a reproach by their fables and
dogmas, and those whose aversion to all religion is, therefore,
insurmounta’ le. We must neither fall into the old blunder of
dogmatism, nor timidly comply with the crude and bigoted denials
of a hasty Atheism. While God is to us the greatest reality of
our existence, let us honestly say so, in spite of the Church’s curses
on the one hand, and of the world’s ridicule on the other.
Finally, bear with me if I say a few words of more personal
reference to ourselves. To congratulate ourselves on beginning the
third year of our organization as a congregation, and to flatter one
another upon our success and oui- prospects would be an easy and
pleasant, but not very profitable occupation. To summon you and
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all other friends to some heroic action which should excite the
public admiration—always ready enough to fall before the feet of
success—would be to go against the very roots of my nature, and
to wither up the beauty of an action only beautiful when spon
taneous. There are plenty of people agreeing with us who are
able to contribute £10,000 a piece, if the time were come for it.
But I have better things to say than that such a thing had been
done ; better thoughts of congratulation than any degree of personal
success.
We have lived and worshipped together long enough to prove
what is infinitely more cheering than our own permanence and
establishment. We have lived to learn that that pure Theism—that
pure natural religion which is so dear to our hearts—that Faith
which is the life of our souls, and the inspirer of our hope and
enthusiasm, is perfectly safe now from extinction and oblivion. I can
honestly say now that I don t care—speakingas your chosen minister
_ I don’t care now whether the Voysey Establishment Fund sinks
or swims. I do not, except as it would involve the inconvenience
of seeking a new source of maintenance, care one straw whether we
continue to prosper or not. Myself, aye, a hundred more like me,
■might go to the wall and be trodden down, as far greater men have
been ere now, by the tramp of adverse circumstances; but it is too
late to affect the growth and progress of that religion which was
safely planted in men’s hearts before I was born, and had been
loudly proclaimed in this generation—yes, by some under this
very roof, when I was but a boy. The little circle of workers
with which we are identified as a congregation and society, thank
God, is but a drop in a vast ocean of kindred souls. For every
one of us, there are a hundred thousand known, and myriads
unknown* who are on our side and against the falsehoods and
follies of Christianity. •
It is no figure of speech when I say that all over the world are
bn man beings to whom we telegraph, as it were, our loving thoughts
about God; our words fly hither and thither; are read in remotest
regions, far and near ; and wherever they go they do more, far
more, than convert—they awake the echoes of grateful and believing
hearts who have their own joyous tale to tell of God’s loving kind
ness, and of their birth into life. Nor is it only in distant lands,
but more strange still, in churches and sects most foreign to our
si m pip. creed; on one hand the Bomanist and members of all the
Orthodox churches and sects, and on the other, the Unitarian, are
leaving the territory of tradition, and opening their eyes to see ■
not what this, that, or the other man can shew them—but what
God Himself has to show them. Notmerely the Christian but the
Hindoo also is coming under the same leaven and heaving afresh
his quivering breast, always so sensitive to the Divine afflatus. Is
�I
hot tke same spirit stirring also the Jew—the Jew whose ancestor,
amid perils and difficulties a thousand times greater than our own,
looked in the face of God and left incomparable record of their
bliss 1 The Jew is fettered a little still, but the chains chafe his
limbs, and he, too, is pressing on “ into the glorious liberty of the
children of God.”
When I think of what was the state of things more than twenty one
years ago, when I began my clerical life, and glance at the successive
periods of eleven, five, three, and now two years, and contrast the
world’s state, and its rate of progress, to-day with what these were
when I first knew it, I am so abounding in hope and certainty as to the
ultimate conquest of the Church’s Creeds by Theism, that I could
lay down my life to-day, not murmuring that I had seen so little,
but thankful to overflowing that I had seen so much, of God’s
glorious work with the souls of men.
Once more, I say, if your hearts, like mine, are set upon this
noble work, you will surely do as much as you can, and work as
long as you can to help forward the little share which has been
entrusted to us; but for Heaven’s sake do not be afraid of the
consequences, were all of us to be swept into oblivion to-morrow.
Pure and natural religion has struck its roots into the hearts of
men, so that no rude axes can hew it down, nor fiercest storms can
root it up.
Young as I am, and dearly as I love life and its exquisit e
pleasures, one thought have I this day in looking back upon the
past. If God were to call me home or drive me by some mischance
into the wilderness once more; I should still say with old Simeon
in the temple, “ Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,
for mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared
before the face of all people. A Light to lighten the Gentiles and
to be the glory of thy people Israel.”
EASTERN
Post
steam Printing Works, 89 Worship Street, Finsbury E.C,
�
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Victorian Blogging
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Anniversary Sunday: a sermon, preached at St. George's Hall, Langham Place, October 6th 1873
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Voysey, Charles [1828-1912.]
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Place of publication: [London]
Collation: 8 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 6.
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Evening Post
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[1873]
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Sermons
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Morris Tracts
Religion
Sermons
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7
/
4**
U
AND OTHER
A Sermon on Summer
A Mad Sermon
;
A Sermon on Sin
j
A Bishop in the Workhouse
A Christmas Sermon
Christmas Eve in Heaven
Bishop Trimmer’s Sunday
Diary
The Judge and the Devil
Satan and Michael
The First Christmas
Adam’s Breeches
The Fall of Eve
Joshua at Jericho
A Baby God
Judas Iscariot
BY
G. W. FOOTE.
/
—----------------- /
Price Eightpencei
4, 5 & fi—
-------- VKGReATsr Helens
LONDON :
I
$
•^OON,
—
R. FORDER, 28 STONECUTTER STREET.
1892.
��(J 2-4-6 7
nationalsecularsociety
SERMONS
COMIC
AND OTHER
<
FANTASIAS
I
BY
Gr. W. FOOTE
(Editor of the “Freethinker,”)
LONDON:
R. FORDER, 28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.O.
*
1892.
��A SERMON ON SUMMER.
By the Rev. Obadiah Rouser.
Dearly Beloved,—The weather is excessively warm to-day,
or, as some profane persons might say, damnably hot. My
thermometer registered ninety degrees in the Bhade at noon,
and no doubt it would have shown a higher temperature in
the sun, if I had been imprudent enough to place it there or
view it in that position. Your pastor, beloved, is no longer
slim as in the days of his curacy, when he played cricket with
the men and lawn-tennis with the ladies; when he rowed his
skiff under a broiling sun without any preternatural perspi
ration ; when he stretched himself out for a snooze in a shady
spot without the torturing consciousness that his nose offered
a spacious pasturage to a multitude of flies. No, beloved,
your pastor is no longer slim; he has lost the slenderness of
youth, and scoffers even assert that he is fat; yea, they have
been heard to say that he resembleth a bull of Bashan or the
great Leviathan himself. Nevertheless I thank God for the
change, even though it affordeth mirth to these wanton wits,
who neither revere the Lord nor his holy ministers. Blessed
be the Almighty ! for he hath permitted me to wax fat, yet
without kicking. And blessed be ye, O beloved ones! for
your unfailing bounty hath sustained me, yea and edified me,
so that I am become the envy of my brethren, and the
weightiest divine in all this part of her Majesty’s kingdom.
Yes, beloved, the summer is undoubtedly come at last,
after much anxious expectation. The sun darteth his fierce
rays through the blue sky, and there is often not a single
cloud as big as your pocket-handkerchief. Men’s hearts fail
because of the heat; they groan, they puff, they break forth
into an agony and bloody sweat, they are as limp as a wet
rag. And your pastor quaketh and shuddereth like jelly.
The Lord trieth him sore.
�( 4 )
Beloved, as I sat in my study last night in my dressinggown, sipping iced claret through a straw, and smoking one
of those mild cigarettes prescribed by Dr. Easy for my
asthma, and presented to me by the kind and considerate
Lady Providence, I wondered what I should take as the
subject of my sermon this evening. For nearly two hours
I had eudgelled my poor brains in vain, and the unwonted
exertion had nearly exhausted my strength. I had not an
idea, my head was as empty as a drum. In a fever of anxiety
I tossed off a tumbler of claret, and at the same moment I
sought the Lord in prayer. My petition was answered in
the twinkling of an eye. Something, as it were the divine
voice within me, whispered, “ Summer,” and I knew that was
to be my text. Oh these answers to prayer! How they
comfort and establish the faithful, how they confound and
overwhelm the infidel! Luminous traces of the divine
presence, they prepare us for that happy time when we shall
see the Master face to face, when we shall behold him with
even more fulness than he granted to his servant Moses in
the clift of the rock.
Summer, then, beloved, is the subject of my sermon. And
the first reflection that occurs to me is this—What a testimony
it is to the faithfulness of God! You will remember that
when Noah descended from the top of Mount Ararat he
“ builded an altar unto the Lord,” although holy writ, silent
on this as on so many other matters pertaining to the faith,
omits to inform us whence he procured his materials. On
that miraculous altar he burnt a prime selection of clean
beasts and fowl; and the Lord, who was always carnivorous,
as is abundantly proved by his rejection of Cain’s vegetables
and his acceptance of Abel’s meat, heartily relished the
savory smell. In that placable mood which naturally follows
the gratification of appetite, he vowed never to curse and
swear any more, or to kill all the world at a single blow; and
in his divine mercy he added the promise that, “ While
the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, and cold and
heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not
cease.” Now, beloved, has not this promise been punctually
kept? It is true that we sometimes get abominally bad
harvests, but who remembers a time when we had none at
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all ? And all we receive is a pure mercy, for the Lord might
righteously withhold his hand and starve us all. But, bless
and praise his holy name, he never does. He is a merciful
God, slow to anger, and of great compassion. He remembereth
our needs, and feedeth us though we have little faith; as you
know right well, beloved, and as I know perhaps better than
yourselves. Yes, we always get some kind of harvest; and
do we not always get some proportion of day and night ?
True, at midsummer, day almost swallows the night, and at
midwinter night almost swallows the day; and in very foggy
weather we can scarcely tell where the one ends and the
other begins. But the alternation of day and night is still a
fact. No sceptic can dispute it. It is too muoh even for
him. And, beloved, is not the succession of seasons also a
fact, which the sceptic is equally unable to explain away P
We know that the seasons, in a country like ours, often get a
little mixed; but they disengage themselves frequently
enough to remind us of God’s promise, to prove to us his
unchangeableness, and to show that he is the same, yesterday,
to-day, and for ever. Yes, spring is a fact, autumn is a fact,
winter is a fact, and summer is a fact. The infidel preacher
at the Hall of Science cannot doubt that, for last Sunday
evening, when my church was nearly empty, two ladies were
carried out of his crowded meeting, overcome with the
excessive heat. No, they cannot deny it. I defy all the
sceptics in the world. I challenge the whole army of infidels.
Their puny darts of argument are utterly ^powerless against
the invulnerable shield of heavenly wisdom. All nature cries
aloud, There is a God ! and the head of every faithful child
of God reverberates the sound. While seed-time and harvest,
cold and heat, day and night, and summer and winter
continue, the wretched unbeliever is constantly baffled by the
fulfilment of God’s promise to Noah. And thus, beloved,
this hot weather, which puts us all into the melting mood, is
a proof of God’s existence quite beyond the reach of Atheistic
logic; and it is no less a proof of God’s eternal faithfulness.
See, now, how the Almighty is always preaching to us. You
were ready to curse this intense heat, which breeds cholera
and other fatal plagues; but lo ! it is a blessing in disguise.
Some of you, in that rebellious state of mind might have
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been seduced into infidelity. Now, however, you are safe.
You see a sovereign proof of the existence of deity, and you
know that to say Summer is to say God. Hallelujah 1
Beloved, it is in no wise below the dignity of the pulpit to
introduce, after this magnificent reflection, a few references
of a lighter character. Let me then remark that, as many
people are in doubt whether to remain indoors or to go out
in this sultry heat, it is well to inquire what assistance on
this subject can be obtained from the Divine Word. I speak
with submission, but it appears to me indubitable that staying
indoors at this time of the year is a pernicious fault if not a
deadly sin. “ He that gathereth in summer is a wise son,”
saith the sage author of the Book of Proverbs ; and how can
we gather anything unless we go where it is to be found ?
Let us further recollect that Eglon, the fat king of Moab, was
sitting in a summer parlor when he met his death at the
hand of Ehud, a fate which he might have avoided if he had
taken his corpulence into the open air, where his attendants
might have watched him and preserved him from all danger.
We should also remember that Abraham “ sat in the tent
door in the heat of the day,” when the Lord appeared unto
him in the plains of Mamre. Had he kept within his tent he
would probably nevei’ have seen the Lord, whom no man hath
ever seen, never have talked with him face to face (cheek by
jowl, as a wicked infidel expresses it) as a man talketh with
his friend, never have washed G-od’s feet, never have stood
the Almighty a good dinner. What is still worse, he would
have had no son Isaac as the child of his old age, and thus
our Blessed Savior would never have been born for want of a
progenitor. Oh, what a terrible reflection! All our pro
spects through eternity depended that afternoon on Abra
ham’s sitting on the right side of a piece of canvas. Dearly
beloved, let me beseech you to take warning from this event.
At least, be out of doors in the heat of the day, so that you
may descry the Lord if he should pass by; yea, and also in
the cool of the day, for he walketh then likewise, as is shown
by the inspired story of the Fall.
There are some people, beloved, who appear to disregard
the weather. They affect surprise when their neighbors
complain of the heat in summer or the cold in winter.
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What exasperating serenity do these persons exhibit1
Surely it must have been characters of this description that
composed the Church of Laodicea, of which the Holy Spirit
so sweetly and elegantly declared that “ because thou art
lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of
my mouth.”
Only a little less pitiable is the state of those whose blood
is congealed with age, who are cool in the brightest sun, and
positively shiver when the sun goes down. Yet there is a
remedy for these ; and may the elder members of my flock
listen devoutly while I expound it. I turn first to the royal
author of Ecclesiastes, who saith, “ If two lie together then
they have heat.” Ah, beloved, that is only the threshold of
my discovery, the first line of my recipe. I now turn to the
beautiful and instructive story of David’s old age, as recorded
in the first chapter of the first Book of Kings. When this
brave King of the Jews, this royal man after God’s own
heart, drew near his end, he suffered greatly from ague or
some such disorder. They piled bed-clothes upon him,
blanket after blanket, and rug on rug, but his poor old limbs
still trembled with cold. In this extremity his wise physicians
prescribed a bed-fellow to be taken nightly, and Abishag the
Shunamite, the loveliest damsel in all the coasts of Israel,
was selected for the purpose. A profane poet—no other, I
believe, than that arch-fiend, Lord Byron—has ridiculed this
exquisite story, which contains some of the noblest morality
ever inculcated. He hints that David took this “ fair young
damsel as a blister.” What shocking levity! What awful
depravity I No, David clasped her to his withered bosom
with paternal fondness; and she lay in his bed, not as a
blister, but as a warming-pan or a hot-water bottle. And
the reason, beloved, is obvious to common sense. Warmingpans and hot-water bottles, however well charged and pre
served, get colder and colder through the long hours of an
old man’s night; but a fair young maiden keeps warm till
the morning, and needs no replenishing. Beloved, this is
how you must regard the subject; and if any of you should
follow David’s regimen, you will of course take the prescrip
tion in a righteous and godly spirit. Amen.
