1
10
28
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/b992f62ac328edb2edbacfaf5d83368e.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=MmSzWocLZ0bfPcjbMk3Vt1SNfyMbkIwSNn8lrpnEziWsCInV7MC44t93IK4P50gBfBGqkzQfJUmVfRZ6wcgiidmGN2m6DCl4YZGfkp2CbCyE-NPDbGwcDu3QrQSlZ-4ApSCjWovL61pw0S4RWG894ZIFLWo-MGCPu0yapZoTJdCWqVpviNLC%7EP%7Ett8KzVFdTs45GRKcslyxdyv1DNg5DFxbKKhDTVbr4tXfmTtsxWq6PA-bX9IOdMYGCV5T5M8pYwAFsOHwZE9223AV-AAGNu8FhP--YQEiee2Woyb41qdujeni65LoDJnaBKU073FGfhe8hZ8epYyM56Yz-50mK8w__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
bb53940334eed682cfe94a41e3191bed
PDF Text
Text
“THE DUTY OF INSTRUCT
ING THE CONSCIENCE.”
A SERMON
PREACHED AT ST. GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM PLACE,
AUGUST 18th, 1872. BY A
CLERGYMAN
of the
CHURCH
of
ENGLAND.
*
[From the Eastern Post, August 24tZi, 1872.]
On Sunday last, in the absence of Mr Voysey, a Minister of the
Church of England officiated, and preached on “The Duty of In
structing the Conscience,” taking for his text, Romans xiv., pt. of
23,—“ For whatsoever is not of faith is sin.”
Some persons have understood this statement to mean that all
actions are in their nature sinful that do not spring from a
principle of Christian faith ; i.e. that all the works of unbelievers
“ have the nature of sin,” as the 13th Article of the Church of
England says. Whatever Divines, however, may allege for this
theory, it must be evident from a consideration of the whole scope
of the chapter, that St. Paul here means nothing of the kind.
He is treating of persons who are in doubt as to the lawfulness or
unlawfulness of certain proceedings ; though he himself, he says,
is persuaded of their lawfulness or indifference, yet it would be
wrong for anyone to do them who thinks them unlawful, “ for
whatsoever is not of faith is sin i.e. whatever action is ventured
on without a full persuasion of its rightfulness is wrong in the
doer of it; which is no more than what Cicero tells us when he
says, “ Nothing ought to be done concerning which you doubt,
whether it may be rightly done.” The declaration of Paul, there
fore, comes to this, that in any case it must be wrong to act
against the persuasion of one’s own conscience. A statement which
�THE DUTY OF INSTRUCTING THE CONSCIENCE.
none of us would be likely to deny, for if one doubts of the recti
tude of an action, to persist in it notwithstanding such doubt
argues a deliberate carelessness as to whether one’s actions are
right or she contrary, and as to the criminality of such conduct,
I think there is no room for difference of opinion.
But then arises the question, can we be always sure that when
we act on the prompting of conscience we are certainly right ?
That is, are the affirmative dictates of conscience a safe guarantee
of the rectitude of actions ? Experience, I think, compels us to
answer this question in the negative. To do what our conscience
forbids is clearly wrong; but it by no means follows
that to do what our conscience prompts is clearly right.
Although subjectively a man may be held guiltless who has
acted conscientiously, and yet erroneously, yet objectively
it is evident the action itself derives no sanction from the edict of
conscience. And since experience has so often taught us this
lesson of the defectiveness of conscience, it is a question whether
a man can be held guiltless who gratuitously makes his own con
science the measure of actions beyond his personal and proper
sphere. Certainly he cannot be acquitted of arrogance and pre
sumption.
Examples of the fallibility of conscience crowd upon us from all
quarters. Louis IN., perhaps the most sincerely conscientious man
that ever existed, made no scruple in robbing heterodox bankers.
Many a one has conscientiously persuaded a Hindoo widow into sui
cide. It is needless to rake history for instances of this kind, espe
cially as common experience shows us the same thing every day. A
pious family in Tyburnia thinks it wrong to open the ipiano on
Sundays, when an equally pious family in Saxony finds its con
science unwounded in listening through the harmless afternoon to
the public band, playing Straus’s Waltzes. In fact, conscience
changes with the latitude; the incoherent collection of sentiments
which a man calls his conscience, North of the Tweed, forms a
curious contrast with the equally heterogeneous convictions of
dwellers South of the Seine.
Some persons endeavour to evade objections of this sort'
against the absolute authority of conscienc, by alleging that
there is pre-supposed a belief in God and goodness. But it is
evident this is only shifting the difficulty from one shoulder to
the other; for what is your standard of goodness ? ’ Goodness is
�THE DUTY OF INSTRUCTING THE CONSCIENCE.
what your conscience approves,—and conscience is your opinion
with respect to what constitutes goodness. We are, you perceive,
going round in a circle. It has been shown by numberless reasoners
that there is no innate infallible test on these matters ; morals have
varied from age to age according to the world’s progress, and their
historical developement is as traceable as that of the intellect.
Now what is the result of all this ? Not as some of the Sophists
once alleged an utter Scepticism as to the difference between
right and wrong, nor a denial of the utility and authority of con
science in her proper sphere. Nothing we have said affects the
validity of the rule of St. Paul and Cicero with which we set out,
that where we are not fully persuaded of the rectitude of an action,
to do it is wrong. But the confession of the errors to which
conscien ce is liable, at once involves the positive duty of informing
the conscience ; if, as some say, conscience is the great judge in the
human breast, it must certainly be as much our interest as our
duty to see that the judge is as fully instructed as possible ; it
becomes a man’s duty in short to convince himself of the correct
ness of his creed, by examining its grounds and weighing sub
stantial objections against it. Our creed is to our conscience as the
motive power and governing-wheel to a machine. Conscience
prompts us to act in such or such a manner because of certain
beliefs and opinions. As a sweet stream will not flow from a
bitter fountain, so neither can a truth-loving and charitable con
science result from a bitter creed, when such creed is personally
realised.
Now it does'not appear to me thatthe partisans of rational religion
can be justly charged with failing in this duty of enlightening the
conscience, sincethedifferenceswhichnowdistinguish them from the
rest of the community have mainly1 arisen from their endeavour
ing to seek out the grounds on which the judgments of conscience
are founded. But here we come upon a curious anomaly, the
rationalists who do not consider a correct creed the most important
thing in the world, at any rate they do not think an incorrect one
a damning matter, they are most scrupulous in examining the
round of their conclusions; while the orthodox, who for the most
part think correctness of belief of vital necessity, who even venture
in their public proclamations to put forth such declarations, as,
“Whosoever will be saved before all things, it is necessary that he
hold this,” and “furthermore it is necessary to everlasting salvation
�THE DUTY OF INSTRUCTING THE CONSCIENCE.
that he also believe rightly that,” these orthodox, who thus stickle
for exactness of creed, discountenance that free enquiry and re
search by which only exactness can be arrived at, and while pro
claiming the peril of error denounce the processes by which error is
to be avoided. No one at all acquainted with the subject can deny
that the most prominent representatives of orthodoxy withstand
free enquiry, and too often decry and calumniate its advocates,
They ^commonly represent that hesitation, and doubt, which are
the parents of enquiry; “are diabolical temptations bombshells. as
a certain prelate called them, from the camp of Satan shot into the
citadel of the soul. The mass of their followers readily accept this
representation, they have been .content to take their creed whole
sale, as it was provided for them in infancy, and no more think of
enquiring into its evidence than into that of their nationality. In
face of piled up masses of evidence, increased bj every newspaper
which brings tidings from other lands, all evincing the conflict of
human judgments and the variation of that moral thermometer,
which men call conscience, they congratulate themselves on re
taining their old-fashioned weather-glass, which persistently points
to “set fair” in all weathers. Like a boy’s watch, more for show
than use, it is all the same to them that it never shows the right
hour. They refuse to be told that as far as keeping time goes, as
far as answering to outward facts, their machine is perfectly use
less. They are careless as to its use and object, while they glory
in its possession. The very object of a creed and a conscience is to
discriminate the true from the untrue, the right from the wrong,
like the needle of a hand-compass, whichever way you turn, it
should always find its way round to the north, but they have fixed
their needle down for the rest of the voyage, and wherever borne
still consider it a safe indicator of their course- But Niccea is no
more a perpetual test of truth than the letter N of the real north.
The magnetic current of the universe is. the heaven-sent force
which sways the living needle round to the pole, as the heavendirected onward march of humanity is the invincible attraction
which leads the eye of a living faith to the never setting star of
truth. But the orthodox sometimes endeavour to vindicate the
wisdom and conscientiousness of their refusal to entertain enquiry
by affirming for themselves “our conscience is fully informed
already, complete instructions were laid down for us, and the
limits of its safe exercise determined long ago by wise men, who
�THE DUTY OF INSTRUCTING THE CONSCIENCE.
went into all these matters you wish us to re-open; we feel quite
sure of the correctness of this judgment, and. do not consider
ourselves bound to enter upon enquiry <on our own account.” All
we can reply is, if this is'what your teachers tell you to rely on,
you are buildiug on a simple historical fallacy, which an hour’s
honest reading will enable the most illiterate to refute. Your
wise men, you say, went into thfese matters, why how many hundred
new matters have entered the mental spectrum since your latest
creed was manufactured. Why, man, since your old theory of the
universe was concocted, an absolutely new world has come
into existence; Columbus has sailed the waters, and
a new race has been planted in the West, while scholarship
and commerce have lifted the curtains of the east, have broken
the slumber of centuries, and disclosed to us vast churches and
religions which your sages never dreamt of. In the writings of
those old-world teachers you may find the most difficult problems
of religion and philosophy treated, and theories on which your
best doctors are still unsettled, estimated, argued out, exploded,
and thrown away ages before yofir venerable patriarchs had
mastered the rudiments of grammar. While your Western
fathers and schoolmen were blundering in bad .Latin, and still
innocent of Greek—ay ! even before Greece herself had a philoso
phical literature—the problems had long been squeezed dry, over
which some of your orthodox Divines are still addling their brains,
You would not choose to sail the globe by a -chart constructed on
their- limited knowledge, whose whole world lay round the Medi
terranean, and which was adapted to the voyage of the good ship
Argo. But youT spiritual chart is just about as much in accord
ance with modern discovery, and bears about as exact a relation to
truth and reality.
This then is the answer we give to our orthodox friends—this is
the challenge that is borne to them, whether they will hear or
whether they will forbear, not merely from a few liberal thinkers
here in London, but from every corner of thd intellectual and civi
lised world. We say, that your old theory of existence, your in'
fallible book, your exclusive creeds are totally inconsistent with
the truth and reality of things-. They cannot anyhow be made
to square with the patent phenomena of the universe. We do not,
of course, presume to say that you are bound to accept what one or
another of us, may offer you in their place, but we say you are
�THE DUTY OF INSTRUCTING THE CONSCIENCE,
hound to examine, to inquire, to inform yourselves; that you
cannot, as honest men, ignore the voices and the light pressing
upon you from every side; that it is impossible for you to keep a
safe and candid conscience while you resolutely blind its eyes and
close its ears,
I do not, indeed, affirm of the orthodox that their conscience
is always as narrow as their written creed ; in various ways the
creed has submitted to a sort of smoothing down of its more horrescent parts—fashionable lectures on science and language have
loosened a few misconceptions, have accustomed them to bear a
little light, and the general tone of society encourages a certain
laxity. It is notorious, moreover, that some have arrived at the
stage of “ making believe to believe.” But this, it appears to me,
makes their conduct all the more disingenuous, they have seen
enough light through the chinks to certify them that there is much
more behind if they would only draw the curtain, but yet when
their theories are challenged they immediately recur to the old
barriers, they deny or prevaricate their former concessions, they
count those as enemies who would be their friends, and excite a
prejudice where they are at a loss for an argument; they bolster
up with all their might those institutions and societies which
carry on the war against enlightenment a outranee. If they were
truly conscientious, the light they have attained would at least
lead them earnestly to examine the asserted unsoundness of their
belief. But the very fact of being in their secret heart suspicious
of the validity of their creed, seems to make them all the more
angry with those who would call their attention to it.
As I explained last Sunday, I can make every allowance for that
natural apprehension with which some view any kind of change,
nor do I think that the less wealthy of the middle-class, whose
time and energies are so severely taxed, are to be blamed if they
are not the first in'encountering such inquiries, or removing the
obstacles which hinder the progress of truth. But what are we
to say of those who labour under no such impediments, who
have great opportunities for enlightenment, whose time even
often hangs wearily on their hands for want of useful employment,
who many of them have more than a shrewd suspicion of the
groundlessness of the popular orthodoxy, who yet not only decline
all candid enquiry themselves, but do all they can to make enquiry
difficult and dangerous for others.
�THE DUTY OF INSTRUCTING THE CONSCIENCE.
We can understand the feeling which resents in others that
activity of mind to which they feel themselves disinclined, we can
even feel a certain sympathy with that love of ease and quiet which
dreads the noisy invasion of religious and social problems,—(were
it not for overwhelming evidence that shows that ere long these
problems will seek a solution in a way they most dislike,)—but we
cannot understand that they should consider this a mark of
conscientiousness, that they should even pretend they are paying
a deference to conscience when they decline the opportunity of
enlightenment, when they refuse to hearken to the injunctions of
their own Apostle St. Paul. For how can a man “prove all things”
and study, as St. Paul says, to “have a conscience void of offence
towards God and towards men”, who is indifferent to the distinction
between sham and reality, who refuses evidence, who is careless
whether or no the light in him be darkness, or how great is that
darkness. If they simply deny that it is their duty to enlighten
their conscience and that they accept the consequences, then
of course we have nothing more to say to them except
that they deny the very basis on which Christianity
itself professes to rest. When Christianity was first preached, it
was professed to be an appeal to every man’s conscience in the sight
of God, Why had not those who refused to listen to evidence in
that day, as good an excuse as those who refuse in this ?
After all, however, it might be but small concern to the more
reflecting part of the community that the orthodox should
acquiesce in an unillumined conscience, and shape their lives on
baseless theories, if they would be content to restrain its exercise
to their own concerns, and simply forbear themselves from doing
that of which they doubt the legality. But this would never
satisfy them. Not happy in a monopoly of darkness, they seek to
make it universal. The languid crowds of orthodoxy throng the
fashionable churches, and strive to spread their system everywhere;
too listless for the intellectual exertion to which we call them,
their interest is, however, excited when it is a question of lording
it over God’s heritage and dictating to other men’s faith, and
they subscribe their handsome sums, to those favoured religious
societies whose chief ambition it is to run down, persecute, mulct
of their honest gains, and if possible, ruin every soul within their
reach who has shown the slightest sympathy with freethought.
The faithful now-a-days, instead of keeping their conscience to its
�THE DUTY OF INSTRUCTING THE CONSOIE
E.
proper office of checking their own. acts, and restraining the judg
ment for which prejudice disqualifies them, make it the chief ex
cuse for interfering with others- Gne man’s conscienc is wounded
because someone else sees fit' to use the post-office on
Sunday, another man has severe inward searchings because his
neighbour likes toitake a glass of beer. There is hardly a path
of life into which they do not intrude their conscientious scruples;
they would certainly have a stroh'ger plea for their interference
if they tried earnestly to enlighten their conscience. As it is
they upset the world with blunderihg efforts to make their narrow
notions the measure of other men’s faith and .practise, and then
when their ignorant and injudicious missionaries have embroiled
themselves with offended governments, they expect European
fleets and armies to fly to the rescue, and carry out their delusive
gospel at the point of the bayonet.' Certainly before trying to make
their notions palatabledo the numberless votaries of Buddha and
Brahm, they should furnish a solid answer to the objections raised
on their own hearth. Butit has beena comm on mse of superannuated
despots, ecclesiastical and other by enterprise abroad, to divert
attention from defects and collapse ' at home. It was during the
throes of the Reformation, for instance that the Roman Church
set on foot its missions t0 China, India, Japan and elsewhere.
This much . may suffice to show the plain duty of every man to
try and inforni his conscience, both:oh account of the truth which
he thus may require himself; and as restraining that unwarrant
able interference with the rights of others, and those harsh judg
ments against which both Christ and the Apostles protest.
The consideration of the best mode of instructing the conscience
would be ample material for a separate discourse. I will conclude
therefore with a passage which affords some indication of the
true method, from the works of a> renowned political writer and
patriot lately deceased.
“ God;‘the Father and Educator of
Humanity, reveals his law to Humanity’ through Time and
Space. Interrogate-the' traditions- bf Humanity, which is the
Council of yohr .brother, mfen, hot hi the restricted circle of an
age or sect? but in ‘all ages, and in a; majority of mankind past aDd
present. Whensoever that; con sent .bf humanity Corresponds with
the teachings of-your own conscience; you are certain of the
truth, certain of having’read ope lint) of thelaw of God?"
�
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
The duty of instructing the conscience. A sermon preached at St. George's Hall, Langham Place, August 18th,1872, by a clergyman of the Church of England.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1872?]
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
CT9
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [s.n.]
Collation: [8] p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: From the Eastern Post, August 24th, 1872. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Text taken from Romans xiv, pt. of 23 - 'For whatsoever is not of faith is sin'.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
[Unknown]
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
[s.l.]
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 (The duty of instructing the conscience. A sermon preached at St. George's Hall, Langham Place, August 18th,1872, by a clergyman of the Church of England.), 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
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Conscience
Conway Tracts
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/67d864d05211734c2e49fd8437d9e273.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=IrmqOEV-JpR56JYcdP67cAo0%7EqTFjkABAb4v-vaQh2qWxBir5Nw0C84SFIdQnYKDGS1M8g9gAmoniUpyeTlcUcxtbBjh0CElB65NAZVoJJJWjtXe8qvdcXsk4ZqAVW3JofRVB-KxgBWAUCx4RgnR6ihpFJu-O7PIhMJaiPja7CAkLOn58D2l9v537%7E79z67r7D8ct225TbgCjIe8FbD3sbZxVBIkKKx4gQwjKe6L-Jr0IESH5HeGso5Eetf%7EYGjiZeVuIbb-Cs-PnKis0sch7uKVgq76qKbjWWukFTJgDGyEIXQQTUICcu2Hr5ashi2AndJniXEijgECUrYD8TD6Qw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
1cafac67059f05f18ffd6a50674b7423
PDF Text
Text
“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.
�
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
"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
Description
An account of the resource
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
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
[Eastern Post]
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1873]
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
G5372
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
[Unknown]
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 ("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), 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
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Subject
The topic of the resource
Sermons
Conway Tracts
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/76008200552ac23068353fbfb2ad74c2.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=pRoiouV7YGA%7E%7EBEt0ayOAgr9Gh2U23vHDIeBsOg1VcQcXcAxTQ5W-JFrWgGHrROnEX7ADg8NY-HGjqX5J-K-Ubmn2fKDP-wUkmiqIR0WIqOyemG%7Ey4rWbjzfS-GMbyVwqVLWgaRndFQOgE7uoCHr9UvyYTeTxD4uR2otrGM8tgrqup0Et-GF837g-XDWb0%7EZhUn7SlANlfQV4Ud04tuJLDTq9798pbFWbFfSriwiIUN8tZ1XloCNHyUXwGErAp1Udnq%7E72vXGnf%7EBNAQfJ8kZvmgO5CVGr5mbUWbxnANaOUomg76ErafQXFF-EWyS2j89xTtonP9ZNQXaO9Jb9FP1A__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
5e10d2029c3891fab7ea4838b210c045
PDF Text
Text
DISCOURSE
Believe olgrnE
and thou shat.t
be saved.—JLcis xvi, 31.
Such was the burden of the first teaching of the Re
ligion upon wh^M^^^^^fe/bjMMisten d om is based.
Its first mi|^H^ appeared, declaring to all men, both
small
thajMMjtedoe^^S. in one Jesus of
Nazareth they would be saved.
What precisely was in
when they thus
talked of being saved, I do not undertake to say. But the
fact that, believing in Jesus, a man was delivered from evil
inclin%tiffl|n^Bb'e|^faB^^^Eel|i|hioned after a new
and high
jSp^ind humane, became conscious!
not only of a sense of safety, but of an ineffable peace of
mind, such as he had never known before,—this fact, I
do venture to say, was a salvation in the fullest meaning
of the word. If
teachySwhad any other mean
ing than thislfflcmM not possibly have been anything
better, nor so good. E®was a salvation worth giving
one’s life for.
It was strikingly illustrated in those first teachers them
selves. From being private, obscure persons, they became
�4
FAITH IN CHRIST
through their faith in Christ men of extraordinary mark,
of indomitable energy, stirring the world with their speech,
Fforming everywhere associations of men that gradually
■’evolutionized empires, and, notwithstanding manifold
(sufferings, conscious all the while of a joy that made the
prisons into which they were thrown ring with their glad
hymns.
The same thing wag shown also in great numbers of
their followers, both men and women, in old men and
tender girls, who, for their faith in Christ, with perfect
composure, nay, with an air of triumph, confronted the
horrors of the Roman theatrAl where they were flung to
be consumed in flames or torn in pieces by wild beasts.
Is it not, then, a matter of great interest to ascertain
how and why it was thatlwith faith in Christ, there came
so vital a change, so great a gaBation ?
And it is the more, interesting because there is still in
these days what bears the same name, Faith in Christ.
Whole nations are professing it. But it is not attended
by anything like the same Effects. Thousands signify
their profession of it bwolemn forms, but, between them
and others, what difference is there to see to, unless it be
that of the two, the latter are oftentimes the more agree
able in their manners^ and the more trustworthy in affairs,
while the former are noted chieflv for a punctilious oblervance of certain forms and a Scrupulous abstinence from
certain social amusements^ Beyond this, what now passes
for Christian Faith shows no remarkable force. It does
not keep the heart pure, nor save it from being eaten out
by pride, and intolerance, and a greed for money, that
�FAITH IN CHRIST
5
leads men to do the meanest things and the hardest. It
is no salvation from an abject deference to the way of the
world, or from the fanatical ambition which is driving so
many to sacrifices self-resp@cteihonor, and conscience to a
brilliant appearance and to social position. Does our
modern faith in Christ inspire any special enthusiasm for
Humanity, or what efforts in that behalf does it prompt,
save in fashionable ways, and- by popular methods, sub
scribing money and the liH3| It neither renders people
more amiable, nor gives them the cheerful air of a great
peace and joy in their believing.
Surely if our faith Md that ancient faith are one and
the same thing, it has undergone in this respect a mighty
change. It no longer saves men in the old-fashioned way.
It is claimed for it that it saves them from future and
eternal torments. I do not know about that. It certainly
does not, what it once did, save them now. Whence this
great difference ? What made the old faith such a power ?
The first thingEl J)
as Helping us to an
answer to thiMueswonT is this : in those early times faith
in Christ was n(ai)O|uSE safe, but very unpopular
and very unsafe. Indeed it was as much as a man’s life!
was worth, so much as to whisper the name of Christ with
respect in the car of his b(j§rm friend. It instantly ex
posed him to be shunned, pointed at, informed against
by his nearest of kin, put in peril of being hooted atJ
mobbed, stoned to death in the street.
What then is the conclusive presumption ? Why that
no one in his senses could then have been found believing
in Christ, unless he had been so mightily moved thereto
�6
FAITH IN CHRIST
that he could not for his life help it, unless there had
entered into him a power sharper than any two-edged
sword, piercing to the marrow. Understanding, heart,
conscience, all that was within him, must have wrought
to create in him faith in Christ. What else was there to
induce a man to believe in Christ? Everything else,
every interest in life, wen directly and most powerfully
*
the other way, to drive men off, as they valued their lives,
from so much as looking at his alleged claims. His
bare name was odious in the extreme, a great deal worse
than the name of Abolitionists some few years ago, and
that was bad enough, as you all know. It stood for
everything hateful, for the rankest Atheism, for the turn
ing of the world upside down, for deadly hatred of gods
and men.
The Christian Faith of those days, therefore, must have
been a most intimate personal conviction. It could have
been nothing else. It was not a hearsay, a tradition, nor
a phrase. It was no fancy. There was nothing to catch
the fancy about a man who had suffered the vilest of
deaths, but everything to shock and repel the fancy. It
was not a mere opinion. . Neither was it a faith which a
man might assert that he had, but did not know for cer
tain. It was the genuine thing, Faith, nothing less or
other.
Now we all know that Faith, properly so called, is one
of the greatest forces, if not the very greatest force, in all
known nature. It is the support which upholds the com
merce and prosperity of nations. Steam, electricity, mag
netism, powerful as they are, are its household servants,
�FAITH IN CHRIST
Mountains sink and valleys rise at its bidding.
7
It is
annihilating time and space. It is the men who believe
in the things which they aim at, who turn stumbling
blocks into stepping stones. They are the born rulers
upon whom all things and all men wait. They discover
and conquer new worlds. |gH|was the quality of Faith
in Christ at the first. It was faith ad no mistake.
Being thus a true, ISSg conviction, it could not be
concealed. It could no more be kept to itself, as you
now keeg your sceptical doubts to yourselves, than fire
can be kept to itself in the midst of dry straw. I have
no doubt that most, if not all, of those who, in those
early daysyvi|re ^‘Oju>g^^^^elieve InyTesus were brought
to it, at th e first, with great reluctance. The instant
there flashed upon them
of a favorable
leaning towards him, ^haW gKdEr must have gone
through them! It madp their hearts beat quick, you may
depend, and their cheeks flush and turn white, and the
sweat to stand in great beads upon their foreheads, as
there glared upon them the awful doom to be met, if they
dared to yield to this new and dangerous influence. Thus
they must have shrunk from it with affright, even while,
and even because, they felt themselves drawn towards it.
The inevitable effect oOtheESggfe to keep it off was
to make them think, no| tlfegM but the more, of the
perilous subject that was draSg them to itself with a
force not their own, as .with the clutch of Fate. Was
there anything that could drive it deeper and deeper into
their hearts, like trying to keep it out, trying to forget it ?
The arrow that had pierced them was barbed. The effort
�8
FAITH IN CHRIST
to get away from the object of their faith, forced them
into closer acquaintance with it. And the nearer they ap
proached it, the more powerful grew its attraction, and
the more their interest in it increased, until they were
so helpless to resist it that they had to speak out or die.
They might keep it secret for awhile, so long as their
dread of turning friends into'ifoes and of suffering perse
cution was stronger than their new conviction. But this
conviction, being alive, was sure to grow, as we have just
seen, and to keep growing. The spring of a new life,
opened within them steadily rising, would, sooner or
*
later, float them over all their fears, and bear them right
onward into the very thick of th dangers that menaced
*
them. In fine, the cl^mge%taking place in them, would
be sure to betray itself, if not in one way then in another;
most probably in the first place, by their lukewarmness
in the observance of their old religious customs and by
their neglect of the altars of the gods. A word spoken,
nay, a word unspoked silence, might blab it. Accord
ingly they would be forced,^sooner or later, to confess the
faith that they had embraced, or, rather, that had em
braced them.
Here we see another reason why the primitive faith
had such extraordinary power. The open profession of
it instantly summoned into active service one’s whole man
hood. The best that was in a man had to come right to
the front. There was an immediate necessity for all his
courage and fortitude. Hesitation, fear, had to be trampled
under foot. Do you wonder,—does it seem hard to under
stand,—how a simple faith in Christ, now so easy, should
�FAITH IN CHRIST
3
have had such power, power to work the most difficult km
changes, rarely witnessed,., the change of the persoiSd
character, the salvation of the soul ? The wonder ceases,
the fact is in great part explained, when we consider the
circumstances in which this^aith wiiconceived and con
fessed. It was in the immediate presence of danger, and
of death in the frightfullest shapes, and at the cost of the
tendere&i ties.
So that, wf|»ut>Twference to the person of him in whom
this faith was reposed, or to the power there was in him,
we may readily perceive that the circumstances attending
the public confession of it must have rendered it very
powerful. An occasion, in fact a most urgent necessity,
*
was created for the instant exertion of the utmost reso
lution. Those^mfhj, aunties were put in immediate re
quisition, the possession of which is equivalent to a regen
eration of Ee whole wan.
with salvation.
A man was at once made brave and true; and this he
could ngMfe and be the same man that he was before,
with his low worldly habits and his sins cleaving to him
still. He was shaken all out of them, an'd translated into
a higher co *fSl, wfeer<gieEtfeME^S-e had the ascen
d
dency over the lower, the s#^iltfhver the flesh. Thus he
had at once, on the spot, searching experience of salvation
in the profoundest sense of the word.
Now, in thesf times, it is entirely different. There is
nothing of this kind connected with IS profession of faith
in Christ. It long ago ceased to be dangerous and un
popular. So far from its demanding any strength of
mind now, the weakest man may proclaim it aloud at the
�10
FAITH IN CHRIST
' Street corners, without exerting anymore force than is re
quired to open his lips. Instead of calling for courage, it
appeals to cowardice, to the most worldly motives. To
profess it, we are under the necessity, not of reforming,
but of conforming, a necessity very easily complied with.
Thousands there are who, by upholding certain institu
tions, virtually profess to be Christian believers, when
they have no intelligent personal faith whatever. And
so it has come about that there has been generated the
monstrous delusion that the most superficial, unthinking
formalism of thought and observance is a religion, a
Religion unto salvation!
There are no two things in naturegmore opposite, the
one to the other, than the faith of these our days and the
faith of the first Christians, the modern Profession and the
ancient Confession. The formers is a garment woven by
the world, having no more vital Hinection with the man
himself than his clothes have, nor .so much, for his clothes
keep him warm, while his faith Fworn, not for comfort,
*
but for fashion’s sake, that he may do as everybody else
is doing. But the ancient! Faith !—it was mingled with
the heart’s blood. Every nerve was thrilled by it. It
was a flaming fire, blazing at the very centre of life.
And it was thus vital, because it was no faith of man’s
making. It was kindled by Nature, by God himself.
Faith came to men in those days, attended, not by the
acclamations of their fellow-men, but by their curses, loud
and deep. It came, through fire and blood, girt with
lightnings and thunders, breaking in upon them, not by
their will, but in the first instance, without their will,
�* FAITH IN CHRIST
11
and against their will. They did not choose it. It chose
them, and made them all its own through struggles am
agonies almost breaking their hearts.
Consequently, as they could no more shake their faith
off than they could ‘unesseaace’ themselves, it was imposJ
sible for them to hold it ligh||ys, as a superficial appendag J
worn JnlvJ^rlsnow. Why, it was nothing less than their
very liffl What else had they on earth or in heaven to
sustain them ami^w ho^ror^bhal surrounded them |
What deeper interei^gadHIBy thanjffknow what it was
that they were putting their faith in at the cost of all that
they h elewdear
They could not impose upon
themselves, as we do now-a-days, with mere forms and
phrases. They could not feed upon articulate wind.
With the fierce flaml^ of persecution darting right at
them, they had to plunge in to the very heart of their
faith and wring all the life out of it they could. Once
committed|^thei^iSSBW' aQ face to face with a ter
rible opposition!thSthalO ma!fefy>od to themselves the
fearful position which they had taken. They had to for
tify themseivclj the uttermost. As they could look for
no reinforcement to eom^^ their aid from without, as
the world around them was all iigrms against them, they
were forced back, driven in, into the very citadel, where
sat enthroned the Obj e^| d^heir faith, there to obtain the
strength which wja||needed^ make their resistance effec
tual and to secure the victory. Accordingly they knew
the person in whom they believed.
And here, friends, we come to the last and main source
whence the early Christian Faith derived its power. But
�IS
FAITH IN CHRIST
let me repeat briefly what I have said. It is worth while.
Our subject is of great moment.
The first reason that I have given why Faith in Christ
was so strong at the outset is, that it really was faith, a
genuine conviction of the mind. Such it was of necessity.
There was no earthly inducement to move any sane man
to believe in Jesus, unless his understanding, his consci
ence, his whole soul compelled I aim to believe in him.
There was nothing to lead him to imagine that he believed
when he did not believe. Gfeete was not a loophole for
any self-deception. There was e wry thing to frighten
people away from the thought of Christ, to deter them
jfijpm so much as glancing i# that direction, save with
speechless dread. The faith ithfn of those days was a
real conviction. And a true, conviction is never without
Bower. Indeed, we see e<ery^here that personal faith is
the power of the world.
I In the next place, that earljy faith, being of the true
■quality, could not be hidden, kept to itself, although,
doubtless, they who had it were prompted by the fear of
the alienation of friends and the violence of foes to keep
it as long as they could to themselves. You may rely
Ripon it, they were in no hurry to publish what was sure
to bring swift dishonor and death. The Christian faith
could not, therefore, be confessed without the exertion of
the utmost moral force. Thus the salvation of the be
liever took place, incidentally, undesignedly on his part,
without his being aware of the great change begun in
him. Forced to depend upon himself, he had to dispense
with what is as the breath of our nostrils: human coun-
�FAITH IN CHRIST
13
tenance and sympathy. When that can be done, ther^Q
a new birth. Self-trust is the indispensable condition
of spiritual growth. In relying upon ourselves, we emerge
from our minority. We cease to be children. We standi
upon our feet. We go alone, leaning upon no crutches
of authority, listening to no hutward voice for our law,
but becoming every one a law to himself, or, which is the
same min^ffle sacred Jaw-. |Bfe&>ed to in the heart, ass^^
its supremacy over
power comes to us
from ®iS,in, from the immaterial, (ftifathomable, im
mortal soul within. Thence it w,a| thatWFaith at the firsl
drew its extraordinary strength. There, within, the great
Idea of Christ met tth^aiwi believers and communicate<l
to them such power that one of them exclaimed: “ I can
do allTthings through Christ strengthening me.”
I haveBras indicated two things which made Faith in
Christ, a faith unt^' salvation. The third and the foun
tainhead of its p)w6- wwhida EMey who believed drank
deep, and from which they drew a life, exuberant and
immortal, was, the object of their faith, in one word,
Christ.
Now in order to see #na^SweMthere was in him to
move men so mightily, we must endeavor to conceit
what a wonder, what apurpassin^mirade that phenom-1
enon was Tthe appearancirli^flthe world of such a man as
Jesus of Nazareth, considered simply as a man. I have
no idea that he himself e’verdrearned of claiming to be
anything more.
His name now is representative only of creeds, of
churches, of doctrines, which so far from commanding
; ‘•.'Gr' jA-K
.v. £. 1 • X <.J ’’
�14
FAITH IN CHRIST
the respect of the understanding, fetter and gag the under
standing, and shock the heart and pervert the conscience;
Or, if the name of Christ still represents a person, it is
a person of the Godhead, a vague fiction of the theological
imagination;
Or, if a human person, still only a person of so shadowy
an existence that he is hardly to be descried through the
legends and fables, of which the accounts that we have of
him are supposed to be made up.
It requires no slight effort, therefore, to put out of mind
these present modes of thought and to consider what a
new, strange, wonderful thing the Story of Jesus,—told
so humanly as it is told in swstaifce when the record is
head aright,—must have been in that distant age, long
before our creeds and churches and doctrines of Trinities
and Double Natures, and our critical and sceptical notions
were dreamed of, and when men were everywhere wor
shipping military power, and when^too, with huge tem
ples of stone and thousands of idols, and altars smoking
with the blood of slaughtered animals, and long glittering
processions of priests and countless imposing ceremonies,
—when with such things all that is sacred was identified,
and men hardly knew that there was anything holier or
more venerable.