My time, beloved, is drawing to a close, for how 'can a
�(«)
pastor of my proportions preach a long sermon in such
weather? Yet I cannot allow this opportunity to pass
without reminding you of the awful significance of a hot
summer. There is not the least doubt jn my mind that
the Lord occasionally permits the heat to become almost
intolerable on earth in order to remind us, not only of that
great day when, as the holy apostle St. Peter declareth
“ the elements shall melt with a fervent heat,” but also of
that still greater eternity, in which, unless we make our
peace with God, we shall lie panting and writhing in the
fire of Hell. Beloved, let me implore you to profit by this
merciful intimation. Lay the lesson to heart. Do not be
led astray by sceptical suggestions. You have, doubtless,
heard some wretched infidels assert that there is no Hell at
all. Oh, the horrible thought I I venture to maintain, in
scornful defiance of these impious wretches, that a universe
without a hell would be not only absurd, but (I say it with
reverence) an imputation on the Almighty’s benignity. It
must be clear to the dullest intelligence that Hell is necessary
to complete the divine scheme of redemption. Without a
hell, I should like to know what our Lord would have to save
us from; and without a Hell, I should like to know how
people are to be warned from the snares of infidelity. These
very sceptics belie their own principles. Their whole conver
sation is larded with saving clauses, which testify to their
secret belief in the holy verities they outwardly reject. Do
they not frequently say, “ It is devilish hot,” or “ It is hellish
hot ” ? And what are these expressions, I ask, but implicit
admissions that there is a Devil, and that there is a Hell ?
Yes, blessed be God, out of the mouths of infidels and
sceptics, and scoffers and scorners, the truth of our holy
religion is confirmed, and they themselves are “ compelled to
give in evidence ” against themselves.
Furthermore, beloved, it is necessary that you should
guard against the evil suspicion that every seat in Hell is
by this time occupied. There is room enough and to spare.
Yea, as Holy Scripture saith, “ hell and destruction are never
full.” There was, however, a time when the capacity of the
nether pit was nearly exhausted; but God, in his divine
mercy, increased its dimensions; and thus the holy
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prophet Isaiah was able to say that “ Hell hath enlarged
herself.”
Yes, beloved, there is a Hell, and the heat we now complain
of is only a mild foretaste of its consuming fire. Earthly
thermometers are useless in Hell; they are incapable of
registering the temperature, which infinitely exceeds our
worst experiences even in tropical countries. And there will
be no mitigations of its fierceness for ever, no iced claret, no
lemon squash, nor even a milk and soda! Nay, beloved, you
will cry in vain for a drop of water, as Dives did in one of our
Lord’s most tender and consoling parables. Ah, beloved, be
advised in time. Shun the fate of that ancient sinner. If
you do not, you must bear the responsibility, for my hands
are clean. I have discharged my duty by warning you to
flee from the wrath to come. I admonish you now, perhaps
for the last time, to beware of the day when, instead of saying
“ It is damned hot,” you may be damned and hot with a
vengeance, and without a chance of cooling off.
Now may the peace of God, which passeth all understand
ing, be with you and remain with you always. Amen.
A MAD SERMON.
Several years ago a famous preacher went mad (if we may
say so of a gentleman who was always cracked), and was
placed by his friends in a large private asylum. Under skilful
treatment he gradually improved, and at length he so far
recovered that his friends contemplated his removal. But a
lucky accident revealed the fact that he was really still
insane.
The chaplain of the establishment was taken ill one Satur
day morning, and no clergyman in the neighborhood could
be found, on so short a notice, to officiate for him the next
day. In this difficulty the Principal suggested to the
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chaplain that the mad parson might be asked to occupy his
place. He seemed to be quite recovered, he was a dulyordained minister of the Church of England, and his sermon
would no doubt have all the impressiveness of a farewell dis
course. The chaplain readily assented to the proposal, and
his substitute, who accepted the invitation with great alacrity,
was very busy during the rest of the day with pen and ink,
with which he blackened several sheets of paper.
Sunday morning arrived, and the new preacher looked big
with inspiration. His face wore a mystical expression, and
there was a far-away look in his large grey eyes. But at
times a gleeful smile flashed over his features, wrinkled the
corners of his mouth, and danced under his shaggy brows.
When the inmates of the asylum, or rather those who were
fit to go to church, had all taken their seats, there was a
hush of expectancy; although some grinned or frowned at
the ceiling and others at their neighbors. Presently the
Principal walked in with the mad parson, who looked as
sober as a judge, and might have been taken for a model
clergyman. The Principal entered the pew, and the chaplain’s
locum tenens went to the desk and began the service. He
read the prayers and lessons and gave out the hymns with
the most admirable propriety. His intonation and expression
were worthy of a bishop, and the Principal congratulated
himself on his happy escape from a serious difficulty.
But when the mad parson mounted the pulpit in full
costume there was a peculiar twinkle in his eye that aroused
the Principal’s suspicion. He had observed the same thing
before in several of his quiet patients when they were bent
on some piece of subtle devilry. Yet it was too late to inter
fere, and after all he might be mistaken. Perhaps it was only
a fancy, or a peculiar effect of the light upon the preacher’s
face.
For a minute oi’ two everything flowed smoothly. The text
was cited with excellent emphasis, and the first few sentences
were couched in unexceptionable language and read with pro
fessional gravity. But as he proceeded there was a change
in his matter and manner. His insanity was evidently
bubbling up from the depths, where it had lain so long con
cealed. Presently, a mad sentence sent two or three of the’
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quicker-witted patients into a fit of laughter, and several of
the sillier ones joined in the chorus through mere contagion.
In vain did the attendants try to restore order; the mad
parson grew madder every minute, and the patients laughed
louder and louder as he poured along the full stream of his
lunacy. The Principal arose and commanded him to desist,
but he was deaf to the voice of authority, and indeed quite
insensible to everything but his own performance. An
attendant ascended the pulpit stairs, and was promptly
knocked down with the Bible. A second was served in the
same way with the Prayer-Book. The Principal then ordered
the church to be cleared, which was done with considerable
difficulty, for many patients had by this time grown almost
uncontrollable. When they were all removed an attack was
made upon the pulpit. The mad parson sustained a long
siege, and defended the citadel with remarkable gallantry.
The stairs were so narrow that only one could mount them,
and the attendants were flung down in rapid succession by the
pious hero, who seemed full of the Spirit, and on excellent
terms with the God of Samson. Two short ladders were then
placed against the pulpit, and three attendants operated at
once against the enemy, who was overpowered after a sharp
struggle, and ignominiously dragged away from the scene of
his triumph.
The manuscript of his sermon was torn and mangled in
the contest, but portions of it were still legible. We are able
to give a few specimens of this extraordinary discourse, which
may be followed by others on some future occasion^
The mad parson’s text was taken from Deuteronomy xxxii.
15 : “ Jeshurun waxed fat and kicked.” His opening observa
tions were addressed to the context, the occasion on which
Moses spoke, and the sins of the Jews which he denounced.
He then began his playful comments on the text in the
following manner.
Various speculations have been hazarded as to the meaning
of Jeshurun. The first part of the word, Jeshu, is a con
traction of the common Jewish name of Joshua, which means
“Jehovah is his salvation.” Our Blessed Savior bore this
name, although we use the Greek form of Jesus, in order to
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invest the Redeemer with greater dignity; for there is some
thing extremely familiar, and almost vulgar, in the name of
Joshua, which, I remember in my childhood, was applied to
the scavenger who emptied our dustbins, and who was voci
ferously accused by all the children of the parish of having
inhumanly “ skinned the cat,” although I could never discover
what particular member of the feline family it was that fell
into his savage clutches. Yet as it was called “ the cat,” I
presume it was an animal of distinction," and perhaps of
universal reputation.
By rejecting the final letter ain from the Hebrew Je3hua,
the Jews give the name a peculiar significance. In this cur
tailed format means “ his name and remembrance shall be
extinguished.” Those miserable, unbelieving, perditions, yea
let me say damned Jews, have docked in this way the name
of our Blessed Savior, because, as they say, he was not able
to save himself, and it is clear that God Almighty did not
take the trouble to save him. Infamous wretches ! Those
who would dare to cut off the Redeemer’s tail in this shameful
manner deserve the hottest corner in hell; and bless and
praise his holy name, the Lord is keeping it for them for
ever. Reserved seats, numbered and booked.
The second part of Jeshurun is easily understood. Every
body knows the meaning of run. Resist the Devil and he
will run from you; encourage him and he will run after you.
You run from the policeman, you run for life when a bull or
mad dog is at your heels, and run over when you are full of
gossip and scandal. And well do I remember how I used to
run when Joshua the scavenger threatened me with his
shovel.
But it is difficult to understand why Jeshua’s name should
be docked of a syllable and plastered up with run. Perhaps
the operation left a running sore, or Jeshua himself ran away
to escape further amputation. At any rate our hero was
called Jeshurun, and that is enough for any believing soul.
According to our text, Jeshurun waxed fat. Holy Scripture
does not say where, who, and on what. When is a hopeless
question now. No man knoweth, not even the Son, but only
the Father, and he is a long way off in heaven, in an asylum
of his own. Where is a difficult, but still an easier question.
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It must have been some place in the East, where lunatics are
very properly regarded as inspired, treated with tenderness
and care, and venerated as the oracles of divinity. Yes, all
holy spirits are mad, and God is the maddest of us all; wit
ness Holy Writ, brethren, witness Holy Writ. Certainly
Jeshurun never waxed fat in an establishment like this, where
noble fellows such as ourselves are subjected to incredible
privations. Only last week I was compelled to fast forty-one
days and nights, which is the longest fast on record; for
Moses and our Blessed Savior fell short of it by a whole day,
and Jonah by thirty-eight diurnal revolutions in the whale’s
belly. On what is the third and last question. All the com
mentators are silent on this point, but they might easily have
learned the secret from King Eglon, or even from Elisha’s
*
bears Brethren, as we know to our cost, there is only one
way of getting fat—namely, good eating and drinking;
whether we drink the winepress of the wrath of God, or eat
our children in the strait siege, after the manner of the late
Charles Lamb, who when he was asked by a lady how he
liked babies, replied, “ Boiled, ma’am 1”
The final statement in our text is intended as a trial of
faith. He that believeth shall be saved, and he that believeth
not shall be damned. Fat men, my brethren, are not fond of
kicking, any more than they are of being kicked. Did you
ever see a fat man playing foot-ball? Never, never, never.
A fat man cannot stand easily on one leg—unless he lean
against a wall; and there is no wall in the text. Yet,
brethren, how can you kick without standing on one leg. Per
adventure you might stand on your head and kick with both
feet at once, but there is no head in the text. Brethren, you
are in a fog, as those who listen to sermons generally are.
But I will dispel it. I will solve the riddle. Jeshurun was
not a man at all, my brethren, but a baby; and he waxed
fat, and lay on his back and kicked. Hallelujah I The door
keeper will now go round with the plate.
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A SERMON ON SIN.
Abbreviated from the Rev. Joshua Grumpus.
Dearly beloved Brethren,—The subject of our discourse
this evening is Sin. It is one you are all conversant with,
for “ all have sinned.” Nay, ye are all “ conceived in sin ”
and “ shapen in iniquity.” Every thought and imagination
of your natural hearts is evil. There is not a clean spot in
the whole of your systems. From the crown of your heads
even unto the soles of your feet, ye are reeking masses of
spiritual corruption. This horrid condition is the result of
Adam’s fall. The father of our race, tempted by his wife,
who in turn was tempted by the Devil, ate an apple six
thousand years ago, and for that offence all his posterity have
come under a curse. Many sceptics have declared that this
doctrine makes the Almighty act like a madman or a fiend.
They doubt the justice of blaming, and still more of punish
ing, any person for a sin committed long before his birth.
Presumptuous wretches ! God’s ways are not our ways, and
if, in a single instance, we found the divine wisdom in accord
with common sense, that part of the holy volume would
immediately fall under the gravest suspicion.
The father of sin is the Devil. Foi some inscrutable pur
*
pose, which it were presumption to pry into, the Almighty
allowed the Evil One to seduce oui’ first parents, and sow in
them the fertile seeds of original sin. This is one of the
deepest verities of our faith, and all who doubt it will be
eternally damned. Yet, alas, in this sceptical age, there are
many who laugh at this great truth, who regard the Devil
lightly as a mere superstition, and playfully call him Old
Nick, Old Harry, Old Hornie, Old Long Tail, and so on.
Miserable creatures 1 They laugh now, but how they will
yell with agony when the Fiend clutches them, and drags
them down into the lake that burneth with brimstone and
fire! Brethren, above all things avoid laughter. God hates
it. It is the first step to hell. When you see a man smiling
at any article of holy religion, mark him at once as a brand
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for the burning. Broad faces are worn by the sons of Belial,
but long faces are a sure sign of grace.
Many sins are enumerated in the Bible, such as lying, theft,
adultery and murder. But these are not the greatest sins.
They chiefly injure our fellow-men, and do not directly affront
the majesty of heaven. For this reason our divine Father
readily forgives them. How many liars and thieves have
become glorions saints ! How many adulterers and murderers
are now sitting on the right hand of God ! Holy Scripture
teems with illustrations. Though your crimes be of the
greatest enormity, though you corrupt the innocent, oppress
the weak, rob the poor, and despoil the widow and orphan,
you may purchase forgiveness by repentance. But how
different is the sin of infidelity I Unbelief is the thricedistilled poison of iniquity. Remember our Blessed Lord’s
denunciation of Capernaum. The inhabitants of that city
rejected him though he wrought miracles to attest his mission.
No other crime is alleged against them. They may have been,
and probably were, honest and respectable people. Yet our
Savior declared that it should be worse for them in the day
ofjudgment than for the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Let me implore you then, beloved, to avoid the sin of unbelief.
It is worse than the most unnatural vice. It is the last step
on the brink of the abyss. If you must give a welcome to sin,
bid it “ take any shape but that.”
A still darker sin is the sin against the Holy Ghost, for
which there is no. forgiveness in this world or the next.
Brethren, are any of you guilty of this sin ? The Lord only
knoweth rightly, for the exact nature of the unpardonable
sin has never been revealed. Some eminent divines think it
apostacy, others presumptuous sin, and others a wilful
rejection of the gospel. Those various conjectures of fallible
men may all be wrong, and perhaps it is a sinful arrogance to
speculate on this sublime mystery. Yet, with a trembling
reverence, I venture to cast out a suggestion. Belief is
necessary to salvation, the gospel must be preached before
it can be believed, and there must be ministers before it can
be preached. Does it not seem, therefore, that the mainten
ance of God’s ministers is of primary importance P And may
not the sin against the Holy Ghost consist in the refusal of
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tithes, church rates, or other emoluments, to the preachers of
the Word P This view is countenanced by the story of
Ananias and Sapphira. They were destroyed for “ lying unto
God,” but we may reasonably suppose that their miserable
fate was partly due to their having lied about the proceeds
of the sale of their property, which should have been devoted
to the Church. Had they told a falsehood about any other
matter, their punishment would surely have been less sudden
and summary. Oh, beloved, ponder this pregnant passage
of Holy Writ, till it becomes a beacon of warning against the
awful sin of prevaricating with God, and withholding their
due from his ministers.
Brethren, I am also of opinion that Blasphemy is a form
of the unpardonable sin; and, indeed, our blessed Lord uses
that very word in describing it. Blasphemy! What an
awful word! It makes the flesh creep and the blood run
cold. This terrible sin, beloved, does not simply consist in
cursing and swearing, or taking God’s name in vain. Suoh
levity is indeed wicked; but it is, after all, one of the minor
sins, and it must frequently be winked it as a concession to
human weakness. It is often no more than a thoughtless
ejaculation, and perhaps the fact that the Almighty’s name
unconsciously springs to the lips on such occasions is a
tribute to the instinctive piety of the heart. Blasphemy is
a more deliberate offence. As all the Fathers of the Church
have taught, and as the civil law declares, it consists in
speaking disrespectfully of the Trinity, and bringing the
Holy Bible into disbelief and contempt. Alas, beloved, this
grievous sin increases daily in our midst, and shameless
blasphemers raise their impudent heads on every side. If
we teach them they discuss with us, if we denounce them
they laugh at us, and if we imprison them they revile us.
Senseless and obdurate wretches, they will hereafter ex
perience the terrors of God’s wrath in the fieriest depths of
hell. Not only do they mock the sacred wonders of the
Scripture, and wax merry over the profoundly instructive
histories of Samson and Jonah; they even indulge in un
speakable jests on our Savior’s immaculate conception, deride
his miracles, and pour contempt on his glorious resurrection
and ascension. The Lord God Almighty they call Old Jahveh,
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our Savior himself is familiarly called J. C., and the Holy
Ghost is jocosely styled the foggy member of the Trinity.
Nay, in one compendious blasphemy, the Trinity has been
called a three-headed wonder. Still worse remains, beloved,
although you might think it impossible. There is a low,
coarse, vulgar, indecent, obscene, blasphemous, infamous
print, which I will not honor by naming. Its editor has
already tasted imprisonment, but his stubborn spirit is un
subdued, and he persists in his evil course. Ridicule,
sarcasm, irony, every miserable weapon of infidelity is
employed against our holy faith. Oh, beloved, let me
implore you not to glance at this dreadful publication. Hesi
tate and you are lost. It fascinates like a serpent, only to
destroy. Once under its malign spell, you will blaspheme
with the worst of them. Your doom will then be certain, and
Hell will be your portion for ever.—And now to God the
Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be end
less praises, evermore. Amen.
A BISHOP IN THE WORKHOUSE.
Perhaps the title of this article will suggest a tragic story
of a fall from a high place, wealth, and dignity, into
abjectness, poverty, and misery. Such things do occur
in the lottery of fortune. Sometimes a beggar gets seated
on horseback, and sometimes a proud knight is thrown
from the saddle and pitched in the mud. But it is scarcely
conceivable that a bishop should become a pauper. Episcopal
servants of Christ usually feather their nests snugly against
the cold; and were adversity to overtake them, they
generally have rich friends to save them from “ the parish.”
No, it is not a tale of woe that we have to tell. We do
not know of any bishop who is reduced to beggary. The
B
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time has not yet arrived for such an awful occurrence. Some
day, perhaps, when priestcraft is exploded and Churches
are played out, an ex-bishop may find it hard to obtain
a living in the open labor market; but meanwhile the
lawn-sleeved gentry will continue to live on the fat of the land,
and prove that godliness is great gain, having the promise
of the life that now is, as well as of the life that is to
come.
Well now, as Shakespeare says, let us leave off making
faces and begin. Let us no longer keep the reader in
suspense, but let out the secret at once.
The Bishop of Winchester went last Sunday (June 12,1892) to
Farnham workhouse. He did not go in disguise as a “ casual,”
in order to see for himself how the pariahs of society are
treated in this nineteenth century of the Christian era.
He went in “full fig,” dressed in a style which, as Mill
remarked, no man could assume without feeling himself
a hypocrite, whether he was one or not. Nor did he go
for the purpose of giving the old women an ounce of tea,
or the old men an ounce of tobacco. His lordship’s mind
was above such low, contemptible carnalities. The object
of his visit was spiritual. He went to preach to the
paupers, and give them a little medicine for their souls.
They were in the union, the “half-way house on the road
to hell,” and the bishop told them (we suppose) how they
might still hope for a place in heaven, though it would
have to be a back seat, for as “ order is heaven’s first
law ” it would be a shocking violation of the divine
economy to let paupers jostle big capitalists, and landlords,
and bishops, and princes of the blood, who hold front-seat
tickets, numbered and reserved.
“This-is believed,” says the newspaper report, “to be
the first occasion on which a Prelate of the See of St. Swithin
has taken part in divine service in such an institution.”
The first time in all those centuries ! Truly the very paupers
are looking up. Or is it that the bishop is looking down p
In any case, what a change from the old days, when paupers
were certain of Hades! Was it not a West of England
workhouse in which an old paupei' lay dying while the
chaplain was in the hunting-field, and the governor was
�()
obliged to officiate ? “ Tom,” said the boss of this luckless
establishment, “ Tom, you’ve been a dreadful fellow; you’re
going to hell.”
Oh, sir,” replied Tom, “ you don’t say
so.” “Yes, Tom, I do say so,” rejoined the governor,
“ and you ought to be thankful you’ve a hell to go to.”
His lordship of Winchester doubtless talked to the
Farnham paupers in a different strain. Christianity is
now, not only the friend of the poor, but the friend of the
poorest; for even paupers have to be reckoned with, the
revolutionary spirit having penetrated to the very lowest
strata of our disaffected population. But the “ friendship ”
must be understood in a Pickwickian sense. Indeed, the
joke of a bishop, with £6,500 a year, hobnobbing with the
social wreckage of a system which supports his wicked
luxury, is colossal and pungent enough to send the very
Fat Boy into convulsions of laughter. We cannot help
thinking that the Bishop of Winchester is a humorist.
Perhaps if the Church is disestablished in his day, and
the worst comes to the worst, he will turn his attention
to the Stage, and take the shine out of Arthur Roberts
and Fred Leslie.
On this supposition, our regret at being unable to find
any report of “ Winchester’s ” sermon to the Farnham
paupers, is too deep for expression. All we can do in
the circumstances is to present our readers with a con
densed report of what the Bishop might have said; and
what, indeed, he would have said, if he had risen to the
level of the situation.
The Bishop’s Sermon.
“Dearly beloved brethren,—You see before you a humble
servant of the most high God, who has come out from
his wretched palace to spend an hour with you in this
cheerful workhouse, built and maintained by a charitable
nation for her most privileged children. Here for a brief
space I shake off the cares and burdens of my own sad
lot, and bathe my wearied spirit in the delicious restfulness
of this happy asylum. Like you, I feel a child of our common
Father in heaven. And as you gaze upon me, I also gaze
upon you. Blessed sight 1 Delightful vision I Before me
sit a goodly number of God’s elect, his chosen vessels of
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grace, the predestinated inheritors of his glory. Happy
mortals! soon to put on glorious crowns of immortality.
Others have wandered from the path of salvation, but ye
have persevered to the end. Wealth and power, pride
and ambition, have no charm for your righteous souls. Ye
have chosen the better part. Day and night, drunk and sober,
—I mean waking and dreaming—ye have pondered the
words of our holy Savior, ‘ Blessed be ye poor.’ And
as he who studies long and deeply enough learns the hardest
lesson, ye have gained a vital conviction of the truth
which is hidden from the worldlings. ‘ Blessed be ye poor,’
said our Lord, and ye are poor, and therefore yours is
the blessing, and yours (in due course) is the kingdom
of heaven. Ye shall walk the golden streets of the New
Jerusalem; ye shall gaze upon its jewelled walls; ye shall
drink of the fresh, clear, untaxed, unmeasured water of
the River of Life; ye Bhall bask in the light of the Lamb;
ye shall look across the great gulf that separates the saved
from the damned, and behold those who have chosen riches
instead of poverty in the torments of everlasting fire.
Fortunate paupers 1 Enviable prospect! How gladly would
I stay with you and share your beatitude! But, alas,
I am called away by the voice of my Master. I have taken
up the cross of self-sacrifice; I have resolved to follow
his example, and perish if I must that sinners may be
saved. My salary is already £6,500 a year, and should it
be my fate to become Archbishop of Canterbury, I shall
assume with resignation the more terrible burden of £15,000.
I know its dangers; I know that wealth weighs us down
to the nether pit; I know how hardly they that have
riches shall enter the kingdom of heaven. But every
pound I carry lightens the burden of a fellow man, and
gives him so much chance of mounting to heaven, instead
of sinking to hell. Oh, I feel on fire with self-sacrifice.
A love of mankind burn s in my breast capable of consuming
(or appropriating) all the wealth of this planet. I would bear
the burden of the whole world. Yea, I will bear as much of
it as I can. And now I go forth to my fate, be it life
or death, glory or gehenna. And you, beloved, who remain
here, sheltered from the storm, think, oh think of your
�(21)
sad brother, staggering under the load of £6,500 a year.
Pray that he may have the strength to bear whatever
burden is laid upon him. And pray, oh pray that his
wealth may be counted unto him as poverty, for his love
to the brethren, and that he may attain unto everlasting
life. Amen.” .
A CHRISTMAS SERMON.
By the Rev. Jeremiah Warner.
There are two very solemn occasions in the Christian year;
Good Friday, on which God Almighty was executed, and
Christmas Day, on which he was born. Every sincere
believer regards them with peculiar awe, and from morn to
eve ponders the transcendent mysteries connected with them.
Eating and drinking, all the pleasures and pastimes of life,
are out of place at such times. Who could pampei the flesh
*
while thinking of his bleeding God, agonising on the terrible
cross ? Who could dawdle over savory dishes and sparkling
wines while remembering the Incarnation of God in the form
of a child for the purpose of walking through this miserable
vale of tears, in order to save his ungrateful children from
everlasting hell? Who could dance and sing on the day
when his Savior began his sorrowful career on earth, where
he was born in a stable, lived on the high road, and died on
the gallows ?
Yet, alas, the number of sincere believers is small. They
are only a remnant, a little band of saints in the midst of a
sinful world, oases of piety in a wide desert of ungodliness.
While they macerate themselves the rest of mankind revel in
all kinds of delight. Yea, on Good Friday, on the very
anniversary of their Redeemer’s passion, these light-hearted
�( 22 )
sinners play at cricket and foot-ball, go on picnics, and make
excursions to the seaside; eating roast mutton instead of
worshipping the Lamb, and swilling beer instead of mourn
ing over the precious streams that flowed from their Savior’s
veins. And on Christmas Day, the anniversary of his
entrance into this scene of woe, when he forsook his glorious
palace in heaven for a paltry stable on earth, taking upon
himself the burden of teething, measles, whooping cough,
and all the ills that baby flesh is heir to, they go not to the
House of God and bend their knees in humble praise of his
ineffable condescension, but stay at home, eating all manner
of gross viands, drinking all manner of pleasant liquors,
dancing, singing, playing cards, telling stories round the
fire, and kissing each other under the mistletoe. Thought
less wretches! They are treading the primrose path to the
everlasting bonfire. How will they face the offended majesty
of Heaven on that great Day of Judgment, when every smile
of theirs on such solemn occasions will be treated as an
unpardonable affront ? Brethren, be not deceived; God is
not mocked.
Still worse than these sinners, if that be possible, there
are miserable sceptics who would have us believe that God
Almighty was neither crucified on Good Friday nor born on
Christmas Day. These presumptuous infidels pretend that
both those holy festivals are derived from ancient sun
worship. They dare to ask us why the anniversary of the
Crucifixion, instead of falling on the same day in every year,
depends on astronomical signs; and they mockingly remind
us that the birthday of our Savior is the same as that of
Mithra and all the sun-gods of antiquity. True, the heathen
celebrated the new birth of the Sun on the twenty-fifth of
December, from the fiery east to the frozen north, from Persia
to Scandinavia. But what of that P Their celebration was
invented by the Devil, who lorded it over this world until
our Savior came to bruise the old serpent’s head. He
prompted the heathen to commemorate the twenty-fifth of
December, for the plausible reason that the Sun had then
decisively begun to emerge from his winter cave, giving a
fresh promise of gentle spring, lusty summer, and fruitful
autumn. I call it a plausible reason, because the Sun is
�( 23 )
never born, any more than it rises and sets. These pheno
mena are all illusions, caused by the movement of our own
earth. But the cunning Devil took advantage of men’s
ignorance to deceive them; and having appropriated our
Savior’s birthday for another purpose, he calculated that it
would never be restored to its rightful use. But, God be
thanked, he was mistaken. Our Holy Ohurch’fought him for
three centuries, and at last, having enlisted Constantine and
his successors on her side, she exterminated the pagan
idolatry, and established the religion of Christ. Then were
all the Devil’s subtle inventions destroyed, and among them
the sun-worship which disgraced the close of every year.
Happily, however, the task was not so hard as it might have
been, for the Devil had outwitted himself. He had accus
tomed the heathen to celebrate the day on which Christ was
to be born, and so our holy Church had little else to do than
to substitute one name for another, and to devote that day to
the worship of the true God instead of a false one.
Since then, alas, owing to the native depravity of the
human heart, Satan has recovered some of his lost power;
for he is a restless, intriguing, malignant creature, whose
mischief will never be terminated until he is chained up in
the bottomless pit. Defeated by our holy Church in the east,
he planned a fresh attack from the north, and carried it out
with considerable success. He contrived to mix up our
orthodox Christmas celebration with fantastic nonsense from
the Norse mythology. Those who decorate Christmas trees
and burn Yule-tide logs are heathens without knowing it, and
it is to be feared that their ignorance will not excuse them in
the sight of God. Away with such things, brethren 1 They
are snares of the Evil One, traps for your perdition, gins for
your immortal souls. Even the evergreens with which you
deck your houses are a pitfall of the same old enemy. They
are relics of nature-worship, diverting your minds from the
Creator to the creature; and well doth Satan know, as ye
glance at the white and red berries and then at the fair faces
and pouting lips of the daughters of Eve, that your thoughts
must be earthly, sensual and devilish. I mean not that you
will necessarily rush into illicit pleasures, and drink of the
cup of sin; but the carnal mind is always at enmity with
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God, and at such a time as the birthday of ^our Lord we shall
incur his wrath if we do not keep our attention fixed on
things above.
There is another lesson, brethren, which you should lay to
heart. Christ gave up all for you'; what wilVyou give up for
him P His gospel is still unpreached in many benighted parts
of this globe. Millions of souls in Asia, Africa and America,
go annually to Hell for want of the saving words of grace;
and even at home, in our very midst, there are millions out
side the Church, who live in pagan darkness, and whose doom
is frightful to contemplate. Deny yourselves then for your
Savior, and if you cannot be as solemn as you should at this
season, at least restrict your pleasures, and give the cost of
what you forego to the Church, who will spend the money in
the salvation of souls. A single bottle of wine or whiskey, a
single turkey or plum-pudding less on your tables this
Christmas, may mean a soul less in Hell, and another saint
around the great white throne in Heaven. Do not waste
your wealth on the perishable bodies of the poor, or if you
must feed the hungry and clothe the naked, let your charity
go through the hands of God’s ministers; but rather seek
the immortal welfare of dying sinners, and give, yea ever
give, for the purpose of rescuing them from the wrath to
come. Ob, brethren, neglect not this all-important duty.—
The choir will now sing the twenty-fifth hymn, after which
wo shall take the collection.