Just think, friends, what a new thing under the sun
was the story that was told, told in the all-subduing
accents of the sincerest conviction, in the voluptuous cities
of Greece, and in the old warlike Roman empire, of a
lyoung man, of stainless purity, in the bloom of life, only
thirty years of age, of humble origin, put to a most shame-
�FAITH IN CHRIST
15
ful and cruel death for his simple truth’s sake, who, while
living, had gone about doing good, knowing not in t.lW
morning where he should rest his head at night, speaking
such words of wisdom that people came to him in crowds
from far and near, and followed him till they were ready
to drop from hunger and fatigue. He told them stor™
(so went the fervid 'report)-, breathing fraternal love and
the deepest human tenderness. He gave his blessing to
the poor, the sorrowing, the-gentle^tEe merciful, the pure
in heart, the lovers of peace; and so fearless was he withal,
as free as a child, as simple as the light and the air, amidst
savage passions ragfegO^gst- him, going his perilotB
way straight to a foreseen, violent death just as he walked,
just as he breathed, doing and saying the greatest thin J
as the merest m^grlTof course, fef-ppssessed, self-forget-J
ting, with heart open^^^thje while as the day to the
neglected and the outcast, transferring his own claims,
whatever they - werok thef Bwest of his brother-men. JI
malice of foes, no treachery of friends, so it appeared,
could exhaust or embitter the sweetness of his spirit. He
took little
hi^arms^«figessed them. The
wretched flocked »to him ias to a wide open temple of
Mercy. The poor woman, sin-defiled, from whose ton J
the pioujshranj as from ir a, leper, he addressed in words
of brothers kindness. rWhath a^ftene was that! The
poor heart-broken creature bowing fown and kissing his
very feet over and over again, and, as her hot tears fell
upon them like rain, wiping them away with her hair!
Such are only some of the many things which were told
of him, and which gave the world assurance of this new
�16
FAITH IN CHRIST
and most original Man. Could we only read the narra
tive of his last few hours, as we should, if we read it now
[for the first time, Roman Triumphs, Royal Progresses,
Coronation pomps, the Te Deums and Misereres of cathefdrals would all vanish away before the mingled pathos
and majesty of those scenes.
What a story, I reiteratflwas that to be told to a world,
‘[shining all o’er with naked Swords!’ What a sensa
tion must it have made!
What attention, what interest
must it have arrested! What Sympathy ! What adoring
admiration!
Furthermore, and borers the fact of supreme interest,
me Story of the Life and Death of Jesus was a wonder,
the like of which had never before been witnessed on
Earth, why? For what -rcasorif Even because it was
[perfectly simple, thoroughly natural, essentially human.
Being thus natural and human, it went straight into every
open heart as its native homfft, and Jesus was welcomed
there as the nearest of kin, the most intimate relative of
mankind. In fact, that Story, although its apparently
preternatural incidents affecte'd the imagination greatly
and made the world ring again, still was the most deeply
touching in this: that it silently breathed a thoroughly
human spirit, a spirit which was in far closer kinship
to the deepest and best in human nature than any mere
bniracles or any affinity of blood could possibly claim.
On this account it was that men took it in as naturally as
their eyes received the light or their lungs the air.
And all the more deeply did it interest them because
there was scarcely anything then to interest the popular
�FAITH IN CHRIST
mind, that went beyond the eye and the passion of fear and
the love of the marvellous. It was these only that were ad
dressed and excited, nothing deeper. Consequently, when
there went ahroaMan® from lips touched by the fire of
personal faith in its truth, the Story of one, whose whole!
being throbbed with ® »irit^St struck to the very heart,
quickening into full activity its noblest sentiments, people
leaped to embrace him, the most formidable obstructions
notwithslandinglby a sympathy as instinctive as that
which makes the ®hild cling to its mWier’s bosom.
By the way, we^^^-|jQM'St»ied! to speak of Jesus as the
Founded of ferisip^fefc/ Butf as I conceive of him, he
had no Sought of ®O»ly
a religion. He
was and is the foundation of Christianity, but not the
founder. . It had no founder. It founded itself. And it
was for this ver^^eason,he had no scheme of his
own, because, in th^e_ freedom and simplicity of Nature,
there went forth from him an effluence which was one
with the deepest and best in the soul of man,—for this
reason it gagthat a religion sprang from him which has
lasted now »r cBituMeSand fcwillBlfi^ for centuries
come.
But to return. When once we fully apprehend this
fact th® H was a simple human life, as natural as it was
original, the fbaa^ where^il^^O aSo^ on the wings of
faith, we begin to un(figtandFvhv,it was that, notwith
standing the fearful circumstance attending the confes
sion of belief in it, it at once took captive such a host of
men and women. The increase of the first believers was
amazingly rapid. Immediately after the death of Christ
�18
FAITH IN CHRIST
they were numbered, according to the Book of Acts, by
thousands. Thirty years afterwards, in the capital of the
Roman Empire, and Rome was then a great way off from
Judea, there was, as Tacitus informs us, a mighty multi
tude of them, ‘multitude ingens' The Catacombs of
*
Rome are filled with the ashes of the early Christians, and
their number is well nigh incredible.
The fact was, as I have said, the would was occupied
with superficial formalities, altars, and statues, splendid
rituals, sacrificial offerings, and holidays; things that
engrossed attention, and so Sased the conscience with
petty scruples, that, as Plutarch states, on one occasion, a
religious procession to propitiate some god, owing to some
trifling deviation from the prescribed forms, started from
the temple thirty-six times. Hardly,.anything deeper was
appealed to than the love of sight-seeing, and the super
stitious passion for thei marvellous.
And yet, consider, friend^ -those ancient generations
of Jews and Greeks and.4 Romans,—they were human
beings like ourselves, far more like than different. They
had this same human heart bleating all the while in their
bosoms. They were brothers, sisters, sons, daughters,
fathers, mothers, and on daily occasions were perforce
following the kindly dictates of our common humanity.
In the midst of all that externality and child’s play,
there came, in a man, in a young man, the living, breath
ing power of sacred human affection, showing the true
life to be, not a gilded ritual, but one ceaseless office of
self-forgetting human love. Of course it came like the
rain, like the former and the latter rain to the thirsty
�FAITH IN CHRIST
19
earth. It went down, swift and straight, down to the
central core of our human nature, whence it came, melt
ing the hardness which had grown over it, setting its
deepest springs flowing, and causing it to flower out
noble and saintly deeds.
Thus it is apparentnthe one wbduing charm was not
any new truth or doctrine, addressed only to the specula
tive faculty. Far enough Was it from being any system
of theology. Neither was it any miracle, which, at the
utmost, could excite only surprise and wonder. It is no
image of Jesus as a wonder-worker; it is Jesus in the
weakest condition of human nature, as a little child in his
mother’^ arms, or as hagBg dead on the Cross, that has
for ages since takBplgpM^ajl commanded the homage
of Christendom. It is no bewildering Tri-une God, but a
mother, exalted above God, a human mother, to whom the
tenderest worship has been
and widely rendered.
The Madonna andgn^^Kfl^—to what myriads of suf
fering andTlying men have these most human of symbols
spoken of the InfingjBove fl This iff was, the purely
human and humane spirit of Jesus, which through those
who at the first believed in him, ran like quicksilveS
from heart to heart by the irresistible power of the inde
structible syiflpathies of human nature.
So was it at the first. How is it now ? Now that Faith
in Christ is no longer persecuted, no longer unpopular,—
now that all is so changed in this respect, has the object
of Faith lost its vitality ? Can we no longer be saved by
Christ as the men and women of old were saved by him ?
2
�20
FAITH IN CHRIST
Was the saving power of this Man of men exhausted in
those early days ?
It would argue but very feeble sensibility to the great
ness of Jesus, it would indeed be doing him great dishonor,
to forget that it is not possible in such a world as this of
ours that so bright a light should arise and shine without
gradually spreading itself far and wide, and, notwithstand
ing whatever clouds of ignorance and superstition may
arise, should be reflected from unnumbered points, and, in
the course of time, render the whole atmosphere of Life
luminous and impregnate that with its saving efficacy, thus
consecrating all Life to the ministry of human Salvation.
This it is that has taken place in the case of Christ.
His spirit was caught by thos^ in attendance upon him,
and through them by a great host of confessors and mar
tyrs,—a cloud of witnesses; and so there started into ac
tivity countless saving agencies, Christ-like lives and
deaths, inspiring memories, humane institutions, revolu
tions, reformations, emancipations of multitudinous races;
and through these, and through all the freedom and
civilization which have followed' upon his appearance in
the world, Jesus is still carrying on the work of Salva
tion, of the blessings whereof all are, consciously or un
consciously, more or less partakers, even those who deny
his influence, and question his very existence. The his
tory of Europe, for now nearly two thousand years, is the
history of Christ, still far from being finished. At this
hour, as a philosophical writer has remarked, Europe is
struggling onward to realize the Christian ideal.
Is it only, however, in this indirect way, by the spirit
�FAITH IN CHRIST
21
which these reflections of his personal influence propagate,
that he is still the Saviour of men ? Has the full, rich
spring of his personal power, which at the first so flooded
human hearts, run dry, so that he is no longer able to
comman^j faith in himself that shall be unto salvation ?
Ah! dear friends, could he only be seen as he was, in
his natiyg greatness, jhtW earts would .burn with something
of the fire o^sa^tguaMi which
kindled in theirs of
old. But he is
longer visible. His person has been
for longlages hidden in th ^Storting mists generated by
the imaginatio®, wHRJth^unprecedented novelty of such
a life most jywrMBQt^^d. The extravagant and ir
rational representations thal hf^gbeen made of him could |
not reach in to the cenwal springs of our nature. They
can only play u
surface, and noisily agitate that.
To the still de^^^S csgnotfj^getrate.
And now, whf^t^^^tagjysicaljsions that have so
long veiled the human person of Jesus are fading away,
the case is Tiardly
to the blinding mists
of SuperstWon ^a^^iUd^ed^i^h di mists as blinding of
Scepticism • and to nuOW^s p^Bflonly a myth. He is
not known.
I should not presume to mah^ this assertion, were not
the reason plain wny he is not known. The ignorance,
the superstition, the monstrous dogmas, for which his
name has been cWmed, gjaavfl driven even intelligent,
learned, and conscientious men to the extreme of regard
ing with distrust,, one might almost say with contempt,
those artless accounts of Jesus, which have come down to
us, and from which alone we obtain any knowledge of him
�B2
FAITH IN CHRIST
personally. Accordingly, while, on the one hand, these
accounts are studied to find authority for some established
creed, on the other, they are read only to feed the scepti
cism with which they are looked upon. Jesus must needs,
therefore, be unknown when we seek, not for him, but for
the confirmation of some system of faith, or of no faith.
Murmur not, complain not, that you cannot see him.
4 No man,’ he himself is recorded to have said, ‘no man
can come to me unless He who sent me draw him’
Where is the single, earnest eye, to which alone, bent full
and searchingly on the record, its meaning will open, and,
emerging from the dimness of centuries, Jesus will stand
in sunlight clearness befor.e us with arms outstretched to
save us ?
Of all the great personages of History, there is no one
of whom so individual and living an idea may be had as
of Jesus. Such is my conviction. And for this reason,
not only because the accounts of him, as I have found, are
impressed all over and all through .with inimitable marks
of truth, but because, brief and imperfect as they are, they
are, to a singular degree, made.ujTof just such particulars
as always afford the most satisfactory insight into the stuff
and quality of the persons of whom they are related.
Thus persuaded, I believe the time will come when it
will be understood what manner of man Jesus was. As
we learn to know him, and to appreciate his exalted char
acter ; as we thus draw near to him, his spirit will breathe
upon us, and we shall receive the Holy Ghost. We shall
be learning Veneration and Love. Thus will he quicken
into a. new life those best sentiments of our nature by which
�FAITH IN CHRIST
23
it will be delivered from whatever now hardens or depraves
it. In this way, Faith in Christ personally will again
put forth its saving power. ‘The idolatry of dogma!’
says Mr Lecky, ‘will pass away. Christianity, being
rescued from the gitarianism and intolerance that have
defaced it, will shine Mg own Iplgpdor, and, sublimate®
above all the sphere of controversy, will assume its right
ful position as an ideat and not a system, as a person cmd
not a creed.’*
There is, in these times, in one great respect, a special
need of such a Saviour. The grasp of human authorities
and hereditary faiths upon the minds of men is loosened I
they cannot hold the world forever. In the free and pro
gressive M^Mytejd^^o;uishes Christendom, Science
is advancing as never before. Theories of Life, of its
origin and development, are becoming popular, which put
to naught our E&^Hfiogms, anlBtoevolutionizing our
modes ofjFhSght.
there who
earnest men of Science are
me mni^me. and can find no
God. Startled
listen and hear
everything attempted to be accounted for by blind law
and brute Enatter, f we ^ni to be in a boundless desert,
where is no SaOed Presence, where consummate order
reigns, but~nd Infinite Love Ipreathe
.
*
In this state of things, what tongue can tell the worth
of such a Person as Jesus ? When the things told of him
are established as historically true,—when he ceases to be
* History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of Rationalism
Europe, p. 191. American edition, 1866.
in
�24
FAITH IN CHRIST
a myth, and becomes a Reality, and we accept him as a
Fact in Nature as truly as any fact that Science has dis
covered, or may discover, and in as perfect accord with
Nature, then, as plants spring up under the air and the
light, there will be created in us spontaneously an im
pregnable Trust, and an inextinguishable Hope, which,
to all purposes of guidance and consolation, will be equiva
lent to Faith in God. The Idea of Jesus, enshrined within
us, by the aspirations it will kindle for the Highest, will
be a witness in our inmost consciousness of the Invisible
and Everlasting. Beholding Jesus, we shall behold God
and Immortality. And, moreover, what a testimony shall
we have to the truth of our great Christian Ideas in the
fact, that it was in them that he, in whom the highest
condition of humanity lias Peen shown, lived, and moved,
and had his being! These1 rit was thaQreated him after
so Godlike a fashion.
The great and the good of every age and country have
ministered, and are forever ministering, by the inspiration
which they breathe, to IK salvation of mankind, as well
from the gloom of unbelief, as from the darkness of super
stition. But Jesus stands high, high above them all; not,
it may be granted, in the abstract wisdom of his teachings,
although it may be questioned whether, even in this re
spect alone, any other of the great leaders of the world
have approached him,—have uttered so much of the high
est truth as he; but in the overflowing fulness of his spir
itual being, in the fact that he impresses us with the con
viction that there was a great deal more in him than his
words or even his acts expressed, an unfathomed reserve
�FAITH IN CHRIST
25
of personal power. Who has ever moved the world
like him ? Who is there that, like him, has challenged
centuries to define his position,—to take his measure?
He so stirred the imagination alone, that for ages, poor
peasant as he was, he has heen held to be nothing less
than the Infinite God himself; and this, too, not in
the absence of information concerning him, inviting the
imagination to so extravagant a flight, but in the face
of explicit facts showing him to have been a man, a
tempted,4suffering, dying, all-conquering man. ‘Two
things,’ said the philosopher Kant, 1 fill me with awe I
the starry heavens and the sense of moral responsibility
in man.’ To these two I add a third, filling the soul
with faith and love and hope, as well as awe, the Per
son of
To the Spirit, in him made Flesh of our
flesh, be this fair Church, risen from its ruins, every stone
of it, and th4 living Church within, its pastor, my friend,]
brother,..son, and his flock, dedicated now and forever!
�DEDICATORY HYMN
BY ROBERT COLLYER
0 Lord our God, when storm and flame
Hurled homes and temples into dust,
We gathered here to bless thy name
And on our ruin wrote our trust.
Thy tender pity met ourapain,
Swift through the world the angel ran
And then thy Christ appeared again
Incarnate, in the heart of man.
Thy lightning lent its fuming wing j
To bear his tear-blent sympathy,
And fiery chariots rusIHfflto bring
The offerings of humaniw.
Thy tender pity met our pain,
Thy love has raised us from the dust.
We meet to bless thee, Lord, again,
And in our temple sing our trust.
�
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
Discourse: faith in Christ
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [s.l.]
Collation: 25, [1] p. ; 24 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Text of discourse from Acts xvi, 31 - "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved". Final unnumbered page is a dedicatory hymn by Robert Collyer. Includes bibliographical reference.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
[s.n.]
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[187-?]
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
G5368
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
[Unknown]
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 (Discourse: faith in Christ), 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
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Subject
The topic of the resource
Sermons
Conway Tracts
Faith
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/94ab6b5eac86d089d398cd60122b0628.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=BCgKw%7EOLl8%7EZrexg3o5-vWYVGdzYKGLOk8senPz3wXm41E%7Exu-XIoXkCuHmX%7EPbdpwSEryPthc7GtjsdyLZZdg3vl-orBFOBqxxKwxkOWQCHOfaMQ%7EVnwb67nAom9i18oFyh6%7ElMc0FxQ%7E%7EnW3Nt5z-QlVfvwn2Wt0YDBeAQW9QQHpg5zJDjjj5AzEuC2Ls0izibZJioL0Mg1jGlbbROyA%7E-7oErRsyLXXIl7VzMSjFrPcXVZWkj1DI7LxW5wx0kKZSDD-N4EfgtTTzXCEV9%7EZ8XAnUq9fO3YmnsONYmJWDzuml306-%7EgjO1nv4%7E8fZ%7ErrkE8J-cQnfL3L-SMSCNzw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
d7e23cac0ca3418dc20f7f497a24a531
PDF Text
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
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
"Nothing but leaves"
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
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
An entity responsible for making the resource available
[China Mail]
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[n.d.].
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
G5325
Subject
The topic of the resource
Sermons
Nature
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 ("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>
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Conduct of life
Conway Tracts
Faith
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/57f49941a65ed15642e34ca7b1b25bc3.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=ud6xBKDM3GNlpMJTbjbIwCacKCGxZPd2IBLDv0kriAy5mU5H5ZVMxrFiEjqLPAsNikHHXA9J2AXUycS-VzP3IlXkvfOmwyv6NjBxWteHjoBbMwhpH3XMMZktNd7Cdj5qmLARk3Md6VKRXnSw-2hDJ5XHtr-StMybJTLs9lyJB6j5T8kW1cb7IKfD9R5Oyh4oFFLHKCDD8cqb7MTtwBqGqiGD120CANunLDyV3BqW1YaGuWHwf4DRVKZW%7Ekzjd98FFHupQYAqoH8QQ1wE%7EykMDmT4mQyR2VvCJ-iPhDZtP1m%7Eso7ReOK%7E52yi40-0r%7EpHgp63mCxa6RVA9N1cvrG4Mw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
1409a1d8d2736db34afd11b16ed78bcf
PDF Text
Text
THE COLLAPSE OF THE FAITH:
OB,
THE DEITY OF CHRIST AS NOW TAUGHT
BY THE ORTHODOX.
EDITED BY
REV. W. G. CARROL, A.M.,
PUBLISHED BY THOMAS SCOTT, RAMSGATE,
AND
R. D. WEBB & SON, DUBLIN.
Price Sixpence.
�“Et ex Evangelistis solus Joannes appellai eum aperte'
Deum............ Jam si Petrus initio promiscua multitudini
prsedicavit Jesum absque mentione divina; naturae ; si Paulus
similiter apud Athenienses nihil aliud quam Virum appellai ;
si p^iusquam leguntur Apostoli apud populum verba facientes
expressisse divinam in Christo naturam.............. quid ego
pecco si idem admoneo ?”—Erasmus, Apoi. Ad. Mon. Hisk.
“ The assertion of Christ’s ignorance is utterly at variance
with any pretension honestly to believe in His Divinity.”
Liddon, B/ampton Lectures, 1866, p. 683.
“ What was once rejected as a heresy has since crept in
among us and beenail bnt recognised as a dogma.”—Plumptrer
Boyle Lectures, 1866, p. 87.
“ The Scriptures are not to be considered true because it
would be dangerous to reject them. Let everything be
sacrificed to truth.”—Moorhouse, Hulsean Lectures, 1865 ,
p. 3.
�PREFACE.
------ +-----PRINT these extracts as a supplement to the ser
mons which I lately published concerning some
*
modern interpretations of our Lord’s Deity. I cannot
doubt that these phases of Christian thought now
■struggling for existence will startle many, as they, or
■some of them, have for some years been startling
myself; for the simplest understanding will readily
and intuitively perceive that the aspects here presented
of Christ’s divine nature, certainly do not coincide
with our current belief in that mystery, and moreover
that they are wholly irreconcilable with the positive
dogmatic statements of our articles and creeds.
Looking at the widely distant centres of protestant
life whence these writings are gathered, and comparing
their one-minded virtual surrender of Christ’s equal
Godhood; it is not too much to say that they indicate
a giving way along the whole line of the evangelical
ranks, and that they send up from all the signal posts
of thought and intelligence in Europe, one common
wail of despair and distress.
If any of the Theophanies here presented be true—
if Christ’s Godhood were either suspended, or depo
tentiated, or reserved, or conditioned, or postponed—
it is simply childish to maintain that He was equal
to God the Father. And if none of these Theophanies
be true, then what becomes of the Scriptures, and of
the honest and learned searchings of Scriptures on
which they rest ?
I
* Sermons in St. Bride’s Church, Dublin, 1871. Webb &
■Son, Abbey Street, Dublin.
�V
*
Preface.
In sad and solemn truth, this dilemma seems to say
that either our Formularies or the New Testament
must be wrong; and indeed that most remarkable
Examination of Canon Liddon’s Bampton Lectures has
*
made it well-nigh proven that the doctrine of an
“irreducible duality” (p. ) assuredly rests on some
basis other than that of Jesus and His apostles.
The same sort of remark applies to the two extracts
in the Appendix on the Atonement—if they be just,
what are we to say about our prayer book, and the
substitution which in effect it teaches ?
Our Irish Church Synod which sat so long this
year and troubled itself about so many things, seemed
to care for neither of these two essential verities;
but it is vain for them to think that they can hush
up the matter by a conspiracy of silence, for there
is abroad among us a calm and earnest questioning
which must be answered, and at our door there is one
knocking, who will knock on until it be opened unto
him.
I desire to guard myself against being understood
to mean or to insinuate that any of the writers I have
quoted designs to write against the Deity of Christ;
I intend nothing of the sort. If the writers had any
such design, that would have prevented my quoting
them—I select them because they are prominent and
earnest in the other direction, and because, however
they may differ from each other on other points of
doctrine, on this one they are “Wahabees of the
Wahabees. ”
W.G.C.
St. Bride’s, Dublin,
August, 1871.
* Triibner & Co., London, 1871.
�CONTENTS.
PREFACE, BY THE EDITOR, ......
Hi
BISHOP O‘BRIEN, (OF OSSORY,)—CHARGE 1864, .
.
9
PROFESSOR PLUMPTRE—BOYLE LECTURES, 1866, .
.
24
REV. MR. MOORHOUSE—HULSEAN LECTURES, 1865,
.
26
RIGHT HON. W. E. GLADSTONE—ECCE HOMO,
.
27
.
REV. STOPFORD BROOKE, LONDON, CHAPLAIN TO THE
QUEEN,—SERMONS,.......................................................................29
DORNER, PROFESSOR, THEOLOGY, GOTTINGEN—“ PERSON
OF CHRIST,”.................................................................................. 31
E. DR. PRESSENSE, “JESUS CHRIST ”—ANSWER TO DORNER,
31
F. GODET, PROFESSOR THEOL., BALE—EVANG. DE. S. LUC,
35
APPENDIX.
•ON THE ATONEMENT.
REV.
DR.
JELLETT,
FELLOW
TRINITY
COLLEGE
DUBLIN,—UNIVERSITY SERMONS, 1864,
.
40
REV. STOPPFORD BROOKE, LONDON, CHAPLAIN TO
THE QUEEN,
......
41
��THE COLLAPSE OF THE FAITH.
RIGHT REV. DR. O'BRIEN,•
LORD BISHOP OP OSSORY, PERNS, AND LOUCHLIN, IRELAND.
P. 38-42.—He (Bishop <Colenso) asks, when did He
(Jesus) obtain this larger measure of knowledge ? ‘at
what period, then, of His life upon earth, is it to be
supposed that He had granted to Him, supernatural!/;/,
full and accurate information on these points, so that
He should be expected to speak about the Pentateuch
in other terms than any other devout Jew of that day
would have employed ? Why should it be thought
that He would speak with certain Divine, knowledge
on this matter more than upon other matters of
ordinary science and history 1 ’
In answer to this question, I have no difficulty in
acknowledging, that I cannot pretend to fix accurately
the time of the Lord’s life at which He acquired such
information as would enable Him to speak with fuller
and more perfect knowledge upon all the subjects
on which He taught, than any of His countrymen
however pious or learned; and with a perfect freedom
from the errors into which all other Jews might have
fallen, had they spoken of them. But though I
cannot fix the point at which He became possessed of
this knowledge, I can with great confidence fix the
point beyond which He could not have been without
it. Whenever and however He obtained it, I can be
* Charge 1863-64.
�IO
The Collapse of the Faith.
very sure that when He entered upon the office of a .
teacher, He actually possessed it. To suppose that
He entered upon His office as a teacher sent from God,
deficient in any knowledge which was necessary to
secure Him from error upon any of the subjects upon
which He was to teach, would he opposed to all that
Scripture sets forth with respect to His absolute
authority as a Divine Teacher, and irreconcilable
with the assumption of absolute and independent
authority as a teacher, which was the characteristic
of His public teaching from the first, and which we
are told attracted the special attention of His country
men, and filled them with wonder, as altogether
different from the manner of teaching to which they
had been accustomed in the public teachers of their
nation.
And this applies also to all that is urged, in
addition, in another part of the (Colenso’s) work,
concerning the limits of His knowledge, with a view
to confirm or defend the positions which I haye been
examining. This consists chiefly, of the remarks of
ancient and modern commentators upon Mark xiii. 32.
(See note A at the end). The text is a very remark
able and a very important one, and I hope that I
have no disposition to detract from its full force. It
contains a very explicit statement made by the Blessed
Lord concerning Himself, of its natural and proper
meaning there can be no doubt. And I should feel,
that there was just as much presumption and presump
tion of the same kind too, in doing violence to the
Lord’s words for the purpose of softening or narrowing
their proper meaning, as if the violence were com
mitted for the purpose of extending it. I therefore
say without doubt or hesitation—what I certainly
should not venture to say or think, if I did not find
it in Holy Scripture—that there was one thing of
which, in the full maturity of His powers, and the full
exercise of them, as a Divine Teacher, the Blessed
�The Collapse of the Faith.
II
Lord in the flesh was ignorant. ... I am sure that
what He says is true. And while it makes it certain
that there was one thing which He did not know, it
makes it possible that there were other things also
which He did not know. But it gives no direct
warrant to assert that this was actually the case; and
without such a warrant I will not venture to assert
that it was. I feel that it is a case—if there be
any—which calls for the modest resolution of the
wise and good Bishop Ridley with reference to
another great mystery—not to dare, to speak further,
yea, almost none other, than the text itself doth as it were
lead us by the hand—This is my decision as regards
myself. But there are many to whom this may seem
unreasonable timidity.”
P. 103.—Note A. page 41—on Mark xiii. 32.—
**From an early period great reluctance has been
shown to receive the obvious and natural sense of the
Blessed Lord’s words; and various devices have been
resorted to from time to time to soften it or to explain
it away. But however natural this timidity is, I
cannot think it justifiable. What it would be unpar
donable presumption to assert upon any lower author
ity, it seems to be no less presumptuous to shrink from
asserting, when it comes to us upon. Divine authority.
And the fact that the Blessed Lord, in the flesh knew
got the day and hour in which He is to come to judge
the world, seems to come to us as clearly upon His
own authority, as anything else that we believe
because He has declared it. It cannot be doubted
not only that this is the plain meaning of His words,
but that it is very hard to draw any other meaning
from them.
“■ The interpretation which has obtained most favour
among those who are unwilling to receive the decla
ration in this sense is, that while the day and the
hour of the coming of the Son of Man were, of course,
known to Him in His Divine nature, they were
�12
The Collapse of the Faith.
unknown to Him in His human nature. This does
not mean, that though He knew this as He knew all
things when He was in the form of God, He was
ignorant of it when He came in the likeness of man.
This is the very sense which it is intended to get rid of.
What is meant, is, that when He was in the likeness
of man—at the very moment that He 'was speaking—
He knew the time in question in His divine nature,
hut was ignorant of it in His human nature. But
this seems to be open to insurmountable objections.
Were we at liberty to suppose that there were two
Persons—a Divine and a Human Person—united in
the Lord, it would be easy to conceive—or indeed
rather, one could not but hold—that they differed
infinitely in knowledge—that while the latter was
ignorant of many things, the former knew all things.
No one, however, ventures to solve the difficulty in
this way, at least in words, because every one knows
that the unity of person in the Lord is as much an
article of faith as the duality of natures. But when
it is said that at one and the same time, He knew the
day of judgment as the Word, but was ignorant of it
as Man; or that while He knew it, as regarded His
Divine Nature, He was ignorant of it, as regarded
His Human Nature; or that His Divine Nature knew
it, but His Human Nature was ignorant; we are in
reality though not in words, supposing Him to be
made up of two Persons.”
N.B.—The Bishop here accuses the prevalent orthodox
interpretation of the heresy of Nestorianism—just as we
shall presently see Professor Plumptre and Mr. Moorhouse
accuse the same orthodox interpretation of the heresy of
Apollinarianism. There seems to be a confusion in the
Bishop's mind as to Natures and Persons 2 for surely two
Natures do not require two Persons. His Lordship may
have been misled by the pleadings and finding in the
Colenso trial 2
“ But some think that, whatever the objection may
�The Collapse of the Faith,
• 13
be against, these interpretations, it cannot be so insur
mountable as that to which the more natural inter
pretation is exposed—that we cannot adopt any
interpretation of the Lord’s words which would
represent Him as having undergone anything beyond
an outward or relative change in taking our nature.
From the impossibility of conceiving any change in
the Infinite, they seem to have inferred, if they did
not confound the two things, that any such change is
impossible. But however safely we may hold that it
is impossible that any such change can take place
through any other agency, it would seem very rash
and presumptuous to deny the possibility of its being
effected by the will of the Infinite Being Himself. I
should say this, supposing that we had no way of ar
riving at any conclusion on the question by the high
priori road. But we have a much safer though
humbler way. To believers in Revelation the Incar
nation of the Second Person of the Trinity, or rather
the history of His life in the flesh, furnishes ample
means of coming to a certain conclusion upon this
point—a conclusion that is not affected by the uncer
tainties which confessedly attach to all our reasonings
when Infinity is an element in the subject-matter of
them. In this wonderful history we are allowed to
see the infinite and the finite, the divine and the
human, in personal union in ‘the man Christ Jesus.’
To our apprehensions this union would appear abso
lutely impossible, if the infinite remained unchanged.
But, as I have already said, when the infinite is
concerned, we can rely but little upon any collection
of our own reason unless it be confirmed by revela
tion. Here, however, there is no want of such con
firmation, nor can we, I think, read the Holy Scrip
tures fairly without finding it.
“ The Divine Word seems to be clearly exhibited
to us there, as greatly changed in His union with
frail humanity. Not only was all His heavenly glory
�laid by when He tabernacled in the flesh, but all
His infinite attributes and powers seem, for the same
time, to have been in abeyance, so to apeak. And
by this, something, more is meant than that the
manifestation and exercise of them were suspendedThat is undoubtedly true, but it seems to fall far
short of the whole truth. It appears that there was
not merely a voluntary suspension of the exercise of
them, but a voluntary renunciation of the capacity of
exercising them, for the time. This involves no
change of His essence or nature ; and no destruction
of His Divine powers, as if they had ceased to exist,
or loss of them, so that they could not be resumed.
Finite beings often undergo such a suspension in
voluntarily, without its leading to any such conse
quences. (Here the Bishop gives in a note a quota
tion from Butler’s Analogy, part i. chap, i., about the
suspension of ‘ our living powers.’) And it can make
no difference in this respect, that in the Infinite
Being it is undergone by an act of His own will.
Nor are the wonderful works which were then
wrought by Him at all at variance with this view of
the state of the Incarnate Word. Infinitely as they
transcended the natural powers of man, they did not
go beyond the powers which may be supernaturally
bestowed upon man. For He Himself declares that
the apostles should not only do such works as He
had done, but greater works. There is nothing, there
fore, in their nature or their degree, to determine
whether they were wrought by the proper power of
the Divine Word, or by power bestowed upon the
Incarnate Word. But we are not without ample
means of deciding this question.
“ It is not surprising that it should be generally
¿bought that the miraculous power which was dis
played by the Redeemer was possessed and exercised
by Him as an essential property of the Divine ele
ment in His constitution. This, indeed, would be
�^The Collapse of the Faith,
15
the conclusion to which probably every one would
come who ventured to speculate on this great mystery
apart from Scripture. But Scripture gives a very
different view of the nature and effects of the Incar
nation. It seems distinctly to teach us that when the
Everlasting Son condescended to take our nature
upon Him, He came, not outwardly only, but in
truth, into a new relation to the Father, in which He
was really His Messenger and His Servant—dependent
upon the Father for everything, and deriving from
Him directly everything that He needed for His
work. All this indeed seems to be most distinctly
declared by Himself. He says, ‘ The Son can do
nothing of Himself, but what He seeth the Father
do,’ (John v. 19). And again, ‘I can of mine own
self do nothing/ (Ibid. 30). Again, ‘ My doctrine is
not mine but His that sent me/ (vii. 16). Again,
‘ He that sent me is true ; and I speak to the world
those things which I have heard of Him, (viii. 26).
‘ When ye have lifted up the Son of Man, then shall
ye know that I am He, and that I do nothing of My
self ; but as my Father hath taught me, I speak these
things,’ (lb. 28.) And again, ‘The words that I
speak unto you I speak not of Myself, but the Father
that dwelleth in Me, He doeth the works,” (xiv. 10);
‘And the Word which ye hear is not Mine, but the
Father’s which sent Me,’ (lb. 24).
“ These texts must be familiar to every reader of
the Bible, though their true meaning seems to be
very strange to many. But they are very plain and
very express, and they entirely agree together. They
testify directly to the fact that the state of the Son
in the flesh was one of absolute and entire depend
ence upon the Father, both for Divine knowledge
and Divine power. And upon this fact, they are so
full and so express, that it is unnecessary to look for
any other evidence of it of the same kind. But I
am tempted to add one or two striking passages
C
�‘16
The Collapse of the Faith.
which seem to bear the same testimony, less directly
indeed, but not less impressively or less conclusively.
Nothing, for example, can bespeak more absolute
authority over death and the grave than His call to
the dead Lazarus to arise : “ He cried,” we are told,
11 with a loud voice, Lazarus come forth,”—(John xi.
23). And the confidence of absolute authority in
which the command is uttered is most fully justified
by the promptitude with which it is obeyed ; “ and
he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot
with grave clothes; and his face was bound about with
a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him and let
him.go.”—II). 44.
Neither in the tone nor in the substance of His
command to the dead, is there any reference dis
coverable to any power but His own.
There is no cure performed by Him, nor indeed
any miracle of any other kind recorded of Him in
His whole history, which wears less the appearance
of being wrought by derived or dependent power.
And yet there is something which goes before, that
seems to suggest irresistibly that the power exercised
by Him on this memorable occasion was bestowed
upon Him by the Father, in answer to prayer offered
at the time. For just before He called to Lazarus,
we read, “ and Jesus lifted up His eyes, and said,
Father, I thank thee that Thou hast heard me. And
I knew that Thou hearest me always : but because of
the people which stand by I said it, that they may
' believe that Thou hast sent me.”—Tb. 41-42.
No one ever doubts, I suppose, that this thanks
giving to the Father for having heard Him, has
reference to a prayer offered to the Father and
accepted by Him. The prayer was offered in silence,
and the intimation that it was heard was silently
given, (Compare Presensé p. .) But I should
think that there is no more doubt that both really
' took place than there is when both were audible, and
�The Collapse of the Faith.
17
we are actually told the words in which they were
expressed, as in the next chapter, where, at' the end
<of the mental conflict, which we are allowed to see,
we read His prayer and the answer to it; Father,
glorify Thy name. Then came there a voice from
heaven, saying, I both have glorified it and will
glorify it again.” And though a prayer were really
■secretly offered and answered at the grave of Lazarus,
it seems hardly possible to doubt that it had refer
ence to the wonderful work which He was about to
perform; and that it was in fact a prayer for power
to preform it, and that it was in the power bestowed
in answer to His prayer that this great miracle was
wrought. The whole story supplies abundant matter
for reflection, but I cannot dwell upon it further
here.’
I must'however give one more passage which I
think discloses to us at least as much as any that
have gone before of the extent of the change which
the Blessed Lord had undergone, when He was in
the likeness of sinful flesh. When St Feter rashly
attempts to deliver Him by force from the hands of
His enemies, He rebukes him and tells him that if He
desired to be delivered, He had no need of human
aid. ‘ Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to My
* Every one is likely to be reminded here of the remark
able passage in the life of Elijah, which is related in the
1st Book of Kings xvii. 1. ‘ And Elijah the Tishbite who
was of the inhabitants of Gilead, said unto Ahab, as the Lord
God of Israel liveth before whom I stand, there shall not be
dew nor rain these years but according to my word. ’ There
is so little here to suggest any dependence of this act of the
prophet upon prayer, that most readers I should suppose are
surprised when they find the miraculous visitation upon the
land of Israel which followed, referred to by St James as an
example of the power of the effectual fervent, prayer of a
righteous man. ‘ Elias was a man subject to like passions .as
we are, and he prayed that it might not rain ; and it rained
not upon the earth by the space of three years, and six
months,’ James v, 17,”
�18
The Collapse of the Faith.
Father, and He shall presently give me more than
twelve legions of angels.” This passage suggests a
great deal which is eminently interesting, but with
which we are not immediately concerned. But it
has also a most important bearing on the point which
we are at present upon. We know that by Him
were all things created; that all worlds, visible and
invisible, and all the forms of existence material and
immaterial, by which they are inhabited, were made
by Him ; that when He was in the form of God all
angels worshipped Him ; and that in the presence of
His glory the Seraphim veiled their faces while they
adored Him. And when we see Him in the hands
of men, mocked and reviled, buffeted and scourged
and spit upon, we see a marvellous manifestation
indeed of His great humility. But we feel, all the
while, that all this was done only because it was His
good pleasure, for the accomplishment of His work, to
submit Himself to shame and to pain; and that, at
any moment that He pleased, it would come to an
end. And so it was. The text that I have just
quoted proves that so it was; but it at the same
time seems to disclose to us more of the depth to
which He had humbled Himself than any extremity
of indignity and suffering to which He was subjected
could reveal. Because it shows that, if He would be
delivered from this pain and shame by the angels
whom He had created, He was to procure their aid,
not by commanding them to come to His deliverance,
but by praying to His heavenly Father to send them
to set Him free. The object would be effected with
certainty. But the mode in which it was to be
effected discloses, to my mind more strikingly than
any other passage in Scripture, the great and wonder
ful change which for the time had taken place in His
relation to the unseen world.
All these passages bear witness, directly and
indirectly, to the reality and depth of the humilia-
�The Collapse of the Faith.
i9
tiott of the Blessed Lord when actually in the fonn
of man. But there is another, (Phil, ii. 6, 7), which
.¡seems to unveil to us what was done in the unseen
world to prepare Him for the state to which He
•was about to descend. In it He seems to be shown
t© us when in the form of God, divesting Himself
of all that was incompatible with the state of
humiliation to which He was about to descend,
not holding tenaciously the equality with God which
He enjoyed, but letting it go, and Emptying Himself.
It is the results of this wonderful process which
the text that I have been reviewing present to us.
And wonderful as the process is, and not forgetting
even the intense energy of the expression sauro?
¿xsvaffi, do not the results accord with it ? Do not
the passages to which I have before referred exhibit
Him as actually emptied—emptied of His Divine
glory, of His Divine power, and of His Divine
omniscience, and receiving back from His heavenly
Father what he had laid down, in sueh measure
as was needful for His work while it was going
on—only doing what Ire was commanded and enabled
to do, and only teaching what He was taught and
commanded to teach. And when it came to an end,
when He had finished the work which had been
given Him to do, and His humiliation was over,
He could pray to the Father, “ And now, 0 Father,
glorify Thou Me with Thine own Self, with the
glory which I had with Thee before the world was.”
And His prayer was answered. All power He Him
self declares, was given to Him in heaven and in earth.
The Apostle testifies that God hath highly exalted
Him and given Him a name which is above every name;
that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of
things in heaven and things in earth, and things under
the earth; and that every tongue should confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.
[Query.—Is there not a very monotheistic look
�The Collapse of the- Faith.
in the closing words of this text, Christ is Lard
The Father is God.]
11 Some say that they can in some measure under
stand and believe every part of the preparatory
process referred to, except that in which the Lord’s
omniscience is concerned; but that that, is so essential,
to His nature, that they cannot conceive or admit
that it could have been laid aside, even, temporarily.
I must myself, on the contrary, confess that though
I believe every part of the process that. I find in
the Bible, I do not, properly speaking, understand any
part of it. I am disposed, however, to believe that if
the whole were perfectly understood by us, we should
see that there is just the same difficulty in every
part of the change which the Lord is represented as
having undergone—neither more nor less in any one
than in any other.
“ But however that may be, it is to me not a.
question of reason.but of fact; and of the actual facts
of the case the true and only evidence is to be found
in God’s word. One who looks at the subject in this
way, and who examines the Holy Scriptures as the
only source of His knowledge upon it, ready to
believe all that he finds there, will not, I think, be
startled by the statement in St Mark, wonderful as
it is—if he comes to it after having read and con
sidered the passages which we have been reviewing ;
at least I am sure that he will not be startled by it,
as he would be if he came upon that text without
such preparation.
“ I do not mean that what we learn from these
passages, concerning the state of the Incarnate Word
and His relation to the Father, would warrant us in
inferring that He was actually ignorant of anything
knowable. But when they teach us that all His
superhuman knowledge was supplied by the Father,
we are led to look upon that as possible which,
without such information, we should regard as im-
�.Follapse of the Faith.
2
possible. All things that the omniscient Father
knows—that is, all things—doubtless were known to
the Son when he. was in the form of God. But it
appears that when He became man and dwelt among
us, of this infinite knowledge He only possessed as
much as was imparted to Him. And this being the
case we must see that if anything which could not be
known naturally was not made known to Him by
the Father, it would not be known by Him. Though
We see this however, we have no right, as I said,
to conclude that there really was anything unknown
to Him, because we have right to conclude that
there is any knowledge which the Father would
withhold from Him. And accordingly, even when
we see it elsewhere declared expressly and emphati
cally by Him concerning the time of the coming of the
Son of Man, 1 of that day and hour knoweth no man,
no not the angels in heaven, but my Father only,
“ we do not regard the well-beloved Son as intended
to be included, when angels and men are said to be
ignorant of that time; or excluded, when it is
declared that it is known to the Father only. It
is not until He Himself declares expressly, as we
learn from St Mark that He did, that this is so ; that
is, it is not until we learn that He Himself said, ‘ of
that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the
angels which are in heaven, neither the Son, but the
Father,’ that we believe that He too was ignorant
of the time when He is to come again to judge the
world.
“ The declaration is so plain and express, that
even if it stood alone, I do not think it would be
reasonable to entertain any doubt about its real
meaning. But I can hardly think such a doubt
possible, when the natural interpretation of the text
is sustained by the concurrent testimony of such a
number and such a variety of texts as we have been
looking at. And when once we are satisfied that
�22
The Collapse of the Faith,
the Lord has really declared this fact concerning
Himself, we seem to be no more warranted in dis
believing or doubting it, than we should be in
disbelieving or doubting anything else that we are
sure He has said.”
OBSERVATIONS.
1. When the Bishop says, that there “ can be no
doubt ” about the meaning of certain passages, what
does he intend towards Athenasius, Bull, Waterland,
Elliott and all the orthodox, who differ from him
in these passages ?
2. When he says that the “Scriptures are the
only source of knowledge” on this dogma, what
place does he assign to his own articles and creeds ?
3. What conceivable right has he to say that
the capacity for Divine Attributes was “incompatible
with the state of humiliation ?”
4. When he “ cannot fix the time ” at which Jesus
attained this knowledge, such as it was, does not
this plainly imply the man acquiring the supplies of
Godhead, whereas we are taught, that it was “ the
word that became flesh ” and took our nature ?
5. One would be curious to know in what the
Bishop considers our Lord’s personality to have
consisted.
6. When Divinity lecturer in Trinity College,
the Bishop published two sermons in connection
with Mr Irving, and in the appendix, p. 73, he says,
“ Mr Irving holds himself to be very grievously
caluminated when charged with socinianism; and if
the charge were meant to imply that he holds
socinian views, &c. &c., no doubt he would be
greatly misrepresented; but if, by the charge, were
meant that like them he stumbles, &c. &c., it
is undoubtedly well grounded,”—no doubt the Bishop
would “ hold himself to be grievously caluminated,”
if the same charge were brought against him, but
�The Collapse of the Faith.
23
surely it would be as “ well grounded ” as it was in
the case of Irving. The Bishop seems (for the passage
is not as distinct as his Lordship’s later compositions
are), at the time when these two sermons were
published, (1833,) to have held the view concerning
our Lord’s two natures and two kinds of knowledge
which he now calls Nestorianism; he says, (page 70,)
that in the Temptation Christ’s “ zeal and love,
acted in combination with this limitation of views
which belonged to the Lord’s human nature, and
not with that fulness of knowledge of Divine Counsels
which belonged to His Divine nature,”—(what mean
ing would there be in this antithesis, if Jesus did
not then possess the “ Divine Nature and the fulness of
knowledge of Divine Counsels which belonged %o it?)
7. Spinoza defines “Attribute” to be “what we
apprehend as constituting the essence ” of anything
—therefore to say, e.g., that an Infinite being is
without infinite attributes, is to speak of a thing’s
being without its own essence, or in other words it is
speaking in a way that has no meaning. Waterland
devotes one of his greatest sermons (vol. 2. sermon
vii. p. 141), to prove Christ’s Deity from his attri
butes, viz., eternity, immutability, omniscience, and
omnipotence.
N.JB.—Bishop O’Brien denies to our Lord all
divine attributes; does he mean to include the denial of
eternity ?
8. Waterland takes most of the texts selected by
Bishop O’Brien, and strives to defend them from
the Arian interpretation adopted by the Bishop,
and he also (p. 163) explains the passage of St
Mark in the way the Bishop calls the heresy of
Nestorianism.
9. Bishop Bull, (works vi. 351), terms the inter
pretation of Phil. ii. 6. adopted by the Bishop,
Socinian, and that ££ Socinistas frustra omnino, aleogue
in causes suce ruinam hunc locum Apostoli appelasse.”
�24
The Collapse of the Faith.
10. Can any conceivable ingenuity, in any honest
way, reconcile this “ Depotentiation ” (or) “ xsvu<r/$”
teaching of Bishop. O’Brien, with the 1st Article,
{Three Persons of one power substance and eternity), or
with the so-called' Athanasian creed {equal to the
Father as touching His Godhead) ?
REV. E, H. PLUMPTRE,
Professor of Divinity, King’s College, London.
CHAPLAIN TO THE BISHOP OP BRISTOL.
P. 87—“What was once rejected as a heresy has
since crept in among us and been all but recognised
as a dogma. We think of the Divine eternal word
as simply tenanting a human body; or if of human
“reasonable soul,” then of that as possessing .all
Divine attributes, conscious from the very first of that
mysterious union, possessing and manifesting from
the very first all treasures of wisdom and knowledge
We are slow to apprehend the truth that that soul
passed in its growth of intellect and feeling through the
same stages as. our own; that knowledge came to it
as it comes to us, through sacred books or human
teaching or the influences of surrounding circum
stances—widening more and more with advancing
years—led on in the fulness of time into all truth by
the Spirit which was given to him, ‘not with measure,’
and ‘ abode upon him.” . . . Assuming the energy
in Him of all Divine attributes we pass over the con
flict'of human emotions, without which there could
be no experience, no discipline, no temptation,
no sympathy. We cannot bring ourselves, in spite
of the plainest statements of the Gospel record, to
think of him as gaining knowledge of any kipd from
those around him, (Mark ix. 21); wondering with
the surprise of those whose hopes are bitterly
* Boyle Lectures, I860,
�The
¡lapse of the Faith.
i5
disappointed (Mark vi. 6.); looking into the future
with a partial insight as knowing not the day or hour
of the full completion of his work (Mark xiii. 32) ;
praying, ‘ if it be possible, &c. &c.’
And yet the whole beauty' and significance of his
life as sinless, perfect, archetypal, melts away, in
proportion as we substitute this- the error of
Apollinarius for the Church’s faith.
Instead of a true son of man perfected by suffering,
(Heb. ii. 10.) passing i.e. through experience, to his
full maturity, learning by that suffering the full
meaning of obedience—we fashion for ourselves the
thought of a simulated Humanity, a childhood
almighty and all knowing, with the appearance but
not the reality of growth in power and wisdom. ’
P. 89—“ It may seem to some that these thoughts
lead us on to a mere humantarianism, and destroy
the truth of the Incarnation on its Divine side more
fatally even than the conception of which I have
spoken destroys the reality of the human. ... In
that word ‘ emptied Himself,’ we may find what at
least serves to interpret with the language and the
facts of the gospel history. . . That form of God,
*
that glory of the Father can be conceived of only as
the possession, energy, activity, of the Divine
attributes. To empty Himself ‘ of these was to sub
mit to the conditions not of an infinite but a finite
life ; to become ‘ lower than the angels,’ even as the
sons of men are lower that He might rise through
successive stages to a height far above all princi
palities and powers, to the name which is above-,
every name, the glory which He had with the Father
before the world was.’—Such at least is the teaching
N.B.—When Mr Plumptre quotes Bishop Ellicott and
Waterland on Philip, ii. 6. it is right to remark that they
Tolerate only the other interpretation of ‘ ‘ thought it not
robbery,”-—they both are against Mr Plumptre’s idea, that
Christ was ‘ emptied of His divine attribute. ’
�i6
The Collapse of the Faith.
of the epistle to the Hebrews. The eternal Son
learnt obedience. . Because He has been tempted He
is able to sympathise. We trust in the Incarnate Son
more than in the Divine omniscience as an attribute,
because the Incarnation has made us surer than we
could have been without it, that 1 He knows and
pities our infirmities.’
MOORHOUSE.
P. 56.— “Apollinaris (a man equally distinguished
for wisdom and piety, devoted to the church, and a
personal friend of Athanasius), in his zeal against the
Arians, and his desire to give distinctness and com
prehensibility to the orthodox faith, was led to assert
that the Eternal Word at His incarnation took nothing
but the flesh of humanity—its body and animal soul
—while His Divine Nature supplied the place of a
rational spirit. . . . . Bodily weakness, indeed, was
left and bodily suffering, but every one of our Lord’s
spiritual and intellectual acts was attributed not to
His human spirit, (for human spirit He had none,)
but directly to the Immanent Deity.” . . . And is
it useless to call attention to this mistake of a good
man, when so many are shrinking back from the
thought of our Saviour’s real limitation in knowledge,
and His real growth in wisdom, because they find it
difficult to entertain these thoughts by the side of
His omniscience?
P. 60.— “We must believe in our Lord’s real
humanity, that as concerning the flesh He came of the
tribe of Judah, for if the omniscience and omnipotence
of His Divine Nature exclude the ignorance and
weakness of His human nature, then this latter was
never really limited, was never a reality at all, but
only, as the Docete held, a mere shadow or apparition;
then too the Scriptural representations of His growth
* Hulsean Lectures, 1865.
�The Collapse of the Faith.
27
in wisdom, and of His being made perfect through
suffering are merely delusive suggestions, fraudulently
invented to bring the Redeemer nearer to our heart,
and to persuade us, contrary to the fact, that we have
an High Priest who can be really touched with the
feeling of our infirmities.”
GLADSTONE’S “ECCE HOMO.”
P. 51.—“It is enough for us to perceive that
the communication of our Lord’s life, discourses,
and actions to believers, by means of the four
Gospels, was so arranged in the order of God’s
providence, that they should be first supplied with
biographies of Him which have for their staple, His
miracles and His ethical teaching, while the mere
doctrinal and abstract portion of His instructions was
a later addition to the patrimony of the Christian
Church. So far as it goes, such a fact may serve to
raise presumptions in favour of the author of “ Ecce
Homo,” inasmuch as he is principally charged with
this, that he has not put into his foreground the full
splendour and majesty of the Redeemer about whom
he writes. If this be true of him, it is true also thus
far of the Gospels.”
P. 58.—“ Those portions of the narrative in the
Synoptical Gospels which principally bear upon the
Divinity of our Lord, refer to matter which formed,
it will be found, no part of His public ministry.”
P. 62.—“ If we pass on from the great events of
our Lord’s personal history, to His teachings as
recorded in His discourses and sayings by the Synop
tic writers, we shall find that they too are remark
able for the general absence of direct reference to
His Divinity, and indeed to the dignity of his person
altogether.”
P. 63.—“He asserted His title to be heard, but
He asserted nothing more”—“In a word, for the
�28
The Collapse of the Faith.
time, He Himself, as apart from His sayings, is no
where.”
P. 66.—“This (Luke iv. 18-21.) is a clear and
undeniable claim to be a teacher sent from God, and
of certain strongly marked moral results, &c., &c.
Yet here we find not alone that He keeps silence on
the subject of His Deity, but that even for His claim
to Divine sanction and inspiration He appeals to
results.”
P. 86, 87.—“During the brief course of His own
ministry, our Saviour gave a commission to His twelve
apostles and likewise one to His seventy' disciples.
Each went forth with a separate set of full and clear
instructions. ... In conformity with what we have
already seen, both are silent in respect to the Person
of our Lord.”
P. 103.—It appears then on the whole as respects
the person of our Lord, that its ordinary exhibition
to ordinary hearers and spectators was that of a
man engaged in the best and holiest, and tenderest
ministries; . . . Claiming a paramount authority
for what He said and did; but beyond /this, asserting
respecting Himself nothing and leaving Himself to be
judged by the character of His words and deeds'.”
P. 112.-—“But if He did not despise the Virgin’s
womb, if He lay in the cradle a wailing or a'feeble
infant, if He exhausted the years of childhood and of
youth in submission to His Mother and to Joseph, if
all that time He grew in wisdom as well as in stature,
and was even travelling the long stages of the road' to
a perfection by us inconceivable; if even when the
burden of His great ministry was upon Him, He has
Himself told us, that as His divine power was placed
in abeyance, so likewise a bound was mysteriously set
upon His knowledge—what follows from this? That
there was accession to His mind and soul from time
to time of what had not been there before : and that
He was content to hold in measure and to hold
�The Collapse of the Faith.
29
/as a thing received, what, but for His humiliation in
the flesh, was His without limit and His as springing
from within.”
REV. S. A. BROOKE,
*
HON. CHAPLAIN TO THE QUEEN.
P. 32-4, “It was then a man who spoke these
words (on the Cross) ? but we are told that He was
also Divine, that the Word is incarnate in Jesus.
This is the doctrine of the Church of England, and I
have often stated my belief in it. But the question
at present is, how far, at the time these words were
spoken, had the Divine nature become at one with
the human nature of Christ. I would suggest that if
God had in all His fulness, at this time, united Him
self to Christ, so that the Divine and human natures
"were entirely blended then into one human-divine
Person, Christ could neither have suffered nor
struggled with evil, nor died, and the whole story
becomes fictitious; and it is in avoiding this dreadful
conclusion which seems to rob us of all comfort, that
men have been driven into believing in Christ as
being nothing more than a sinless man. I suggest
another view—I can conceive that though His union
with God was from the moment of His birth poten
tially His, as the whole growth of the oak is in the
acorn, yet that the communication of the Divine
Word to the Man Christ Jesus was a gradual com' munication, that it went on step by step with the
'gradual perfecting of His humanity, that, for example,
in the temptation in the wilderness the human1 will
of Christ met all the temptations to sin which could
be offered to Him on the side of the spirit of the
world, struggled with them in a real struggle, and
* Sermon on the Voysey judgment.
�20
The Collapse of the Faith.
conquered them, and that then His human nature,
having made itself so far forth victorious and perfect,
received such a communication of the Divine nature
as raised Him above all possibility from that time of
being tempted by the evil spirit of the world.............
This (next) crisis came in the garden of Gethsemane.
According to the view suggested, He would conquer
that temptation with the weapons of humanity, not
of divinity, and when that was over, then His human
nature having made another step towards its perfec
tion, would be adequate to receive a farther com
munication of the Divine Word, which would raise
Him beyond the power of ever being tempted by any
spiritual evil—the spiritual union between God and
man ever, as I have said, potentially His, would have
now reached, through a growth unbroken by any
reception of evil, its perfect development. . . . The
view we suggest would allow us to say—and the
history tends to confirm it—that Christ was not at
this time a partaker of the absolute attributes of God.
He was not omniscient, omnipotent, unlimited by
time or space, or impassible—with regard to know
ledge, to suffering, to the desires of the body, He
would then be as we are, except so far as absolutely
holy humanity modifies these things. According
then, to this idea, we need not be troubled with the
thought that theology imposes on us a fiction in ask
ing us to believe in the reality of the sufferings upon
the Cross. They were borne by a man, but by a man
who was, through the spiritual union of His human
nature with the spiritual nature of the Divine Word,
essential and perfect humanity, a man and yet the
Man.”
�The Collapse &f the Faith.
31
*
DÖRNER
PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GOTTINGEN.
Division 2, vol. 3, p. -249-50. “In relation also tothe earthly God-manhood of Christ, as we have ob
served, not merely is the principle that He must have
undergone a true growth universally recognised ; but
theologians also are pretty generally agreed in the
opinion, that if the unity of the Divine-huihan life
during the period of Christ’s earthly existence is to be
maintained, the Ksy&xng must be much more com
pletely carried out............ We have no alternative
but to assume, that in some way or other the Logos
limited Himself for His being and activity in this
Mm, so dong as the same was still undergoing growth.
. . , .' Important differences, however, are still ob
servable here. The one maintain that this limitation
of the Logos in Jesus is to be conceived as a rooted
self-depotentiation in love, as consisting in a reduction
of His Being to the point of adequacy to the embry
onic life of a child of man, &c. . . . On the only other
possible view we can merely speak of a limitation of
the self-communication of the Logos to humanity, not
of a lessening or reduction of the Logos Himself.”
E. DE PRESSENSE, Parish
P. 254.—“ According to John’s prologue, the un
created light of the Word emitted some rays in the
night of a world separated from God—‘The light
shineth in darkness.’ But when the issue is to
redeem the world and save it, and to raise man up to
God, then ‘the Word becomes flesh;’ an expression
* “ Doctrine of the Person of Christ.”—(Clark's Edinburgh
Edition.')
f Jesus, Christ, son temps, sa vie, son seuvre.
�22
The Collapse of the Faith.
which does not mean merely that He clothed Himself
with a human body, but that He became really man,
and subjected Himself to all the conditions of our
existence. Jesus Christ is not at all the Son of God
hidden in the son of man and retaining in a latent
condition all the attributes of Divinity ; that would
require an irreducible duality which would destroy
the Unity of His Person, and remove it from the
normal conditions of a human life; His obedience
would become a mockery, and His example would be
inapplicable to our race. No, when the "Word be
came flesh, He annihilated Himself—He stripped
Himself of His glory—‘ being rich He became poor ’
—He became as one of us, sin excepted, in order
to encounter the moral conflict, with all the perils
arising out of His being free. We have a Son of
God voluntarily lowered, and that very lowering is
the beginning as well as the condition of His Sacri
fice. He retained of Deity that which constitutes in
some sort its moral essence; He is not the less man
because the man only fulfils Himself in God. If we
wish to avoid falling into a Docetism which would
make Christ a phantom and the Gospel an illusion,
we must acknowledge this lowering of the Word in the
full sense of its meaning and with all its mysterious
ness—all the more, because it has been too much lost
sight of by the Church theology of the fourth century.
Up to that time, even whilst the Formula was halting
and unsettled, the belief in a Christ who was very
man never failed; they never fell back on a dogma
of the two natures, and they continued steadfast in
the Apostles’ beliefs, which were too vital and too
deep to be lost in these metaphysial subtleties.—
Homo factus est, says Irenaeus, ut nos assuefaceret fieri
det. Accordingly, Christ is not that outlandish
Messiah who, as God, possessed omniscience and
and omnipotence, at the same time when, as man,
His knowledge and powers were limited. We be-
�The Collapse of the Faith
33
lieve in a Christ who became really like ourselves,
who was subjected to the conditions of progress and
gradual life-development, and who was obedient even
unto the death on the cross. On no other terms
shall we have a living and human Gospel, and prevent
its being, like a Byzantine painting, stiff and motionless
in a gilded frame, with all its individuality of ex
pression merged in a hue of conventionalism.”
Having noticed (p. 262) “ the inextricable contra
diction” of the two genealogies, he says, p. 314, &c.,
of The Temptation, “If impeccability be demanded
for Christ, then He is removed from the real condi
tions of earthly life; His humanity is only an
illusion, a thin veil, behind which appears His
impassible Divinity. Being no longer like us, He
no longer belongs to us.
A nondescript meta
physical phantasmagoria replaces the thrilling drama
of a moral struggle. We must no longer speak of
temptation, nor of the trial of Him who was the sub
ject of it. Let us fetch Christ down from that chilly
empyræum of Theology where He is nothing but a
dogma, and let us say with Irenæus, / Erat homo
certans pro patribus.’ .... It is as Messiah that He
is tempted ; and it is as concerning the miraculous
power which He possessed, or at least, which He is
invested with by God from day to day.”
The Infallibility
of Jesus.
P. 352 (see extract from page 254.)—“ According
to our idea of the Incarnation and the voluntary
self-lowering implied in it, we do not at all claim
omniscience for Jesus. He made Himself subject to
the law of development, and consequently He could
not have possessed spiritual omniscience all at once.
He attained it by degrees. But whilst we admit His
improvement and advance, we must be'on our guard
�34
The Collapse of the Faith.
against/ confounding His relatively imperfect spiritual
knowledge with error. In this domain, infallibility is
a result of perfect holiness, for religious error belongs
to some moral imperfection. Truth, says Schleiermacher, is man’s natural condition.................. If, then,
this is the case with man in his normal state, with
much more reason must we attribute this infallibility
to Jesus, who presents to-us -the most lofty ideal of
humanity............ This infallibility, however, reaches
no; farther than to spiritual truth. It is taking away
from Jesus the reality of His humanity to suppose
that He possessed an innate knowledge of all terres
trial phenomena, and that He entirely escaped the
common notions of this age on physical matters. It
would be childish to believe that when; He spoke of
the setting sun, He reserved in His own mind the
theory of Galileo or of Newton. No, as regards every
thing which was not a part of His mission, He was
truly the man of His age and of His country. Yea,
more than that, even in the spiritual sphere, He did
not possess omniscience. He declared Himself, that
the knowledge of the times and seasons belonged
exclusively to His Father.”
.
■ ■
The Raising of Lazarus.
532.—“ Lazarus was lying on a bed of suffering—
his sickness was getting worse, and Jesus was in
Pereea—it was a journey of several hours to reach
Him—a messenger was sent off in all haste by the
two sisters. Instead of coming He only replied in
these prophetic words, ‘this sickness is not unto
death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God
may be glorified thereby/ Evidently, Jesus spoke
under the influence of a special revelation, and the
issue which was about to be effected could not but.
have an influence on His own personal destiny, which
was so important that He was aware of it beforehand.
�The Collapse of the Faith.
35
536.—“With eyes raised up to heaven. He gives
thanks to the Father even before the miracle was
wrought, so assured is He that what He asks is
agreeable to His will. Had He not then received an
express revelation as to what was going to take place,
even before the death of Lazarus ? ”
Such is this drama, as affecting and as simple
as human life is in its noblest passages, for which
some have dared to substitute, a low stage farce.
F. GODET,
*
DOCTEUR PROF. THEOL. BALE.
[Dr Godet’s commentary takes very high rank
amongst the most orthodox and conservative pro
ductions of continental evangelicalism, and is. de
signed to be an answer to and preservative against
the rationalising and destructive exegesis of Ger
many. Dr Godet (g.y.) asserts the mnaculous birth
of our Lord, the objective reality of the supernatural
phenomena at His baptism, the reality of the facts of
the Temptation, the personality of Satan, demoniacal
possession, the certainty of the miracles, the vicarious
punishment of Christ, &c., &c. He claims and
vindicates the Messianic Psalms and Prophecies,
reconciles the genealogies, calls the. free thought
school “ the Saturnalia of Criticism,” and is
thoroughly evangelical on the Eucharist.]
He says, vol. i. p. 54. (St Luke ch. i. 35.) “ The
power of the highest shall overshadow thee.
I
think rather that these expressions recall the cloud
which in the desert covered the camp of the Israelites
and sheltered it with its shade. Here, as in ch.
ix. 34, the Evangelist indicates the approach of
* Com. Evang. de. S. Luc. 1871.
�36
The Collapse of the *ith.
a
that mysterious cloud by the word emgxid^eiv. Here
the Holy Spirit indicates the divine power, the
vitalising breath which called the germ of a human
individuality slumbering in Mary’s womb, to the
development of its existence. This germ is the band
which connects Jesus with human nature and makes
Him a member of the race which He came to save.
In this second creation the miracle of the first crea
tion is thus re-enacted with a higher power. There
the two elements were present, a body taken from
the earth, and the breath of God. Here the germ
borrowed from Mary’s womb and the Holy Spirit
fertilising it, correspond to those two elements.”
Therefore also that Holy thing which shall be born
of thee shall be called the Son of God. “ Here then
we have, from the mouth of the angel himself, the
authentic explanation of the expression Son of God in
the earlier part of his message. According to this ex
planation Mary could not understand the title in any
sense but this, a human being who had God Himself
as the immediate author of his existence. This is
not at all the idea of pre-existence, but it is more
than the notion of Messiah which relates only to
the office, of His mission; (vol ii. p. 301. On the trial
scene Dr Godet says, ‘ They were condemning Him
as a blasphemer, and that for calling Himself the
Son of God.’)”
“. . . . What is the connection between this
miraculous birth of Jesus and His perfect holiness 1
The latter is not a necessary result of the former, for
holiness is a matter of choice, not of nature. How
can we give any serious meaning to the moral
struggles in the history of Jesus, e.g. to the temp
tation, if absolute holiness were the natural conse
quence of His miraculous birth 1 But it is not so.
The miraculous birth was only the negative condition
of His immaculate holiness. By the method of
His entrance into human life, He was re-established
�The^ollafse of the ^aith.
^7
in what was man’s formal condition before the fall,
and put in a position of fulfilling the course originally
set before mankind which would have led it on
from innocence to holiness. He was simply released
from the impediment which, by virtue of our mode
of birth, fatally prevents us from performing this
task. But in order to turn this potentiality into
an actuality Jesus was bound every instant to make
an active use of His liberty, and to occupy Himself
unreservedly with carrying out the law. of ‘ the
good ’ and of the task which he had received, ‘ to
keep the commandment of His Father.’
The reality of the struggle then was. not in any
sense excluded by this miraculous birth, which
involved nothing else in Him except the freedom of
not sinning, but did not exclude at all the freedom of
sinning.
P. 127. ch. ii. 49. “My Father’s business, this
expression formulates the ideal of an entirely filial
life, of an existence absolutely consecrated, to God
and to Divine things., which perhaps had just that
moment burst forth in Jesus’ mind, and which we
could no more comprehend than did Mary and
Joseph, ‘ if the life of Jesus had not passed before
our viewv. 52. ‘ Increased in wisdom, &c.’ The
word ‘ stature ’ embraces the complete physical and
psychical development, all the external graces j
‘ wisdom ’ belongs to the internal development;
the third term, ‘favour wi#h God and man’ com
pletes the other two. There was shed around the
person of this young man a charm at once moral and
external, which won to him the favour of God and
men............ There is no other conception for the
omission or denial of which theology has to pay a
heavier penalty, than this one of a development in the
very pure. This is the conception which the Chris
tianity of the Bible owes for ever to this verse. By
means of it the humanity of Jesus can be accepted,
as it is here by St Luke, in all its reality.”
�38
The ^ollapse of the _j2itb.
P. 172. The Baptism, ch. iii. 21. “ Jesus also
being baptised and praying,—Luke adds here a
detail which is peculiar to him, and which serves
to put in their true light the miraculous phenomena
which are to follow. At the instant when Jesus
afthr His baptism was about to go up out of the
water, He was in prayer. This detail shows that
the divine manifestations were the reply from above
to the prayer of Jesus.”
11 The divine manifestation consisted of three
sensible phenomena, to which three internal facts
corresponded. The first phenomenon is the opening
of heaven, and the (corresponding) spiritual fact, of
which the phenomenon is as it were the percept
ible covering, is the complete understanding granted
to Jesus of the divine plan and of the work of salva
tion. This first phenomenon then represents the,
perfect revelation....... (Second phenomenon),
Jesus sees descending a luminous apparition; to
this manifestation the interval fact of the effusion of
the Holy Spirit into His soul corresponds. The
Holy Spirit is about to make burst forth all the
germs of a new world which up to this were shut up
in the soul of Jesus. . . . This luminous apparition
then is thè emblem of an inspiration which is neither
intermittent like that of the prophets, nor partial
like that of believers—of perfect Inspiration. The
third phenomenon, that of the divine voice accom
panies a communication yet more intimate and
personal. There is no more direct emanation of
personal life than speech and voice. The voice of
God Himself sounds at once in the ear and in the
heart of Jesus and initiates Him as to His relation
to God—the most tenderly beloved being, beloved as
an only Son is of a father ; and as to his relation, as
such to the world—the medium of the divine love
towards men, his brothers, to raise whom also to the
dignity of sons is his mission.’—. . . ‘My Son.’
�The ^ollapse of the ™aith.
39
What is the force of the possessive pronoun here ? . .
The unutterable blessedness of being the perfect
object of the love of the infinite God, diffused itself,
at this word, in the heart of Jesus.
“ By the perfect revelation, Jesus is now initiated
as to the plan and work of salvation ; by the perfect
inspiration He possesses the power of accomplishing
it; by the consciousness of His dignity of sonship,
He feels himself to be the supreme messenger of God
here below, the Messiah, the chosen one of God,
summoned alone to finish that work.” (Note, p. 179.)
—“ Jesus actually received, not indeed (as Cerinthus,
going beyond the truth, used to teach) the visit of a
Christ from heaven who was to be joined to Him for
a time (note this) but the Holy Spirit, in the full
meaning of the word, whereby Jesus became the
anointed of the Lord, the Christ, the perfect man, the
second Adam, capable of begetting a new spiritual
humanity.”
P. 221.—“ But could Jesus have been really tempted,
if He were holy; Sin if He were the Son of God ;
fail in His work, if He were the Redeemer chosen of
God ? The Holy one might be tempted. . . . the Son
could sin, because He had renounced the mode of
divine existence—the form of God (Philip, ii. 6.)—to
enter into a human estate precisely like our own.
The Redeemer might fail, if we regard the question
from the stand point of His personal liberty, &c., &c.
“ These supreme laws of his Messianic activ ty
He • had learned in the bitter school of the
instructor to whom God had committed Him in the ■
wilderness.”
P. 421.—(ch. viii. 45.) ‘who touched me 1 ’
“ The receptivity of the woman rises to such a
degree of energy that she as it were draws the cure
out of Jesus. The action of Jesus here is limited to
that constant willingness which impels Him, in all
�40
The ^ollapse of the ^aith.
His relation with men, to bless and save them. He
.however is not unconscious of that virtue which He
has just discharged ; but He knows that there is an
¡alloy of superstition in the faith of the person who is
^showing it .towards Him ; and, as Riggenbrch clearly
¿expounds, His object in what follows as to purify
.that incipient faith. But to do so, He must discover
the doer of the deed—we have no reason not to
impute to Jesus the ignorance expressed by his
'question, ‘ who touched me 1 ’ the candour of his
/character does not admit of any pretence.”
APPENDIX.
ON THE ATONEMENT.
Rev. Dr. Jellett, Fellow Trin. Coll., Dublin.
*
(Sufferings of the righteous,, p. 8, 9.)—“That the guilt
of one man should be transferred to another is not
only false, but absolutely inconceivable.” “When
under the name of imputed sin, or any other misty
term which we choose to employ, we speak of God as
punishing one man for the sin of another, we really
attribute to Him an action which I should find it
difficult to describe with reverence.”