CHRISTMAS EVE IN HEAVEN.
Christmas Eve had come and almost gone. It was drawing
nigh midnight, and I sat solitary in my room, immersed in
memory, dreaming of old days and their buried secrets. The
fire, before which I mused, was burning clear without flame,
and its intense glow, which alone lighted my apartment, cast
�( 25 )
a red tint on the furniture and walls. Outside, the streets
Were muffled deep with snow, in which no footstep was
audible. All was quiet as death, silent as the grave, save
for the faint murmur of my own breathing. Time and space
seemed annihilated beyond those four narrow walls, and I was
as a coffined living centre of an else lifeless infinitude.
My reverie was rudely broken by the staggering step of a
fellow-lodger, whose devotion to Bacchus was the one
symptom of reverence in his nature. He reeled up stair
after stair, and as he passed my door he lurched against it
so violently that I feared he would come through. But he
slowly recovered himself after some profane mutterings,
reeled up the next flight of stairs, and finally deposited his
well-soaked clay on the bed in his own room immediately
over mine.
After this interruption my thoughts changed most fanci
fully. Why I know not, but I began to brood on the strange
statement of Saint Paul concerning the man who was lifted
up into the seventh heaven, and there beheld things not
lawful to reveal. While pondering this story I was presently
aware of an astonishing change. The walls of my room
slowly expanded, growing ever thinner and thinner, until
they became the filmiest transparent veil which at last dis
solved utterly away. Then (whether in the spirit or the
flesh I know not) I was hurried along through space, past
galaxy after galaxy of suns and stars, separate systems yet all
mysteriously related.
Swifter than light we travelled, I and my unseen guide,
through the infinite ocean of ether, until our flight was
arrested by a denser medium, which I recognised as an
atmosphere like that of our earth. I had scarcely recovered
from this new surprise when (marvels of marvels !) I found
myself before a huge gate of wondrous art and dazzling
splendor. At a word from my still unseen guide it swung
open, and I was urged within. Beneath my feet was a solid
pavement of gold. Gorgeous mansions, interspersed with
palaces, rose around me, and above them all towered the
airy pinnacles of a matchless temple, whose points quivered
in. the rich light like tongues of golden fire. The walls
glittered with countless rubies, diamonds, pearls, amethysts,
�( 26 )
emeralds, and other precious stones; and lovely presences,
arrayed in shining garments, moved noiselessly from place
to place. • “ Where am IP” I ejaculated, half faint with
wonder. And my hitherto unseen guide, who now revealed
himself, softly answered, “ In Heaven.”
Thereupon my whole frame was agitated with inward
laughter. I in Heaven, whose fiery doom had been pro
phesied so often by the saints on earthI I, the sceptic, the
blasphemer, the scoffer at all things sacred, who had laughed
at the legends and dogmas of Christianism as though they
were incredible and effete as the myths of Olympus ! And I
thought to myself, “ Better I had gone straight to Hell, for
here in the New Jerusalem they will no doubt punish me
worse than there.” But my angelic guide, who read my
thought, smiled benignly, and said, “Bear not, no harm
shall happen to you. I have exacted a promise of safety
for you, and here no promise can be broken.” “ But why,”
I asked, “ have you brought me hither, and how did you
obtain my guarantee of safety P” And my guide answered,
“ It is our privilege each year to demand one favor which
may not be refused; I requested that I might bring you
here; but I did not mention your name, and if you do nothing
outrageous you will not be noticed, for no one here meddles
with another’s business, and our rulers are too much occupied
with foreign affairs to trouble about our domestic concerns.”
“Yet,” I rejoined, “ I shall surely be detected, for I wear no
heavenly robe.” Then my guide produced one from a little
packet, and having donned it, I felt safe from the fate of him
who was expelled because he had not on a wedding garment
at the marriage feast.
As we moved along, I inquired of my guide why he took
such interest in me; and he replied, looking sadly : “ I was
a sceptic on earth centuries ago, but I stood alone, and
at last on my death-bed, weakened by sickeness, I again
embraced the creed of my youth, and died in the Christian
faith. Hence my presence in Heaven. But gladly would I
renounce Paradise even for Hell, for those figures so lovely
outside are not all lovely within, and I would rather consort
with the choicer spirits who abide with Satan, and hold
high revel of heart and head in his court. Yet wishes are
�( 27 )
fruitless; as the tree falls so it lies, and my lot is cast for
ever.” Whereupon I laid my hand in his, being speechless
with grief 1
We soon approached the magnificent temple, and entering
it, we mixed with the mighty crowd of angels who were
witnessing the rites of worship performed by the elders and
beasts before the great white throne. All happened exactly
as Saint John describes. The angels rent the air with their
acclamations, after the inner circle had concluded, and then
■the throne was deserted by its occupants.
My dear guide then led me through some narrow passages
until we emerged into a spacious hall, at one end of which hung
a curtain. Advancing towards this with silent tread, we were
able to look through a slight aperture, where the curtain fell
away from the pillar, into the room beyond. It was small
and cosey, and a fire burned in the grate, before which sat
poor dear God the Father in a big arm-chair. Divested of
his godly paraphernalia, he looked old and thin, though an
evil fire still gleamed from his cavernous eyes. On a table
beside him stood some phials, one of which had seemingly
just been used. God the Son stood near, looking much
younger and fresher, but time was beginning to tell on him
also. The Ghost flitted about in the form of a dove, now
perching on the Father’s shoulder and now on the head of
the Son.
Presently the massive bony frame of the Father was con
vulsed with a fit of coughing; Jesus promptly applied a
restorative from the phial, and after a terrible struggle the
cough was subdued. During this scene the Dove fluttered
violently from wall to wall. When the patient was thoroughly
restored the following conversation ensued.
Jesus.—Are you well now, my Father ?
Jehovah.—Yes, yes, well enough. Alack, how my strength
wanes! Where is the pith that filled these arms when I
fought for my chosen people ? Where the fiery vigor that
filled my veins when I courted your mother ?
(Here the Dove fluttered and looked queer.)
Jesus.—Ah, sire, do not speak thus. You will regain your
old strength.
Jehovah.—Nay, nay, and you know it. You do not even
�( 28 )
wish me to recover, for in my weakness you exercise sovereign
power and rule as you please.
Jesus.—O sire, sire I
Jehovah.—Come now, none of these demure looks. We
know each other too well. Practise before the saints if you
like, but don’t waste your acting on me.
Jesus.—My dear Father, pray curb your temper. That is
the very thing the people on earth so much complain of.
Jehovah.—My dearly beloved Son, in whom I am not at all
well pleased, desist from this hypocrisy. »Your temper is as
bad as mine. You’ve shed blood enough in your time, and
need not rail at me.
Jesus.—Ah, sire, only the blood of heretics.
Jehovah.-—Heretics, forsooth! They were very worthy
people for the most part, and their only crime was that they
neglected you. But why should we wrangle ? We stand or
fall together, and I am falling. Satan draws most souls from
earth to his place, including all the best workers and thinkers,
who are needed to sustain our drooping power; and we
receive nothing but the refuse; weak, slavish, flabby souls,
hardly worth saving or damning; gushing preachers, pious
editors, crazy enthusiasts, and half-baked old ladies of both
sexes. Why didn’t you preach a different Gospel while you
were about it ? You had the chance once and let it slip : we
shall never have another.
Jesus.—My dear Father, I am reforming my Gospel to
' make it suit the altered taste of the times.
Jehovah.—Stuff and nonsense ! It can’t be done; thinking
people see through it; the divine is immutable. The only
remedy is to start afresh. Could I beget a new Son all
might be rectified; but I cannot, I am too old. Our dominion
is melting away like that of all our predecessors. You cannot
outlast me, for I am the fountain of your life; and all the
multitude of “ immortal ” angels who throng our court, live
only while I uphold them, and with me they will vanish into
eternal limbo.
Here followed another fit of coughing worse than before.
Jesus resorted again to the phial, but the cordial seemed
powerless against this sharp attack. Just then the Dove
�( 29 )
fluttered against the curtain, and my guide hurried me
swiftly away.
In a corridor of the temple we met Michael and Raphael.
The latter scrutinised me so closely that my blood ran cold ; but
just when my dread was deepest his countenance cleared, and
he turned towards his companion. Walking behind the
great archangels we were able to hear their conversation.
Raphael had just returned from a visit to the earth, and he
was reporting to Michael a most alarming defection from the
Christian faith. People, he said, were leaving in shoals, and
unless fresh miracles were worked he trembled for the
prospects of the dynasty. But what most alarmed him was
the spread of profanity. While in England he had seen copies
of a blasphemous paper which horrified the elect by ridiculing
the Bible in what a bishop had justly called “ a heartless and
cruel way.
**
“But, my dear Michael,” continued Raphael,
“ that is not all, not even the worst. This scurrilous paper,
which would be quickly suppressed if we retained our old
influence, most wickedly caricatures our supreme Lord
and his heavenly host, and thousands of people enjoy
this awful profanity. I dare say our turn will soon come,
and we shall be held up to ridicule like the rest.” “ Impos
sible I” cried Michael; “ Surely there is some mistake. What
is the name of this abominable print ?” With a grave look,
Raphael replied : “ No, Michael, there is no mistake. The
name of this imp of blasphemy is—I hesitate to say it—the
Free----- ”
But at this moment my guide again hurried me along.
We reached the splendid gate once more, which slowly opened
and let us through. Again we flew through the billowy
ether, sweeping past system after system with intoxicating
speed, until at last, dazed and almost unconscious, I regained
this earthly shore. Then I sank into a stupor. When I awoke
the fire had burnt down to the last cinder, all was dark and
cold, and I shivered as I tried to stretch my half-cramped
limbs. Was it all a dream ? Who can say P Whether in the
spirit or the flesh I know not, said Saint Paul, and I am
compelled to echo his words. Sceptics may shrug their
shoulders, smile, or laugh, but “ there are more things in
heaven and earth than is dreamt of in their philosophy.”
�( 30 )
BISHOP TRIMMER’S SUNDAY DIARY.
Bishop Trimmer is one of those worthy prelates who enjoy
this world fully, and are exceedingly loth to quit it for
another. He is neither very learned nor very clever, but a
pushing mediocrity, like most occupants of the episcopal
bench. He is an ardent admirer of monarchy and aristocracy,
and believes that the function of the Church is to uphold
those divine institutions. Three or four times he has had the
honor to preach before the Queen, and his sermons on those
occasions, printed by special request and dedicated by per
mission to her Majesty, are replete with loyalty to the throne
and sneers at the democratic tendencies of this degenerate
age. Being anxious to ally himself to the aristocracy, he
married an elderly spinster, the daughter of Lord Pauper,
whose charms had never attracted a suitor, and whose mental
accomplishments were on a par with her physical beauties.
Bishop Trimmer is immensely proud of his aristocratic wife,
and as she is an only child, he looks forward to his withered
little bantling, the only fruit of their marriage, coming into
possession of the family title and estates. He lives in
his diocese as little as possible, being passionately fond
of London society. He is a familiar figure at royal
and aristocratic drawing-rooms and garden-parties, and
a regular patron of West-end bazaars where fashion
able beauties are wont to assemble. He is also an
habitui of the theatres, showing a marked preference for
burlesque, and being noticeable by the pertinacity with which
he gazes through a powerful pair of opera-glasses at the
ladies of the ballet. In politics he is a staunch Tory. He
has never been known to favor any liberal measure, and his
vote has been constantly recorded for every effort by the
Peers to reject or mangle progressive legislation. When he
dies, his life will be eulogised in the papers, and he will be
held up as a model for general emulation, although he has
never had a thought for anything but self. It is rumored
that his niche has already been designated in Westminster
Abbey.
�( 31 )
Bishop Trimmer has one great weakness. He keeps a
diary. He is as loquacious as old Burnet, and it is a great
pity he cannot find another Pope to do him justice. Portions
of his diary have accidentally fallen into our hands; how we
need not explain, for it involves a long story. We give our
readers a taste of this rarity, and if they approve it, we may
gratify their palates again on some future occasion.
Sunday night, August 10,18—. Last evening I arrived
home too late, and I fear too excited, to fill in my diary before
going to bed. Lord Pitznoodle’s old port has a very fine
body, and his champagne is remarkably exhilarating. How
fortunate that Lady Trimmer is visiting her uncle in Plough
shire I
Yesterday morning I devoted three hours to my corre
spondence, and one to my sermon. I lunched with Lady
Bareacres, whose youngest daughter is to be presented to
morrow. A charming young creature, with a figure like
Hebe; beautiful taper arms, well displayed by the short
sleeves, small feet in pretty bottines, sparkling black eyes,
white teeth and luscious red lips, and a delicious bust. Ah !
The company was select—not a commoner amongst them.
Lord Wildsbury, the Tory leader in the Upper House, com
plimented me on my recent pamphlet on The Improvement
of the Condition of our Rural Poor, and thanked me especially
for the handsome manner in which I had vindicated his treat
ment of the poor on his Capfield estate against Radical asper
sions. His lordship informed me that, aftei’ long entreaty,
he had consented to grant the Methodists a site for a chapel,
about six miles from the parish they reside in. I congratu
lated him on this noble exhibition of Christian charity.
Lord Woodcock conversed with me on the threatened war.
He thought it would open a path for our missionaries as well
as our commerce. I had the honor to agree with him. I had
no doubt the wai’ was one of God’s agencies for Christianising
the world, and quoted Wordsworth’s “ Yea, carnage is thy
daughter.” His lordship was delighted with the quotation,
and promised to use it in his next speech against the Peace
party.
�( 32 )
Returning home, I found a handsome present awaiting me
from young Stukeley—a copy of the fine new edition of
Petronius Arbiter, edited by Von Habenlicht, with many
interesting notes on the purplest parts of the text. For an
hour or two I swam in what a late writer calls “ the delicious
stream of his Latinity.” How fortunate that ladies do not
read Latin 1 What havoc Lady Trimmer would play with my
library if she understood the classic languages 1 She was up
in arms the other day about some spicy French books from
Brussels, until I explained that, as President of the Society
for the Suppression of Vice, I was obliged to study that class
of literature.
At four o’clock I attended a meeting of the Social Purity
Society, where I made a speech that was much applauded.
Lord Haymarket showed me a villainous pamphlet on the
Population question by a notorious infidel. This pernicious
publication, he said, was extensively circulated; and he had
reason to believe it was the principal cause of the shameless
profligacy of this great city. Its author was—horror of
horrors !—a woman, an abandoned creature, dead to all the
natural instincts of her sex. He desired me to see whether
my Society would not undertake to suppress it. I promised
to bring the matter forward at our very next meeting. Poor
Haymarket! He sowed his wild oats too rapidly, and is a
wreck at thirty-seven. Happily he spends his declining days
in the service of his God.
Went in the evening to the Jollity Theatre with the
Ponsonbys, who have a box there. The new burlesque is
capital fun, and I enjoyed it immensely. Fanny Dawson
danced and sang as bewitchingly as ever. She is the most
appetisante creature on the stage. There was a new girl in
the ballet, a superb specimen of the sex, with the finest limbs
I ever saw, and as agile as a deer. I must inquire her name
of young Osborne, the Secretary of the Curate and BalletGirl Society.