Pp. 21, 22.—“Vicarious punishment implies vic
arious suffering certainly; but it implies something
more; and it is that ‘ something more ’ which is
involved in the theory now under consideration, and
.which seems to me at variance with the fundamental
laws of morality.” ...
“The theory under consideration, (viz., that our
* Sermons preached in the College Chapel, 1864
�The ^ollapse of tbe^aitfr.
4K
blessed Lord was the object of the Divine wrath), is
incredible, simply because it makes the Judge of all
the earth do wrong.”
Brookes’ Sermons, p. 492.
Nevertheless it is astonishing how strongly this
superstitious view of God s anger clings to the minds
of men. It has vitiated the whole view taken of the
Atonement by large numbers of the Church of Christ.
They are unconsciously influenced by the thought that
where there is suffering, there must be sin. The cross
is suffering; therefore, somewhere about the sufferer
there must be sin, and God must be angry. But
Christ had no sin j then what does the suffering
mean ? . . .
.
At last light comes to them . . . and the thing is
clear. Man sins, and sin against an Infinite Being
is infinite and deserving of infinite punishment. A
debate takes place in the nature of God. Justice says,
‘I must punish,’ Mercy replies, ‘have pity,’ Love
steps in, . . . the Son of God is infinite, let Him bear
as man the infinite punishment—and this was done,
&c., &c. The intuitions are all against it. It outrages
the moral sense 5 if I murdered a man to-morrow,
would justice be satisfied if my brother came forward
and offered to be put to death in my stead ? It
outrages the heart ... it outrages our idea of God,
it makes Him satisfied with a fiction.
If none of these opinions of reputed pillars of the
truth here quoted, be true, surely the Christian
evidence company ought to disprove them all, without
respect of persons ; and they ought to do it in a very
different fashion from that of our Father-in-God the
Bishop of Peterborough, who in his recent Issean
orations in Norwich repeated in LARGE CAPITALS, that
�42
The ^ollapse of the ^aith.
■Christianity has no demonstration to give ; and that
if it had, it would do us no more good than the
demonstration that two and two are four !!
[Qu. Why then does the Bishop complain of people
who won’t believe him; or of those who would believe
if they could
But if any one of these opinions be true, then the
natural meaning of our creeds and articles is not true,
and orthodoxy with us must set about providing
itself with what the Americans call, “ a New Depar
ture doctrine.”
TURNBULL AND SPEARS, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
�
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
The collapse of the faith: or, the deity of Christ as now taught by the orthodox
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Carrol, William George [1821-1885] (ed)
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: Ramsgate; Dublin
Collation: v, [1], 10-42 p. ; 18 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Extracts from sermons by Right Rev. Dr. O'Brien, Rev. E.H. Plumptree, Rev. Moorhouse, Right Hon. W.E. Gladstone, Rev. Stopford Brooke. Professor Dorner, E. Dr. Pressense, Professor F. Godet. Name of author incorrectly spelt on title page as W.G. Carrol. Appendix: Rev. Dr. Jellett and Rev. Stopford Bridge on the atonement. Printed by Turnbull and Spears, Edinburgh. Pencilled inscription on title page: 'Rough proof. Very good indeed but the change noted (?) will not tell on popular opinion for a long time.'
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Thomas Scott; R.D. Webb
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1871]
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
G5462
Subject
The topic of the resource
Jesus Christ
Faith
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 (The collapse of the faith: or, the deity of Christ as now taught by the orthodox), 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
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Atonement
Belief and Doubt
Conway Tracts
Jesus Christ
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/98e290544b55a5f9790d43d04cd1ef93.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=GryHgVnapRVJ5HIfi9Fz1ysmxYM51jrZTV4bTmOgLKWO6LStCQGDVb9Pz7juJs51i452-Gqog1isTZQVUtWj8g6TVnex0pBnkaAl3fkS2NvD4GFoFeAaCnxv2WyeiEo4jeyewkYdOMhfL6tEJRp%7E8ux6da3bxTsBHXa4dNf9jqJ1szHzHZc0kMnhU2DjAGGMLaM2C9KBKhDacNUNgp%7E4N8SMjW8EtKCSRJuI4ql4fdeY%7E9JqZf4D-ecGvpgvnee6CmvnMEIsM%7EZxqXQ3U9SZkMlyHFQyvnypomfR5GUzscoscb5EhFAS3tbQPbLvXVZMnqHGPq5NXnVXHfd2jDYxDQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
fc433494be46b3d19d24d6b0aa20cbef
PDF Text
Text
DEDICATORY SERVICES
OF THE
, PARKER MEMORIAL 2
E ETING
HOUS
BY THE
TWENTY-EIGHTH CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY,
OF BOSTON,
Sunday, Sept. 81, 187’3.
BOSTON:
COCHRANE & SAMPSON, PRINTERS,
—
9 BROMFIELD STREET.
1873.
��SERVICES.
I. DEDICATION HYMN.
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON.
(SungMuiChoir^
To Light, that shines in stars and souls ;
To Law, that round* the world with calm ;
To Love, whose equal triumph rolls
Through martyr’s prayer and angel’s psalm, —
We wed these walls with unseen bands,
In holier shrines not built with hands.
May purer sacrament be here
Than ever dwelt in rite or creed, —
Hallowed the hour with vow sincere
To serve the time’s all-pressing need,
And rear, its heaving sea&above,
Strongholds of Freedom, folds of Love.
Here be the wanderer homeward led ;
Here living streams in fullness "flow;
And every hungering soul be fed,
That yearns the Eternal Will to know;
Here conscience hurl her stern reply
To mammon’s lust and slavery’s lie.
Speak, Living God, thy full command
Through prayer of faith and word of power,
That we with girded loins may stand
To do thy work and wait thine hour,
And sow, ’mid patient toils and tears,
For harvests in serener years.
�4
II. REMARKS OF JOHN C. HAYNES,
CHAIRMAN OF THE STANDING COMMITTEE OF THE TWENTY-EIGHTH CON
GREGATIONAL SOCIETY, OF BOSTON.
As your representative here to-day in the dedicatory services
of this Memorial to Theodore Parker, the first minister and
founder of our Society, what I have to say will consist mainly
of a brief review of the history of the Society.
On January 22d, 1845, a meeting was held at Marlboro’ Chapel
by several friends of free thought, at which the following reso
lution was passed: —
'•'•Resolved, That the Rev. Theodore Parker shall have a chance to be
heard in Boston.”
At that time he was preaching at West Roxbury. The
Melodeon was hired for Sunday mornings, and Mr. Parker
preached his first sermon there February 16th, 1845, on “The
Importance of Religion.” In November of that year the Society
was regularly organized as a “ body for religious worship ” under
the laws of Massachusetts, the name “Twenty-eighth Congre
gational Society of Boston ” was adopted, and Mr Parker, on
January 4th, 1846, was regularly installed as its minister. The
Society remained at the Melodeon until the fall of 1852, when,
for the sake of a larger audience-room for the great number
who flocked to hear Mr. Parker, it removed to the Music Hall,
then recently erected. There Mr. Parker preached from Sun
day to Sunday until his illness on January 9th, 1859. His last
discourse was on the Sunday previous. He continued, however,
to be the minister of the Society untill his death, which oc
curred May 10th, i860. From the time of the illness of Mr.
Parker to bis death, the Society continued its meetings, in the
hope at least of his partial recovery. After his death, the
Society, seeing the continued need of an unfettered platform
for free thought, and for the maintenance and diffusion of just
ideas in regard to theology, morality and religion, and whatever
else concerns the public welfare, of course maintained its organ
ization and continued its meetings, engaging as preachers the
best expounders of religious thought and feeling within its
reach, laymen as well as clergymen, women as well as men..
�The meetings have been held, without any interruptions except
those of the usual summer vacations, up to the present time,
a period of more than thirteen years since Mr. Parker’s death.
We have had financial and other discouragements, but the
enthusiasm of the Society for the cause of “ absolute religion,”
— the feeling that a pulpit like ours was needed, in which earnest
men'and women could freely express their views upon religious,
social and political questions, — have kept us united and in
action.
Our first serious misfortune, after the death of Mr. Parker,
occurred in April, 1863, when, in consequence of the several
months needful for the putting up of the Great Organ, we were
obliged to vacate the Music Hall and go back to the Melodeon.
Our second principal misfortune took plpce in September,
1866, when, in consequence of the Melodeon being required for
business purposes, we were compelled to remove to the Parker
Fraternity Rooms, No 5 54/Washington Street.
In each case, the removal from a larger to a smaller hall re
duced our numbers.
In May, 1865, ’Rev. David A. Wasson was settled as the
minister of the Society, which position he held until his resigna
tion in July, 1866. Previous to Mr. Wasson’s settlement, Rev.
Samuel R. Calthrop, now of Syracuse, N.Y., occupied the pul
pit continuously for several months.
During 1867 and 1868, for more than a year, Rev. Samuel
Longfellow preached for the Society on successive Sundays.
Mr. Longfellow has continued to preach for us occasionally
ever since.
On December 13th, 1868, Rev. James Vila Blake was installed
by the Society as its minister, and remained our pastor nearly
three years, until his resignation in November, 1871.
Aside from these, we have had the occasional pulpit service of
many men and women, noble in character, and eminent in abil
ity. Among them are Ralph Waldo Emerson, William Lloyd
Garrison, Wendell Phillips, William R. Alger, John Weiss,
Samuel Johnson, O. B. Frothingham, John W. Chadwick,
Francis E. Abbot, Ednah D. Cheney, William J. Potter, Celia
Burleigh, William H. Spencer, and W. C. Gannett.
�6
The Parker Fraternity, which is an offshoot of the Twenty
eight Congregational Society, representing particularly its social
element, was organized in 1858, and has been a valuable adjunct
to the Society. Through its public lectures it has largely in
fluenced public opinion, particularly in the days of the anti
slavery reform and the momentous years of the rebellion. It
naturally recognized the rights of woman, and year after year
placed women among its lecturers.
The Twenty-eighth Congregational Society has always, from
the start, had its seats free. All who chose to come to its meet
ings have been welcome. The contributions for payment of
expenses have always been voluntary. The Society has never
had a creed, and has never used those observances with water,
bread and wine which the sects call “ sacraments.” Through
the twenty-eight years of its existence, the feeling against these
has been constant and universal, so that no question in regard
to them has ever arisen.
Now, for the first time, we have a building we can call our
own. We have erected it as a memorial to our first great
teacher and standard-bearer, Theodore Parker. We dedicate it
to the ideas he represented: namely, to truth, to humanity, to
the free expression of free thought, to duty, to mental, moral
and social progress, and to the diffusion of-religion without
superstition.
III.
SCRIPTURE READING.
[A part of the following selection from the Scriptures of different nations was read.]
Let us meditate on the adorable light of the Divine Creator; may He
quicken our minds.
What .1 may now utter, longing for Thee, do Thou accept it: make me
possessed of God !
Preserver, Refuge 1 leave us not in the power of the evil: be with us when
afar, be with us when near; so sustained, we shall not fear. We have no
other Friend but Thee, no other blessedness, no other Father. There is
none like Thee in heaven or earth, O Mighty One: give us understanding
as a father his sons. Thine we are ; we go on our way upheld by Thee.
Day after day we approach Thee with reverence : take us into Thy pro- l
tection as a father his sons. Thou art as water in the desert to him who I
longs for Thee.
�f
7
. •
Presence us by knowledge from sin, and lift us up, for our work and for
' oumife. Deliver us from evil!
Spirit alone is this All. Him know ye as the One Soul alone; dismiss
all other words.
The Eternal One is without form, without beginning, self-existent Spirit.
The Supreme Spirit, whose creation is the universe, always dwelling in
the heart of all beings, is revealed by the heart. They who know Him
become immortal. With the eye can no man see Him. They who know
him as dwelling within become immortal.
He is the Soul in all beings, the best in each, the inmost nature of
all; their beginning, middle, end: the all-watching Preserver, Father and
Mother of the universe; Supporter, Witness, Habitation, Refuge, Friend:
the knowledge of the wise, the silence of mystery, the splendor of light.
He, the One, moveth not, yet is swifter than thought. He is far, he is
near. He is within all, he is beyond all. He it is who giveth to his crea
tures according to their needs. He is the Eternal among things transitory,
the Life of all that lives, and being One fumlleth we desires of many. The
wise who see Him within themselves, theirs is everlasting peace.
Dearer than son, dearer than wealth, dearer than all* other beings, is He
who dwelleth deepest within.
. They who worship me, He saith, dwell in me and I in them. They who
worship me shall never die. By him who seeks me, I am easily found. To
such as seek me with constant love, I give the power to come to me. I will
deliver thee from all thy transgressions.
He who seeth all in God, and God in all, despiseth not any.
Hear the secret of the wise. Be not anxious ’ for Subsistence : it is pro
vided by the Maker. He who hath clothed the birds with their bright plu
mage will also feed thee. How should riches bring thee joy. He has all
good things whose soul is constant.
If one considers the whole universe as' existing in the Supreme Spirit,
how can he give his soul to sin ?
He leadeth men to righteousness that they may find unsullied peace.
. Who can be glorious without virtue ?
He who lives'pure in thought, free from malice, holy in life, feeling ten
derness toward all creatures, humble and sincere, has God ever in his heart.
The Eternal makes not his abode within the heart of that man who covets
another’s wealth, who injures any living thing, who speaks harshness or
untruth.
. The good have mercy on all as on themselves. He who is kind to those
who are kind to him does nothing great. To be good to the evil-doer is
what the wise call good. It is the duty of the good man, even in the mo
ment of his destruction, not only to forgive, but to seek to bless his de
stroyer.
By truth is the universe upheld.
Speak the truth : he drieth to the very roots who speaketh falsehood.
�8
Do righteousness : than righteousness there is nothing greater.
Honor thy father and thy mother. Live in peace with others. Speak ill
of none. Deceive not even thy enemy. Forgiveness is sweeter than
revenge. Speak kindly to the poor.
Whatever thou.dost, do as offering to the Supreme.
Lead me forth, O God, from unrighteousness into righteousness; from
darkness into light; from death into immortality 1
There is an invisible, eternal existence beyond this visible, which does
not perish when all things perish, even when all that exists in form returns
unto God from whom it came.
—Hindu {Brahminic) Scriptures*
O Thou in whom all creatures trust, perfect amidst the revolutions of
worlds, compassionate toward all, and their eternal salvation, bend down
into this our sphere, with all thy society of perfected ones. Thou Law of
all creatures, brighter than the sun, in faith we humble ourselves before
Thee. Thou, who dwellest in the world of rest, before whom all is but tran
sient, descend by thine almighty power and bless us !
Forsake ail evil, bring forth goo4, rule thy own thought: such is the path
to end all .pain.
My law is a law of mercy for all.
As a mother, so long as she lives, watches over her child, so among all
beings let boundless good-will prevail.
Overcome the evil with good, the avaricious with generosity, the false with
truth.
Earnestness is the way of immortality.
Be true and thou ahalt be free*. Ta be true belongs to thee, thy success,
to the Creator.
Not by meditation can the truth be reached, though I keep up continual
devotion. The. wall of error, is. broken by walking in the commandments of
God.
—Buddhist Scriptures.
In the name of God, the Giver, the Forgiver, the Rich in Love 1 Praise
be to the God, whose name is He who always was, always is, always shall be.
He is the Ruler, the Mighty, the Wise : Creator, Sustainer, Refuge, De
fender.
May Thy kingdom, come, O'Lord, wherein Thou makest good to the right
eous poor.
He through whose deed the world increaseth in purity shall come into Thy
kingdom.
This I ask of Thee, tell me the right, O Lord, teach me : Thou Ruler over
all, the Heavenly, the Friend for both worlds!
I pray Thee, the Best, for the best.
1 Teach Thou me out of Thyself.
The Lord has the decision: may it happen to us as He wills.
�9
“Which is the one prayer,” asked Zarathrusta, “that in greatness, good
ness and beauty is worth all that is between heaven and earth ? ” And the
Lord answered him, That one wherein one renounces all evil thoughts, evil
words, and evil works.
Praise to the Lord, who rewards those who perform good deeds accord
ing to His wijl, who purifies the obedient at last, and redeems even the
wicked out of hell.
—- Parsee Scriptures.
Hear, O Israel, the Lord thy God is one.
What doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to reverence the Lord
thy God, to walk in all his ways: to love him and to serve him with all thy
heart and with all thy soul 1
For the Lord your God is a great God, a mighty and a terrible, which regardeth not persons, neither taketh gifts. He executeth justice for the
fatherless and the widow and loveth the stranger.* Love ye therefore the
stranger. Ye are the children of the Lord your God.
Ye shall not steal, neither deal falsely, neither lie one to another. Neither
shall thou profane the name of thy God. Thou shalt no,t defraud thy neigh
bor, but in righteousness shalt thou judge him,
Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy heart.
But thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.
If thine enemy hunger feed him, iMie thirst give him drink. So shalt
thou heap coals of fire upon his head.
Bring no more vain oblations. Wash you, make you clean; cease to do
evil, learn to do good ; seek justice, relieve the oppressed.
Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow, though they
be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.
Justice will I lay to the line and righteousness to the plummet.
When Thy justice is in the earth, the inhabitants of the world will learn
righteousness.
The Lord will teach us his ways and we will walk in his paths. And he
shall judge the nations. And they shall beat their swords into plough
shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks : nation shall not lift up sword
against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.
For behold, I create a new heavens and a new earth. The wilderness and
the solitary place shall be glad, and the desert shall blossom as the rose.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down
in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my
life, He leadeth me in the right paths. Yea, though I walkthrough the val
ley of the deadly shadow, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me: Thy
rod and thy staff they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow
me all the days of my life.
—Jewish ^Canonical) Scriptures.
2
�IO
Wisdom is glorious, and never fadeth away. And love is the keeping of
her laws : and the giving heed unto her laws is the assurance of incorruptionj
And incorruption maketh us near unto God.
For wisdom, which is the worker of all things, taught me. In her is an
understanding spirit: holy, one only, yet manifold ; subtle, living, undefiled,
loving the thing that is good, ready to do good; kind to man, steadfast,
sure, having all power ; overseeing all things, and going through all mind ;
pure and most subtle spirit. For wisdom is more moving than any motion,
She passeth and goeth through all things by reason of her pureness. For
she is the breath of the power of God, and a pure influence flowing from the
glory of the Almighty. She is the brightness of the everlasting light, the. un
spotted mirror of the power of God and the image of his goodness. And be
ing one, she can do all things: and remaining in herself, she maketh all
things new; and in all ages entering into holy souls, she maketh them friends
of God and prophets.
Thou lovest all things that are ; thou savest all: for they are Thine, O
Lord, thou lover of souls. For Thine incorruptible spirit is in all things.
To know Thee is perfect righteousness ; yea, to know Thy power is the
root of immortality.
For righteousness is immortal.
— Jewish (Apocryphal} Scriptures.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed
are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for
they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they who do hunger and thirst af
ter righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they
shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.
Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is
the kingdom of heaven.
Love your enemies ; bless them who curse you; pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your
Father who is in heaven. Be ye therefore perfect as your Father in heaven
is perfect.
God is Spirit, and they who worship him must worship him in spirit.
The Father who dwelleth in me doeth the works. My Father worketh
hitherto and I work.
God is Love ; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in
him.
If we love one another, God dwelleth in us. And he that keepeth his
commandments dwelleth in Him, and He in him.
Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us that we
should be called the sons of God.
And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself as He is pure.
As many as are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God.
�11
Unto us there is but one God, the Father.
One God, and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you
all.
He hath made us ministers of the new covenant, not of the letter, but of
the spirit: for the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.
Now the Lord is that spirit: and where the spirit of the Lord is there is
liberty.
For, brethren, ye have been called unto liberty. Only use not your liberty
as an occasion for the flesh, but that by love ye may serve one another.
And now abide faith, hope, love : but the greatest of these is love.
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are
honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever
things are lovely: if there be any virtue *and any praise, think on these
things. The things which ye have learned and received and heard, do :
and the God of peace shall be with you.
— Christian Scriptures.
IV.
PRAYER.
BY SAMUEL LONGFELLOW.
V.
DEDICATION HYMN.
WRITTEN FOR THE OCCASION BY W. C. GANNETT.
(Sung by Choir and Congregation?)
O Heart-of all the shining day,
The green earth’s still Delight,
Thou Freshness in the morning wind,
Thou Silence of the night;
Thou Beauty of our temple-walls,
Thou Strength within the stone, —
What is it we can offer thee
Save what is first thine own ?
Old memories throng: we think of one —
Awhile with us he trod —
Whose gospel words yet bloom and burn;
We called him, — Gift of God.
Thy gift again; we bring thine own,
This memory, this hope;
This faith that still one Temple holds
Him, us, within its cope.
-•
�12
Not that we see, but sureness comes
When such as he have passed ;
The freshness thrills, the silence fills,
Life lives then in the vast;
They pour their goodness into it,
It reaches to the star;
The Gift of God becomes himself,
More real, more near, so far !
VI. DISCOURSE.
BY SAMUEL LONGFELLOW.
I greet you upon your gathering in this new and fair home.
It is but a change of place, — not of mind or purpose. You lay
no new foundations of the .spirit. What foundation can any man
lay deeper, broader, more eternal than those you have always
had, — faith in man and faith in God, whom man reveals ? You
build no new walls of spiritual shelter: what other can you ever
need than you have always had, — the sense of the encompass
ing, protecting, and perfect laws, the encircling God ? What
better roof could overarch your souls than the reverential, trust
ful sense of the Heavenly Power and Love; the Truth, Justice,
and Beauty that are above us all; the Perfect which lifts us to
heaven, and opens heaven to us and in us, even as in Rome’s
Pantheon — temple of all the Gods, or of the All-God — the
arching dome leaves in its centre an open circle, through
which the infinite depths of sky are seen that tempt the spirit
to soar and soar, without a bound, farther than any bird hath
ever lifted wing or floating air-ship of man’s building can ever
rise! What spires and pinnacles could you raise that would
point upward better than that ideal within us, that haunting
sense of Perfection which forever calls us to a better manhood,
and toward which in all our best moments we long and aspire ?
What breadth of enlarged space could you open, with hospita
ble welcome of free place for all who would come, beyond that
entire freedom of thinking, of speaking, of hearing, which have
been yours, and your offering to others, for so many years ?
Eyer since, indeed, you gathered together, resolved that “ Theo-
�13
dore Parker should have a chance to be heard in Boston,” and
forrwsd the Twenty-eighth Congregational Society. Founded
in the ecclesiastical independence of that name, you, in coming
here, have not to break away from any ecclesiastical organization. Nor do you need now or ever to ask leave of bishop, or
approbation of consistory or council, — or fear the censure of
either, — for anything that you may do here, for any one whom
Bou may invite here, for anything that may be said here, for any
rite or form or ceremonial that you here may establish or may
omit. Springing from such root of sympathy with fair play and
freedom of speech, — and especially of thought and speech that
were under some ban. of heresy, — you have not in coming here
had to break away from any traditions of orthodoxy or spiritual
constraint. The traditions you bring here, are all the other way.
It is to no experiment of liberty that you \bpen this place of
meeting; to no untried ideas and principles, but to well-tested
ones, which you see no ground to give up or to abate. For
ideas and principles you have, — though you are bound by no
Breed. Bound by no creed, I. say, — refusing to proclaim any.
Not, however, without individual beliefs, and doubtless with
Substantial agreement amid your varieties of opinion ; but not
imposing your beliefs upon each other, as conditions of fellow
ship, still less upon any as condition® of salvation. You do not
impose them upon yourselves as fiscal; but hope that they will
grow out into something larger, fuller, deeper. You may be
afloat; but you are not adrift. You may not know what new
worlds of Truth lie before you ; but you know where you are,
and in what direction you are going. Beneath you is the deep
of God; over you, his eternal stars; within you, the magnet
which, with all its variations, is yet a trustworthy guide. Your
hand is on the helm. The sacred forces and laws of nature
encompass you. While you obey them you will not be lost.
“If your bark sink, ’tis to another sea.” You cannot go beyond
God.
This great principle of Freedom of Inquiry, Liberty of
^Thought, you bring with you. And may I not say for you
that you re-affirm it here ? In using it, it has not failed you or
betrayed you or harmed you. You have not found it fatal or
�14
'
dangerous. It has not led you into indifference, or into license
or moral delinquency. It may have led you to deny some old
beliefs, but it has not left you in denial or unbelief. Its free
atmosphere has been a tonic to your faith. It has brought you
to convictions, —the more trustworthy and precious because
freely reached by your own thought,, and tested by your own
experience, and fitted to your own state of mind. No longer a
report, but something you have seen for yourselves. The story
is told of a well-known hater of shams, that, a new minister
coming into his neighborhood, he sought an opportunity of talk
with him : he wanted to learn, he said, whether this man knew]
himself, anything of God, or only believed that eighteen hunj
dred years ago there lived one who knew something of him. Is
not our faith that in which we have settled confidence, — what
we trust our wills to in action ? It is that to which we gravi
tate, and in which we rest when all disturbing influences are
withdrawn. It is that to which we find ourselves recurring
from all aberrations of questioning and doubt, as to a practical
certainty. We may not be able to answer all arguments against
it, but nevertheless it commends itself to us as true. There is
to us more reason for holding to it than there are reasons for
rejecting it. So, while belief may be called an act of the
understanding, faith is rather a consent of the whole natureJ
It is, therefore, more instinctive than argumentative, though
reasoning forms an element in it. And it is the mighty power
which it is, removing mountains, and the secret of victory,
because it is this consensus of thought, feeling, and will, —• a
deposit of their long experiences, an act of the whole man. It
is structural and organic. But it need not be blind or irrational.
If we must differentiate it from knowledge, I would say that,
while we may define knowledge to be assurance upon outward
grounds, faith is assurance upon real but interior grounds. I
repeat this because many people seem to think that faith is
assurance without any ground. Now that our faith may be
really such as I have described, it must be a personal convic
tion, from our own thought and experience. And that it may
be this, we must have liberty of thinking without external con
straint.
�You do not find that this liberty of yours isolates you. Others,
who count it dangerous, or who dislike the use you make of it,
may cut you off from their fellowship. But the liberty which
frees you from artificial restraints leaves you open to the natural
attractions, and over and through all walls and lines you find a
large fellowship of sympathy in thought and feeling. The elec
tric instincts of spiritual brotherhood overleap all barriers of
-,creed and organization, even of excommunication. Above all
are you bound by such invisible, deep ties with all the noble
company of the heretics and pioneers of thought: and a noble
company it is. For the line of so-called heresy is nearly as
ancient, and quite as honorable, i J that of orthodoxy. Think
of the names that belong to it!
Let me say further thatfthis liberty of yours — your birth
right and sacred charge — is not lawlessn<Ss. You have never
felt it to be so. In a universe of law no true liberty can be
that. It is not that which has made the soul of man thrill as
when a trumpet sounds ; not that to which the noblest men and
women have sacrificed popularity, fortuneBand life. How fool
ishly Mr. Ruskin talks about liberty, misusing his eloquent pen ;
saying that we need none of it; and taking for its symbol the
capricious vagaries of a house-fly ! Is it a Bouse-fl^baprice that
has made the hearts of true menOleap high and willingly bleed
into stillness ; which has been dearer than friend or lover, than
ease or life ? Your liberty, I say, is not lawlessness, — it is not
whim and caprice. It is simply thelthrowing off all bondage of
tradition and conformity and prescription and ecclesiasticism,—
every external compulsion and imposition in behalf of the free,
natural action of the mind and heart. It rejects outward rule
in behalf of inward law. It refuses obedience to outward dicta
tion in behalf of its allegiance to the Truth which is within.
Thus it rejects bonds, but accepts bounds ; for all law is force
acting within bounds, — that is, under fixed and orderly condi
tions. Your liberty is order, not disorder.
Your liberty, again, is not rude or defiant. You do not flout
authority: you give due weight to the natural authority of supe
rior knowledge, wisdom, conscientiousness, holiness. But you
acknowledge no human authority which claims to be infallible, or
�i6
to impose itself upon you as absolute; none which would deny to
you the right — or seek to release you from the duty — of thinking
for yourself what is true to you, of judging for yourself what is
right for you. The opinion of the wisest you will not accept,
in any matter that interests you, unless it commends itself to
your thought, to your conscience, is justified by your experi
ence. You will not take your religious opinions ready made
from pope or synod or apostle. God has given you power—•
and therefore laid upon you the duty — of forming your own.
In that work you will gladly accept all help, willingly listen to
the words of the wise and good ; but their real authority is in
their power to convince your mind ; and the final appeal is to
your own soul. Is inspiration claimed for any, its proof must
be in its power to inspire you. Till it does it is no word of God
to you.
Yet once more, this liberty — won by pain of those gone
before, and by your own fidelity—-is yours not for its own sake
chiefly, not as an end. It is yours as opportunity. It will be a
barren liberty if it be not used. What good will the right of
free inquiry do to a man who never inquires ? Of what advan
tage freedom of thought to one who never thinks ? Of what
value the right of private judgment to. one who never exercises
it ? Freedom, I say, is but opportunity. It is an atmosphere in
which the 'mind should expand unhindered in its inbreathing of
Truth; in which all virtues should grow in strength, all sweet
and loving and devout feelings flower into beauty and fra
grance ; in which the character, unconstrained by artificial
bondages, should grow into the full statue of manhood, the full
possession and free play of faculty. It is in vain that you have
put away infallible church and infallible Bible and official media
tor, and priesthood and ritual, from between you and God, if
you never avail yourself of that immediate access ; if your soul
never springs into the arms of the Eternal Love, nor rests itself
trustfully on the Eternal Strength, nor listens reverently to the
whispers of the Eternal Word, nor enters into the peace of
communion with the Immutable.
Our freedom is founded in faith, not in denial. It springs from
faith in man. The popular theology is founded upon the idea
�i7
of human incapacity : ours upon faith in human capacity. We
believe, not in the Fall of Man, but in the Rise of Man. We
believe, not in a chasm between man and God to be bridged
over only by the atoning death of a God, but in a chasm
between man’s attainment and his possibility, between his
lower and his higher nature, to be bridged over by growth,
government, and culture. We believe that there is more good
in man generally than evil. And the evil we believe to be, not
a native disability, but an imperfection or a misuse, an excess
or perversion, of faculties and instincts whose natural or right
use is good. We believe sin is not an infinite evil, but a finite
one, — incidental, not structural. Man is not helpless in its
toils ; but every man has the fiements of good in him which
may overcome it, and all 'fidefled helps. It is a disease, — some
times a dreadful one, — but notfebsolutely fatal, since there is a
healing power in his nature, and in the universe around and
above him; and the excess or ‘mlsmrection may be overcome by
the inward effort and outward influences which shall strengthen
into supremacy the higher faculties which rightfully control and
direct the lower. We believe iff! the existence of these higher
faculties as original in man’s constitution, — reason, conscience,
ideality, unselfish love. These are as much a part of his nature
as the senses and the animal mind. When rightly used they
are as valid, — not infallible, but trustworthy. They will not
necessarily lead, astray, as the popular theology teaches, but
probably lead aright. That theology, not having faith in human
nature, cannot believe that freedom of thinking is safe for men.
Protestantism proclaims indeed the “ right of private judgment,”
but it is merely the right to read the Jewish and Christian
Bible, and to accept unquestioning its declarations, bowing nat
ural reason, heart, and conscience to its texts, believed to be the
miraculously inspired and infallible Word of God, the “ perfect
rule of faith and practice.” The Roman Catholic Church, far
more logical, seeing that private judgment gets such a variety
of meaning out of this “ perfect rule,” declares that an infallible
Bible, to be such a rule, needs an infallible interpreter,—namely,
the church, or, latterly, the Pope speaking for the church. It,
therefore, logically denies freedom of individual thinking as
�18
dangerous. Father Newman, indeed, with amusing simplicity,
declares that nowhere is liberty of thought more encouraged
than in the Roman Church, since, he says, she allows a long
discussion of every tenet and dogma before it is definitely
defined and proclaimed. Yes: but after? We can only smile
at such a pretension. In London, a friend said to me, “ I do
not see but these Broad Churchmen have freedom to say every
thing that they want to say in their pulpits.” I answered, “ Per
haps so, but then they do not want to say all that you and I
should want to say.” But of what they wish to say or think
much must require an immense stretching of the articles to
which they have subscribed : I do not speak of conscience, for I
will not judge another’s. But what a trap to conscience, what
a temptation to at least mental dishonesty, must such subscrip
tion be! And the Liturgy, from which no word may be omitted,
though many a priest must say officially what he does not indi
vidually believe, — can that be good for a man ? I know what
may be said on the other side, but to us it will seem that all
advantages are dearly purchased at such cost. The Unitarians,
the Protestants of Protestants, in their revolt from Calvinism,
proclaimed the right of free inquiry. And, let it be remembered
to their credit, they have refused to announce an authoritative
creed. But they have not had full faith in their own principles
and ideas. They have hesitated and been timid in their appli
cation. They have been suspicious and unfriendly toward those
who went farther than they in the use of their freedom of think
ing. They have written up, “No Thoroughfare” and “Danger
ous Passing” on their own road. They have now organized
round the dogma of the Lordship and Leadership of Jesus ; and
invite to their fellowship, not all who would be “ followers of
God, as dear children,” but only those who “ wish to be follow
ers of Christ.”
I do not forget that in all churches, Romanist and Protestant,
there is a spirit of liberty, a leaven of free thought, which is
creating a movement in them all,—■ an inner fire which is break
ing the crust of tradition and creed and ecclesiasticism. It
shows itself in the Old Catholic movement in Romanism ; the
Broad Church in Anglicanism ; the Liberal wing in Orthodoxy ;
the Radicalism in “ Liberal Christianity.”
�19
But the freedom which in these is inconsistent, imperfect, or
rmwelcome, with you is organic and thorough. Our faith in it,
I said, springs out of our faith in man and God, to which indeed
our freedom has led us. We think that man can be trusted to
search for the truth without constraint or hindrance, because
we think that his mind was made for truth, as his eye for light;
and that to his mind, fairly used, the truth will reveal itself as
the light does to his eye. And we believe that in his sincere
search he is never unassisted by the Spirit of Truth. We do
not say that he will make no mistakes, or that he will know all
truth all at once. But if a man be earnest and sincere, his mis
takes will be his teachers : his errors wilHbi but his imperfect
apprehension of some truth. We believe that all truth that has
ever come to man, including religious truth, has come through
the use of his native faculties'^ that this is the condition of all
revelation, and ample to account for all revelations. We, therefore, utterly discard all distinction between natural and revealed
religion. We should as soon speak of natural and revealed
astronomy, or establish separate professorships for teaching
them. Newton revealed to men the facnfof the universe which
his natural faculties discovered, and which thequniverse revealed
to him using his faculties. Some of these facts were Unknown
before to the wisest men ; some were only dimly guessed. Did
that prove his knowledge superhuman ? Would it be a sensi
ble question to ask, Why, if human reason were Capable of dis
covering them, were they not 'known before ? Yet such ques
tions are asked in religion, as if unanswerable I We .believe
that the human faculties are adequate for their end. Among
them we recognize spiritual faculties, framed for the perception
of spiritual truths, — a religious capacity adequate to its end.