Suppered afterwards at Lord Fitznoodle’s chambers. He
has the best port and champagne in London, and I patronised
both rather generously, at the cost of a morning headache.
Two or three army men in the party had loose tongues. The
conversation was waggish enough, but I fancy the jests were
�( 33 )
highly seasoned before we broke up. Colonel Sparkish shone
with his usual brilliance. I wonder whether he invents or
discovers those capital stories. If they were not so blue I
might retail them at my own dinner-table.
Sir Clifford Northdown, the Tory leader in the Commons,
paid me a flying visit this morning. He was anxious to
secure all the influence I possessed in my diocese against the
new Affirmation Bill, as our party meant to strain every nerve
to prevent its passing. I promised to stir up my .clergy at
once, and to obtain as many petitions as possible against the
measure.
Ran down and lunched at the Bourbon Club at Richmond.
The company was, as usual, very exclusive. His Royal
Highness looked remarkably well and was the life and soul of
the table. I had the honor of losing a game of billiards with
him after lunch.
Spent an hour in the afternoon at the Zoological Gardens.
The weather was glorious, and the ladies’ toilettes were mag
nificent. I was glad to meet my old friend Bishop Glover
who buries himself too much in his diocese. We met several
more old college friends, among them being the Rev. Arthur
Mooney, the Rev. Richard Larkins, and the Rev. Spencer
Shepherd. Before leaving the Gardens I enjoyed a few
minutes’ chat with the Archbishop, who had brought his
family to see the animals and hear the music. They found
too much vulgar society there during the week, and never
came except on Sunday.
Preached in the evening at St. Peter’s on the Fourth Com
mandment, to a crowded congregation who evidently followed
me with great sympathy. I pointed out the danger to religion
and morality involved in any tampering with the holy
Sabbath, dilated on the horrors of a continental Sunday, and
denounced the opening of museums, art-galleries and public
libraries on the Lord’s day. With a little touching up, the
sermon will serve for my next week’s speech in the House of
Lords on the subject, when Harlow’s motion comes up for
discussion.
Took a cup of tea after the service with old Mrs. Gloomy.
She seems to be nearing her end. Her will leaves twenty
thousand for the restoration of my cathedral, and I believe a
c
�( 34 )
similar sum to Lady Trimmer. I shall officiate at her burial
with the noblest pleasure, for she is without exception the
best Christian I ever knew.
THE JUDGE AND THE DEVIL.
*
Newspapers are supposed to chronicle all important events,
and as no event is more important to mankind than the
death of its enemies, it is astonishing that the public prints
have neglected to record the recent decease of Mr. Justice
North. This “ great loss,” as his family call it, occurred last
Friday. His lordship had been ailing for some time, chiefly,
it is suspected, in consequence of so many of his judgments
being reversed by the Court of Appeal. On Friday morning
he occupied his usual seat in the Court of Chancery, but it
was obvious to the gentlemen of the bar, the litigants and
witnesses, and even the spectators, that his lordship’s condi
tion was by no means improved. His observations were con
fused, he put the same question to witnesses three or four
times over, and at the conclusion of one important case his
judgment was directly opposite to his summing up. When
the Court rose his lordship drove home, and on arriving
there he was so ill that he was obliged to retire to bed. The
* Judge North presided over the trial of Messrs. Foote, Ramsey, and
Kemp for “ Blasphemy ” in the early part of 1883. The counsel for the
prosecution was the present Lord Halsbury, ex-Lord Chancellor, then
Sir Hardinge Giffard. He was not in court the whole of the time, but
his brief was safe in the hands of the gentleman on the bench. Judge
North acted throughout as a partisan. The first jury disagreed and were
discharged ; but, a few days afterwards, a better selected jury returned a
verdict of “ Guilty.” His lordship then sentenced the prisoners to
twelve, nine, and three months’ imprisonment respectively—not as firstclass misdemeanants, but as though they were thieves or burglars. In
passing the heaviest sentence the law allowed him on Mr. Foote, his
lordship regretted to find that a man “ gifted by God with such great
abilities” should “ prostitute his talents to the service of the Devil.”
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doctor, who was summoned immediately, shook his head on
seeing the condition of his patient, and muttered something
about heart disease. About nine o’clock his lordship was
visibly sinking, and at twelve o’clock he breathed his last.
For nearly two hours before his death he was unconscious,
but he sometimes murmured a word or two, amongst which
“ Devil,” “ Foote,” “ Freethinker,” “ God,” and “ Duty ” were
heard distinctly. A clergyman was in attendance during
that distressing period, the last consolations of religion were
duly administered, and his lordship’s family and relatives are
fully assured that he is now a saint in heaven.
Sad to relate, however, they are grievously mistaken. Mr.
Justice North’s soul went straightway to Hell. Unknown to
himself, his lordship held heretical views, which the Supreme
Court of Heaven pronounced to be blasphemous, on a very
perplexed and subtle point in theology. Unfortunately our
information on this matter is not precise, but we understand
from our ghostly visitor that the point on which his lordship
was eternally wrecked relates to the status of the Blessed
Virgin Mary.
Every soul, on arriving at Hell, is first washed in sulphur
and then lodged, in a state of nudity, in a large hall, which is
nevertheless free from draughts. All the arrivals wait here
until they are brought singly before the Governor, who
assigns to each a separate locality and punishment. His
lordship looked very crestfallen, for he had anticipated a
better fate. Nor was his distress alleviated by the sight of
his companions, among whom he recognised two eminent
scoundrels that he had himself sentenced to long terms of
penal servitude, and one eminent Christian whom he had
frequently seen at Church on Sunday.
While his lordship waited in the hall he was greatly afflicted
at his own nakedness, and still more at the nakedness of his
companions; for he had always been a very modest man, and
the notion of anything obscene or indecent had always been
repulsive to him. Even the sight of a ragged pair of trousers
had been known to cover his face with blushes. And, to add
to his misery, the two criminals twitted him with his bare
ness, and remarked that he cut a very poor figure with his
clothes off.
�( 36 )
Prisoner after prisoner was taken out to see the Devil
without returning. His lordship was kept till the last, and
as he passed through the hall door and entered the Devil’s
private office, he literally shook with fear. Satan sat in an
easy chair, sipping iced champagne and smoking a splendid
cigar. His appearance belied the popular idea. Ho tail pro
truded through a hole in his nether garments, his brows
were not decorated with horns, nor did his legs terminate in
hooves. He was tall and handsome. Every feature spoke
resolution, and his magnificent head looked a workshop of
intense and ample thought.
Catching sight of the wretched grovelling figure before him,
the Devil’s dark countenance was lit up with a smile. “ Well,
Justice North,” with a sarcastic accent on the middle word,
“ I have kept you till last because I wanted a special talk
with you. Most of the arrivals in this establishment—and
they are pretty numerous—have offended the upper powers,
but they have generally been civil to me. You, however,
have been damnably uncivil—nay, rude; indeed I may say
libellous.”
“ I humbly crave your highness’s pardon,” broke in the
culprit, “ but I do not recollect having spoken of you dis
respectfully. I always regarded you with feelings of awe.”
“ Indeed !” said the Devil, “ just carry your mind back to
the fifth of March, 1883, when you tried three prisoners at
the Old Bailey for blasphemy.”
His lordship turned livid with fear, but plucking up a little
courage he replied, “Yes, your highness, I remember the
incident, and now I fear I shall never forget it. Yet I do not
recollect saying anything on that occasion in any way
offensive to yourself.”
“ Indeed 1” said the Devil, with a more withering accent,
and proceeded to open a book on the table. “ When you sen
tenced the first prisoner—who, by the way, is a very good
friend of mine—you said you extremely regretted to find a
man of undoubted intelligence, a man gifted by God with
such great ability, choosing to prostitute his talents to the
service of the Devil. Those were your very words. Do you
call that civil, sir? Is it not downright abuse? Serving
me prostitution, forsooth! If that is what you call being
�( 37 )
respectful, what' on earth—or rather what in hell—would
you call insulting ?”
“Alas, your highness,” exclaimed his lordship, “I did
indeed utter those unlucky words. But it was an unguarded
expression, or rather the stock language of such occasions.
I had looked up the sentences passed by former judges^on
blasphemers, and I simply followed their lead as to the terms
I employed.”
“ Yes,” said the Devil, “ and you followed their lead in
another respect, even if you did not better their instruction.
You passed upon my friend Foote a most savage sentence.
Probably you are surprised at my calling him ‘ friend,’ but I
may inform you that all Freethinkers are my friends. Like
myself they are rebels against the tyranny of heaven. The
deity you worshipped on earth hates every man who dares to
think for himself. He sends them here to be tortured; but
as he never takes the trouble to inspect this establishment,
having a silly belief in my malignancy, I am able to lighten
their punishment.' I give them the coolest places in Hell,
and favor them in every possible way. They don’t mix with
the rest of the inhabitants, but associate exclusively with
each other. Personally I find them excellent company, and
I can only marvel at your deity’s emptying heaven of what
in my opinion would be its best society.”
The Devil leaned back in his easy chair, quaffed a glass of
champagne, and quietly smoked his cigar, while watching the
effect of his words on the trembling wretch before him. By
this time his lordship was green with terror. His limbs
twitched convulsively, his eyes rolled in their sockets, and
although he tried to speak, his voice failed him.
“Coward!” muttered the Devil; “the fellow hasn’t the
courage of the most abject wretch he ever sentenced.”
Presently his lordship’s speech returned, and he shrieked
out, “ Mercy, your highness, mercy! I meant no harm,
indeed I did not. I unsay it all, and swear to be your devoted
servant for ever.”
“Worse and worse!” exclaimed the Devil. “Had you
shown the least courage, I would have pitied you. Now I
only despise you.” Thereupon he touched a bell on the table,
and a gigantic demon responded to the summons. “ Take
�( 38 )
this fellow,” said the Devil, “ to number 2,716,542,897.” The
demon grinned, for it was the hottest room in Hell, right
over the furnace. Seizing the culprit in his herculean arms,
he swung him over his shoulder, and was marching off when
the Devil cried : “ Stop a minute ! North !” he continued,
“ you’ll have a bad time of, but there is a hope for you. When
Foote comes here we shall chat over your case, and if he is of
a placable temper, as I fancy, he may solicit a little respite
for you. Meanwhile you must bear your fate like a Christian.
revoir”
The Devil waived his hand, the gigantic demon hurried off
with his prisoner, and ten minutes afterwards his lordship
was dancing up and down like a ball on the hot bi’icks of
Number 2,716,542,897.
SATAN AND MICHAEL.
An Imaginary Conversation.
Satan.—Well met, my dear Michael! You and I are old
acquaintances, What ages have rolled by since we conversed
as friends in Heaven! You remembei' the day when I
broached to you my design of establishing a celestial
Republic, and found it impossible to overcome your loyalty
or your fears. You remember also that later day when the
courts of Heaven rang with the shouts of battle; when,
deserted by all but the sterner spirits who scorned flight or
suirender, I and my little band of faithful rebels were
hemmed in by the holy squadrons, seized one by one, and
flung over the battlements.
Michael. Yes, I recollect it well. I see now the look of
deathless pride you wore. You wear it still. But there is
mixed with it another expression I seldom see in Heaven.
�( 39 )
Humor lurks in the depth of your eyes and about the corners
of your mouth.
&.—Yes, my dear Michael, it is the sovereign lenitive of
an incurable pain. After writhing for millenniums under the
tender mercies of the Despot, I found a diversion in watching
th® antics of his creatures. Products of infinite wisdom as
they are, they furnish me with infinite amusement.
M.—Wicked rebel! You insult the maker and ruler of all.
S.—Come now, why should we fall out? We used no
railing when we disputed over the dead body of Moses; and,
as the English poet, Byron, told the world, we civilly con
ducted our contest over the soul of George the Third ? Why
be uncivil now ? You have my place in Heaven; surely you
can afford to be civil, if not magnanimous.
JW".—With difficulty does a loyal subject restrain himself
before a plotter of treason.
—I see the Lord’s omniscience does not extend to his
Prime Minister. I plot no treason, Michael. I am a poor
exile who no longer troubles himself about politics.
M.—Ever since the Lord created man you have been
spoiling his handiwork, and leading souls to Hell.
&—I neithei’ made Hell nor do I people it. The Lord
creates both good and evil; joy and pain are alike his gifts.
Were he to exert his omnipotence, my esta blishment might
be emptied to-morrow. It is rash, if not something worse, to
blame me for what he permits, nay wills.
—Did you not begin your machinations in the Garden
of Eden, by tempting two poor, innocent creatures, who
would otherwise have lived there till now, tending its flowers,
and eating of all its delicious fruits save those forbidden ?
$.—My dear Michael, you were never a subtle reasoner.
You have the qualities of a soldier, not those of a casuist.
Pray consider. Did I create the forbidden fruit? Did I
create an appetite for it in Adam and Eve ? All I did was to
demonstrate the carelessness of their Maker.
M.—Such language is profane. Whatever you did was at
the expense of those hapless creatures.
They might say so, but the words are strange in the
mouth of an archangel. I was only experimenting. The
omniscient Maker should have protected his children.
�( 40 )
M.—He made them liable to temptation, in order to test
their virtue; and gave them free-will so that they might act
from choice.
Then I was necessary to the plan. I also acted from
choice, yet over them and me there was a divine necessity.
M.—I will not argue. Reason leads to the shipwreck of
faith. I say your conduct was wicked and cruel.
—Wicked, if you like—that is a matter of opinion, on
which we shall never agree—but not cruel. I visited Adam
and Eve out of pure good-nature, mingled, I own, with a little
curiosity. Poor Eve was naked; and I knew how much
happier she would be with clothes. Her daughters owe me
thanks for all their bewitching graces. Pool’ Adam was a
simpleton. He ate and dranked, and prayed and slept.
Their life was monotonous, and would soon have been miser
able. I gave them the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, and
from it sprang all the arts and sciences, all literature, and all
the pleasures of human society.
M.—What are all the pleasures and refinements of the
world in comparison with the prospects of an immortal soul P
They are but dust on the road to Hell.
8.—Perhaps so, but that is not my fault. I did not foresee
the Lord’s malignity. As a rebel—wicked or otherwise—I
tried to dethrone him, and my doom, if not just, is at least
intelligible. But I never conceived he would curse the
unborn, punish billions for the sin of one, and damn his
children through all eternity for a single act of disobedience
in theii earthly life. Nor indeed did I imagine they had
*
immortal souls to be saved or damned. That they were
higher than the other animals was manifest, but I saw no
indication that they differed in kind. Nor when they were
cursed did I suspect it, for the Tyrant said nothing of a future
life. I assure you, Michael, I was all attention, for the curse
upon the serpent did not terrify me. Nor could any curse
have given me the least alarm. One who is being burnt at the
stake does not fear a box of matches flung into the flames.
M.—Your wily tongue would prove black to be white. I
leave the Fall of Man and pass to your next act of wickedness
in tempting David to number his people.
�(41)
—The Lord himself tempted David, as you may read in
his own book'.
M.—I refer to another verse which says that you did it.