We find religion — a sense of deity — as universal and as natu
ral to man as society, government, language, science. You
know how the latest and completest investigations into the
ancient religions of the world confirm this belief. They show
that the great religious ideas and sentiments — of God, of Vir
tue, of Love, of Immortality — have been taught with remarka
ble unanimity in all these religions. These are mingled in all
with much that is mythological, unscientific, local, personal,
�20
temporary. But they have all contained that which elevated,
consoled, and redeemed the souls of men. Under all of them,
men have lived the truth they professed, and have suffered and
died in its behalf. Most of them have had their prophet, be
lieved to have been the chosen friend of God, sent to communi
cate His word to the world. He has been worshiped by his
followers, glorified with miracle, deified. In view of these facts,
it is impossible to regard any one of them as the only, the uni
versal, or the perfect religion. Christianity, therefore, cannot
any longer be regarded as other than one of the religions of the
world, sharing the qualities of them all. It has its bright cen
tral truths, eternal as the soul of man, elevating, comforting,
redeeming. It has its elements of mythology, its personal and
local traits, peculiar to itself. What is peculiar in it can never
become universal: what is universal in it cannot be claimed as
its peculiar property. The Christianity of the New Testament
centres in the idea that Jesus was the miraculously attested
Messiah, the King, long expected, of the Jews. “If ye believe
not that I am he ye shall perish in your sins.” “ Every spirit
that confesseth that Jesus, the Messiah, is come in the flesh, is
of God ; every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus is the Mes
siah come in the flesh, is not of God.” “ Whosoever shall con
fess that Jesus is the Son of God [that is, the Messiah], God
dwelleth in him.” “Whosoever believes that Jesus is the Mes
siah, is born of God.” This was the primitive Christian confes
sion,— the test of belief or unbelief, the test of discipleship,
the condition of salvation. Paul enlargecl the domain of the
Messiah’s kingdom to include all of the Gentiles who would
acknowledge him; declared that in his own life-time he should
see Jesus returning to take the Messianic throne, and looked to
see the time when “ every knee should bow, and every tongue
confess that Jesus was the Christ;” “whom God had raised
from the dead, and set at his own right hand, far above all prin
cipality and might and dominion and every name that is named.”
This was the primitive Christian confession. Seeing that it has
never come to pass, that it was a mistaken idea, some modern
Christians idealize the thought, and say that Jesus is morally
and. spiritually King among men. But that is not the New
/
�21
Testament idea, which is literal, not figurative. This Messianic
idea, in its most literal sense, colors the Christian scriptures
BRfrough and through. And with it, its correlative idea of an
immediately impending destruction and renovation of the wor Id,
vThich was to accompany the Messianic appearance. A great
many of the precepts of the New Testament have their ground
in this erroneous notion of the writers, and have no significance
or application apart from it. It is such things as these that
make it impossible for Christianity,- as it stands in the records,
to be the universal or absolute religion. Just as like things in
Brahminism, Buddhism, Judaism, prevent any one of these, as
it stands in its scriptures, from becoming the Religion of the
World. What is local, personal, peculiar, special in each, is of
its nature transient, — the temporary environment and wrappage
of the truth. What is universal in each, — the central spiritual
and moral ideas which re-appear in them all, — these cannot be
■called by the name of any one of them. These, it seems me,
are neither Judaism, Buddhism, nor Christianity,— they are
Religion.
Religion, — a name how often taken in vain, how often perKrerted ! but in its . true essence what a joy, what an emancipation, what a consolation, what an inspiration ! What a life it
has been in the world! Corrupted and betrayed, made the
cloak of iniquity, ambition, selfishness, uncharitableness, and
tyranny, it has never perished out of the human soul. A prod
uct of that soul, an original and ineradicable impulse, percep
tion, and sentiment, it has shared the fate of that soul in its
upward progress out of ignorance into knowledge, out of super
stition into rational faith, out of selfishness into humanity, out
of all imperfection on toward perfection. In every age, and in
every soul, it has been the saving salt. For by Religion, I need
not say, I do not mean any form or ceremonial whatever, any
organization or ecclesiasticism. I mean the Ideal in man, and
devotion to that Ideal. The sense of a Perfect above him, yet
akin to him, forever drawing him upward to union with itself.
The Moral Ideal, —or sense of a perfect Righteousness,— how
it has summoned men away from injustice and wrong-doing,
awakened them to a contest with evil within them, and led
�22
them on to victory of the conscience over passion and greed !
How it has nerved them to do battle with injustice in the
world, and kept them true to some cause of righting wrong,
patient and brave through indifference, opposition, suffering!
And it has always been a sense of a power and a law of right
eousness above themselves, which they did not create and dared
not disobey, and which, while it seemed to compel them, yet
exalted and freed them. The Intellectual Ideal, — the sense of
a Supreme Truth, a Reality in things, with the thirst to know it,
— how it has led men to “scorn delights and live laborious
days,” to outwatch the night, to traverse land and sea, in its
study and pursuit, to sacrifice for it fortune and society; this
al^o felt to be something above them, yet belonging to them ;
something worth living and dying for, and giving to its sharers
a sense of endless life! And the Ideal of Beauty, haunting,
quickening, exalting the imagination to feel, to see, to create, in
marble, on canvass, in tones, in words : itself its own great
reward. The Ideal of Use, leading to the creation and perfect
ing of the arts and instruments of human need and comfort and
luxury: every one of them at first only a. dream in the brain of
the inventor, a vision of a something better than existed haunt
ing his toilsome days and years of self-denial and poverty. The
Ideal of Patriotism or of Loyalty, the sense of social order, of a
rightful sovereignty, or of popular freedom, — how has it made
men into heroes and martyrs, giving up ease and facing death
with exulting hearts. The Ideal of Love or Benevolence, that
makes men devote themselves and consecrate their possessions
to the relieving of human suffering, and discovering and remov
ing its sources. The Ideal of Sanctity, of Holiness, the vision
and the consecration of the saint, the aspiration after goodness,
that by its inspiration gives power to overcome passion and con
trol desire and purify every thought of the mind and every feel
ing of the heart, and mold the spirit into the likeness of the
All-Holy.
All these ideals, differing so much in their manifestation and
direction, are alike in this, — that they all look to an unseen
Better, a Best, a Perfect; that this seems always above the
man who seeks it, yet at the same time within him, not of
�23
his own creation, but governing him by a law superior to his
own will, while attracting and invigorating it; that they all
demand a self-surrender and self-devotion, and sacrifice of
lower to higher, and give the power to make that sacrifice;
and that they are their own reward.
All these ideals — and if there be any others — I include in
the idea of Religion. Is my definition too broad ? I cannot
make it narrower. It will not seem too broad to you who are
accustomed to regard religion as covering all human life. What
ever in that life is an expression of^deal aspiration, is done in
unselfish devotion, and in obedience to the highest law we
know, is a religious act, is a worship and a prayer. It is a ser
vice of God ; for.it is a use of our faculties to their highest end,
which must be His will for us. It is a ^onitact «®fith things in
visible and eternal. For these ideals are of the mind, not of the
body : they are of the soulfland must go with it into all worlds.
They are thus an element, and a puoof, of immortality.
O friends, is there anything the world needs, is there any
thing every one of us needs, more than some high ideal, to be
kept bright and clear within
by sincere devotion ? Is there
anything we need more than a high standardKn character, in
aim, in spirit, in work ? We have it in our bestJwnoments. But
.How easily we let it get clouded in the press of cares. How
easily we yield to the temptation to lower it for immediate
Results I Is there anything we need more than the elevation
of spirit such an ideal gives, the power to rise above annoyance
and fret, above low and selfish thought, above unworthy deeds ?
How ashamed we stand before that, ideal when, because we have
not bee« obedient to its celestial vision, but have too easily let
it go, we are betrayed into the temp#?, the word, the act we had
Resolved should never betray us again ! What is needed in our
politics, in our business — do not daily events teach it to us
most impressively ? — but a higher ideal; a higher standard of
integrity; a high-minded sense of right, which would take no
Questionable dollar from the public purse ; a sensitive con
science, scrupulous of the rights of others given to its trust ?
[Then the haste to be rich would cease to be the root of evil
that it is, and embezzlements, defalcations, political jobs, and
�24
mercantile frauds no longer shock and grieve us with every
paper we take up. Oh, the anguish and self-reproach of the
man who has involved himself, little by little, in the toils and
excitements of temptation, and, accepting a lowering standard
of honesty, sinks, till he is startled to find himself fallen into
the pit!
What is more needed in all our work than a higher ideal of
excellence, a higher standard of truth and conscientiousness ?
How hard to get anything done thoroughly well, — precisely as
agreed upon, and at the time promised ! Most earnestly would
I insist that every right which the “ working-man ” can justly
claim should be secured to him ; his full share of the product
he helps create, and every opportunity for health, recreation,
and culture which he will use. But he should remember that
faithful performance of ditties on his part will be the best ground
for any claim of rights: he must be careful of the right of oth
ers to honest work and honest time in return for fair pay.
How great is our indebtedness to those great and true souls
who have kindled or kept alive within us a loftier ideal! What
an influence in that way has the image of Jesus been in the
Christian world! Many have not seen that what they wor
shiped or looked up to in him was often simply their own ideal
of human excellence, — really not so much derived from him as
projected upon him, with little regard to historic fact. But this
shows us, still, the power of a lofty ideal within us to lift up,
sustain, and redeem. Many, if they were willing to speak
frankly, would say that the human excellence of some noble,
pure-hearted, spiritually-winded friend, with whom they had
walked in the flesh, has been more to them than thenmage of
Jesus. And when we remember that these high ideals have
inspired millions who never heard his name, it is plain that he
cannot be regarded as their origin. There is one Supreme Ideal
of Goodness. “ Likeness to God ” was the aim of the Pythago
rean teaching. “ Be ye perfect, as your Father in heaven is per
fect.”
All these ideals of Truth, Righteousness, Beauty, Use, Love,
Holiness, of which I have spoken as constituting, in our devo
tion to them, true Religion, unite in the Idea of God. For He
�25
is the Perfect of them all, the Spirit or Essence of them all,—•
the Perfect Truth, the Perfect Righteousness, the Perfect Beau
ty, the Perfect Love, the Perfect Power, the Perfect Holiness.
That is what we mean by saying “ God,” — surely nothing less
than that. This sublime idea has always, in some shape, haunt
ed and possessed the mind of man. The moment the spiritual
faculties begin to germinate in a man or a race, at that moment
the thought of God springs up. From our far-off Aryan ances
tor, who, on those high plains of Central Asia, looked up to
the clear, transparent sky, and said thankfully and reverently,
“ Dyaus-pitar,” Heaven-father, — for he knew that the blessing
of sunshine and rain came thenc^to him, and must have felt a
mysterious sense of some being invisible in that visible, — down
to the child who to-day makes his prayer, “ Our Father, who art
in heaven,” all over the world the reverence of men’s hearts,
/and their sense of blessing and dependence, have uttered the
name of God, and joined with ^t the thought of Father. The
1 conceptions in which men’s thought and language have clothed
that idea have varied with knowledge and culture. But the
central idea of a Power and Beneficence superior to man, in
Nature and above Nature, has been ever present. Delusions
may have gathered about it: but is it a delusion ? Supersti
tions may have distorted it: but can you count it a supersti
tion ? I count it the greatest of realities. I accept the
well-nigh universal verdict of the soul of man. I accept the
experiences of my own soul. I accept the faith which, whether
it be original or an inheritance of accumulated thought, is now
an instinct and intuition within me. I accept the confirmation
of science to the divination of the soul, in its more and more
clear affirmation of a unity and perpetuity of Force in Nature,
and an omnipresence of Law. I accept the testimony of saints
who, through purity of heart, have seen God and felt him near,
— and more than near. Their highest statement is, “ God is
Spirit.” A distinguished preacher has said,— justifying his
declaration that Jesus Christ is his God, — that he believes
it impossible to form the conception of pure spirit. Of course
we cannot form any image or picture of it. But we ’can think
it, surely. For we know thought and feeling and will in our
4
�26
selves, and these have no shape, nor do we confound them with
the bodies in which they are manifested. Thought, feeling,
will, — these are our spirit, our essential life. God is the infi
nite Thought, Feeling, Will, — the infinite Spirit or essential
Life of the universe of matter and of soul. Our conception of
him must depend,’ I .said, upon our spiritual condition. But I
think with every advance in spiritual life and perception, we put
off more and more of physical and human limitation. Said one
to me, the other day, “ I think it will be no service* to men to
undermine their belief in a personal God.” Now, thought, feel
ing, and will are qualities of person, and not of thing, and there
fore we may speak of God as the infinite Person. But he
meant, as is usually meant, by personality, individuality. For
myself, I think it a great-gain to give up the conception of God
as an individual being, however majestic, sitting apart from the
universe, overseeing and governing it, and from time to time
intervening by special act. I count it a great gain to have
reached a conception of him as pure Spirit, the all-pervading
Life of the Universe, the present Power and present Love and
present Justice at every point of that universe, — perpetually
creating it by his present Energy of good. Present perpetually
in the affairs of men, invisibly, restraining evil, righting wrong,
leading on to the perfect society. Present really in the hearts
and minds and consciences and wills of men, not displacing
them, but re-enforcing them. “ If we love one another, God
dwelleth in us,” said the inspired writer of old, — surely inspired
when he said that. “If a man is at heart just,” said the inspired
modern, “ by so much he is God. The power of God and the
eternity of God do enter into that man with Justice.” How
could this be if God be a separate, individual being ? But con
ceive of him as Being, and the difficulty vanishes. It is no fig
ure of speech, but literally true, that He dwells in holy souls,
inspiring and working through him. “The Father who dwell
eth in me,” said Jesus. Yes, but in no special or miraculous
way: in the way of the universal law of spiritual action ; as he
dwells in all souls that aspire and obey. “Above all and
through all and in us all.”
Does this conception of God as Essential Life seem to any
�27
vague and unreal ? Oh, think again, how substantial are
thought, feeling, and will! The moving powers of the human
world setting all the material into action ! How many perplexi
ties of thought, which beset the common view of God as an in
dividual being, disappear under this conception of him as spirit!
How does it make possible the thought of his omniscience and
omnipresence and providence ! No longer the all-seeing eye,
watching us from afar, but the present spirit, knowing us from
within, involved in our thought and our thinking, — the law or
order by which we think and feel, the present power by which
we act. Spirit can thus encompass us, and flow through us,
without oppressing us, or hindering our freedom. Do the forces
of nature — of attraction, of gravitation, of chemical affinity —
oppress us ? We cannot get away from them, but do we not
move freely among them ? The air is around us and within us,
a mighty pressure, — do we feel the weight of it? In such
sweet, familiar, unconscious ways does God, the Spirit, encom
pass and dwell within our spirits. How can we flee from that
Spirit, or go where it will not uphold and keep us ? Our God
besets us behind and before. Our Father never leaves us alone.
Modern science, we are told, is rejecting all notion of volition
from the material world. The conception of God as Spirit has
already done that. For God’s will, in that conception, is no
separate jets of choice, but an all-filling, steadfast Energy, a Power living at every point. His will is no series of finite
volitions, but an infinite purpose in the constitution of things, —
the unchanging element in them which we call their law. God’s
will, therefore, is not in any sense 'arbitrary. A permanent
force, with its permanent laws, from constant conditions it pro
duces constant results. Wrought into the constitution of things
arid beings, it is there to be studied, known, and obeyed.
Friends of the Twenty-eighth Congregational Society: Com
ing at your call to speak to you on this occasion of the dedica
tion of your new house, I have not thought it unfitting to the
occasion, instead of trying to open to you some new topic,
rather to offer you this outline and review of principles and
ideas already somewhat familiar to you. We glance over what
�28
has been gained before beginning anew our quest. You build
here no House of God, but a house for men. A “ meeting
house” you call it,—.the good old New England name, — not a
church : for is not the church the men and women, not the
walls? You have most fittingly made it a memorial of your
first minister. And this in no slavish adulation, and in no slav
ish following of him. You are not bound to his thoughts. But
you can never forget or cease to be grateful to him, many of
you, for the emancipation of thought you owe to him ; for the
moral invigoration, for the quickening of devout feeling, always
to him so precious.
He was a thorough believer in the Liberty of which I have
spoken. He believed that it should have no bounds save such
as love of truth and good sense and feeling might set to it.
And he used the freedom he believed in. And when, in the use
of it, he was led to judge and reject some things around which
the reverence of the denomination to which he belonged clung,
they who had taught him the liberty which he used, with some
noble exceptions,— I am sorry to recall it,— to save their credit,
proved false to their principle. They lost a noble opportunity.
They had always insisted that the essential in Christianity was not
belief, but character and life : now they turned round, and asserted
that it was not a spirit and a life, but a belief in supernatural his
tory. He did not spare them, and hurled at them the arrows of
his wit and the smooth stones of his keen logic. He did battle for
the freedom which was denied. Men mistook his wit for malig
nity, and his moral indignation.for bitterness. But, though he
was capable of sarcasm, his heart was sweet and kind, and full
of genial sympathies, as those who knew him best best knew.
His services to Theology in this country were very great.
His work was partly destructive, clearing away errors and
superstitions, but mainly constructive. He built up a complete
system of theology, founded upon the native spiritual instincts
in man and the infinite perfection of God. Though a vigorous
practical understanding was the characteristic of his mind, he
accepted this ideal or transcendental theory of religion, and,
with his clear common sense and terse sentences, interpreted it
to the general mind. Though no mystic, he had much devout.
�2^
feeling, and loved to speak of Piety, and the soul’s normal de
light in God. You will never forget the deeply reverential tone
of his public prayers to the “Father and Mother of us all.” But
even more than in Piety he believed in and loved and enforced
Righteousness in every form ; and his great power was ethical.
.How clear and sure was his sense of right; .a conscience for the
nation : its guidance sought by how many, in public and private
duty ! Before its keen glance how many an idol fell! He liked
to be called a Teacher of Religion: and he made it cover all of
life. He applied its ideal to the nation, and, finding human slav
ery there, he threw all his energies into rousing the conscience
of the country to feel its falseness and ?ts iniquity, and to work
for its removal. In this cause he rendered you know what noble
and devoted service, gaining the sympathies of many who least
liked his theology. He gave the weight of his advocacy to every
cause of humane reform, pleading for the poor and the perishing
classes, for the rights of woman, for temperance and purity and
peace.
He has left you a powerful influence, and a heritage of prin
ciples and ideas, to whose charge you show yourselves faithful
in building this house, that the work he begun may be carried
on and fulfilled. The men and the women whom you call tospeak to you know that they will have full freedom of speech
and hospitable hearing to their most advanced thought. You
will expect them to speak to you,wot upon theological questions
alone, or on the experiences of devout feeling, or personal du-’
ties, but on all that deeply concerns the welfare of the commu
nity ; upon the vital questions of the da/, and its present needs ;
upon political and social topics; upon questions of moral reform
and humane effort, and rights of man and woman ; upon all the
practical applications of ideal thought. All these you will wish
discussed, in the utmost freedom, and from the highest point of
view.
But not for speech alone is this house to be used. I cannot
but hope that your enlarged space will be used as opportunity
for work .in various directions of help and good will. Why
should not this be a headquarters of action as well as thought ?
�30
And now, may I say for you, that you devote and dedicate
this house to Freedom and to Religion ; to Truth and to Vir
tue ; to Piety, to Righteousness, and to Humanity; to Knowl»
edge and to Culture ; to Duty, to Beauty, and to Joy ; to Faith
and Hope and Charity; to the memory of Saints, Reformers,
Heretics, and Martyrs ; to the Love and Service of God, in the
Love and Service of Man.
VII.
GOD IN HUMANITY.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.
{Sung by Choir and Congregation?)
O Beauty, old yet ever new,
Eternal Voice and Inward Word,
The Wisdom of the Greek and Jew,
Sphere-music which the Samian heard I
Truth which the sage and prophet saw,
Long sou®t without, but found within:
The Law of Love, beyond all law,
The Life o’erflooding death and sin !
O Love Divine, whose constant beam
Shines on the eyes that will not see,
And waits to bless us, while we dream
Thou leav’st us when we turn from thee !
All souls that struggle and aspire,
All hearts of prayer, by Thee are lit;
And, dim or clear, Thy tongues of fire
On dusky tribes and centuries sit.
Nor bounds, nor clime, nor creed Thou know’st,
Wide as our need Thy favors fall;
The white wings of the Holy Ghost
Stoop, unseen, o’er the heads of all.
�31
VIII. ADDRESS BY EDNAH D. CHENEY.
In looking over the congregation here assembled, and seeing some
of the old faces which greeted Mr. Parker on those first stormy Sun
days at the Melodeon, I have asked myself what it is which has kept
this society together through so many changes when friends advised
its dissolution, and enemies hoped for its failure. It seems to me it
was no doctrine of Mr. Parker’s, not even a sentiment; but, if I may
so call it, his method of trust in the truth. He never feared to utter
the whole truth, and never doubted that what was good food to his
soul was fit nourishment for others who hungered for it. This has
made the pulpit truly free, so that those who spoke here, and those who
listened, felt that they could speak and hear honest convictions. While
this society is true to this tradition, it will have a place to fill, and, I
trust, this new building is to give it a fresh lease of life, and greater
opportunity of usefulness.
This still seems to me the great need of the time, — loyalty to truth,
not attachment to a dogma. If we feel thftf any truth is dangerous to
our well-being as a society, it is time that Age disbanded, but as long as
we dare to trust the truth, we need not fear that any blast of a trumpet
can blow down our walls.
In a country town, where an independent society met in a hall, when
it was asked of what religion is such a man, it was answered, His is
the Hall Religion. I think there is some value in the phrase, and I
rejoice that this society has not builded a church to be open only on
Sunday, but a hall which on every day of the week may be consecrated
Blithe psalm of life, and dedicated to use or beauty. The echo of the
dancing feet of the children who gather at the festivals will not disturb our devotion, nor the remembrance of the good words of the lecturer mar our enjoyment of prayer or sermon. It is an emblem of the
Religion of Life, no longer divorced from every-day work and pleasure,
bw elevating and sanctifying it. It is said that the great Church of
St. Peter’s at Rome has never been ventilated since Michael Angelo
reared its lofty dome, Snd that the worshipers now breathe the foul and
lifeless air which has not been renewed for nearly four centuries. But
as I hope the physical ventilation of this hall will never be neglected,
but the pure air of heaven will be freely brought in, so we can never live
a true and vigorous spiritual life unless we keep our souls ever open to
the broad, free air and light of heaven, not confined by any creed or
dogma, but perpetually renewing itself by fresh inspiration.
�32
Such seems to me the great principle' of this society, which it is
bound to cherish and carry out, and to which in the worship of God
and the service of humanity we would dedicate this hall to-day.
IX.
ADDRESS BY JOHN WEISS.
Whenever a liberal thinker expresses his belief that the popular the
ologies are honeycombed by the climate of science and information,
and are falling apart beneath the surface, he is asked to observe that
there never was such a time for the laying of corner-stones for church
extension; never such an enthusiasm of temple-building; never before
so many seats filled by worshipers. It is undoubtedly a fact. The
competition between the sects is so great, and the national temper of
extravagance so confirmed, that church extension has become another
vice of the times; and people will run hopelessly in debt rather than
be without their sumptuous building, thus setting an example, to a
country which does not need it, of speculative immorality. For I can
see no difference between extending a railroad over illusory capital and
watering its stock, and watering a congregation with a meeting-house
too large and fine, watering it with a large per cent of empty pews,
which require in the pulpit a man with some of the virtues of an auc
tioneer.
But there is a real decay of the popular theology in spite of these
costly elegancies which seem to announce a revival of religion. Before
every dissolution a period of renaissance, or superficial revival, has
always set in, substituting sentiment for the old impetuous earnestness,
imitating faith by pretty form. We may safely predict extensive decay
when it has become such an important object to secure paying sitters
for the various sects. The old sincerity will be soon crushed beneath
their ornamental expenses.
Then let us have a new sincerity, to be nursed in humbler places,
and supported by honester means. Here let it be, for one place. Wel
come the plainness and freedom of these walls, sb solidly built, so sim
ply colored in their warm, brown tints. Here a real memorial to
Parker is yet to be erected by successive Sundays of free speech, and
week-days of fraternity. To-day you are only laying the corner-stone
of a structure of thought and feeling which will throw its door wide
open to the common, people, to every wayfaring fact and cause against
which so many churches shut their gates.
�33
It pleases my fancy to notice that you have put up this building next
to a grain elevator, for it constantly reminds me of Parker, of his frame,
even, of his manner and his mental style. Solidly laid, robustly built,
not excessively addicted to beauty; but framed for the sole purpose of
receiving aud distributing, with convenience and the least of waste, the
cereals of a thousand fields for which millions of hungers are waiting.
Such was the abundance and nutrition of his genius. He explored
many fields to collect his staples and the simple corn-flowers of his
fancy-: his keel furrowed many seas, but not to gather and bring home
luxuries, nor to hunt up a place where he might enjoy intellectual seclu
sion. .The delights of scholarship were subordinate to his humanity.
He was constantly tearing himself away from those books, the darlings
of his spirit, as if they imposed upon him, and were defrauding people
of his service. He let the exigency of the hour break without cere
mony into the sacred study, and he rose to meet the pauper and the
slave, to perform the great symbolic action of marrying two fugitives
with a Bible and a sword. The perishing classes, the neglected, the
unfortunate, always held a mortgage on his precious time. But life
never seemed so precious to him as when he was killing himself to help
emancipate America. What a homely sublimity there was in this giv
ing of bread to mouths that had munched the old political and sectarian
chaff and had swallowed indigestion 1
Now it is for you to honor him by imitating this action: not so
much to prolong a memory as to resuscitate, a life that was laid down
in the service of mankind; yes, to revivify that bust, poor, passionless
’ and rigid remembrancer of the nature you knew, that was so manifold,
so profuse, so virile with anger, love and friendship: to bid that white
ness mantle again with his florid cheek; to make those eyeballs beam
with a blessing or a threat, so that Theodore Parker shall be heard
again in Boston.
This shall be your service in this place, to reproduce his manliness;
if not with the same fertile and sturdy vitality, or with the same
warmth which lifted up so many beacons of indignation and warning,
which compelled the East to look at him, and the West to listen, and
the South to dread, still, at least, with the old sincerity, the old persis
tent purpose to be dedicated to the rights and wants of man.
5
�34
X.
ADDRESS BY FRANCIS E. ABBOT.
When, nearly thirty years ago, the founders of the Twenty-eighth
Congregational Society' rallied around the unpopular and ostracised
minister of West Roxbury, and, with a laconic brevity worthy of Sparta
in her best days, voted that “ Theodore Parker should have a chance to
be heard in Boston,” what was the real meaning of their act ? Did
they intend to rally about Parker as the disciples of old rallied about
Jesus, in order to proclaim a new personal gospel, to glorify a new per
sonal leader, and to sink their own individualities in that of a new “ Lord
and Master”? James Freeman Clark has said that, when the radicals
give up Jesus of Nazareth, it is only to attach themselves to some other
leader; that they only abandon Jesus in order to take up with Socrates,
or Emerson, or Parker. Was this the real purport of that now famous
and historic vote ?
If this had been your aim and spirit, we should not be here to-day.
When the eloquent voice was stilled, the stalwart form laid in its far
Florentine resting-place, and the man whose words had electrified two
hemispheres had passed away forever from human sight and hearing,
in vain would you have voted that “ Theodore Parker should have a
chance to be heard in Boston.” Small respect would Death have paid
to your resolutions. No ! If your vote had meant only that the pow
erful personality which had so impressed itself upon the times as to be
henceforth a part of American history should still utter itself from your
platform to a listening world, you would have disbanded; you would
have broken ranks, and scattered sadly and silently to your homes;
you would have discontinued your meetings, and surrendered your or
ganization. Parker had been heard; his message had been delivered.
Henceforth the book of revelation that all men read in his speech and
life was sealed forever, and no man could either add to or take away
from its fullness.
But you did not disband. Your meetings were continued. Your
platform was maintained. Other prophets were summoned to speak
in Music Hall, now chiefly known abroad for the work done there by
you and your great minister. They were summoned, not to echo Par
ker, but to speak themselves. They were no servile followers of a dead
leader, no blinded apostles of a vanished Christ. Far from it. They
were called by you to proclaim independently and fearlessly the secret
thought of their own hearts ; for this alone did they come before you.
And still your platform means this, and this only. True, in one sense
�35
Parker is still heard from it; for his ideas are not dead, but living. But
you have perpetuated your organization and your platform for a higher
object than to secure endless reverberations of any one voice, however
piercing, eloquent, or potent. You meant, and mean, that Truth shall
here speak for herself, not that Parker alone shall be heard, magnifi
cent spokesman of Truth though he was. And Truth has infinitely
more to say than has yet been said.
No, it was not so much Parker’s individual voice that you voted should
“ have a chance to be heard in Boston,” as it was the great, heroic, burn
ing purpose to which he had dedicated his all —the purpose to make hu
man life genuinely religious in spite of the churches. I repeat it—to make
human life genuinely religious in spite of the churches. Not ecclesi
astical, not theological, not formal or ritualistic; but religious in the
high sense in which he used the word, as signifying devotion to right
eousness, to noble service, to devout aspiration. This purpose of Par
ker’s soul was even grander than his thought. Thought must change;
it must move j it must advance. |£ven since Parker’s death we all
know that there has been a great onward movement of thought; and to
the best thought of the times, be it what it may, you mean always to
keep open ear and heart. But the purpose to make human life genu
inely religious must abide as the best and purest that can inspire a hu
man soul. This was Parker’s inspiration and power, obeyed under the
frown of all the churches of the land. To this sublime purpose of his
you first voted a hearing, and now ^dedicate these walls. That mar
ble bust before you, perpetuating Parker’s visible features to your sight,
is changeless, immobile, ungrowing; it will be the same a hundred
years hence as it is to-day. But Parker’s mind, could it still have
manifested itself to us, would have been in the very foremost ranks of
thought. This you will remember, and know that, in the best sense,
you hear Parker still in the noblest utterances of ever-developing
knoweledge and ever-deepening aspiration. His mighty purpose shall
still be ours; and all the churches of the land shall lack the power to
quench or cool it. This stately hall, built as a grateful memorial to
the singleness and power with which he put it into deed and word, shall
be a home for all who cherish it,— a place of comfort, enlightenment,
and inspiration to all who love it, a place of mutual spmpathy and en
couragement for all who would pursue it. You could have raised no
fitter monument to Parker, and rendered no better service to those
who would further Parker’s cause.
�36
XI. ADDRESS. BY CHARLES W. SLACK.
Mr. Chairman : The spirit that has erected this handsome build
ing was latent in the community, and needed only to be called into
activity to have ensured the same result before as now. I congratu
late you, and all this large and interested audience, at the splendid
conclusion of our labors in this direction.
You will remember, sir, that it was at the annual meeting of the
Twenty-eighth Congregational Society, on the first Sunday in April,
1871, — only two years and a half ago, — that I had the honor to sug
gest that it seemed to me that we, as a Society, were not doing our full
duty, either to the memory of our great teacher, or to the community
in which we dwelt; that we held great truths in matters of religion
which should have a more conspicuous enunciation; that if we were
willing to adopt the forms of worship in which we were educated,
erect a church edifice, and, in good time, as judgment should approve,
select a permanent minister, who should not only be a guide in thought,
but a visitor and counsellor in our families in the alternating incidents
of life and death; I should be only too happy to lend what energy and
influence I possessed to the consummation of that purpose. You will
remember, too, sir, that the suggestion was kindly received, and it was
felt that the plan of a meeting-house of our own was practicable, if
one-half of the amount of money deemed necessary for its ■ erection
could be secured before operations should commence. It was our
great pleasure, you will also remember, Mr. Chairman, to announce at
the next annual meeting, in April, 1872, that fully fifty thousand dol
lars, in money and work, had been pledged by our small band for the
new enterprise. Thence everything moved with alacrity ; friends were
found on every hand; plans were considered and adopted; and now,
in a little more than fifteen months from the commencement of opera
tions, we find ourselves in this completed and central edifice, with
every convenience and many elegances, ready to proceed to our neces
sary work and demonstrate our need in the community i» which we
dwell.
And there is reason that we should make this demonstration. We
had a leader who, while he lived, was acknowledged to be a power in
thought and personal influence. He uplifted every pulpit in the land,
giving freedom to the voice and thought of their occupants; he bade
the young men of his day accept independence of character and action ;
he taught the liberalizing of opinion, and urged resistance to those often
�brutal episodes of public clamor when the dominant majority sought to
crush out the honest, thinking minority; in a word, he made every man
with a soul within feel the better and the nobler for his ministration in
religion, politics, and morals. If his high aim and earnest endeavor
be not so potent and perceptible to-day as fifteen years ago, possibly it
is because we have not improved our opportunities in presenting his
example and teaching to the world. There is indeed need that we
dedicate ourselves anew to his service when we read, as we may in
the latest “ Biographical Dictionary ” published, bearing the imprint
of the great house of Macmillan & Co., London and New York, and
compiled by Thompson Cooper. F.S.A., this estimate of his public
position': —
“ He became a popular lecturer, and discussed the questions of slavery,
war, and social and moral reforms, with much acute analysis and occasional
effective satire ; but as a practical Teacher he was in the unfortunate posi
tion of a priest without a church and a politician without a state.”
And this is the best judgment of I® intelligent Englishman, so many
years remote from Theodore Parker’s activity among us 1 Surely the
editor is too far away to discern the influence of this great man on
the thought of the times. Possibly he may have been “ a priest ” with
out “ a church,” but he was a minister who made every denomination
in the land envious of his scholarship and eloquence, and more than
half the churches jealous of the throngs of his weekly disciples.
But why be surprised at the judgment of the Englishman, three thou
sand miles away, when we have on our own soil, near-by, a more depre
ciatory estimate by one belonging to the generally large-hearted and
catholic Methodist denomination ? The Reverend Professor George
Prentice, of the Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn., can afford to
say in “The Methodist Quarterly Review,” for July, 1873, of Theodore
Parker, this: —
£< I am amazed at the daring of a man who never had fine culture and
high philosophic talent; whose chief gift was the gift of exaggeration ;
whose life was largely that of a peripatetic stump-orator, hot with perpetual
lecturing, agitating, denouncing and misrepresenting, when he tries to
mould the thought of the world on a matter profound and difficult.”
And this is the verdict of the Methodist collegiate instructor, and
of his denomination, fitfeen years after the death of Theodore Parker,
of that man’s transcendent abilities — is it? Let me, as the humblest
of the humble followers of Theodore Parker, fling back to its obscure
�38
utterer his flippant, his impudent, detraction of a man whose courage
of opinion has made it possible for his defamer to utter even his slan
der without public rebuke— whose claims to culture and scholarship
will live long after the occupant of the professor’s chair who now belit
tles him will be utterly forgotten, if not despised! The scholarship
of Theodore Parker questioned! — as soon ask if mind and character
are formative elements in New England character 1 Go to the scholars
of twenty-five years ago who measured weapons with Theodore Parker,
and this forward stripling will learn that he had a reputation for cul
ture and humanity that no later-day controversialist can question, anx
ious however he may be that the students under his charge shall never
hear to the contrary, and thus be led to examine for themselves into
his opinions and services.
Without “fine culture ”!•—a “peripatetic stump-orator”! — a “priest
without a church and a politician without a state” ! — this the conjoint
testimony to-day of England and America! Surely there is something
for us to do, friends, to show that there is at least one congegation,
still abiding at the home of this great man, which does not accept this
estimate. Nor are we alone in this. It was but yesterday I was con
versing with Vice-President Wilson in relation to the exercises of this
day, when he surprised as well as gratified me. by incidentally mention
ing that when he first entered the Senate Mr. Seward, the great Sena
tor of New York, a statesman as well as legislator, came to him one
day and said, “You have a wonderful man in Boston — Theodore
Parker. I know of no man in the country who so thoroughly appreci
ates the political situation, has such a comprehensive grasp of the
issues involved, and applies so faithfully the moral teachings that will
safely land us on solid ground.” Surely, friends, we can safely leave
the influence of Mr. Parker in morals and politics, letting alone schol
arship and religion, to those who knew him best and were brought
within the range of his acquaintance and co-operation!
Standing here to-day, then, in the capacity of representative of the
proprietors of this beautiful edifice, it remains only for me to bid all
welcome who find themselves drawn by sympathy or love to worship
with this congregation. May it be the home of helpful teaching and
quickening influence 1 May good-will and all sweet charities abound-!
Spacious in area and soft in coloring, may it typify breadth of affection
and the repose of settled conviction ! Thus used, and thus influencing
us, we shall come to believe that we have made a wise investment, and
�39
take satisfaction in the thought that the good work of the generation
now on the stage of affairs shall descend, developed and multiplied, to
their children for long years to follow.
XII.
GOD IN THE HUMAN SOUL.
BY SARAH F. ADAMS.
(Sung by Choir and Congregation?)