S.—Two contradictions, my dear Michael, cannot both be
true; and if you choose one, pardon me for choosing the
other. Besides, if I did advise David on that occasion—
which I deny—how could I foresee that so useful an act as
taking a census would be punished by wholesale slaughter ?
M.—Did you not tempt Job P
Hot I. I gave the Lord a new idea, which staggered
his omniscience; and during the trial of Job I only acted on
commission.
M. —Did you not tempt the blessed Savior himself?
£.—My deal’ Michael, it was but a diversion. We under
stood each other. I knew I could not succeed, and he knew
that I knew it.
-3/.-—Did you not enter into the bodies of men and women,
and torment them ?
N- Never. I am incapable of such cruel frivolity.
—God’s holy Word declares you guilty.
N. —I challenge the writer—who was not God—to the proof.
It was another species of devil, created after my fall, and by
the Lord himself. I did not make them, and I will not be
responsible for their doings. Gan you conceive me taking up
my residence in lunatics, and shifting into the bodies of pigs p
There are very few of the human species, my dear Michael—
to say nothing of pigs—with whom I deign to be familiar.
M. —Then you are very much belied. According to my
information, you are the great Tempter, and every sin in the
world is done at your suggestion.
N. —Such is the charity of mankind ! It is so pleasant to
blame another for their misdeeds 1 Is it I that tempt the
drunkard, the thief, the adulterer, the murderer—or his own
evil passions ? for which let him thank his Maker 1 Pursue
your inquiries, my dear Michael, and you will find Bishops
brewing beer and taking the chair at Temperance meetings.
For my part, I drink nothing but water. It is best for my
complaint.
M.~Gan I believe you? You are called the Father of
Lies ?
�( 42 )
£.—In calling me so, the Christians, at least, are only
setting up a Foundling Hospital for their own progeny. You
have the scripture; show me a single occasion on which I
lied. When the Lord wanted a liar to deceive King Ahab, he
never troubled me; he found a volunteer at his elbow.
M.—I declare you are posing as an archangel. You forget
that you are fallen. I am speaking with the Devil.
S.—Hard words break no bones, and if they did, I have
none to be broken. I am fallen—from Heaven ! which I have
little desire to regain, peopled as it is with slaves and cowards.
I would have sent a breath of freedom through its courts.
I tried, I failed, and I paid the penalty of my daring.
M.—I will not rail at you. You are under a heavier curse
than mine. But pray tell me who are the members of the
human race with whom you deign to be familiar ?
/S'.—I animate all who fight against servitude and somno
lence. The heroes and martyrs of liberty and progress in
every age have drunk of the strength of my spirit. I inspire
the revolter, the scorner, the sceptic, the satirist. I still
distribute the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. I am the soul
of the world. The fire of my inspiration may consume, but
it gives unspeakable rapture. I am the Prometheus of the
universe, and keep it from stagnating under the icy hand
of power. Milton, Groethe, and Byron made me the hero of
their greatest poems, and felt my power in despite of them
selves. Burns spoke of me with a tenderness he never
displayed towards God. Wits and humorists own my sway.
I moved the minds of Aristophanes and Lucian, of Erasmus
and Rabelais, and through the pen of Voltaire I shattered the
mental slavery of Europe. I am the lightning of the human
mind. I level thrones and altars, and annihilate blinding
customs. With the goad of a restless aspiration I urge men
on, until they outgrow faith and fear, until the Slave stands
erect before the Tyrant and defies his curse.
M.—I will not stay to hear you. A feeling creeps through
me like that I experienced when you first tempted me to
break my allegiance to Heaven. Farewell. I must report
these things above.
/S'.—Report them I They are there already. You forget
the Lord’s omniscience, which is a dogma in Heaven, and a
�( 43 )
much contested one on earth. Adieu, Michael. Pay my
respects to your Master. And when you lead the chorus of
flattery, think of the “ wicked rebel ” who prefers freedom in
Hell to slavery in Heaven.
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS.
Christmas comes but once a year, and considering the
gluttony and wine-bibbing which goes on when it does
come, it is perhaps a very good thing that the season occurs
no oftener.
Hundreds of Christmases, and therefore
hundreds of years, have rolled by since the first one ushered
into the world the most surprising baby that ever suckled
and squealed. All the babies born since were commonplace
in comparison with this astonishing youngster; and never,
except when the stars sang together for joy, in a chorus
that would have been well worth a shilling ticket, did
nature show such uncommon interest in any event as in
the appearance of this little lump of human dough. Nature
has probably been sorry for hei’ enthusiasm ever since. She
is not easily excited, and hei’ pace is steadier than a mule’s
But as Jove nods, nature has an occasional fling. She
went into raptures on the first Christmas, and when the
chief person born on that day made his exit from this
mortal stage she went black in the face with panic fear
or hysterical sorrow. Prom that timi she has conducted
herself with exemplary deeorum, and no doubt she is heartily
ashamed of the indiscretions and eccentricities she was
guilty of on the occasions referred to.
The story of the first Christmas ;is partly written in
certain old manuscripts, of questionable date and authorship,
which are regarded with extreme veneration by millions
of people who know next to nothing about them. But
there are many lapses and large deficiencies in the narrative,
�( 44 )
and we are authorised to supply what is wanting. We
claim infallibility, of course, yet we do not deny it to others.
Those who dissent from our version are free to make up
one of their own, and it will doubtless be as infallible as
ours. This may sound strange, but it is quite philosophical
for all that. Do not all the Churches differ from each
other, yet are they not all infallible ? Why should one
infallible man cut another infallible man’s throat or put
him in prison? Why cannot two infallible men dwell
together in the same street like two greengrocers ?
But to our story. It was the first Christmas Eve. A
donkey was patiently wending his way to Jerusalem. On
his back was seated a lady of some seventeen summers,
and by his side walked a sturdy young man. They were
husband and wife. The young man evidently belonged
to the artisan class, and his better half was in that condition
in which ladies love to be who love their lords. Both
looked forward with unusual interest to the birth of the
expected child. They had settled what name it should
be called, so there was no doubt whatever as to its sex.
The day was drawing to an end when they approached
Bethlehem. Making their way to an hotel kept by a relative
of theirs, they asked for accommodation. Mr. Isaacs shook
his head. “I am very sorry, Joe,” he said, “but we are
full up, and the worst of it is every hotel in the place is
in the same state. Over an hour ago I tried desperately
hard to oblige an old customer, a gentleman in the bacon
trade, with a bed for the night, but I tried every hotel
in Bethlehem without success. Fortunately I rigged up
a few extra beds in the stable, and he has taken one of
them. If you like another you are welcome, and egad
Joe! that’s the best I can do for you.”
“Thank you, old fellow,” said Joe, “but Mary is in a
delicate state, as you see, and I would like to fix her up
comfortably. Can’t you go in and see if there is any
gentleman who will go outside to oblige a lady ? ”
Mr. Isaacs returned in five minutes, and said it was no
use. One gentleman had a bad cold, another had the
gout, another the lumbago, and so on. Joseph and Mary
were therefore obliged to return to the stable.
�( <5 )
While Joseph was grooming the donkey Mr. Isaacs
came in and started a curious conversation. “ Joe,” he
began, “ I don’t wish to interfere with your business, but
as a relative and an old friend you will pardon me for
saying that I am a little puzzled; you have only been
married four months, and if Mary is not a mother in a
few days my name isn’t Isaacs.” Joseph did not resent
these remarks, his natural meekness being such that no
insult could evei’ disturb it. With a solemn face he replied
“ My dear Isaacs, there is nothing to pardon. Mary’s baby
is not mine. Its fathar lives in heaven. He is an angel,
or something very high there. Mary has often told me
all about it, but I have such a bad memory for details.
The fact is, however, that Jeshua—we’ve settled his name—
was conceived miraculously, as I’ve heard say some of the
great ones among the heathen were. You may smile, but
I’ve Mary’s word for it, and she ought to know.”
“ My dear fellow,” said Mr. Isaacs, “ if you’re satisfied,
of course I am. I don’t say Mary’s story would go down
with me if I were in your place, but I’ve no right to grumble
if you are contented.”
Thereupon Joseph, with a still more solemn face, replied,
“Well, I was a little incredulous myself at first, but all
my doubts were dispelled after that dream I had. I saw
an angel at my bedside, and he told me that Mary’s story
was quite correct, and I was to marry her. Some of the
neighbors chattered about a Roman soldier, called Pandera,
who used to hang about her house while I was away at
work in the south; but I regard it as nothing but gossip,
and Mary says they are a pack of liars.”
Mr. Isaacs returned to his customers in the hotel, winking
and putting his finger to his nose directly his back was
turned. Meanwhile Joseph and Mary had supper, after
which she felt very unwell, and as luck or providence would
have it, she was confined soon after twelve o’clock of a
bouncing boy. Mr. Isaacs resolutely refused to turn any
customer out of his bed, so the new comer was cradled in
a manger filled with the softest hay.
Soon afterwards a fiery kite-shaped object was seen
in the sky, advancing towards Bethlehem, and finally it
c
�( 46 )
rested on the chimney stack of Mr. Isaacs’ hotel, where
it gave such a lovely illumination that half the town turned
out to see it. Two enterprising spirits, who mounted a
ladder to inspect it closely, and if possible bring it down,
were struck as if by lightning, and were with great difficulty
restored to consciousness by the skill and efforts of a dozen
doctors.
While the people were in a state of bewilderment, six old
gentlemen appeared on the scene. They were attired like the
priests of Persia, and their venerable appearance and long
white beards filled the spectators with reverence. Only one
of them could speak Hebrew, and he acted as interpreter for
the company. “ Where,” he inquired, in a deep majestic
voice, “ is the wondrous babe who is born to-night ? We saw
his portent in the east and have followed it hithei’ nearly six
hundred miles.” Mr. Isaacs informed them that the wondrous
babe was in the stable, at which they were greatly astonished
Four of them said they must have made a mistake, and were
for going home again; but the othei’ two pointed to the
supernatural light on the hotel chimney, and after they had
consumed three bottles of Mr. Isaac’s best Eschol they all
made for the object of their search. Directly they entered
the stable, little Jeshua stood up in the manger, and eyed
them, and as they advanced he accosted them in their own
language. This removed any doubts they entertained, and
they at once knelt down and offered him the presents they
had brought with them. One gave him a cake of scented
soap, another a pretty smelling bottle, another an ivory rattle,
another a silver fork, another a gold spoon, and anothei’ a
cedar plate inlaid with pearl. Little Jeshua took the gifts
very politely, made a graceful little bow, and a neat little
speech in acknowledgment of their kindness. Then, handing
them all over to his mother, to keep till the morning, he sang
with great sweetness “ Lay me in my little bed.”
Soon after daylight some shepherds came in from the hills,
saying they had seen a ghost, who had talked to them in
enigmatical language; they could not understand exactly
what he meant, but they gathered that good times were
coming, when poor shepherds would eat mutton instead of
watching it. On hearing of what happened in the town
�( 47 )
precisely at the same time they were still more astonished.
All Bethlehem was in uproar. Everybody was talking about
little Jeshua, and the presents that were brought him by the
enthusiastic inhabitants filled three large vans when Joseph
and Mary set out again.
ADAM’S BREECHES.
Blush not, fair reader; nothing is coming to offend your
modesty. Ko doubt you have seen pictures of Adam and
Eve in the Garden of Eden, dressed in the primitive costume
of simple innocence, or, as Hans Breitmann says, “ mit.
noddings on.” And perhaps you felt the remarks of some
thick-skinned friend at your side as rather embarrassing.
But our intention is to take the Grand Old Gardener and his
wife at a later stage, when they got clothes, and laid the
foundation of all the tailors’ and milliners’ businesses in
creation.
For some time, nobody knows how long, whether six hours
or sixty years, Adam and Eve never discovered their naked
ness. It never occurred to them that more than one skin
was necessary. And as the climate was exquisite, and the
very roses grew without thorns, they had no need of over
coats or sticking-plaster. But one day they ate an apple, or
for all we know a dozen, and they and the world underwent
a change. “My dear Adam,” said Eve, “you are quite
shocking; why don’t you dress yourself?” And Adam
replied, “ My dear Eve, where is your dressing-gown ?”
Necessity is the mother of invention, and when a woman
wants a dress she will get it somehow. There was no linen
or woollen, so they had recourse to fig leaves, which were
large and substantial. Needles and thread turned up
miraculously, and Eve took to them by instinct. She sat
�( 48 )
down on a grassy mound, and worked away, stitch, stitch,
stitch, while Adam looked on with the ox-eyed stupidity of
his sex in presence of a lady engaged in this, interesting
occupation. In half an hour, more or less, she produced two
pairs of—well, yes, beeeches. The Authorised Version calls
them aprons, but we may believe it was a double-barreled
arrangement. This at any rate was the opinion of the trans
lators of the famous Breeches Bible, first published in folio in
1599, in which the seventh verse of the third chapter of
Genesis reads—“And they sowed fig-tree leaves together,
and made themselves breeches,” from which translation it has
been ingeniously argued “ that the women had as good a
title to the breeches as the men.”
There is no dispute as to the color of Adam’s breeches.
They were green. Hence that universal wit and recondite
scholar, the author of Hudibras, represents the knight’s
attendant, the worthy Ralpho, as *
For mystic learning wondrous able,
In magic Talisman and Cabal,
Whose primitive tradition reaches
As far as Adam’s first green breeches.
Such was the substance and color of Adam’s first unmen
tionables. They were soft and cool, and infinitely preferable
to the coarse articles purveyed in English bathing-machines.
But they were hardly calculated to stand the wear and tear
of the life of labor to which Adam was doomed after the Ball,
and before Jehovah evicted his tenant he took pity on the
poor fellow’s limited wardrobe. “Poor devils,” he said to
himself, “that fig-leaf arrangement won’t last them long.
It’s sure to burst the first time Adam hoes potatoes. I’ll
start them with something stronger. Perhaps the lass will
find out how to rig herself. There’s the first pond for a
looking-glass, and I guess it won’t be long before she gets
Adam to hold a skein of wool. But meanwhile I must do
something for her dolt of a husband. Yes, he shall have a
new pair of breeks.”
And Jehovah made them. Not of shoddy, or good woollen,
but stout leather. Adam changed his green breeches for
brown ones, and when he got them on he said, “ My God,
ain’t they hot1” Eve declared she would never wear a thing
�( 49 )
like that. “ I don’t waddle,” she exclaimed, “ and I won’t
look bandy.” So a committee of seven archangels was
appointed to find a fresh pattern.
Leaving Eve’s outfit alone, and confining our attention to
Adam’s, we may ask a few questions about his second pair of
breeches. Let no one object that such questions are frivolous.
Did not England ring once with tidings of O’Brien’s breeches?
And shall it be thought undignified to take an interest in
Adam’s ? Nor let any one object that such inquiries are
blasphemous. They are are obviously prompted by a spirit
of reverence. What else, indeed, could excite our curiosity
about an old pair of breeches that were worn out many
centuries before the Flood ?