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee 1
E’en though it be a cross
That raiseth me ;
Still all my song shall be, —
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee 1
Though like the wanderer,
The sun gone down,
Darkness be over me,
My rest a stone ;
Yet.in my dreams I’d be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!
There let the way appear,
Steps unto heaven;
All that Thou sendest me,
In mercy given ;
Angels to beckon me
Nearer, my God, to Thee,.
Nearer to Thee !
Then, with my walking thoughts
Bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs
Bethel I’ll raise;
So by my woes to be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee 1
�40
Or if, on joyful wing
Cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot,
Upward I fly:
Still all my song shall be, —
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee 1
XIII. BENEDICTION.
BY SAMUEL LONGFELLOW.
�LETTERS.
The following letters were received, addressed to John C. Haynes,
Chairman of the Standing Committee of the Twenty-eighth Congrega
tional Society, in answer to invitations to be present at the dedication
of the Parker Memorial Meeting-House: —
Salem, Sept. 14, 1873.
I have been quite ill for a month, and, though now gradually gaining
strength, am too weak as yet for any effort; so that I shall hardly be able
to attend, even as a hearer only, the Memorial Hall services, next Sunday.
I need not say that my best sympathies will be with the occasion, and that
I am sorry to lose the opportunity to hear what will be so quickening to the
higher life as the word it promises to bring with it.
What omens can you ask, better than the house itself, and the secret
forces that impel Its whole movement, and its grand ideal duties, as inevi
table as the rights we claim ?
Sincerely yours,
Samuel Johnson.
New York, Sept. 17, 1873.
The completion of your new hall is an event to be congratulated on, an
achievement worthy of the Old Guard that bears the glorious banner and
preserves the glorious tradition of Theodore Parker. The thing that should
be done in New York, that must be done here before long, and in other
cities, too, you have done in Boston. There Radicalism has a rallying place
and a home. Here it is dependent on the good, must I say, rather, the ill
will, of proprietors who are so jealous for the reputation of their halls that
good, honest infidels cannot use them. With you now, the Young Men’s
Christian Association have not all the fine audience rooms. The devil has
not all the good tunes.
I wish I could be present at your dedication to the Spirit of Truth, the
Comforter. Your'speaker will say the right word. But many right words
need be said on such an occasion, and no speaker can say them all. May
the spirit of the great and good Theodore be with him and you !
You say your hall is commodious. I hope it is handsome, fair in propordon, beautiful in decoration, cheerful, airy, good for voice and ear; attrac-
6
�42
tive and inviting to strangers ; like the new faith itself, which would glorify
every spot it touches. Spare no pains to make it and keep it a centre of
happy influences; crowd into it as much intellect, sentiment, earnestness,
and aspiration as it will hold; and as these angels take up no room, a mill
ion of them standing on the point of a needle, you will have space enough ,
for a good many. Use the room for good purposes. If you have a preacher,
let him have a multitudinous voice, in the persons of truest spirit wherever
found, that a line of prophets may pass before you and deliver their word.
In this way you will best make a worthy succession, for the man who has,
and is likely to have, no successor.
To write these hurried lines, I turn my pen off the task of writing his
biography, which has been the refreshment of my summer. As it draws
near completion, I am conscious of a new indebtedness to the great soul I
admired and loved so deeply. If the readers of the book find what I have
tried to put there, they will confess that not one Memorial Hall, but many,
should be erected to the honor of that great leader.
Thanking you for your kind invitation to be present on Sunday next, re
gretting my inability to be present, because my own services are resumed on
that day, and wishing you the brightest of days and the sweetest of omens,
believe me,
x
Heartily yours,
O. B. Frothingham.
West Manchester, Sept. 20, 1873.
I have just got your note. It is impossible for me to be, as I gladly would,
at your Dedication, having to go -to Salem to-morrow. Were it my privilege
to speak, I should certainly say in what honor I hold Theodore Parker for
his honesty, courage, piety, and philanthropy ; and for the application he
made, beyond any other theologian or scholar of his day, of moral truth and
the results of study to the social condition and want. No such hero wore the
clerical gown. While poets and essayists were willing to leave their views and
visions in their treatises or musical lines, he insisted in putting every prin
ciple as a power in gear ; and, if any error or iniquity were hid beneath, he
would rend the veil of the temple in twain. But if he destroyed, it was to
rebuild, whatever hands beside his own might be required.
I may be allowed to express the early affection I had for him, and to re
member the friendly regard he cherished for me beyond my deserts, so that
I have a debt of gratitude to pay, should we meet again where the warrior’s
armor is laid aside. It was his wish that I should give him the Right Hand
of Fellowship in West Roxbury, but I was away in another State at the
time of his settlement in that town.
As so long indeed he has had it, may he, with you, accept it, in the spirit,
now!
Cordially yours,
C. A. Bartol.
�43
New York City, Sept. 17, 1873.
I have received your invitation to be with you at the dedication of your
new hall, next Sunday. I sympathize very deeply with the Society in this
new opening, but my obligations here make it impossible for me to be pres
ent.
•
After many years of doubt and trouble and hard efforts, you enter at last
upon cheering prospects. The climb has been difficult, but the hill-top is glorious. You will enter now and possess the land, spread out before all with
invitation, but to be possessed only by those who will work in it for the good
of man. No heart among you beats for you more exultingly or more hope
fully than mine.
*
I wish I could figure to my mind the interior of this goodly home which
you have erected. Sometime I shall see it. Meantime I shall think of it as
a worthy body for the soul of the Twenty-eighth Society; neat, clean, lovely,
and simple. It will be a place where the best may be uplifted, and the
worst be not repulsed.
I think I can imagine the joy and enthusiasm with which you take pos
session of your abode. An exquisite composition by William Blake depicts
the union, or reunion, of the soul and the body at “ the last great day,” as it
is called by those who forget that every day is great and is a judgment-day.
The body arises from the tomb, and the soul bursts rapturously from a cloud,
and with inconceivable force descends headlong upon the body, whose neck
it clasps, whose lips it seizes, in the ecstasy of reinvesting the animal frame
with life and joy from heaven. This has been in my mind as an image of
your advent to new life, when you, the soul, enter into your newly arisen
house, the body. I think it is your just reward for a past which has cer
tainly been very steadfast under many discouragements ; and I believe it in
volves for you the prophecy for the future which is so radiantly given in the
above-mentioned poet’s picture.
,
I am sincerely yours,
J. V. Blake.
Monday, Sept. 15, 1873.
We are still in the country, and this, with Mrs. Phillips’s health considered,
renders it impossible for me to be with you Sunday. I am very sorry. Ac
cept my heartiest wishes for your full success.
Wendell Phillips.
New Bedford, Sept. 15, 1873.
I am happy to learn that the “Parker Memorial Meeting-House ” is so
soon to be dedicated. It would give me great pleasure to accept your invi
tation to be present on the occasion; but as I have just resumed my pulpit
duties at home, after several months’ absence, I do not think that I ought to
be away so early as Sunday, the 21st, and must therefore deny myself the
gratification of joining with you in the interesting services. The name, “ Par
�44
ker Memorial Meeting-House,” has a pleasant sound, — not only as holding
the memory of Theodore Parker, but as recalling the primitive days of the
Puritans, of whom Mr. Parker was a genuine descendant, both by the pro
gressiveness of his thought and the robust heroism of his character.
Long may the new meeting-house stand to help keep alive in Bbston the
elements of such character, and so to promote the interests of pure and ra
tional religion.
Very truly yours,
Wm. J. Potter.
Brooklyn, Sept. 15, 1873.
It would give me sincere pleasure to be present at the dedication of your
new “Meeting-House.” I am glad you have named it as you have. I like
the sound of “ Meeting-House” much better than the sound of “Church.”
It is homely and solid, and so joins on well with Parker’s name — he was so
homely and solid. If it has a savor of Quakerism, that will not hurt. I
cannot be with you, because I am just back from my long vacation. I am
sure Longfellow will speak the right word to you,, and then you will have it
printed so that the poor fellows who cannot come to the feast will have a
sort of “ second table ” spread for them.
It seems to me much better that Parker should have a memorial hall
built for him thirteen years after his death than at any time before. A
great many men, who get imposing monuments soon after their death, would
go unmonumented if the world paused a little and considered. But every
year since Parker’s death has made him seem more worthy of remem
brance. In calling your building by his name, I know you do not mean to
make it any citadel of his opinions, but a home for his spirit, which was the
spirit of truth and love and righteousness. And I trust the new “ MeetingHouse ” will justify its name by being not merely a meeting-place for differ
ent people, but also a meeting-place for different opinions and ideas. Radi
calism is good, but still better is Liberality, and the faith that wrong opinions
may somehow represent a truth to those who cherish them. And so, “ with
malice towards none, and charity for all,” may you go forward, and may the
dear God prosper you, and comfort you, and build you up forever.
Yours faithfully,
J. W Chadwick.
Dansville, N.Y., Sept. 18th, 1873.
I thank you for the invitation to be present at the dedication of your new
“ Meeting-House,” and heartily wish it was in my power to accept it. But
I have been debarred from work by illness for some months past, and am
still an invalid, though I trust on the road to health.
I congratulate you on the completion of the Society’s new home, and shall
have pleasure in thinking of you in your commodious quarters. While I
�45
wish you all material prosperty, my desire is a thousand-fold greater that
you may be imbued with the spirit of him whose name you commemorate ;
that you may emulate his courage, his fidelity to the truth however unpopu
lar, his grand catholicity, that could be satisfied with nothing less than the
salvation, temporal and eternal, of a whole humanity. As he recognized the
motherly element in God, and made his religion vital with love as well as
luminous with thought, so may you. May you accord to women in the pul
pit, in the society, in all the walks of life, full equality with man; equal lib
erty to use the powers with which God has endowed her. May you consti
tute such a fraternity'of true-hearted men and women as the world has never
seen ; untramelled by any creed, limited by no boundaries of sect, the world
your field, the sorrowing and sinful your especial care ; may you go on from
strength to strength; and with no doubtful sound proclaim the dawning of
“ the near new day.”
Hoping sometime to be able to accept the invitation to preach for you
again, I am, with all best wishes,
Cordially yours,
Celia Burleigh.
Syracuse, N.Y., Sept. 19th, 1873.
I am glad to be able to congratulate you all on the completion of your
enterprise, which once more gives you a local habitation. The name you
have always had. It is a noble one, and binds you all by many grand mem
ories to the steady and persistent pursuit of Truth in Thought and Righteousmess in Life.
_ The bitter days when the prophets prophesied clothed in sackcloth are
over, thanks to God and their God-directed labors. It is the task of our
generation to help to bring in that Coming Time, which they foresaw and for
which they gave themselves, body and soul. May you all be inspired to do
your full share of the great work.
With kindest remembrances to all your Society, I remain,
Yours fraternally,
S. R. Calthrop.
Marshfield, Sept. 19, 1873.
I received to-day your kind invitation to attend the dedicatory services of
your Parker Memorial Hall, on Sunday. I should be glad to comply with it
and participate briefly in the exercises as you request. It is not easy for me
to leave home for two nights, as would be necessary in order to be in Boston
on that day of the week, and I see no way to do it.
The construction of your hall I look upon as a most auspicious event, as
well as an evidence of the faith and courage of those who, through doubt
and discouragement of no common magnitude, have held aloft the standard
of free thought and speech since your great hero was summoned from earth,
and his body laid to sleep in the Soil of the beautiful Italian city made fa-
�46
mous in history by the genius of Dante and the sublime piety and martyrdom
of Savonarola.
In this marvelous dream which we call life, there is nothing more won
derful and inspiring than the great moral and political revolution which has
been accomplished in this country since Mr. Parker came upon the stage of
manhood. I remember seeing him at the series of reform meetings, held
mostly in Chardon St. Chapel, in i839~4°> t° discuss the character and use
of “ the Sabbath, the Church, and the Ministry.” He was a young, modest,
and unassuming man ; but even then giving signs of the mighty force which
afterwards in the Melodeon and Music Hall exposed the rottenness of Church
and State, and gave such an impetus to the cause of freedom, both of body
and mind.
From him largely proceeded the impulse that has given new life to a na
tion, and emancipated the mind of the age from the thralldom of priestly rule.
His mantle rests upon you. His spirit and purpose are nourished by the
Society which bears his name. You do well to inscribe that name on the
building you have erected. Long may it continue, and be an instrument in
the hands of the Parker Fraternity for the more perfect education, eman
cipation, and elevation of the human race.
Yours, in the everlasting life,
N. H. Whiting.
I
�I
I
I
J
■ ■
i
I'
V
I
��
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
Dedicatory services of the Parker Memorial Meeting House by the twenty-eighth Congregational Society, of Boston, Sunday, Sept,21, 1873
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Conway, Moncure Daniel [1832-1907.]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: Boston
Collation: 46 p. ; 24 cm.
Notes: Dedication hymn / Samuel Johnson -- Remarks of John C. Haynes -- Scripture reading -- Prayer -- Dedication hymn / W.C. Gannett -- Discourse / Samuel Longfellow -- God in humanity (hymn) / John G. Whittier -- Address by Ednah D. Cheney -- Address by John Weiss -- Address by Francis E. Abbot-- Address by Charles W. Slack -- God in the human soul (hymn) / Sarah F. Adams - benediction / Samuel Longfellow. Contains letters (p.39-46) received by John C. Haynes, Chairman, in answer to invitations to be present at the dedication of the Parker Memorial Meeting House. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Cochrane & Sampson, printers
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1873
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
G5365
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 (Dedicatory services of the Parker Memorial Meeting House by the twenty-eighth Congregational Society, of Boston, Sunday, Sept,21, 1873), 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
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Subject
The topic of the resource
Sermons
Conway Tracts
Parker Memorial Meeting House (Boston)
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/2332467e30dc10796e20757cb0759baa.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=O0AQXOgXTEug-lsDVEbur23-GDCP1w2dVjgzpoD0DiRaxroUVwVphkEWvXV6p%7EAEZ1-pjQZa5bHRRCbkscmjVn1MmQjhaqOwV3dYMk-UhKXgmCwlBFdjRobOYZEWJcUAysy92w%7EE3uyPIo9GegErTwR4ewQFr0aG3IHknSU7h7FGumvgLX46IaQCVI2hvf4YFad09ptQWlTODXw2yweL-klPSwAwvBleMc-ntBCVxaVMygnRYrxzoQZK4p3sVNM-f163Lcat7mfmkeGR93hC6KFIStvbBeB53ZrIsLq9izOwvgPUDmnOHPmcrUSkHTXtxaFz1MSALEjWsheB2nJw3w__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
11dfee17bca00c814720a272a2183e30
PDF Text
Text
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF GARFIELD
A DISCOURSE
BEFORE THE SOUTH PLACE RELIGIOUS SOCIETY,
SEPTEMBER 25, 1881,
' BY
MONCURE D. CONWAY.
LONDON :
II, SOUTH
PLACE,
FINSBURY.
PRICE TWOPENCE
�FREDERIC
G. HICKSON & Co.
257, High Ho lb o ku,
Lohdoh, W.C.
�THE LIFE AND DEATH OF GARFIELD.
~jp|~ OW good-hearted is this much abused old world
fr>
of ours-—this great world of men, women and
children! Theologians have pronounced it depraved.
VZ
wrote—
Even poets have called it hard and unfeeling ; as one
“ Man’s inhumanity to man
Makes countless thousands mourn.”
Yet, even in his indictment, the poet suggests the
fundamental goodness of human nature, since he calls
its reverse ‘ inhumanity.’ Were human nature bad,
to be humane would be also bad ; the more humanity,
the more depravity. The race records in its language
the simple verdict on itself, that to be human is to be
good-hearted; the evil heart is inhuman.
Really it is
man’s ignorance of man that makes countless thousands
mourn.
The great world moves on its daily round of
toils and joys, self-centred as its planet, and heeds
little, because it sees little, the agonies of those crushed
ec beneath its wheels. But when it does see such, when
st its unheeding rush and roar is arrested by some salient
tragedy; when its innumerable eyes are fixed upon a
deed in which all the evil powers of nature are seen
�(
i
)
venting their triumphant cruelty upon innocence and
excellence; then the human race has but one heart,
purely good: under it the depraved is shown to be not
man, but monster; the excellent is immortalised.
The great crime against humanity, consummated in
the death of the President, has moved the heart of
humanity.
The Court in mourning reflects a sorrow
felt in every cottage and hall.
The money-changers
turn from their speculations to bow their heads before
a poor man carried to his grave four thousand miles
away. ’Tis a tragedy all can comprehend. There
have been cases where crowned assassins of men and
women have felt in their own hearts the weapon they
had used against others.
Though it be deplorable
that any man of the people should degrade himself
to the foul -weapon of tyrants, we must sometimes say
that, if despots dislike assassination, they should avoid
setting the example.
But in this case there is nothing
to confuse the judgment of mankind.
The eye of the
world is brought face to face with an infrahuman
spirit acting through forces of the human form, and
sees beside the fallen man the real Satan with which
all real saviours have to measure their strength.
The universal cry of horror, sympathy, indignation,
is really a protest of the human heart against the
cruelties of brute nature, and, however unconsciously,
brands the creeds that deify the destructive powers of
�Etf
It '
’<!
nature.
“ Vengeance is mine,” says the Lord of the
creeds; “Vengeance is mine,” says the assassin of the
President. How does the reciter of the creeds like
deified vengeance when mirrored in the crime of a
vindictive man ?
poet—•
Their real faith is rather that of the
“ A loving worm within its sod
Were cliviner than a loveless God
Amid His worlds.”
Man cannot worship the ancient images of elemental
force. Those old dogmas have left phrases upon our
EiJ lips about the inscrutable dispensations of Providence;
rd but they have no root in the millions of hearts that
now rise in grief and wrath against a great wrong and
oh
calamity.
The ancient sacerdotal theology regarded calamities
of this kind, falling upon eminent men or families, as
the carrying out of fatal decrees of the gods. The
victims might be quite innocent, but they had to suffer
vicariously for the offence of some remote ancestor.
Nor was this notion merely ‘pagan.’
In Christian
theology, all pain and death are the doom of ancestral
sin, and there are instances in the Bible where Jehovah
rh strikes the innocent for the sin of the guilty (Exod. xi.,
2 Sam. xii.), just as the house of Atreus is divinely
hunted down for a remote ancestral offence.
That pitiful providence (if we may so speak of a-
�(
6
)
phantasy of the primitive brain) measuring its strength
against the innocence unsuspecting its malice,—too
weak to punish justly, strong only in cruelty, power
less to protect,—is a providence no longer believed in.
We only know that it was once believed in, by a
bequest of cant phrases, which, if they meant any
thing to-day, would mean that the murderer Guiteau
belongs to the divine administration. Of course, these
dogmatic anachronisms -will survive for a long time
yet, on paper, and in conventional rites and forms.
A great many interests will see to that.
They are
not amenable to reason, because not products of
reason. In a sense, therefore, they are unanswerable.
The Prince of Wales was very ill.
The churches and
chapels all prayed for him, and he recovered.
It was
claimed as an answer to prayer. The President lay long
in agony and peril, which even his assassin pitied. The
churches and chapels of
a hundred millions of
Christians, the very synagogues of Palestine, prayed for
his recovery. He died. (The whole human world, with
one voice, supplicated its God for this one life j and he
who could raise his personal friends out of their graves
in Palestine would not answer the prayer of all man-
kind in behalf of his devout worshipper in A m erica!)
This, of course, is said to be a mysterious dispensation
of God.
assailable.
Whatever the event, Theology is thus un
Common-sense may ask whethei' God cares
�more for Prince than for President ; whether typhoid
fevers and assassins are heavenly ministers, and, if so,
whether physicians should resist the one or judges
sentence the other.
But common-sense will ask in
vain. Theology will go on with its days of thanks
giving or of humiliation, because its appeal now is
to those who do not think, nor inquire (whether from
incompetence or fear) ; and who so cannot realise that
their creeds are the stultification of their true hearts
and sincerest lives.
But let us be of
good cheer!
Amid these
hereditary euphemisms about evil, now and then the
real heart of mankind speaks, and we recognise that
it does not regard wrong and cruelty as divine in any
sense.
It has an unsophisticated answer to the
widow’s cry, “ Oh, why am I made to suffer this cruel
blow ! ” It resents the blow, providential or not. It
hates the villainy and the baseness with loathing.
It loves mercy and justice.
This is the feeling that
lies deep down in all—even in those who pay lip-
service to a God of Wrath and Vengeance. This is the
-divinely human sentiment which has been brought out
legibly, as if on every man’s forehead, by the tragedy
at Washington; and it is a prophecy of the coming
•of the true son of man.
In this passionate sympathy
with goodness and horror of evil, lies the hope of
man’s salvation from all evil.
�(
s
)
The heart of humanity is man’s time providence.
It is that which ever brings good out of evil.
It has
been my lot to witness, and study, the effect of the
dastardly assassination of two of the noblest American
Presidents. Many of you will remember the dismay
spread by the tidings that Abraham Lincoln, liberator
of his country from slavery, had fallen.
The bullet
that pierced his heart evoked all that was best in the
heart of his country and of England.
There had been
up to that time a large number of persons in this
country utterly deceived as to the spirit of slavery,
who still sympathised with the lost cause of the south,
because they did not recognise that those valiant
defenders of slavery were its chief victims.
The
murderous bullet that slew Lincoln slew that party
here.
There was also a spirit of mistaken clemency in
America, which, respecting a brave foe fallen, was
about to make concessions which, it is now seen, might
have repaired the evil system that had engendered
civil strife.
President Lincoln shared that spirit.
But his death revealed to the people the irrecoverable
nature of slavery, and they extirpated it.
So did the
providential human heart educe good out of evih
And it will do so again in this case.
done so.
Already it has
This terrible tragedy has not only revealed
to the peoples on both sides the Atlantic in how
profound a sense they are of one blood—that their
�(
9
)
•common blood is thicker than the ocean of water that
divides them—but it has united the North and the
South in America in a feeling that has not before
■existed between them for two generations.
They are
gathered to-day in the unity of sorrow around their
dead President. The spirit of faction, too, which had
raised
its head
in the North,
some
of
whose
venom the murderer had caught, has received its
check. And all these benefits following a great crime
lay not in that crime at all, but in the good sense and
just heart of the people. They represent in a swift
and startling way the process which, in slow ways, is
always going on.
It is that which has thus far
civilised the earth. The steady pressure of the good
against the evil in the world; the gradual turning of
experience into wisdom, the lessons of suffering
teaching the laws of well-being, shadows of error
pointing to the light of truth—these make the law of
human progress and the evolution of a true man upon
the earth.
The subject that had been named for to-day’s dis
course was, “ Our life estate.”
By that I meant that
to each man his life is an estate which he inherits ; in
which he has a life interest; which even for the poorest
holds many treasures; an estate necessarily transmitted
by each, improved or unimproved, to be the inheritance
of others. The tremendous event which has super
�(
10
)
seded that topic, has, beyond its startling voice, a still
small voice that may well impress upon us this lesson
concerning a man’s life estate, and the way it goes on
after he has died out of it.
Behold the dead President lying in the Rotunda of
the Capitol, where the sympathy of a world surges
around him and breaks into tears!
Prom poor and
honest parents he received his life estate.
It was in
a small corner of the world—a lowly estate—but
all sound and honest, and large enough to give
play to the greatest principles
and activities of
man’s nature. The father came of one of those old
English families that crossed the ocean to build a new
England where conscience might be free. He was a
pioneer of civilisation in the forests of Ohio, and died
of a disease caught while defending his fields from a
forest fire.
The harvest was saved, though the farmer
died. The brave mother and her children struggled on,
and their courage and energy prevailed. The boy had
a strong constitution, a love of work, and a thirst for
knowledge. He earned money by driving the mules that
drew canal boats. There was nothing noble about that;
he was neither proud of it or ashamed of it. It was his
lot in life, and he fulfilled its duties.
to a larger lot.
He studied
But he aspired
hard.
He and his
mother laid up money enough for him to go to
college.
He climbed to
his degree; he climbed
�(
11
)
f
beyond it,
)
3
difficulties.
There was no sleight-of-hand in his
culture. He became a scholar, afterwards a College
I,
President. As with every healthy young man, his
religious sentiment began to develop. The region
around him was now populous, even fashionable, and
all the great sects were there. This youth selected to
I
li'
fij
ft
■>»
step by step, without any leaps over
take his place among a very humble circle, who called
themselves “ Disciples of Christ.” They have no
creed. They are generally believers in the super
natural character of Christ, but refuse to use the word
“Trinity,” or in any way to bind themselves with any
to . of the hereditary formulas called creeds.
This gave
ft them freedom to grow with the mind of their country.
T They are the youngest of the denominations, founded
ii| in 1827, but they have grown fairly well in culture
J
Tfl
and influence. A telegram in the London Times says
the funeral to-morrow will be conducted by the late
President’s chaplain. But the President never had
any chaplain. Such an office does not exist; and, if
fj ‘ it did, the late President would have abhorred it.
H He used to gather the students of his college in the
rfe
chapel, and lecture to them on many different sub
©j jects,—sometimes on writings of Tennyson, Carlyle,
Emerson, Darwin, and other contemporary authors.
B His spirit was thoroughly liberal. He had not in him
a drop of sectarian blood ; his Christianity consisted
�(
12
)
in a sincere desire to make the love and heroism and
gentleness of Christ an influence upon the life of
himself and others.
As he had not taken the side of the conventional
and powerful in religion, but associated himself with
humble, creedless, “Disciples of Christ,” so, in politics,
he joined himself to the small band of constitutional
opponents of slavery who knew nothing but defeat.
The republican (then “free-soil”) party which now
rules the United States was laughed at as a feeble
fanaticism when Garfield began speaking and working
for it. It had nothing to offer or to promise him.
Few could have then dreamed that this century would
witness its success.
But slavery had the keen instinct
to foresee its doom in that small concert of free hearts,
and met its slow though steady growth with a mad
blow at the Union.
Then the College President sprang forward to his
country’s rescue. With a hundred students from the
college over which he had presided, to begin with, he
formed, his regiment.
They marched to the front and
won the first Union victory in that war.
When he
had faithfully served his country through the war. his
neighbours sent him to Congress, where he did much
to save the harvest of the battle-field—namely
emancipation, and the constitutional equality of races
which alone could secure it.
For slavery, foiled in
�(
13
)
battle, was aiming to gain political control of the
slaves it had lost.
So did this man bravely and faithfully improve the
life estate he had received from the past—from his
English ancestor who helped to found the freedom of
New England, from his father who cleared forests in
Ohio. ’Tis said there will be sung over Garfield’s grave
his favourite hymn, <£ Ho, reapers of Life’s harvest! ”
Possibly when he used to sing it he remembered how
his father died from trying to save his harvest—the
bread of his family—from a forest-fire.
They who
now sing it will remember that it was while protecting
the great national field from an encroaching evil that
the President received his death-wound.
The reapers
of the harvest of his life will bitterly feel the grief
that he cannot share their harvest-home.
of his own harvest-home?
But what
What becomes of the
faithful servant’s life estate? < Does that die too? Is
that shrunken form of the powerful man, which his
friends shudder to look upon,— is that the end of
James Abram Garfield?
The symbols that surrounded him as he lay in state
in the Capitol, reveal the compassionate longing of
the human heart that the great wrong shall be
righted, and to him personally.
It seems too bad,
too cruel, that one who from the tow-path had
climbed by patient, honest steps up to the White
�(
14
)
House, should have all his honours and joys snatched
away, ere tasted—his highest success turned to dust,
his happiness to agony, his great opportunity made
his death ! So beside him a shaft built of roses has
on its broken top, nestling amid immortelles, the dove
that mourns, with downbent head; while on his
pillow is the dove with uplifted eye and wing, about
to fly away
emblem of his soul.
Over him is sus
pended the crown of righteousness gleaming against
the black draped canopy of the dome.
All these are
symbols of the faith that the late President’s personal
possession of his life-estate has not ended. In earlier
ages such enthusiasms have given rise to beliefs
among men that their heroes were not dead—could
not die—but lived like Arthur in happy valleys, or
invisibly walked the earth like St. John, or led armies
like St. James.
Such beliefs still mould for many
their conception of immortality; but they who confess
their eyes too weak to pierce the veil beyond the
grave, do not the less believe in the actual im
mortality of the life which a good man bequeaths to
the world. A right and true man may be defrauded
of his share in his own estate of life, but mankind
cannot be robbed of it.
For them he will go on
living, and his life will expand in influence as much
as if he were personally alive.
Nay, more !
The
dead will elevate the policy of the living President.
�(
15
)
He binds together nations that were estranged, and
sections which were at strife.
He is not dead, nor
does he sleep.
But there is a life that casts its shadow athwart theworld. Crouched in his ceil is the wretched criminal
who has caused all this agony. Perhaps in all history
■no two lives were ever brought into contact more-
representative severally of the best and the worst
forces that can control human life. The whole life of
that miserable murderer has been tracked, and it has
been found that he has for years been going through
the country like a sort of mad dog, leaving in many
regions traces of his disastrous march. Licentiousness,
fraud, falsehood, faithlessness to woman and to man,,
appear to have been the footprints of his career. And
during all this horrible career he has been possessed
[with the belief that he is a specially religious man.
i. Bor years, and up to the very hour of the murder,
Charles Guiteau was a lecturer against infidelity. HeI was celebrated for his prayers in the meetings of'
Mr. Moodey.
He went about the country defrauding
hotels at the very time that he was denouncing the
wickedness of the Hon. Bobert Ingersoll for dis
believing in Christianity.
Even since the murder,
and in his prison, Guiteau has continually read his
j Bible, is eager to talk theology with the officials,
I fiercely denounces infidelity, and argues for orthodoxy.
�(
16
)
These things I gather from reports that seem unbiassed
and uncontradicted.
I have no disposition to base
upon them any theory against Christians. Orthodox
people generally have as much horror of crime as any
•others. Nay, so long as Protestant orthodoxy was
able to unite morality and religion, and convince men
that crime was punished by a burning hell, it was able
to do something towards restraining the hell of human
passions. But gradually it has developed a theology
which necessarily and logically maintained that the
blood of Jesus could cleanse from all sin.
“ While the lamp holds out to burn
The vilest sinner may return.”
‘The majority of criminals have accepted the blood of
Jesus, after the law had clutched them, and believed
that they were ascending from the gallows to
Abraham’s bosom.
It is not often that a man of
Guiteau’s education is found so utterly demoralised
by a self-righteous theology.
And, although it is
logical for him to stand on his dogmas, and say “ I
the chief of sinners am, yet Jesus died for me,”—it
amounts to moral lunacy.
His combination of piety
and criminality make him a monster.
Goethe said,
“ Nature reveals her secrets in monsters.” And one
may hope that Christians will study this theological
assassin as a specimen showing what certain natures
may deduce from the dogma of salvation by faith
�(
without works.
17
)
Happily that is not the tendency of
Christians, which is less and less characterised by
dogmatism, more and more by imitation of the
benevolence and charity of Christ.
But there is a
tendency of the old dogmas as they are deserted by
the best minds to gravitate downward among the least
educated and least restrained regions of society, and
to make their vulgar visionaries depend more on
abjectness before God than on rectitude before man
for security after death.
It may be that Guiteau will find no defender on his
trial.
No lawyer may be willing to take on himself
the stigma of having been the counsel of such a
creature.
Yet, I can imagine, a day may come of
calmer judgment when a plea in palliation might be
[ made even for him.
It would show that there was
j bequeathed him as his life estate a morbid temperament which exaggerated all the worst teachings of
morbid dogmas impressed on his mind in early life.
I He was taught that the supreme object of existence
was to save his own soul—that first lesson in selfish
ness taught to millions of children (which only the
j restraining grace of human nature prevents from
I making them soul-less!) He was taught that with
God human goodness availed nothing—neither justice,
| nor pity, nor gentleness, nor sympathy, nor unselfish| ness, nor purity of life.
All these amounted to just
�(
18
)
nothing in the work of bringing man to his highest
joy.
was taught that morality could save nobody,
and good works but filthy rags in the sight of God.
He was taught that death was a small affair, and to a
Christian great gain ‘ passage from an accursed world
to a blissful paradise.
The only fatally wicked thing
was to him unbelief.
These dogmas were given him
ns the guides of his life; they were not merely put on
his lips, as in most cases, but seem to have taken deep
root in him, insomuch that even in prison they were
his meditation day and night, if one may judge by
some reports of his interest in theology.
This is a perilous kind of teaching.
This is the
second time in the last few years that America has
been brought face to face with some of the possible
results of preserving the forms and phrases of
barbarian religion.
One was the case of the Massa
chusetts preacher Freeman, who believed himself
called, like Abraham, to sacrifice his beloved child.
He plunged a dagger in her breast.
The little victim
is in her grave; the father is in a lunatic asylum.
Probably, if the murderer of Garfield could be
thoroughly tried, he also would go to the asylum;
but, as it is, he will probably rest in a nameless and
execrated grave.
But what will theology have to say of this victim
of an enthusiasm for faith without the deeds of the
�(
law?
19
)
Will the potent blood of Jesus in which he
fervently trusts carry him among the angels with the
blood of Garfield on his hands ?
Or are there limits
to the efficacy of Christ’s blood? That is a problem
we may leave to the theology which has raised it.
For us a more serious question is, What shall be the
result of that evil-doer’s career on earth ? What is
the life estate which he will part from and transmit ?
Has it a vitality, a permanence equal to that of the
President he has slam ? Will his evil career go on
widening into further and larger evil, as the good life
survives in expanding influences of good ? I believe
not.
I find nothing in history or experience to justify
that half-pessimistic view of nature which holds that,
evil in this world has a force co-extensive with that of
goodness. It must be admitted that evil now with
stands good in a passive, obstructive way; but it
must also be admitted that, since the reign of man
began, the good is selected and developed, the evil
steadily diminished and exterminated.
As from the
woods and fields of these islands the wolves and vipers
have nearly disappeared before human culture, so in
the world at large the wolfish and venomous passions
are steadily driven towards their strata of extinction.
The cumulative worth and excellence of the whole
: world form the life estate of the good, and at their
; death is consigned and preserved as a sacred trust to
�(
20
)
right and true men, who will not willingly let die one
benefit transmitted, or one example of excellence.
President Garfield was never so great and strong-
an influence in his life as he now is when borne to his
grave on the shore of Lake Erie.
When he was a
candidate for the highest office in America, partisan
charges were urged against him.
they clung to him.
After his election
Death has dissipated them all.
While he was on his death-bed every secret thing
concerning him was brought to light, and few records
in history have ever come forth from such a search
with such enhanced clearness and brilliancy.
Eact
after fact has been remembered and elicited; and it
has been shown that his life from childhood to death
is one whose heroism had never been recognised. It
never would have been recognised but for this fearful
tragedy, and but for the essential justice of mankind.
He fell a Republican President; he rises as an
exemplar
for the world.
However beneficial his
administration might have been had he lived, he could
nevei' have hoped to unite the sections of his country
as much as his death has united them ; and whatever
his foreign policy, he could never have hoped to bring
together England and America in such close alliance
of affection as they have been brought by sorrow and
sympathy at his grave. This last benefit, indeed, he
partly saw before death, and he was sustained by it
�through, the long agony.
And we may hope that
the wonderful serenity amid pain—the patient, un
complaining sufferance of the terrible eleven weeks—
were those of a mind visited by happy visions of his
country united, North and South—and of an AngloAmerican unity—secured and cemented by his blood
that at first seemed so idly shed.
Let all good men and women try to make that
vision a reality !
Let us remember that the life estate
of all who die falls as a bequest to those who are
living,—to be terminated if it be evil, to be enlarged
and improved if it be good.
The dead President has
TO bequeathed to each and all of us a benefit and a hope
which we little suspected was so near us.
tjI and tragical
His life
death have stirred the hearts of the
two greatest nations of the world,—representing nearly
a hundred millions of people standing in the vanguard
of civilisation,—nations which seventy years ago were
at war, and sixteen years ago
were quarrelling.
It has been the belief of great thinkers that it
would be a token of higher civilisation if these
two great nations could recover their ancient unity on
the broad basis of liberty,—if instead of an extinct
Anglo-Saxon race there could be formed an Anglo-
American race.
The pulses of sympathy and sorrow
every hour beating towards America are far grander
as an expression of civilisation than the mastered
�(
)
magnetism that is their messenger.
Old fables tell
of a magical music that built the walls of cities ;
but the ocean cable that vibrates with the love
of nation for nation is a harp-string of earth’s
heart whose music builds ideal civilisation.
This
day the fifty millions of that stricken land behold
on the darkness a star of brightness ; it is a wreath of
flowers laid by the Queen upon the President’s bier,
fragrant with the sympathy and bedewed with the
tears of her people.
Those flowers must live.
It is
for all good men and women to cherish them that they
may never fade.
Their fragrance is more potent than
armies and navies. They are blossoms of a springtide
of civilisation such as our poor blood-stained earth has
vainly sighed foi' through the centuries.
Ah! I know that they will never fade; they will
be cherished in the hearts of children’s children, and
they will still expand in the happy sunshine when all
the battle-flags that ever floated between America and
England are furled and forgotten.
That is General Garfield’s bequest to you and me,—
to help keep fresh those flowers that mean the hopes
of nations. He bequeathes us also the story of his
life.
To every Anglo-American child shall be told the
brave story of how a poor western lad toiled and
studied, and nourished his mind and heart with pure
and patriotic aims, until he rose to greatness and
�(
2“
)
rfc the highest power,—then, dying, clasped together the
CU
[0
'ii
hands that had smitten, the hearts that had been
estranged, and bequeathed to humanity the grandest
estate it could have, a heart-union of the two nations
which mainly hold the destinies of the world and
must mould the future of mankind.
So much could one poor lad achieve.
young Englishmen.
Think of it,
Do not suppose that such ascent
and success is peculiarly American. It was English
long centuries before it was American. The German,
Goethe, said to a youth who proposed going to seek
his fortune in America, “Your America is here or
nowhere.”
The science of England and its welfare
are largely forwarded by men who were once poor
lads.
Before enterprise and endeavour, barriers will
yield here as elsewhere.
Your aim is not title or
ostentation; it is to become fully possessed of your
life estate, to make the most and best of all your
powers for the good of mankind, so that no mischance,
no blow of fate, can destroy your work, but it shall
rise on grandly over your grave as by the labours of
your life.
�SOUTH _PLACE_ CHAPEL.
WORKS TO BE OBTAINED IN THE LIBRARY.
BY M. D. CONWAY, M.A.
*
Prices
The Sacred Anthology: a Book of Ethnical s. d.
Scriptures......................................................10 0
The Earthward Pilgrimage............................... 5 0
Do.
do.......................................
2 (5
Republican Superstitions ............................... 2 6
Christianity ..................................................
1 6
Human Sacrifices in England
.....................
1 0
Sterling and Maurice........................................
0 2
Intellectual Suicide......................................... 0 2
The First Love again........................................
0 2
Our Cause and its Accusers............................... 0 1
Alcestis in England........................................
0 2
Unbelief: its nature, cause, and cure ............ 0 2
Entering Society
........................................
0 2
The Religion of Children............................... 0 2
What is Religion ?—Max Muller’s First Hibbert
Lecture ..................................................
0 2
Atheism: a Spectre......................................... 0 2
The Criminal’s Ascension...............................
0 2
The Religion of Humanity...............................
0 2
A Last Word.................................................. 0 2
NEW WORK BY M. D. CONWAY, M.A.
Idols and Ideals (including the Essay on Chris
tianity ), 350 pages
...............................
0 0
Members of the Congregation can obtain this Work in the
Library at 5s.
BY MR. J. ALLANSON PICTON.
The Transfiguration of Religion.....................
0 2
BY A. J. ELLIS, B.A., F.R.S., &c., &c.
Salvation
..................................................
Truth ...............................
Speculation ..................................................
Duty
............................................................
The Dyer’s Hand
........................................
0
0
0
0
0
2
2
2
2
2
BY REV. P. H. WICKSTEED, M.A.
Going Through and Getting Over
............
BY REV. T. W. FRECKELTON.
The Modern Analogue of the Ancient Prophet
0 2
0 2
BY W. C. OOUPLAND, M.A.
The Conduct of Life.........................................
0 2
Report of the Conference of Liberal Thinkers 1878,1
�LAUREATE DESPAIR
A DISCOURSE GIVEN AT
SOUTH PLACE CHAPEL
DECEMBER nth 1S81.
BY
Moncure D. Conway, M.A.
LONDON
II,
SOUTH PLACE FINSBURY.
PRICE
TWOPENCE.
�FREDERICK G. HICKSON & Co.
257, High Holborn,
London, W.c.
�LAUREATE DESPAIR.
1T ET me say at once that I am glad the Poet Laureate
J—4 has written the poem called “ Despair/’ which I
((propose to criticise. It is a cry out of the heart of an
1 earnest man; it utters the sorrow with which many
^people in our time see their old dreams fading, and no
Anew ones rising in their place; and it reminds free■fthinkers that theirs is a heavy responsibility and duty.
IThey have to meet and respond to that need and pain
•|which thousands feel wrhere one can give it expression.
AMen of science and philosophers do not always under
stand this. The most eminent of them are pursuing
©deals far more beautiful to them than those that have set.
iThey have special knowledge, or special aims, which
Ikindle into pillars of fire before their enthusiasm, and can
Jnot see how to those of other studies and pursuits their
rfguiding splendour is a pillar of smoke rising from a fair
■world slowly consumed. The 'man of science, hourly
^occupied with discoveries which blaze upon him, star by
Mar, till his reason is as a vault sown with eternal lights,
<eels that he is in the presence of conceptions beside
Which the visions of Dante and Milton are frescoes of a
iime-darkened dome. The enthusiast of Humanity holds
�( 4 )
in his eye a latter-day glory of which history is the pro
phecy and developed man the fulfilment. Such enthu
siasms imply continual studies, occupations, duties, which,
leave little room for attention to the shadows these lights;
cast upon the old world of dreams—each shadow a dogma
or its phantom. Nevertheless, that world of dreams,
shades, phantoms, is still real to many. It is real not
only to the ignorant, whom it terrifies, and to the selfish,
whose power rests on it, but to spiritual invalids, whoneed sympathy. And, beyond this reality, the phantasmson which religion and society wereflfounded possess a
quasi-reality even for robust minds. You mav recall the
saying of Madame de Stael, that “ she did not believe in.
ghosts, but was afraid of them.” After dogmas are dead
their ghosts walk the earth ; and even some who nolonger believe in the ghosts are still afraid of them.
When their intellects are no longer haunted their nerves;
are.
There are others, again, for whose vision or nerves the
pleasant dogmas alone survive in this attenuated, ghostly
form. They no longer believe in the ghosts, but still love
them. Of this class is the literary artist. To the pictorial
artist a ruin is more picturesque than the most comfort
able dwelling. ’Tis said of an eminent art-critic that,
being invited to visit America, he replied that he could
not think of visiting a country where’there were no ruins..
Alfred Tennyson is the consummate artist in poetry. We
all know with what tender sentiment Tennyson has.
�a
(
5
)
painted the scenery of Arthur’s time, with what felicity
described many other reliques of human antiquity.
“ His eye will not look upon a bad colour.” He sees
the mouldering ruins in their picturesque aspects, leaving
out of sight the noxious weeds and vermin that infest
them. Where these loathsome things appear no man
more recoils from them. If the White Ladies of Super
stition haunt them, these he admires ; but he impales the
gnomes and vampyres.
In this, his latest poem, “ Despair,” he shows a childlike
simplicity of desire to retain all the pleasant and reject all
the unpleasant consequences of the same principles. His
�( 6
)
Till you flung us back on ourselves, and the human heart, and.
the Age.
But pity—that Pagan held it a vice—was in her and in me,
Helpless, taking the place of the pitying God that should be I
Pity for all that aches in the grasp of an idiot power,
And pity for our own selves on an earth that bore not a
flower.
Again he says :
Were there a God, as you say,
His Love would have power over hell till it utterly vanish’d
away.
Ah, yet—I have had some glimmer at times, in my gloomiest
woe,
Of a God behind all—after all—the Great God, for aught that
I know :
But the God of Love and of Hell together — they cannot ibe
Tr ?h(,U?ht ■
cwM
It there be such a God, may the Great God curse him and
bring him to nought!
This is what the Poet Laureate thinks of the God of every
creed in Christendom, for every creed maintains an
eternal hell.
But the agnostic, the know-nothing sceptic, is summoned
to bear his share in this tragedy of hopelessness and
suicide, fl he poet does not suggest that disbelief in a
future life or in a Deity would alone lead to suicide. In
his imaginary case unbelief is only a factor. The man
and wife were in terrible trouble. One of their two sons
had died ; the eldest had fled after committing forgery on
his own father, bringing him to ruin. It is under such
fearful circumstances that, without faith or hope, they sink
into despair. The man says :
Why should we bear with an hour of torture, a moment of
pain,
If every man die for ever, if all his griefs are in vain,
�And the homeless planet at length will be wheeled thro’ thesilence of space,
Motherless evermore of an ever-vanishing race ?
*
*
*
*
*
*
For these are the new dark ages, you see, of the popular press,
When the bat comes out of his cave, and the owls are
whooping at noon,
And Doubt is the lord of this dunghill, and crows to the sun
and moon,
Till the Sun and Moon of our science are both of them turned
to blood,
And Hope will have broken her heart, running after a shadow
of good.
It is a striking fact, in our sceptical age, that such
lamentations as these are not heard from among the poor
and the drudges of society. They who are asking whether
life be worth living without the old faith in immortality,
and they who say it is not, are persons of position and
wealth. Any one who has taken the pains to observe the
crowds of working people who attend the lectures of
secularists, or to read their journals, will know they are
cheery enough. We never hear any of them bemoaning
the vanished faith. In truth the more important fact is
not that the belief in immortality is gone, or the belief in
Deity, but that belief in a desirable immortality and a
desirable Deity has gone out of the hearts of many. In
one of his humourous pieces Lucian, describing his ima
ginary journey through Hades, says he could recognise
those who had been kings or rich people on earth by theii
loud lamentations. They had parted with so much.
Those who on earth had been poor and wretched were
quiet enough. "We may observe similai phenomena in
�( 8
)
this psychological Hades, or realm of the Unseen and
Unknown, into which modern thought has entered. Those
to whom God has allotted palaces, plenty, culture, beauty,
can eas ly believe Him a God of Love ,• and it were to
them heaven enough to wake from the grave to a continu
ance of the same. But they who have known hunger,
cold, drudgery, ignorance, have no such reason to say
God is Love. Such may naturally say, “ If we have
waked up in this world in dens of misery, why, under the
same providence, may we not wake up to a future of
misery ?” The old creeds met that difficulty. They
showed a miraculous revelation on the subject, by which
God had established an insurance against future misery,
an assurance of future luxury. It was all to be super
natural. By miraculous might poverty was to be changed
to wealth, the hovel to a palace, rags to fine raiment,
ignorance to knowledge, folly to wisdom, and scarlet sin
to snow-pure virtue. Without such tremendous trans
formations the masses of the miserable could have no
interest in immortality. But gradually the comfortable
scholarship and theology of our time, in trying to prove a
God of nature, have done away with the God of super
nature. Their deity of design is loaded with all the bad
designs under which men suffer. Fifty years ago Carlyle
groaned because he could not believe in a Devil any more.
Philosophy had reasoned a Devil out of existence. The
result was to make the remaining power responsible for
all the evils in the world, and ultimately bling him into
�1
w
( 9 X
a ioubt and disgrace too. Dismssing the Devil out of faith
iiias not dismissed evil, the mad work of earthquake, hurri
cane and fire. As we think of the shores with their wrecks,
^is we think of those people in Vienna gathered around the
iiharre .1 remains of their families and friends, must we not
Sisk if this is providential work what would be diabolical
jivork ? Reason says to Theology, “ At least you can be
iKilent, and not malign the spirit of good within us by
Asking us to call that without good which we know to be
lad ! ”
. I Similarly theologians .in trying to rationalise the idea of
Immortality have naturalised it. They have tacked it on
to evolution. But what the miserable suffer by is evolu4ion : unless they can be assured of a supernatural change,
jjf a heaven, they do not want to be evolved any more.
Only a miraculous revelation could promise them that
;.jniraculous heaven ; and the. only alleged revelation is
Rejected by the culture and the charity of our age. It is
[fcenied by Culture, because it reveals some impossibilities ;
my Charity, because it reveals a God capable of torturing
leople more than they are tortured here. What are eight
hundred people burned swiftly in a theatre compared to
millions burning in hell for ages, if not for ever, as Revela
tion declares ? Our Poet Laureate is a man of both
Culture and charity ; he cannot sing of a revelation which
Includes Hell, however he may cling to hopes that came
Ly the sanae revelation, or mourn at thought of pai ting
from a world so fair.
�(
10
)
Candour compels us to admit that there is as yet no
certainty of a future life for the individual consciousness.
The surviving seed of the human organism if it exist has
not been discovered. There is nothing unnatural in the
theory. It would not be more miraculous to find our
selves in another world than to find ourselves in this. If
two atoms of the primeval nebula, thrown together, had
been for one instant capable of speculation, how little
could they have imagined a company of men and women
gathered to meditate on life and eternity 1 All this is
very marvellous if we conceive it contemplated from a
point of non-existence. For all we know there are more
marvels beyond.
But suppose there are none ; suppose death be the end
of us; is there any reason for despair ? Even for the
man and woman on whom life had brought dire
calamities, was there any reason for suicide ? Just the
reverse, I should say. Belief that this life was all were
reason for making the most of it. Belief that their ruin
would not be repaired hereafter were reason for trying to
repair it here, as well as they could. Has Tennyson
evolved his man and woman out of his inner con
sciousness ? It is doubtful if in the annals of freethought
such a case can be pointed out; though many instances
may be shown where believers in a future world slew
themselves to get there. Suicide was a mania in some
old convents until the church fixed its ‘ canon ’gainst self
slaughter.’
�?! ' • However, it may be that instances of the kind Tennyson
& -describes may occur. We are but on the threshold of the
is age when men are to live and work without certainty
S of future rewards and payments. The doubts now in the
t .head must presently reach the heart, then influence the
II hand ; if people have built their houses on the sand of
K mythology, and they fall, it may be that some will not
t have the heart to begin new buildings on the rock.
F-: What then ? It will be only the continuation of the old
1 law—survival of the fittest. Suicides at least do not live
t to increase their race. Only those tend to prevail in
nature who can 'adapt themselves to the conditions ofnature. If nature has arrived at a period of culture when
•supernaturalism passes out of the human faith, then they
"who sink into despair or death, on that account, show
themselves no longer adapted to nature. There will be a
survival of those more adapted to the new ideas ; who
prefer them ; who do not aspire to live for ever, but have
.a heart for any fate, and a religion whose forces and joys
are concentrated in the life that now is. If natuie and
humanity need such a race for their furtherance, such a
race will be produced ; and they will read poems like
this “ Despair,” with a curiosity mixed with compassion,
wondering how their ancestors could have been troubled,
about such a matter.
. Something like this has occurred in the past in several
id instances.
While Christians find fullest expression of
[j their joyful emotions in the psalmody and prophecy of the
�(
I2
)
Hebrews they often forget that those glowing hymns say
no word about a future life. There is no clear affirmation
of immortality in the Old Testament, but much to the
contrary.
Buddhism also, which has awakened the
enthusiasm of a third of a human race, arose as a protest
against theism and immortality. In such instances there
would appear to have been reactions against previous,
theologies, which had so absorbed mankind in metaphysics
and' speculations about the future as to belittle this life and
cause neglect of this world. Despised and degraded nature
avenged this wrong by making asceticism its own
destruction, and worldliness a source of strength and
*
survival.
Some such Nemesis seems to be following
the extreme other-worldliness which, for so many Christian
centuries, has bestowed the fruits of human toil upon
supposed supernatural interests. This earthward swing of
the slow pendulum of faith is not likely to be arrested
until religion has been thoroughly humanised. As a
brave clergyman (Rev. Harry Jones) warned the Church
Congress at York, the Church will never conquer
Secularism, except by doing more for mankind than
Secularism does.
■ '
We must almost remember that no oscillations of the
pendulum between theology and humanity, no reactions,
determine the question. As Old Testament Secularism
* As it is said in Ecclesiasticus: “ He has also set worldli
ness in their heart, which man cannot understand the works
that God does, from beginning to end.”—Dr. Kalisch’s
Translation.
�(
13
)
followed Egyptian Mysticism, Talmudic visions of heaven
} succeeded. Every ebb alternates with a flow in the tides
I of human feeling; and these tides are the generations which
I nature successively creates to fufil successive conditions,
and to find their joy in such fufilment, whatever be the
despair of the ebbing at faith of the flowing tide.
: But, no doubt, these rising and falling ages of speculation
| and religion will show calmer and happiei' phenomena in
the future than in the past. There are traces in the earth
i of tremendous operations in the past, which geology
I was unable to account for by any forces now acting,
until Astronomy discovered that the Moon had been
[ steadily receding from the earth, its mother. The moon
i is now 240,000 miles away, but is proved to have bien
t once only 40,000 miles distant. At that period the tides
were to the tides of our time as 216 to 1. This country
1 and many others must then have been flooded with every
tide, and the enormous geologic results are now under
stood. There would appear to be some correspindence in
I all this with mental and moral phenomena. In religious
! geology also there are traces of convulsions and huge
formations which it has been difficult to account for,—
mighty religious wars, massacres, whole races committing
I slow suicide for the sake of their Gods. Comparative
I studies now show that the lunar theology was much nearer
J to mankind then than now, and the tides more furious.
« The extraneous influence is withdrawing more and more.
] Where theologians used to burn each other they now fight
j combats with pens. Where heretics were massacred they
1
�(
14 )
are now only visited with dislike. Instead of crusades,,
with Richard and Saladin, we have young poets singingon the crest of a sparkling tide, and their elder, from
refluent waves, murmuring rhythmic Despair. There isa vast difference between the emotions awakened
by belief in a deity near at hand, pressing down upon the
life, and those awakened by a hypothetical deity of
philosophy or ethics. When men attributed their every
hourly hap, good or bad, to the personal favour or to the
anger of their deity, their feeling at any supposed affront
to their deity, mingled with selfishness and terror, rose to
a pitch very different from any now known when few
men refer any event to supernatural intervention. Yet
do the great movements of the universe go on, the cycles
and the periods fufil themselves, the planets roll on new
orbits with changed revolutions; and, whatever be the
corresponding changes in human opinion, they cannot alter
the eternal fact.
If immortality be the law of the universe, it will be
reached by believers and disbelievers alike. But, could
the world be made absolutely certain of it beforehand, by
the only means of certainty—scientific proof—what were
the advantage ? It would no longer be a miraculous thing
promising all a leap from earthly sorrow to heavenly
bliss, but merely a law of nature—mere continuance—the
millions rising from their graves to go on with existence,
just as they will rise from their beds to-morrow. There
would be no further note of despair from the Laureates ;
but how would it be with the general world ? One of the
�most powerful poems of our time has been written by a
French lady, Louise Ackermann. It is entitled “Les
Malheueux”—the Unhappy. The last day has come ; the
trumpet has sounded. A great angel descends ; uncovers
all the graves of the dead, and bids them come forth for
everlasting life. Some eagerly come forth, but a large
number refuse. To the divine command that they shall
emerge, their voice is heard in one utterance. They tell
him they have had enough of life in His creation ; they
have passed through thorns, and over flinty paths—from
agony to agony. To such an existence He called them—
they suffered it; and now they will forgive Him only if
He will let them rest, and forget that they have lived.
Such is the despair with which one half of the world,
might answer the joy of the other should a mere natural
immortality be proved.
A great deal of the poetry of the world has invested
with glory man’s visions of heaven and heavenly beings.
The very greatest poets have invested nature and theearth with glory, and set the pulses of the human heart
to music. This has been the greatness of Homer, Shake
speare, Goethe. But the majority have given the world
visions of heaven, divine dramas, and hymns of immor
tality ; and it is these that have been taught to earth’s
millions in their infancy. These happy hymns have for
ages soothed sorrowing hearts, and helped the masses of
mankind to bear the burthens of life—this not only in
Christendom, but in so-called Pagan lands and ages.These have been as the songs of Israfel in Eastern faith.
�(
16 )
They said a sweet singer among the angels left heaven to
go forth over the suffering world and soothe mortals with
his heavenly lyre and his hymns, until all were able to
Tear the griefs of life because of the joys beyond,
rehearsed by Israfel. But once—while this angel was
.singing with his celestial seven-stringed lyre—one string
of it snapped. No one could be found to mend the string
-or supply its place; and, every time Israfel tried to make
music, it was all jangling discords, through that broken
string. So Israfel took his flight, and never returned to
the world. The tale sounds like a foreboding of what has
in these last days befallen the sacred poetry which so long
made the world forget its griefs. The lyre of Israfel is
the human heart, and the snapped string is its faith in a
supernatural heaven. It has been snapped by the
development of nature ; it therefore cannot be restored
unless by a further development: and so Sacred Poetry
has taken its flight from the world—its last great song
being of a Paradise Lost. In other words, the hope of
immortality has ceased to have power to soothe and
uplift those who most needed it, because the recognized
reign of law forbids belief that such life—should it come
—would be very different from the life that uow is.
*
But there is another story of a broken string, with a
■different ending. It comes from Greece (Browning
has finely told it in The Two Poets of Croisic), the land
of Art and of the Beauty that adorns the earth. It is of
a bard who came with his lyre to sing for a prize. He
-came with other competitors before the solemn judges.
�The others had all sung their poems ; now came our youth,
with his. His theme rose high and higher, till at length
he came to the great theme of his song—Love. Just then
he felt beneath his finger that one string of his lyre had
snapt, a string that presently must do its part, or else his
song be put to shame. On, on, his strain went, as if to
its death ; but just as he drew near his note’ of Despair,
lo, a cricket chirped loud, chimed in with just that needed
note ! Saved, he went on, and ever as he returned to this
broken string the cricket duly made good the snapt string,
and thus the judges missed no note of the music, which
won the crown. On the poet’s statue was carved the
cricket which contributed from the lowly hearth the
needed note in that hymn of Love, when the old string
had broken. That tale too, I doubt not, came out of that
truest of all poets, the human heart. For the heart of our
race is aged in such experiences as those which elicit
rhymes of Despair. It has seen beautiful symbols fade in
myriads ; symbols of heavens innumerable, every one
clung to by suffering Egyptians, Persians, Greeks, as
much as any Christian clings to their successors. It has
seen troops of bright gods and goddesses perish, nymphs
and fairies leaving wood and vale desolate ; and yet, just
as its gladdest heart-string has snapt, its faith in heaven
given way, some cheery note from the earth has come to
remind it of the love near at hand, of the divine joy van
ished from its ancient heavens only to be revealed at the
hearth.
A cricket-chirp ! That is all. While our great Laureate
�(
i8
)
is employing his art to sing of despair, and other poets
aspire to ambitious themes, the notes are as yet but few
and humble, which cheer man with a trust in the love that
is near him. But there are such notes making up for the
•creed’s snapt string. Nor are they near only the happy.
The cricket sings from many an overshadowed hearth. It
tells the heart to be brave, and never count life lost so
long as courage remain. It bids man cease thinking so
much about himself—whether he be likely to die next year,
or die for ever—and go fall in love with something, an
out-self; to dispel morbid meditations. It warns us not to
worry over what may never happen, or, if it happen, may
be for the best, but turn to make what paradise we can on
•earth ; nor admit into it the destroyer of every paradise,
■care about the morrow, or about the far future. All these
spiritual despairs are diseases of the imagination. In a
sense, it is hereditary disease. For many generations our
ancestors employed their imaginations for little else than
to realise the charnal-house and picture happiness or
horrors beyond it. So their children have inherited a
morbid tendency of imagination, whereby they may turn
from the happiness they have and make themselves
miserable with dreams about its vanishing. Such work of
the imagination is illegitimate. Imagination is the
brightest angel of the head, as Love is of the heart; they
are twin angels and their office is to make life rich and
beautiful. And they can so enrich and adorn life, though
passed in a hovel, though amid pain, though destined to
end for ever, provided they be not dismissed from their
�(
W )
d post of present duty and sent wandering through clouds
c# to find love’s objects, or digging into graves to find life’s
ul fountain. I love and admire our Laureate for his great
heart and his beautiful art, but will not follow his muse,
nJ singing of Despaii, except with a hope that it is his way
i of writing its epitaph. I will follow the happy minstrel.
That poet who shows life to be environed with beauty,
makes deserts blossom in his song, whose poem is a
fountain of joy for all the living, bringing forgetfulness
to pain, and a sweet lullaby for the dying—that shall be
J my poet. And if, among the minstrels of our time, such
sihappy ones connot be found, because some string of faith
.for heart is snapped, then let us listen to the cheery
if cricket, to the voices of children, to the gentle words of
..S affection, to the unbroken song of the merry hearts in
..1 nature that remember only its loveliness. We will listen
eg to these until the new Poetry shall arise—as arise it will
I-with fresh songs, to bid all spirits rejoice in that which
) the old brought despair. That is the task of Poetry
ad Art. Every new thing destroying the old brings
espair; none brought more than Christianity—shatterlg the fair gods, and Protestantism—over whose havoc of
rayers and pieties Luther’s poor wife wept; but Poetry
id Art did their work, and none now long for restoration
f Aphrodite or Madonna. So also shall our age of
:ience find its poets and artists, and our children shall no
ore long for a buried faith than we for the holy dolls of
•umbled altars, whose power to charm has fled.
�SOUTH PLACE CHAPEL
WORKS TO BE OBTAINED IN THE LIBRARY.
BY M. D. CONWAY, M.A.
Prices.
s. d.
Demonology and Devil-lore............................
The Wandering Jew ...
Thomas Carlyle
........................................ .
The Sacred Anthology : A Book of Ethnical Scriptures
Idols and Ideals
The Earthward Pilgrimage ...
Republican Superstitions
............................
Christianity ....
Human Sacrifices in England
Sterling and Maurice...
Intellectual Suicide.........................................
The First Love Again
...
................
...
Entering Society
.........................................
The Religion of Children
The Criminal’s Ascension
The Religion of Humanity ...
• ••
The Rising Generation
A Last Word
Thomas Carlyle
The Oath and its Ethics
.............................
...£1 3 4
...
5 0
...
5 0
... 10 0
...
6 0
..
5 0
...
2 6
...
1 6
1 0
0 2
...
0 2
...
0 2
...
0 2
...
0 2
0 2
..
0 2
...
0 2
...
0 2
...
0 2
... .02
BY Mr. FREDERIC
“ Pantheism and Cosmic Emotion ”...
...
0 2
..
0 2
HARRISON
BY Dr. ANDREW WILSON.
The Religious Aspects of Health ................
BY A J. ELLIS, B.A., F.R.S., &c.,
Salvation
......................................................
Truth...................................................................
Speculation......................................................
Duty...................................................................
The Dyer’s Hand
.........................................
Comte’s Religion of Humanity
................
...
...
...
...
...
...
BY W. C. COUPLAND, M.A.
...
The Conduct of Life ...
Hymns and Anthems
............................
&C.
...
...
2
2
2
2
2
4
...
...
...
0
0
0
0
0
0
...
0 2
Is., 2s., 3s-
REPORT OF THE CONFERENCE OF LIBERAL THINKERS,
1878
...............................................................................
1 0
�
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
The life and death of Garfield: a discourse before the South Place Religious Society, September 25 1881
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Conway, Moncure Daniel, 1832-1907 [1832-1907]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: London
Collation: 23 p. ; 15 cm.
Series title: South Place Discourses
Notes: Printed by Frederic G. Hickson & Co., London. List of works to be obtained in the Lending Library of South Place Chapel at end of pamphlet. Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 2.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
[South Place Religious Society]
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1881]
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
T341
G4887
G3351
Subject
The topic of the resource
James A. Garfield
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 (The life and death of Garfield: a discourse before the South Place Religious Society, September 25 1881), 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
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Assassination
Conway Hall Ethical Society
James Abram Garfield
Morris Tracts
Sermons
South Place Chapel
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/99cdeccf6bde38703b2ce479068910d4.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=Mjm7oc-PRLmCklh%7EcCAXbGmIOhd-U29lUQl8E34XT%7E3fTV6CqRjzHAgz67zgg317o8nI18Db3ifCu72rIsW7mPc5XdehGg06j35qRDbfBi-FpU8PZowCCNgHC1x7kNUWgqTIm2uEoCNl%7ESpBtw4ksjMrzfn3Uua-gbp9O%7EUy6OQXxiwA5oLr47-bCOTNYoxZEY679V4OUCCvujPhbXkv9aMC04f9aypaXkwZfFQGEeJ4-3Ih8YkLtLd8DPROsTBpyev%7E85oZDuDehQm2QBTyctHUmQWgkQ%7EW0UxyCDQR-bt5PIYvt7dv5t-Vt1NiQCzG9O4O%7EDQOKLN28ldsiIqsNA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
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
�
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
"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
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Ellis, Alexander John [1814-1890]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: [London]
Collation: 44 p. ; 15 cm.
Series title: South Place Discourses
Notes: Includes bibliographical references. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
[South Place Chapel]
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
[1873]
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
T340
N206
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 ("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), 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
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
NSS
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/a0479de7ca025c39d43368c07a7c6623.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=XV7IIo6NSiO41ZyZNgbKXZ6fsISXtetiKIe3p5A2J65gokNVOCSHf64yzmaummfJbIxTUe3MVZXDNGvyKMKeiDJKfccEJQNuaHJTUGLkDAnujPR71d9XCSK2YsDpu99cgNcsQ7xM4DiqstWhQe862WZhD%7E61nXw1SEP6k0UdxZWAOG5lPU4r3CwGvunJWzUEoNHbYeUuZ-C%7EEZVNrXTGnSHvUtp2l3Em6CGvKFqT39km8KVykVByjK4dSRAxx2J3AIMrqMquDdZN-2d2%7E6dRpcpdpPQ7N2hzRCmELsvASGhPG3spQUudAidcLRfDvU6Lw5cvT6Ee0RZJhZpTL1EX2w__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
02116af282fe98eb73ea1c01959950f8
PDF Text
Text
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
�( 5 )
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
�( 6 )
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.
�( 7 )
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
�( 9 )
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
�( 10 )
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’
�( n )
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
�( 12 )
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.
�( 13 )
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.
�( 14 )
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
�( 15 )
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
�( 16 )
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,
�( 17 )
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
�( 18 )
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
�( 20 )
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
�( 24 )
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.”
�( 35 )
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
2
-
M W
to
to
tO
to
ts?
to
2
W
Bound in cloth
... 1
Is Socialism Sound ? ... 1
Four Nights’ Public De
bate with Annie Besant.
Bound in cloth
... 2
Christianity^; Secularism 1
Four nights’ Public De
bate with the Rev. Dr.
Janies McCann.
Bound in cloth
... 1
Darwin on God ...
... 0
Bound in cloth
... 1
Reminiscences of Charles
Bradlaugh ...
... 0
Infidel Death-Beds
... 0
Bound in cloth
... 1
Letters to the Clergy ... 1
Defence of Free Speech 6
Three Hours’ Address to
the Jury before Lord
Coleridge.
The Bible God ...
... 0
Letters to Jesus Christ... 0
Philosophy of Secularism 0
Atheism and Morality ... 0
Ingersollism . .
... 0
.?
O O
Impregnable Rock of Holy
■' Scripture.
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
0
Blavatsky.
The Folly of Prayer ... 0
The Impossible Creed ... 0
0
Open Letter to Bishop
0 Magee on the Sermon on
the Mount.
Salvation Syrup, or Light
on Darkest England,... 0
6 A Re ply to General Booth
6 What, Was Christ ?
... 0
0
A Reply to J. 8. Mill.
The Shadow of the Sword 0
6
A Moral and Statis ical
8
Essay on War.
3 Royal Paupers ...
... 0
0 The Dying Atheist
... 0
... 0
4 Was Jesus Insane ?
Is the Bible Inspired ?... 0
A Criticism of Mt® Mundi.
Bible Romances (revised) 0
2
double, numbers
... 0
4 Bible Heroes (1st series) 1
3 Bible Heroes (2nd series) 1
2
Both complete, in cloth 2
2 Rome or Atheism
... 0
y a
The Grand Old Book ... 1
A Reply to the Grand
Old Man. An Exhaus
tive Answer tothe Right
Bon. W. E Gladstone's
�
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
Comic sermons and other fantasias
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Foote, G. W. (George William) [1850-1915]
Description
An account of the resource
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
An entity responsible for making the resource available
R. Forder
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1892
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
N233
Subject
The topic of the resource
Sermons
Free thought
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 (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>
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Free Thought
Humour
NSS
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/ba717514708438544e2ae82accc94728.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=L7WO09R6Lz4ORm2a1QYrJedJWjlsVag3zyKlr7cP6njnWtGUPK54ugSUF-rDvLLsrcRQbNtgocAYK%7EoeP0JA2tFJTDGfz9-m8R%7EHUJAhDFhuHZv-YYlC5%7Ee0uqh9yqsZLKsZYMU8rLNu4ET1u5ZLUIabfkEJr0FH7MzH9%7EsfPnn4yTKrcUGYqoriSm-msl7FTJFAaXeuMsen98qsOsEtptRi4ts5gwhIy3fImKad9n2DL4A7A%7EId8Yv94Pb1R1hqmLk5fvekGvQjgiMrUNLsQdrMyNCwizadwiDNxXw8QnE5Wdlsuu6hbY%7E7Zbu6%7ER1-CSFCINCT1LZhvNv2VVdlQw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
5b5c82759aa35b08320aaefe0acef540
PDF Text
Text
��M !■ ETI N Ci; O F
■ JoCRETY
"’’ .
Cz
January 12, 1876,
1E
F'MlRTHSft VfSM VMM BISCOVRstt DKLITKRKI) fJY
REV
W. IL EURNES^ D.D
Sunday, Jan. 1O, 1876,
i*M the ^tension el %
! /•>'
nOrbinaihm.
-•>
January 12, 1823.
it Pi XHELPHIA:
■^■i ' 4<J
A 0O„ PRINTERS.
£
��AT THE
MEETING
OF
THE
CoDgregat/w
(Unitarian Society,
January 12, 1875,
TOGETHER WITH THE DISCOURSE DELIVERED BY
REV. W. H. FURNESS, B.D.,
Sunday, Jan. IO, 1875,
©n I Ije ©tension of fIje ^iftieflj ^rniifrersnrg of |jis ©rbinntion,
January 12, 1825.
PHILADELPHIA:
SHERMAN & CO., PRINTERS.
1875.
��On November 3d, 1874, the Trusted of the First Congiegational Unitarian Church of Philadelphia issued the
following notice to the members of the parish :
First Congregational Society of Unitarian Christians.
Philadelphia, November 3d, 1874.
A meeting of the members of this Society will be held at the
Church on Monday, the 9th inst., at 8 p. m., to devise an appro
priate plan for celebrating the completion of the fiftieth year of
Dr. Furness’ pastorate.
As his half century of faithful and distinguished service calls
for fitting commemoration, and as the members of this Church
must rejoice at an opportunity of giving expression to their
love, admiration, and respect for him, a meeting that concerns
such an object will commend itself, and prove of interest to
every one, so that the bare announcement of it, it is deemed,
will be sufficient to insure a full attendance of the parishioners.
By direction of the Trustees,
, Charles H. Coxe,
'
Secretary.
�4
In pursuance of this notice, the members of the Societyheld a meeting in the Church on the evening of Novem
ber 9th, 1874, to consider the subject proposed.
The meeting was organized with Mr. B. H. Bartol as
Chairman, and Mr. Charles H. Coxe as Secretary.
After stating the object of the meeting, the Chairman
called for the opinion of the Society. It was voted that
a committee of nine be appointed, who should, together
with the Trustees of the Church, constitute a committee
to take entire charge of the celebration of Dr. Furness’
Fiftieth Anniversary as Pastor of the Church; should
have full power to add to their number, and make such
arrangements as might seem to them suitable to the
occasion.