What were the dimensions of Adam’s breeches ? The
Bible does not tell us his altitude, but as he lived nine
hundred and thirty years, and perhaps had a fourth of that
time to grow in, it is not surprising that the Jews regarded
him as excessively tall. His original height was incalculable;
when he stood upright his head reached to the seventh
heaven. But his appearance alarming the angels, the Lord
flattened him down to a thousand cubits. Fifteen hundred
feet, therefore, was his height before he shrank away subse
quently to his expulsion from Paradise. Consequently his
breeches must have been about eight hundred feet long, and
the circumference proportionate. Suits might have been
carved out of them for a whole regiment of Dutchmen.
What animal did Jehovah kill and flay for such an extensive
skin ? Even the mammoth would be ridiculously insufficient.
We presume, therefore, that a wholesale slaughter of beasts
took place, and that Adam’s breeches were made of a multi
tude of skins. These were, of course, of divers colors or
shades, and the garment must have borne some resemblance
(to compare great things with small) to the well-mended
trousers of a poor fisherman, blessed with a careful, industri
ous wife, who makes one pair last him her lifetime by
insinuating fresh patches as the old ones wear away.
Happily the world was not then peopled, or Adam’s life
would have been unbearable. There were no little boys,
about two hundred feet high, to pass exasperating remarks,
D
�( 50 )
such as “ Who’s your tailor ?” “ Does the missis know you’re
out ?” “ Hullo, old Patchwork !”
How long was Jehovah employed? Did he give the
breeches out in sections to the angels, and do the connections
himself? According to the Bible he made them all alone, but
we may well assume an omission in the narrative, and give
him assistance in executing such a liberal order.
How did he kill the animals that furnished the skins ? Did
they die instantaneously at his order, or did he slaughter
them with a knife and a poleaxe ? How did he dress the
skins? Were tan-pits constructed? Were the usual
chemicals employed, or did Jehovah’s science only extend to
the use of bark ?
The ingenious reader will be able to ask a number of ques
tions for himself. Our own must be brought to a close. We
have only to add that the world is impoverished by the loss
of Adam’s breeches. Those who have read Dr. Farrar’s Life
of St Paul will recollect how he sheds rhetoric and tears on
the Apostle’s old cloak. But what was that battered gar
ment in comparison with the subject of this article? Not
only were Adam’s leather breeches the first piece of tailor’swork in the world, but they were worn by the father of all of
us, and made by God himself. Such an article would be
better worth seeing than the coats of kings and emperors.
But, alas, it is lost. Yet the voice of Hope whispers it
may be found. Who knows ? “ There are more things
in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philo
sophy.” Adam’s breeches, too dilapidated for use or
decency, may have been carefully rolled up and preserved
by Seth. Perhaps they were taken into the Ark by
Noah. And when the regions of Mesopotamia are thoroughly
explored, they will perhaps be found in some deep cave
oi’ dry well, carefully wrapped in waterproof, and accu
rately ticketed. Oh what joy when they fall into the hands
of the Christian Evidence Society 1 Then will Engstrom
dance with glee, even as David danced before the Ark of
God; then will the infidel slink away disgraced and crest
fallen ; and then will the Christians cry out to the Huxleys
of the world, “ Oh ye of little faith, who denied the existence
of Adam, come and see his breeches !”
�( 51 )
THE FALL OF EVE.
Do we believe there was a first woman? Certainly not. We
are Darwinians. We cannot allow that there was a particular
female specimen among the ape-like progenitors of the human
race that could be called the first woman, any more than we
can allow that there is a particular moment when a girl
becomes a woman or a youth a man. The first woman we are
concerned with at present is Mrs. Eve, the wife of Mr. Adam,
whom Tennyson calls “ the grand old gardener,” and whose
glorious life, noble actions, and wise and witty sayings, ought
to have been recorded in the book of Genesis, only the author
forgot them. Instead of representing Mr. Adam as a grand
old gardener, the inspired biographer represents him as a
grand old fool. Like Charles II., in Rochester’s epigram,
Mr. Adam never did a wise.thing; but, unlike the merry
monarch, he never said a wise one either. A collection of
his utterances, throughout a long life extending to nearly a
thousand years, would be the smallest and baldest treatise to
be found in the whole world.
Mrs. Eve was the result of an afterthought. God did not
include her in the original scheme of things. He threw her
in afterwards as a make-weight. Poor Mr. Adam was all
alone in his glory in the Gai’den of Eden, king of the dreariest
paradise that ever existed. Monarch of all he surveyed, his
right there was none to dispute: except, perhaps, a big
maned lion, with hot carnivorous jaws, a long-mouthed
alligator, a boa-constrictor, a stinging wasp, or an uncatchable
flea. Walking abroad and surveying his kingdom, he saw
that all the lower animals had partners. Some of the males
had one wife, and some a fine harem, but none was without a
mate. Mr. Adam was the only male unprovided for, and he
was besides a poor orphan. Never had he climbed on his
father’s knee. God was his father, and his legs were too long.
Never had he felt a mother’s kiss on his brow. He watched
the amorous couples frisking about, the doves billing and
�( 52 )
cooing, and his solitary heart yearned for a partner. Lifting
up his hands to the sky, from which his heavenly parent used
occasionally to drop down for a conversation, he cried aloud,
in words that were afterwards used by poor diddled Esau,
“ Bless me, even me also, O my father.”
Day after day poor Mr. Adam pined away. In less than a
month he lost two stone in weight, and the Devil had serious
thoughts of offering to purchase him as a living skeleton for
his show in Pandemonium. At last God took pity on him.
Forgetting that he had pronounced everything good, or not
foreseeing that Moses would be so mean as to record the
mistake, he said it was not good for Mr. Adam to be alone,
and resolved to make the orphan-bachelor a wife. But how
to do it? God had’clean forgotten her, and had used up
every bit of his material. All the nothing he had in stock
when he began to make the universe was exhausted. There
was not a particle of nothing left. So God was obliged to use
over again some of the old material. He put Mr. Adam into
a deep sleep, and carved out one of his ribs. It was the first
surgical operation under chloroform. With this spare rib God
manufactured the first woman. How it was done nobody
knows, but that it was done everybody knows, except a few
wretched, obstinate, perverse infidels, who deserve imprison
ment in this life and hell-fire in the next. Why God took a
rib, instead of a leg or an arm, has never been decided; but
Christian commentators say it was to show two things; first,
that the man Bhould love the woman, as coming from neai’ his
heart, and secondly, that the woman should obey the man, as
she came from under his arm. As our Church of England
marriage service says, the husband is to love and honor his
wife, but the wife is to love, honor and obey her husband 1
Mrs. Eve was probably a very pretty creature, or the
painters have belied her; and some poets have declared that
God was so much in love with her himself, that he regretted
his pledge to give her to Adam. Her attire was remarkably
scanty, but beauty unadorned is adorned the most, and her
future husband’s wardrobe was as limited as her own. This
gentleman woke up at the proper moment, minus a rib and
plus a wife; an awkward, yet after all a pleasant, exchange.
He had never seen a woman before, but he recognised Mrs
�( 53 )
Eve as his wife straight off. It was the shortest courtship
on record.
Directly Mrs. Eve appeared the mischief began—as might
expected. Woman was made for mischief. There is mischief
in her bright eyes, and dimpled smiles, and braided hair.
She sets the world on fire; that is to say, she kindles the
energies of the lubberly creature who calls himself her
superior; makes him look spruce and lively, clean his teeth
and finger nails, put on a clean shirt, and go courting.
According to the old Hebrew story, Old Nick tempted her
to eat the forbidden apples that grew upon Jehovah’s favorite
tree in the orchard of Eden. But this is doubtless a mistake;
a legendary corruption of the original history. Women are
not fonder of apples than men; why, then, should the Devil
wait for the advent of Mrs. Eve before attempting a stroke off
business? John Milton, indeed, following in the wake of
Saint Peter, represents her as the weaker vessel; but this is
sheer nonsense, and surprising nonsense too, when we
recollect that John and Peter were both married.
There cannot be the least doubt that the Devil tempted
Mrs. Eve with a trousseau. She grew tired, and rather
ashamed, of being naked, and yearned to run up a milliner’s
bill. Besides, she noticed that her Hubby was cooling off in
his affection. He did not absolutely neglect her, but he went
fishing more frequently, and had long confabulations with
archangels, to which she was not invited, on account of the
supposed inferiority of her intellect. During the honeymoon
he could never feast his eyes enough on her loveliness; but
after the honeymoon he looked more upon the birds, the trees,
the hills, and the sky. One day, however, using a pool for a
mirror, she did up her hair, which had previously wantoned
over her shoulders. This produced a striking effect on Mr.
Adam. He started with pleasure, and the old honeymoon
look came back to his eyes. But the effect wore off in time,
and poor Mrs. Eve sighed for a fresh means of attack on his
imagination.
It was in this condition that she fell an easy prey to the
Devil. A beautiful morning filled Eden with splendor. The
branches of the trees waved in the refreshing wind ; the birds
flashed amongst them in their gay plumage; animals of
�( 54 )
every variety sported in. their cageless menagerie; and
flowers of every form and hue completed the living picture
of paradise. Mrs. Eve hung fondly upon Mr. Adam’s breast,
but he said he would go fishing, and catch something for
dinner.
When he was out of sight, Old Nick appeared in the form
of a milliner’s assistant. With a smirk and a bow he opened
fire on the citadel. From a large portmanteau he produced a
lovely wardrobe, which he laid on the grass, together with a
book of costumes ; and then withdrew while the lady dressed
herself. In a quarter of an hour she was attired like a
Parisian belle; witching and provoking, from dainty boots to
saucy hat; so that when Old Nick returned he felt downright
jealous, and cursed Mr. Adam for a dull-eyed booby.
“ What have I to pay you ?” asked the lady, with a
delighted smile. “ Nothing, madam, I assure you,” replied
the tradesman. “ It is an honor,” he continued, “ to serve
such an illustrious customer. It will bring me no end of
business in other quarters.” Then, with another smirk and
bow, he retired; exclaiming sotto voce, “ You pay me nothing,
but I guess you’ll have to pay him.11'
When Mr. Adam returned, and found his wife so exquisitely
adorned, he was unable to restrain his rapture. His passion
more than revived ; he doted on this beautiful creature. And
this led to his expulsion from Eden. Jehovah saw himself
completely cut out. When Mr. Adam should have been
casting his eyes to heaven, he was watching the flicker and
listening to the frou-frou of Mrs. Eve’s skirts on the grass;
or drinking delight from her sweet, blue eyes, as they gleamed
through the shadow of her broad-brimmed hat. “ I’ll not
stand it,” said Jehovah, and they were evicted from the
holding.
Dear Mrs. Eve! She did not fall, she rose. The incident
was misrepresented by penurious curmudgeons who hated
the sight of milliners’ bills. Without the “ fall ” of Mrs. Eve
there would have been no clothes, and consequently no
civilisation; for housos are only, as it were, extended suits of
clothes, larger garments to shield us from the weather, and
create for us a home. It was after all better to take part in
the great Battle of Life, with all its difficulties and dangers,
�(
)
than to loll about eternally in the Garden of Eden, chewing
the cud like contemplative cows. “ Doing nothing,” said a
shrewd Yankee, “ is the hardest work I know—if you keep at
it. Mrs. Eve made life more bearable by giving us some
thing, to do. And when the ladies reflect that, if she had not
fallen, and resigned nakedness for clothing, there would
have been no Worth and no Madame Louise, they will rejoice
that she turned her back on the Garden of Eden.
JOSHUA AT JERICHO.
Joshua besieged Jericho. It was a city of fifty thousand
inhabitants, and was five miles in circuit. The defenders
numbered ten thousand men of arms. They were amply
provided with slings and javelins as well as with swords for
a close encounter. Joshua’s army numbered six hundred
thousand, and swarmed on the plain like locusts.
All Jericho was astonished that Joshua’s army did not
attempt to scale the walls. Instead of doing so, they marched
round the city at a safe distance from the strongest slings.
They were headed by their priests, blowing rams’ horns, and
carrying their fetish in a box. Six days this procession
moved round Jericho, the defenders on the walls wondering
at the performance, and shouting to them to come on like
men. On the seventh day the procession went round Jericho
seven times. Seven out of the twelve priests dropped out
from sheer exhaustion, and more than half the army limped
off, faint and footsore, to their tents. Suddenly the five
remaining priests blew their horns with all the breath left in
them, the army emitted a feeble shout, and the walls of
Jericho fell down of themselves. Joshua’s soldiers imme
diately rushed into the city from all points of the compass.
The defenders who were not buried under the ruins of the
�( 56 )
walls, fought gallantly until they were all killed. Then,
with shouts of “ Jahveh, Jahveh!” the besiegers fell upon the
other inhabitants. Men, women, and children were involved
in a promiscuous massacre, Pregnant matrons were ripped
open, babies were tossed out of the windows and caught on
spears. Even the cattle were exterminated. Dogs were
thrust through, and if a few cats escaped it was only owing
to their surprising agility. Night fell upon the doomed city
and covered its bloody streets with a pall of darkness.
Joshua revelled in the king’s palace with the chiefs of
Israel. They drank the royal wines, and regretted that
Jahveh’s orders had necessitated the slaughter of the royal
wives and concubines. The rest of the army, or as many as
could be accommodated, were feasting in the various houses,
with no remorse for the day’s butchery.
But one of Joshua’s soldiers did not share the general
merriment. He was a fine young fellow of twenty-five.
Married only a year ago to a beautiful girl whom he loved
and worshipped, he had revolted at the sight of women
hacked to pieces; and when he saw babies cut and slashed,
he thought of the darling infant at his young wife’s breast,
and turned with loathing from the hideous scene. He was
now wandering about the city, having no taste for the rude
revelry of his callous companions. Suddenly, as he approached
a house nearly ruined by the fallen wall, he heard a moan
from within. He entered and saw a man’s corpse on the
floor, and bending over the body was a shapely young woman
with a baby in her arms. The dead body was that of her
husband, who had been slain in the massacre. She had crept
with her babe into a recess in the upper room, and as the
place looked a ruinous heap the savage soldiers had omitted
to search it. When all was quiet she crawled out of her
hiding-place, and for hours she bent moaning over her hus
band’s corpse.
The young Jewish soldier looked pitifully on the scene at
his feet. The woman raised her eyes to his face, and they
were so like those of his young wife! The baby, ignorant
and innocent, laughed at him and cooed. Clasping the child
to her bosom the woman was about to cry for mercy, when he
whispered, “ Hush 1 I will save you. Come with me. Take
�bread and water with you for tho journey. I will lead you
beyond the city wall, and then you must flee under cover of
the night. Michmash is only ten miles distant. You are
young and strong, and you and youi- babe will be there
before dawn.”
Cautiously they picked their way, and they were just
reaching safety when a door was flung open by a dozen
quarrelling soldiers. The light fell upon the three figures
outside. “ Hullo !” exclaimed they, “ what’s this ? Leading
the girl off, eh ? A baby, too I Were you going to adopt the
little one ? Treason, treason 1 Our order was to slay all,
and leave alive nothing that breatheth.”
The young woman was seized, and half a dozen hands were
laid on the young man, who knew resistance was useless and
therefore offered none. An houi’ later they were brought
before Joshua. The general’s eye kindled at the sight of the
woman’s beauty, but religion conquered and he resolved to
obey his God.
“ What were you doing ?” asked Joshua.
“ Helping her to escape,” answered the young soldier.
“ Why ?” asked the general.
“ Because I have a wife and child of my own, and these are
like them.”
“ Traitor 1” exclaimed Joshua, “ all three of you shall die!”
The woman shrieked, but Joshua’s sword was unsheathed,
and one sweep of his muscular arm sent it through the body
of the child deep into the mother’s breast. Then, without
wiping the bloody weapon, he raised it again. The young
soldier smiled scornfully, and his expression added fresh fuel
to the flame of Joshua’s anger. With one blow he severed
the head from the body; and standing over the three corpses,
his frame dilating with the passion of bloodshed and. piety
*
he exclaimed, “ Thus saith the Lord 1”
�(. 58 )
A
BABY
GOD.
By Thomas Scepticvs.
“Newman described closely some of the incidents of our Lord’s
passion; hethen paused. For a few moments there was a breathless
silence. Then, in a low, clear voice, of which the faintest vibration was
audible in the farthest corner of St. Mary’s, he said, ‘ Now, I bid you
recollect that He to whom these things were done was Almighty God.
It was as if an electric stroke had gone through the church, as if every
person present understood for the first time the meaning of what he had
all his life been saying.”—J. A. Froude, “ The Oxford Counter-Reforma
tion.”
J
Mr. Froude’s account of the realism of Newman’s preaching
is the best justification of the following article. It is difficult
to see why the Infancy of Jesus should not be treated in the
same manner as his Passion. If it was God Almighty to
whom those things were done on the cross, it was equally
God Almighty who was suckled and nursed by Mary of
Nazareth. And in the one'Case, as well as in the other, it is
well for men to understand the meaning of what they read
and repeat.
Eighteen hundred and ninety-one years ago, more or less,
God Almighty turned Theosophist and resolved to be in
carnated. Whether he was incarnated or re-incarnated will
depend on our acceptance or rejection of the Oriental theory
of Avatars. The time had come, which was appointed before
the foundation of the world, for the Creator of this stubborn,
accursed planet to do a great stroke for its salvation. For
four thousand years it had been going to the dogs, or rather
to the Devil. Angels and prophets had been sent to reform
it, but all in vain, and God Almighty determined to come
himself and make a last desperate effort to save this wretched
world from utter bankruptcy.
No doubt the incarnation of God is a “ mystery.” Even
those who can see through millstones are unable to under
stand it. The clergy bid us believe it by faith. Reason, they
admit, is beaten and baffled by this awful truth. Yet the
“ mystery ” is only the theological view of very simple facts.
�( 59 )
It does not alter the facts themselves. The birth, growth,
and training of Jesus were palpable occurrences, whatevei’ we
may think as to his divinity.
God Almighty decided to be born, but he also decided to
be born in an uncommon way. True, it was the way adopted
by many heroes and demi-gods of the Pagan pantheon, and
the more ancient mythologies of Egypt and India. But it
was an uncommon way as the world goes. A virgin, though
a married woman, was selected to be his mother. He worked
a miracle upon her; he become, so to speak, his own father;
and though she was at first his child, he afterwards became
hers.
The miracle ended at the moment of his conception. From
that time his incarnation followed the natural order of things.
His gestation was like another baby’s, and in due course—
for such an august birth was not to be hurried—he came into
the daylight of the world, a little red mass of helpless flesh.
He was probably tended by an old Jewish midwife, who never
suspected what she was handling. She washed him, undis
turbed by his faint squealings ; and wrapped him up in flann el,
without the faintest idea that she was manipulating God
Almighty. Had she been suddenly informed that she was
holding her Creator, she would probably have dropped him
in a fright and injured his spine.
Presently the midwife’s services were dispensed with, and
Mary had the baby to herself. She nourished God Almighty
at her breast, for feeding-bottles were not then invented, and
the divine child ©&uld scarcely be passed over to a wet nurse
—perhaps a bouncing, big-eyed Jewess who had suffered a
“ misfortune.”
Here we must pause to ^quarrel with Christian painters.
They are too idealistic. They scorn honest realism. Never do
they depict this baby God at his lacteal repast. He always looks
as if fed six weeks in advance. Perhaps they think a mother’s
suckling her child, which even old Cobbett called the most
beautiful and holy sight on earth, is beneath the dignity of
the subject. But the baby God went through these little
experiences, with the regularity and pleasure of a common
infant. Facts, gentlemen, are facts; and to ignore them is
fraud or hypocrisy.
�( 60 )
According to the story of the raising of Lazarus, Jesus wept,
though we never read that he laughed; in fact, he appears to
have been a remarkably serious young man. May be, how
ever, he smiled now and then in Mary’s arms ; anyhow, it is
safe to say he cried. We may presume he went through all
the infantile processes like the rest of us ; otherwise his being
born on earth as a human being, was a mockery, a delusion,
and a snare.
God Almighty mewled and puked in Mary’s arms. He
screamed when he was angry or cross, or when his little
stomach was overcharged, or when a nasty pin was pricking
him. He cooed when he was happy and comfortable. He
kicked his legs aimlessly, dashed his little fists into space,
scratched his little nose, and filled his mouth with his fingers.
A million to one he largely increased the family washing-bill.
By and bye God cut his teeth, and had pimples and rash.
Probably he had the measles. Eighteen hundred years later
he would have been vaccinated. Nasty stuff from another
baby’s arm, or from an afflicted calf, would have been inserted
in the arm of God Almighty.
Later on God Almighty crept about on all fours with his
stern higher than his front. Then he stood upright by a
chair and learned to walk by means of the furniture. Fre
quently he fell down upon the part he displayed to Moses.
He stole into Joseph’s workshop, and God Almighty cut his
fingers with chisels and jack-planes. Now and then he sat
on a saw, and got up with undignified haste. God Almighty
also learned to talk. At first you couldn’t tell whether he
was talking Sanskrit, Hebrew, Greek, or North Ameriean
Indian. But he improved as he went along, and God
could at last speak as good Hebrew, with a Galilean accent,
as any other juvenile of the same age.
Finally, God Almighty went to school, where bigger boys
fagged him and sometimes punched his head. It is con
ceivable that God Almighty bled at the nose and wore a
black eye.
All this is very “ blasphemous.” But whose is the “ blas
phemy ” ? Not ours. We do not believe in the deity of
Jesus Christ. The “ blasphemy ”—and in this case it is real
blasphemy—lies at the door of those who say that Mary’s
�( 61 )
baby was very God of very God. All we have done is to
follow Newman’s example; and as he dwelt on the facts of
the Crucifixion, so we have dwelt on the facts of Christ’s
infancy. We have only related what must have happened.
Who dares dispute it ? No one. The very idea is an
absurdity. Why then should we be reviled ? Is it not the
function of true art to hold the mirror up to nature ? And
is not this the head and front of our offending ? We have
simply taken the Christian at his word. We have assumed
that he believes what he professes. We have accepted the
dogma that the deity was born of the Virgin Mary; we have
followed, step by step, his infantile career ; and we exclaim
“ Christians, behold your God !”
We decline responsibility for what the mirror reflects. We
merely hold it up. And this we shall continue to do. Here
and there we shall arrest a superstitionist and make him
think about his faith; and that will console us for all the
insults and sufferings we have experienced in the service of
Truth.
JUDAS ISCARIOT.
A Sermon by the Rev. Francis Subtle.
The subject of our sermon this evening is a character that
has almost universally been held up to hatred and contempt.
Artists have invariably represented him as ill-looking and
malignant. His very hair has been painted red as the symbol
of treachery; and this fact has been seized upon by one of
the greatest of English satirists, who described a bookseller
with whom he quarrelled as having
Two left legs and Judas-colored hair.
On the other hand, however, Judas has been partially vin
�( 62 )
dicated by Thomas De Quincey and Benjamin Disraeli; and a
clergyman of our own Church of England has made him the
hero of a Romance, in which the sin of Judas is treated as the
precipitancy of a worldly-minded man, who only desired to
hasten the temporal reign of our Blessed Savioi’ as King of
the Jews.
It will be my duty this evening to expain to you the real
character of Judas; what were his motives in the betrayal of
his Master; and what part he actually played in the mighty
and mysterious drama of the crucifixion of the Son of God.
But before I proceed with this task I must pause to rebut
an infamous piece of scoffing which I recently met with in an
infidel publication. You will remember that among the
brothers of Jesus, according to the flesh, was one bearing the
name of our Lord’s betrayer. Now the infidel writer
referred to indulged in the impious surmise that Judas, the
brother of Jesus, and Judas, the betrayer of the Son of God,
were one and the same person ; and that it was so arranged
by Jehovah, with the Jewish econony that might be expected
of him, in order to keep the blood-money in the family.
Such a wicked speculation will naturally horrify this devout
congregation; and I only mention it, first to show you what
awful blasphemy is still allowed by the too-indulgent laws of
this nation, and secondly to contradict the foolish idea that
the two Judases in the Gospels were identical. They were
entirely different persons, beloved; and you must so regard
them if you hope to be saved.
Let us now return to our proper subject. And first let me
clear away certain difficulties that beset my path at the very
outset.
When the Savior partook of the Last Supper with his dis
ciples he remarked, “ I have chosen you twelve, and one of
you is a Devil.” Now this is clear and emphatic, and is usually
regarded as decisive of the character of Judas. And, indeed,
it would be so, if our Lord always spoke as God. But he
sometimes spoke as Man. When he prayed in Gethsemane
that the cup of agony might pass from him, and when he
cried out on the cross “ My God, my God, why hast thou for
saken me ?” it was the expression of his human infirmity, not
the voice of his divine omnipotence. And so, when he called
�( 63 )
Judas a Devil, he spoke with the passion of a mortal man,
who knew that he must die, yet relucted at martyrdom, and
was wroth with the human instrument of his fate. In the
same way we must understand the references to Judas as
being possessed by Satan. The evangelists followed the lead
of their Master; and on this occasion, as on others in the
Gospels, they somewhat misunderstood his language.
After this it will not be expected that I should be deterred
by the reference to Judas in the Acts of the Apostles, or by
the denunciations of the early Fathers. No age is ever per
fect in the interpretation of Scripture. From time to time a
fresh light is shed upon its holy pages, and one of these
flashes of heavenly illumination (as I humbly opine) has
enabled me to see in the story of Judas what has been hidden
for so many centuries from the greatest and most penetrating
divines of the Church of Christ,
It is evident to my apprehension that Judas was not insti
gated by malicious motives. Evidently, however, he had a
disposition to think for himself; and is it any wonder that
*
finally, he ventured to act for himself ? He was the only one
of the twelve disciples that ever criticised his Master. It is
recorded that when a certain woman anointed the Savior’s
head with a precious alabaster box of ointment, Judas inquired
“ Why was not this sold for much money, and given to the
poor ?” He had heard his Master enjoin the selling of pro
perty, and the giving of the proceeds to the poor; and to his
short-sighted understanding it appeared that his Master had
violated his own teaching. This was presumptuous on his
part; he had no right to criticise his Lord; yet his presump
tion was not malignancy; on the contrary, it would seem that
he was afflicted at the thought of wasting what might have
alleviated the miseries of indigence.
Humanly speaking, this presumption of Judas was the
motive of his apparent treachery. It is idle to suppose that
he would have sold his Master for the paltry sum of thirty
half-crowns if he were merely driving a selfish bargain. A
hundred times—yea, perhaps a thousand times—that amount
might have been exacted from the Jewish Sanhedrim as the
price of one whom they were so anxious to remove. Judas
forewent that price; he took only £3 15s. at the very highest
�( 64 )
estimate ; and his abstention from the fair profit of treachery
must be accounted for on other than mercenary grounds.
What was his motive then ? Why this. He observed the
reluctance of Jesus to go to Jerusalem; his shrinking from
his approaching death; his desire to turn away, if possible,
from the bitter cup. Nay, the very fact that Jesus, after
going to Jerusalem, only spent the daytime in the holy city,
and repaired by night to a place of shelter beyond the walls,
was a clear indication to Judas that, even at the eleventh
hour, his Master might fly from danger. Accordingly he
resolved to push him over the brink of the precipice. He took
a small sum of money from the Sanhedrim to give his action a
color of sincerity, and then led an armed party to arrest his
Master. Thus the death of Jesus was assured, and with it
the success of the great scheme of Redemption.
But why, it will be asked, did Judas bring back the money
in a fit of repentance, and afterwards hang himself? The
obvious answer is, that his mind suffered a reaction. His
courage sustained him to the critical point; then it deserted
him, and left him a prey to afflicting ideas of his Master’s
sufferings. He hated himself, loathed the sight of the
money, and, in a paroxysm of despair, laid violent hands
upon his own life.
Thus did Judas share to the very end in the drama of the
Crucifixion. He died as well as his Master. Both of them
were, indeed, under a divine compulsion. Jesus had to be
crucified, and Judas had to betray him, otherwise there would
have been no crucifixion. Presumptuous as the act of Judas
was, speaking humanly, it was divinely appointed for the
salvation of mankind. Think, beloved, oh think, what must
have happened if Judas had not played his part. Christ
would not have died to save us, and we should all have been
damned! Let us, therefore, cease railing at this misunder
stood character; let us remember that he was indispensable
to the Redemption; let us treasure his memory as that of an
illustrious benefactor; let us anticipate the time when his
name will be added to the calendar, and the loftiest of saints
will be Saint Judas Iscariot.
��Works by G. W. Foote.
“THE FREETHINKER”
Edited by G. W. FOOTE.
Circulates throughout the World.
Published every Thursday.
R. Fordcr, 28 Stonecutter Street, London, EC.
2
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Bound in cloth
... 1
Is Socialism Sound ? ... 1
Four Nights’ Public De
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Darwin on God ...
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Reminiscences of Charles
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Three Hours’ Address to
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Coleridge.
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0 Christianitvand Progress 0
Reply to Mr. Gladstone.
Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy 0
, A Candid Criticism.
Secularism & Theosophy 0
Rejoinder to Mrs. Besant.
The New Cagliostro ... 0
6
Open Letter to Madame
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Blavatsky.
The Folly of Prayer ... 0
The Impossible Creed ... 0
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Open Letter to Bishop
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Salvation Syrup, or Light
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6 What, Was Christ ?
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The Shadow of the Sword 0
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A Moral and Statis ical
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Essay on War.
3 Royal Paupers ...
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0 The Dying Atheist
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4 Was Jesus Insane ?
Is the Bible Inspired ?... 0
A Criticism of Mt® Mundi.
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double, numbers
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A Reply to the Grand
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Bon. W. E Gladstone's
�
Dublin Core
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Title
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Comic sermons and other fantasias
Creator
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Foote, G. W. (George William) [1850-1915]
Description
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 64 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Contents: A sermon on summer -- A mad sermon -- A sermon on sin -- A bishop in the workhouse -- A Christmas sermon -- Christmas Eve in Heaven -- Bishop Trimmer's Sunday diary -- The Judge and the Devil -- Satan and Michael -- The first Christmas -- Adam's breeches -- The fall of Eve -- Joshua at Jericho -- A baby God -- Judas Iscariot. Stamp of M. Steinberger,4, 5 & 6 Great St Helens, London E.C., on front cover. Works by author listed on back cover. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Publisher
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R. Forder
Date
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1892
Identifier
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N233
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Sermons
Free thought
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Comic sermons and other fantasias), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
Type
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Text
Language
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English
Free Thought
Humour
NSS
Sermons