The Chair appointed on this Committee,
Mrs. R. S. Sturgis,
Mrs. J. E. Raymond.
Miss Clark,
Miss Roberts,
Miss Duhring,
Mr. John Sartain,
Mr. B. H. Moore,
Mr. David Brewer,
And at the request of the meeting, Mr. B. H. Bartol, the
Chairman, was added.
On November 14th, 1874, at 8 o’clock p. m., the Com
mittee appointed by the Society held a meeting at the
residence of Mr. B. H. Bartol, to make arrangements for
the fiftieth anniversary of Dr. Furness’ pastorate.
The Committee consisted of the following persons :
Trustees.
Mr. Henry Winsor,
Mr. John Sellers, Jr.,
Mr. Enoch Lewis,
Mr. Charles
Mr. Lucius H. Warren,
Mr. Joseph E. Raymond,
Mr. D. E. Eurness,
H. Coxe.
/
�5
Appointed by the Society.
Mbs.
Mrs.
Miss
Miss
R. S. Sturgis,
J. E. Raymond,
Miss Duhring,
Mr. John Sartain,
Clark,
Mr. B. H. Moore,
Roberts,
Mr. David Brewer,
Mr. B. H. Bartol.
Mr. Winsor was chosen Chairman, and Mr. Charles
H. Coxe, Secretary.
It was voted, that on the evening of January 12th,
1875, there should be a commemorative service in the
Church, and ministers from other cities should be invited
to be present.
The Chair appointed as the Committee on Invitations,
Mr. L. H. Warren,
Mr. Enoch Lewis,
Mr. B. H. Bartol,
Mr. David Brewer,
Mr. B. H. Moore,
And at the request of the Committee
Mr. Henry Winsor.
It was also voted, that the Church should be hand
somely and appropriately decorated on that occasion.
The Chair appointed as the Committee on Decora
tions,
Mr. Joseph E. Raymond,
Mr. L. H. Warren,
Miss Roberts,
Mrs. R. S. Sturgis,
Miss Clark,
Miss Duhring.
It was also voted, that the Choir on that occasion
should be increased, if it should be deemed expedient
by the Musical Committee of the Church.
It was further voted, that a marble bust of Dr. Furness
should be obtained, and placed in the Church.
�6
Also, that gold and bronze medals should be struck
off, commemorative of the fiftieth anniversary of the
pastorate of Dr. Furness,
And also, that a suitable and handsome present should
be given to Dr. Furness, in the name of the Society, as
a token of their affection and gratitude.
Also, that photographs of the Church should be taken
as it appeared on the day of the anniversary.
The Chair appointed as the Committee on Fine Arts,
Mr. John Sartain,
Mr. B. H. Moore,
Mr. Henry Winsor.
It was also voted, that the exercises at the ordination
of Dr. Furness should be reprinted, and that the anni
versary sermon and the exercises at the commemorative
service should be printed in pamphlet form.
The Chair appointed as the Committee on Publication,
Mr. Dawes E. Furness.
And as the Committee on Finance,
Mr. B. H. Bartol,
Mr. Enoch Lewis,
Mr. Charles H. Coxe.
�7
On Sunday, January 10th„ 1875, Rev. Dr. Furness
preached his fiftieth anniversary sermon.
The following account is taken from the Christian
Register of that week:
“Yesterday was as perfect a winter day as can he
imagined, cool, clear, and bright. The Unitarian church
was filled before the hour of worship with an eager and
deeply interested throng. All the pews were occupied,
and the aisles and the space around the pulpit were filled
with chairs. The church was beautifully decorated with
laurel wreaths, and in front of the pulpit the floral array
was very rich yet very chaste. On the wall in the rear
of the pulpit was an exquisite ivy cross. Among the
festoons which overhung the pulpit were the figures
‘ 1825 ’ and ‘ 1875 ’ in white and red flowers.
“ Dr. Furness seemed to be in excellent health, and
took his part in the rare and touching semi-centennial
service without any apparent ^jh^mSoiM After a brief
recital and paraph rase^^tpprtWiate passages of Scrip
ture, he read with great beauty and tenderness the hymn
beginning, ‘While Thee I seek, protecting Power,’ and
after a prayer full of love, trust, and gratitude, he read
from the twentieth chapter of the Book of Acts, begin
ning at the seventeenth verse. Then the congregation
sang Lyte’s beautiful hymn, ‘Abide with me! fast falls
the eventide,’ etc. The discourse had no text, excepting
the impressive occasion itself. There was less of narra
tion of interesting incidents than in previous anniversary
sermons, yet the half century was reviewed in a simple
and masterly way. The preacheil mannfi was quite
subdued until he reached his studies of the life of Jesus,
�8
when his face became radiant, his tones fuller and
firmer, and his gestures frequent. The allusions to
other denominations and to the anti-slavery struggle
were exceedingly fair and magnanimous. The people
gave rapt attention, and there was evident regret when
the sermon closed.
“ The singing by a double quartette choir was highly
creditable. Mr. Ames’ church at Germantown was closed,
and pastor and people came to express their sympathy
with Dr. Furness’ society, and to enjoy the uplifting
service. Dr. Martineau’s new hymn-book was used, Dr.
Furness having presented his parishioners with a suffi
cient number of copies to supply all the pews.”
�4
e
j
;»
--------
w
�S'
- H-
b*e*«ne
•
t*nes fbiifl* *HI
ari Wte plan* fw'‘’
The ahofc^dM W
Wwsmi'Mww IM < *W •^-.^-«i*veyv
.. . 4w«'y
m»
•
wm Th*
-jm
k.W.
,■•*» w
«wt
m.«*Mh*t w* ■
eii*dL
T
" tk *»«»•• by * ♦ b
b-'« ¥M highly
■»■-.•
M- *•
jno-'h wt*< -•v.v>-<aww* closed,
. . ’ ><. > ;> f • ■^■o-v*'-- heir sympathy
»*
t. i
, .
•
Ffl*6^f<mm
«
<.
.
••*<! to u,hc th* uplifting
■. ,;
> t • ‘-.i ■.- was used, Dr.
<■•■'■ ' M shmM/ww With a suffi-
«*« pews.”
�J
��DISCOURSE
DELIVERED
SUNDAY JANUARY io, ^875,
ON THE OCCASION OF THE
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY
OF HIS
ORDINATION, JANUARY 12, 1825, AS THE PASTOR
OF THE
-frirst Congregational Mnitarian Cljnrct)
BY
W. H. FURNESS D.D.
��DISCOURSE
It is in vain, dear friends, that I have tried to set in
order the thoughts that come crowding upon me as the
fiftieth year of my service in this place draws to a close.
I cannot tell what direction they will take. But for the
uncertainty of life, I might have reserved for this occa
sion the Recollections in which I indulged on the last two
anniversaries of my Ordination. All I told you then and
countless other memories come vividly to mind and heart
now. They almost hush me into silence, so hopeless is
the endeavor to give them utterance. I must needs talk
about myself. How can it be avoided on an occasion like
this ? I trust in the kind indulgence on your part which
has never failed me in all these years. If I should prove
only garrulous, you will not forget that I have passed the
allotted boundary and am now one of the borrowers from
eternity; although it hardly becomes me to make claim
to the privileges of age in a community where dwells
one, known and revered of all, who has entered his ninety
sixth year, and is not yet old.
First of all, most humbly and heartily do I acknowledge
and adore the good Providence that, for no deserving of
mine, has blest me so bountifully and so long, and given
me such a dear home among you. What friends, kith
and kin to me, have always surrounded me! At the first
here were my fathers—I have followed them all to the
grave. And now, behold! my brothers, my sisters, my
�12
children. What a gift of God the filial, the fraternal,
the parental trust which I have been encouraged to
cherish! It has been my chiefest treasure, the dearest
sign of Heaven’s grace, my support, my well-spring of life.
During my ministry I have received from you, from
time to time, not a few unlooked-for, substantial tokens
of your kind thoughts for me. They shall never be for
gotten. But it is not the remembrance of any special
proofs of your regard that now moves me, but the hearty
faith in your good-will upon which you have always given
me reason to rely. This has been my crowning privilege.
Even when differences have arisen between us, my trust
in your personal regard has never been allowed to be
shaken. Were there exceptions, they are as good as for
gotten now. Even those who have taken such offence at
my words that they withdrew from the church, still gave
me assurance of their friendship. There used to be times
of painful excitement among us, you remember, when I
was helpless to resist the impulse to plead for the op
pressed. I can never forget how cheered I was by one
friend, still living, but not now dwelling in this city, who
came to me and said that he had at the first disapproved
of my course, but that he was then in full sympathy with
me, and that, as to the church’s being broken up, as was
predicted, if I persisted in speaking for the slave, that
should not be, if a contribution to its support from him
(and he named a most liberal sum), could prevent it. Of
course I never thought of availing myself of his generous
aid, or of permitting the contingency to occur that would
make it needful. If it had come to that pass I should
have felt myself bound to withdraw.
You will not think that I offend against propriety in
mentioning such a private experience when you consider
what an encouragement it was, what a joy to know that
I had such friends.
�13
Indeed, I would not refer now to those painful times at
all, could I not in all honesty say that I look back upon
them with pride, not on my own account, oh no! but on
yours, dear friends, on yours. How I feared and trembled,
and with what a faltering voice did I deliver the mes
sages of truth that came to me! You resisted them too.
I tried to hold my tongue and you to shut your ears. I
would fain have run away and hid myself from the sum
mons of Humanity* But I could not do that. I could
not resign my position without putting you in a false one,
in a position which I did not believe you were willing to
take. And you were not willing. This church, I say it
proudly, never committed itself to the WrongB You never
took any action on Sat side. On the contrary, when, in
the midst of that agitation, I was honored with an invi
tation elsewhere, and you had the opportunity of relief
by my being transferred to another church, you asserted,
at a very full meeting, wW decisive unanimity, your
fidelity to the freedom of the pulpit. And now it may
be written in the annals of this Church that in that try
ing time, it stood fast on the ground of Christian Liberty,
and its minister had the honor of being its representative.
While I gratefullS^.cknowledge the friendship which
has been my special blessing for half a century, I gladly
repeat what I have said on former anniversaries of my
ministry, that the kindness I have received has not come
from you alone. How little has there been in all this
time to remind me that we of this Church bear an obnox
ious name! How many are there who are not of this
little fold, but of other denominations, who have made
me feel that they belonged to me! O friends, it is not all
bearing the same religious name, but all bearing different
religious names and yet each respecting in others the
right of every one to think for himself,—this it is that
�14
illustrates most impressively the broad spirit of our com
mon Christianity. I had rather see this fact manifest
than a hundred churches agreeing exactly with me in
opinion.
I preached my first sermon in the fall of 1823, in Water
town, Massachusetts. And then, for a few months, I
preached as a candidate for settlement in Churches in
Boston and its vicinity needing pastors. Kind and flat
tering things were said to me of my ministrations, but I
put little faith in them, as they came from the many rela
tives and friends that I and mine had in that quarter, and
their judgment was biased by regard for me and mine.
I was strengthened in my distrust when friends, fellow
students, and fellow-candidates, were preferred before me.
I never envied them their success. I felt not the slightest
mortification, such a hearty dread had I of being settled
in Boston, whose church-goers had in those days the repu
tation of being terribly critical, and rhetoric then and
there was almost a religion. I felt myself utterly unequal
to that position. All my day-dreams had been of the
country, of some village church.
In May, 1824, I gladly availed myself of the oppor
tunity that was offered me of spending three months in
Baltimore as an assistant of Mr Greenwood, afterwards
pastor of the Stone Chapel, Boston. Before I left Bal
timore, the last of July of that year, I received a letter
from this city, inviting me to stop on my way home
and preach a few Sundays in the little church here. I
accepted the invitation as in duty bound, but rather re
luctantly, as I had never before been so long and so far
away from home, and I was homesick. I spent the
month of August here. I do not recollect that I had any
thought of being a candidate for this pulpit. Such had
been my experience, my ill success,—I do not wonder at
�15
it now,—that I was surprised and gratified when, upon the
eve of my departure, I was waited upon by a committee of
four or five,—I have had a suspicion since, so few were
the members of this Church then, that this committee
comprised nearly the whole Church meeting from which
they came,—and they cordially invited me to return and
become their pastor. As I had come here a perfect
stranger, and there were no prepossessions in my favor, I
could not but have at the very first a gratifying confi
dence in this invitation. Although I asked time for con
sideration, I responded at once in my heart to the kind
ness shown to me. Thus the aspirant to a country parish
was led to this great city.
The three hundred miles and more that separate Phila
delphia from my native Boston were a great deal longer
then than they are now. It took then at least two days
and a half to go from one to the other. A minister of our
denomination in Boston and its neighborhood had then a
great help in the custom then and there prevalent of a
frequent exchange of pulpits. One seldom occupied his
own pulpit more than half of the time. But this church
in Philadelphia was an outpost, and the lightening of
the labor by exchanges was not to be looked for. There
was no one to exchange with nearer than William Ware,
pastor of the church in New York. The place to be
filled here looked lonely and formidable. I accepted,
however, the lead of circumstances, moved by the confi
dence with which the hospitable members of this church
inspired me. I was drawn to this part of the vineyard
by their readiness to welcome me.
My ordination was delayed some months by the diffi
culty of obtaining ministers to come and take part in it.
It was a journey then. The days had only just gone by
when our pious New England fathers who made it had
prayers offered up in their churches for the protection of
�16
Heaven (or rather in their meeting-houses, as all places
of worship except the Catholic and Episcopal were called;
we never talked of going to church, we went to meeting).
Ordinations have ceased to be the solemn occasions they
were then. Then they were sacramental in their signifi
cation, like marriage. As our liberal faith was then
everywhere spoken against, it was thought necessary that
my ordination should be conducted as impressively as
possible. It is pleasant now to remember that with the
two Wares, Henry Ware, Jr, and William, and Dr
Gannett, came one of the fathers, far advanced in years,
the venerable Dr Bancroft, of Worcester, Mass., the
honored father of a distinguished son, to partake in the
exercises of the occasion. They are all gone now.
This Church had its beginning in 1796, when seven
persons, nearly all from the old country, shortly increased
to fourteen, with their families, agreed, at the suggestion
of Dr Priestley, who came to this country in 1794, to
meet every Sunday and take turns as readers of printed
sermons and prayers of the Liberal Faith. These meet
ings were occasionally interrupted by the yellow fever,
by which Philadelphia was then visited almost every
year, but they were never wholly given up.
In 1813 the small brick building was built in which I
first preached, and which stood on the southwest corner
of the present lot? directly on the street. A charter was
then obtained under the title of “ The First Society of
Unitarian Christians.” So obnoxious then was the Uni
tarian name that the most advanced men of our faith in
Boston, the fountain-head of American Unitarianism,
remonstrated with the fathers of this church, and coun
selled them to abstain from the use of so unpopular a des
ignation. But our founders, being Unitarians from Old
England and not from New, and consequently warm ad
�17
mirers, and some of them personal friends, of Dr Priestley,
whose autograph was on their records as one of their
members, felt themselves only honored in bearing with
him the opprobrium of the Unitarian name. The title
of our Church was afterwards changed to its present de
nomination, to bring it nominally into accord with our
brethren in New England. In 1828 this building took
the place of the first.
It was about ten years before I came here that the
Trinitarian and Unitarian controversy began. One of its
earliest forms appeared in published letters in 1815 be
tween Dr Channing, the pastor of the Federal Street
Church in Boston,- and Dr Samuel Worcester,! An able
orthodox minister of Salem, Mass. In 1819 Dr Chan
ning preached a sermon at the ordination of Mr Sparks
in Baltimore, which was then and ever will be regarded
as an eloquent and felicitous statemenwof the views of
the liberally disposed of that day. It commanded great
attention far and wide, and gave occasion ma very able,
learned, and courteous controversy between Dr Woods
and Mr Stuart, professors in the Orthodox Theological
School in Andover, Mass., on the one side, and Pro
fessors Henry Ware, Sr, and Andrews Norton, of the Cam
bridge Theological School on the other. The controversy
spread mostly in Massachusetts. In the^mall towns
where there had been only one church, there speedily ap
peared two. Families were divided, not without heats
and coolnesses, to the hurt of Christian fellowship. As
a general rule, fathers took the liberal side, mothers the
orthodox.
When I came here in 1825, the first excitement of the
controversy had somewhat subsided. It had lost its first
keen interest. It was growing rather wearisome. It had
snowed tracts, Trinitarian and Unitarian, over the land.
Accordingly, although I was a warm partisan, full of con3
�18
fidence in the rational and scriptural superiority of the
Unitarian faith, I did not feel moved to preach doctrinal
sermons. And, furthermore, as I was on my way hither
in the mail coach, in company with my friends, ministers
and delegates from Boston and New York, I was greatly
impressed by a remark made by one of my elders to the
effect that people were bound to their several churches,
not by the force of reason and the results of religious in
quiry, but by mere use and wont and affection.
Of the truth of this remark, by the way, I had a
striking instance some years ago. One of our fellow
citizens, now deceased, an intelligent, respectable man, a
devoted member of one of our Presbyterian churches,
used to come to me to borrow Theodore Parker’s writings,
in which he took great pleasure. But he said he never
dreamed of withdrawing from his Church. As Richter
says, his Church was his mother. You could not have
weaned him from her by telling him how many better
mothers there were in the world. This truth impressed
me greatly, and was a comfort to me in my younger days.
Although I have rarely preached an outright doctrinal
discourse, yet I had many interesting experiences in ref
erence to the spread of liberal ideas. I regret that I
have not done in my small way what that eminent man,
John Quincy Adams, as his Memoirs now in course of
publication show he did in his wonderfully thorough way,
—kept a diary. Very frequently has it occurred that per
sons have come to me who had chanced to hear a Unita
rian sermon, or read a Unitarian book for the first time,
and they declared that it expressed their views precisely,
and they did not know before that there was anybody in
the world of that way of thinking.
Once, many years ago, I received a letter from a
stranger in Virginia, bearing a well-known Virginia
name. She wrote to tell me that a year before, she was
�19
in Philadelphia, and, much against her conscience, had
been induced by her husband to enter this church. Although there was nothing of a doctrinal character in the
sermon, the effect was to move her when she returned
home to study the Scriptures for herself with new care.
The result was that she now believed upon their au
thority that there was only one God, the Father, and
that Jesus Christ was a dependent being. There were
some texts, however, that she wished to have explained,
and therefore she wrote to me. The texts she specified
showed that she could not have met with any of our
publications, for, had she done so, she would certainly
have found the explanations she desired. Of course I
did what I could to supply her wants.
I think this incident would have passed away from
my mind or been only dimly remembered if, twenty-five
years afterwards, and after the war of the Rebellion, I
had not received another letter from the same person.
In it she referred to our Correspondence of five-andtwenty years before, and said that she wrote now in be
half of some suffering people, formerly her servants
(slaves, I presume). Through the kindness of Mr John
Welsh, chairman of a committee that had been chosen
by our fellow-citizens for the relief of the Southern people,
I was enabled to send her a sum of money. A quantity
of clothing was also procured for her from the Freed
men’s Relief Association. My Southern friend returned,
with her thanks, a very minute account of the disposi
tion she had made of the supplies sent to her. She ap
peared to have accepted with a Christian grace the
changed condition of things in the South. May we not
give something of the credit of this gracious behavior to
the liberal faith which she had learned to cherish?
It was cases like this that caused me to feel less and
less interest in doctrines and religious controversies. I
�20
have been learning every day that, much as men differ
in religion and numberless other things, they are, after
all, more alike than different, and that in our intercourse
with our fellow-men it is best to ignore those differences
as much as possible, and take for granted that we and
they are all of one kind.
And furthermore, in free conversation with educated
and intelligent persons of this city, with whom I have
become acquainted, I long ago found out that it was not
orthodoxy that prevailed; it was not the doctrines of
Calvin and the Thirty-nine Articles that were rampant,
but that there was a wide-spread scepticism as to the
simplest facts of historical Christianity. To persons of
this class, numerous, years ago, and not less numerous
now, it mattered little whether the Bible taught the
Trinity or the Unity of the Divine Nature. The ques
tion with them is, whether it be not all a fable.
It was this state of mind that I was continually meet
ing with that qarly gave to my humble studies a very
definite and positive direction. It was high time, I
thought, to look to the very foundations of Christianity,
and see to it, not whether the Christian Records, upon
which we are all resting^, favor the Trinitarian or the
Unitarian interpretation of their contents, but whether
they have any basis in Fact, and to what that basis
amounts. As this feemed to be the fundamental inquiry,
so, of all inquiries, it became to me the most interesting.
In studying this question I could not satisfy myself
that any external, historical argument, however power
ful, in favor of the genuineness and authenticity of the
Christian Records, could prove decisive. For even if it
were thus proved to demonstration that we have in the
Four Gospels the very works, word for word, of the
writers whose names they bear, there would still remain
untouched the question: How, after all, do we know
�21
that these writers, honest and intelligent as they may
have been, were not mistaken?
There was only one thing to be done: To examine these
writings themselves, and to find out what they really are.
With the one single desire to ascertain their true char
acter, that is, whether they be narratives of facts or of
fables, or a mingle of both, they were to be studied, and
the principles of reason, truth, and probability were to be
applied to them just as if they were anonymous frag
ments recently discovered in some monaster^ of the East,
or dug up from under some ancient ruins.
On the face of them, they are very artlessly constructed.
Here was one good reason for believing that, though it
might be difficult, it could not be impossible to determine
what they are. Since Science can discoveife^T^inv com
pound the simples of which it is composed, although
present in infinitesimal quantities, surely then it can be
ascertained of what these artless works of human hands
are made: whether they be the creations of fancy or the
productions of truth.
Then, again, as obviously, these primitive Records
abound in allusions to times, places, and persons. Here
was another ground of hope that the inquiry into their
real character would not be in vain. When one is tell
ing a story not founded in fact, he takes good care how
he refers to times, and persons, and places, since every
such reference is virtually summoning a witness to testify
to his credibility.
Encouraged by these considerations, I have now, for
forty years and^wre, given myselr to this fundamental
inquiry. It has been said that only scholars, far more
learned men than I pretend to be, can settle the his
torical claims of the Four Gospels. But the fact is, the
theologians in Germany and elsewhere, profound as their
learning is, have busied themselves about the external
�22
historical arguments for the truth of the Gospels. They
have been given, it has seemed to me, to a quibbling
sort of criticism about jots and tittles. But it is not
microscopes, but an eye to see with, that is the one thing
needed for the elucidation of these Writings.
When we first occupied this building, I read courses
of Expository Lectures every Tuesday evening, in a
room which was fitted up as a vestry, under the church,
for some four or five months in the year, for five seasons.
The attendance was never large; some thirty persons
perhaps gave me their presence. But my interest in the
study came not from my hearers, but from the subject,
in which, from that time to this, I have found an in
creasing delight. Continually new and inimitable marks
of truth have been disclosed. Unable to keep to myself
what I found so convincing, I have from time to time
published the discoveries, or what appeared to me dis
coveries, that I made. The editions of my little pub
lished volumes have never been large. Many persons
tell me they have read them. I can reconcile the fact
that they have been so much read with their very limited
sale only by supposing that the few copies sold have been
loaned very extensively s Do not think, friends, that I
am making any complaint. As I have just said, my in
terest in the subject has not depended upon others, either
hearers or readers. The subject itself has been my abun
dant compensation.
To many of my brothers in the ministry I have ap
peared, I suppose,*4o be the dupe of my own fancies.
What I have offered as sparkling gems of fact have been
regarded as made, not found. Some time ago I came
across an old letter from my venerated friend, the late
Henry Ware, Jr, in which he expostulated with me for
wasting myself upon such a barren study as he appears to
have regarded the endeavor to ascertain whether this
�23
great Christendom be founded on a fable or on the ada
mant of Fact.
So dependent are we all upon the sympathy of others,
that I believe my interest in this pursuit would have
abated long ago had it not been that the subject had an
overpowering charm in itself, and that one great result
of the inquiry, becoming more and more significant at
every step, was to bring out in ever clearer light the
Godlike Character of the Man of Nazareth. As he
has gradually emerged from the thick mists of super
stition and theological speculation in which he had so
long been hidden from my sight, his Person, as profoundly
natural as it was profoundly original, has broken upon
me at times as “ the light of the knowledge of the glory
of God.” Not in any alleged miracle, not in any nor
in all His works, wonderful and unprecedented as some
of them were, not in His words, immortal as is the wis
dom that he uttered, but in that reserved fulness of per
sonal power of which His works and words,—His whole
overt life gives only a hint, significant, indeed, but only
a hint—there, in himself, in what He was, in the native,
original power of the Man, the secret of His mighty in
fluence has been laid bare to me. That it is that ex
plains the existence of the wondrous stories of His life.
They had to be, and to be just what they are, with all
their discrepancies, mistakes, and somewhat of the fabu
lous that is found in them, born as they were of the irre
sistible force of His personal truth. And that it is, also,
which is the inexhaustible fountain of Inspiration, of
Faith, and Love, and Hope, which the Infinite Mercy has
opened in the world, and of which men, fainting and per
ishing in their sins, shall drink, and from within them
shall flow rivers of healing and of health.
As I have intimated, friends, there have been times
when I have felt somewhat lonely in this study. But
�24
some ten years ago a marked change came over the
course of religious thought occasioned by the appearance
of a Life of Jesus, by an eloquent and learned man in
France, who, belonging to the sceptical school, scarcely
believing that such a person as Jesus ever had an exist
ence, went to Syria upon a scientific errand, and when
there was struck by the evidences that he beheld of the
geographical truth of the New Testament. So strong a
conviction was born in him of the reality of Jesus that
he was moved to write his life. It is true there is little
else in the book of Ernest Renan recognized as fact, be
yond the actual existence and the great sayings of Jesus.
This was something, coming from the quarter it did.
And, moreover, with all the doubts which it suggests as
to particular incidents in the Gospel histories, its publi
cation has been justified by the effect it had in turning
attention to the human side of that great life. It has
created a new interest in the Man.
And further, Science, becoming popular, is impressing
the general mind so deeply with the idea of the inviolable
order of Nature, that it is not to be believed that men
will look much longer for the credentials of any person,
or of any fact, in his or its departure from that order.
Nothing can be recognized as truth that violates the laws
of Nature, or rather that does not harmonize with them
fully. Deeply impressed with the entire naturalness of
Jesus, I believe that the time is at hand when the evi
dences of His truth, of His divinity, will be sought, not
in any preternatural events or theories, but in His full
accord with the natural truth of things. As the one Fact,
or Person, in whom the highest or deepest in Nature is
revealed, He is the central fact, harmonizing all nature.
Never, never, from the first, has it been more important
that the personality of Jesus should be appreciated than
at the present time. The Darwinian law of Natural
�25
Selection and the Survival of the Fittest is in all men’s
minds, and in the material, organized world of plants and
animals, we are all coming to consider it demonstrated.
As an animal, man must be concluded under that law.
In the physical world, as Professor Tyndall tells us, “ the
weakest must go to the wall.”
But man is something, a great deal more than an ani
mal. He has an immaterial, moral, intellectual being,
for which he has the irresistible testimony of his own
consciousness; and as an immaterial being, it is not at
the cost of the weak, but it is by helping the weak to
live that any individual becomes strong. This, this is
the great law of our spiritual nature^ The highest, the
elect, they whom Nature selects, the fittest to live, are
those who are ready to die for others, sacrificing their
mortal existence, if need be, to lift up the weakest to
their immortal fellowship. In the unchangeable order
of things, not only is it not possible for a moral and in
tellectual being to become great by sacrificing others to
his own advancement, his greatness can be secured only
by giving himself for them.
Let Science, then, go on pouring light upon the laws
and order of the material Universe. But let it stand by
its admission that the connection between that and the
immaterial world, however intimate, is not only inscru
table, but unthinkable; and reverently recognize, stand
ing there on the threshold of the immaterial world, one
Godlike Figure, surrounded by the patriots and martyrs,
the great and good of every age and country, holy angels,
but high above them all in the perfectness of his Selfabnegation. No one took His life from him; He gave it
up freely of himself. And thus is He a special revelation
of the law that reigns in the moral world, as surely as
the law of natural selection reigns in the physical.
4
�26
What renders the character of Jesus of still greater
interest at this present time is the fact that there are
thoughtful and enlightened men who aver that they
would fain be rid of Him, since He has been and still is
the occasion of so much enslaving error. They might
as well, for the same reason, join with Porson and “damn
the nature of things,” for what has occasioned greater
error than the nature of things? It can be got rid of
as easily as the Person of Jesus.
For some twenty years or more before the war of the
Rebellion, the question which that war settled interested
me deeply. But on the last anniversary of my ministry
I dwelt chiefly upon the experiences of that period. I
need not repeat what I said then. It was a season of
severe discipline to us all, to the whole people of our
country.
I will only say here, that so far from diverting my
interest from the great subject of which I have been
speaking, it harmonized with it and increased it. As I
read the events and signs of that trying time, they be
came to me a living commentary upon the words of the
Lord Jesus. Precepts of His, that had before seemed
trite, began glowing and burning like revelations fresh
from the Invisible. The parable of the Good Samaritan
seemed to be made expressly for that hour. That scene
in the synagogue at Nazareth, when all there were filled
with wrath at what Jesus said,—how real was it, read by
the light of the flames that consumed Pennsylvania Hall I
As the truths of the New Testament, simple and divine,
rose like suns and poured their light upon that long
conflict, so did those days in return disclose a new and
pointed significance in those simple pages, giving life to
our Christian faith.
�27
What a time, friends, has this been, the latter half of
our first national century! It was a great day in history
which gave the world the Printing-Press and the Protest
ant Reformation. But does not the last half century
rival it? The railroad and the telegraph, mountains
levelled, oceans and continents united, time and space
vanishing, the huge sun made our submissive artist,
the establishment of universal liberty over this broad
land,—are not these things responding with literal obedi
ence to the command of the ancient prophet: “ Prepare
ye the way of the Lord; make his path straight?”
It is a wonderful day, a great day of the Lord. We
are stocks and stones if we do not catch the spirit, the
generous spirit, of the Almighty breathif^and brooding
in countless unacknowledged ways over this mysterious
human race. All things, like a host of prophets, are point
ing us to an unimaginable destiny. The authority of the
human soul over the visible Universe is becoming every
hour more assured. We are not here to walk in a vain
show, to live only for the lust of the eye, so soon to be
quenched in dust, or for the pride which feeds on what
withers almost at the touch. Our nature bears the in
eradicable likeness of the Highest. The mystery of it is
hidden in the mystery of
being, and the laws of oui’
minds are revealed in the laws which hold the whole Cre
ation together. We are not servants, we are sons, heirs
of God; joint heirs with Jesus and all the good and
great. And all is ours, ours to raise and enlarge our
thoughts, to set us free from the corrupting bondage of the
senses, to deepen our hunger and thirst for the only Liv
ing and the True, for the beauty of Holiness, the im
mortal life of God. And all our private experience; all
our conflicts, our victories and our defeats; all the joys
and sorrows which we have shared together,—the sacred
�28
memories that come to us to-day of parents, sons, daugh
ters, and dear ones departed,—do they not throng around
us now, and kindle our hearts with unutterable prayers
for ourselves, for our children, and for one another ?
NOTE
On the last anniversary of my ordination (the forty
ninth) I was led to dwell upon the Anti-slavery period
of thirty years before the war of the rebellion. It was a
period of intense interest, a great chapter in the history
of our country.
There was one incident of those times to which I par
ticularly referred a year ago, which I wish to recoid here,
not on account of any great part that I had in it, but for
the interesting character of the whole affair; and be
cause, thinking it of some historical value, I am not
aware that it has ever been recorded save in the daily
press of the time. From a MS. record made some time
ago of “ Reminiscences,” the following extract is tran
scribed :
�29
“ The most memorable occasion in my Anti-slavery ex
perience was the annual meeting of the American Anti
slavery Society held in the ‘ Tabernacle,’ as it was called,
in New York, in May, 1850,1 believe it was. I accepted
an invitation to speak on that occasion, holding myself
greatly honored thereby.
Having no gift of extemporaneous speech, I prepared
myself with the utmost pains. I went to New York
the day before the meeting; saw Mr Garrison and Wendell Phillips. Mr Garrison said there would be a riot,
as the Press had been doing its utmost to inflame the
public mind against the Abolitionists.
“ When the meeting was opened, the large hall, said
to be the largest then in New York, capable of holding
some thousands, was apparently full. The vast majority
of the audience were doubtless friendly to the object of
the meeting.
“Mr Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Edmund Quincy,
Isaac Hopper, Francis Jackson, Frederick Douglass, and
other faithful servants of the cause, were present on the
platform.
“ I saw friends here and there among the audience. I
was surprised to recognize there a son of Judge Kane of
this city (afterwards Col. T. Kane). I had some previous
acquaintance with him, and knew him to be a young man
of ardent temperament, open to generous ideas. I sup
posed then, and still suppose, that he was drawn there
accidentally by curiosity. After a prayer by the Bev.
Henry Grew, Mr Garrison made the opening speech,
strong, bold, and characteristic.
“ He had spoken only a few moments when he was in
terrupted by what sounded like a burst of applause; but
as there was nothing special to call it forth, and as it
proceeded from one little portion of the audience, I asked
Wendell Phillips, who sat next to me, what it meant.
�30
1 It means/ he said, ‘ that there is to he a row.’ The
interruption was repeated again and again. A voice
shouted some rude questions to Mr Garrison.
“Mr Garrison bore himself with the serenity of a
summer’s evening, answering: ‘ My friend, if you will
wait till I get through, I will give you the information
you ask for.’ He succeeded in finishing his speech. I
was to speak next. But the instant Mr Garrison ended,
there came down upon the platform from the gallery
which was connected with it, an individual, with a com
pany of roughs at his back, who proved to be no less a
person than the then well-known Isaiah Rynders. He
began shouting and raving.
“ I was not aware of being under any apprehension of
personal violence. We were all like General Jackson’s
cotton-bales at New Orleans. Our demeanor made it
impossible for the rioters to use any physical force against
us. Young Kane, however, leaped upon the platform,
and, pressing through to me, in a tone of great excite
ment, exclaimed » ‘ They shall not touch a hair of your
head!’ Mr Garrison said to Rynders in the quietest
manner conceivable, | You ought not to interrupt us. We
go upon th^principle of hearing everybody. If you wish
to speak, I will keep ordei|and you shall be heard.’ But
Rynders was not in a state of mind to listen to reason. He
had not come there for that, but to break up the meeting.
“ The Hutchinsons, who were wont to sing at the Anti
slavery meetings, were in the gallery, and they attempted
to raise a song, to soothe the savages with music. But it
was of no avail. Rynders drowned their fine voices with
noise and shouting. The chief of the police came upon
the platform, and asked Mr Garrison whether he desired
him to arrest and remove Rynders & Co. Mr Garrison
answered: ‘We desire nothing of you. We can take
care of ourselves. You probably know your duty.’ The
�31
officer did' nothing. In this scene of confusion, young
Kane became intensely excited. He rushed up to
Rynders, and shook his fist in his face. He said to me
with the deepest emphasis : f If he touches Mr Garrison,
I’ll kill him!’ But Mr Garrison’s composure was more
than a coat of mail. Rynders, indisposed to speak him
self, brought forward a man to speak for him and. his
party. Mr Francis Jacksonjiand I were, the while, hold
ing young Kane down in his seat to keep him from
breaking out into some act of violence. He was the most
dangerous element on our side. Rynders’s substitute
professed a willingness that I should speak first (I was
down on the placards to follow Mr Garrison), provided
I did not make a long speech.
“ Accordingly, I spoke iM little, anxiously prepared
word. I never recall that hour without blessing myself
that I was called to speak precisely at that moment. At
any other stage of the proceedings, it would have been
wretchedly out of place.
“ As it was, my speech fitted in almost ttWell as if it
had been impromptu, although a shamm^e might easily
have discovered that I was speaking mewm’ier. Rynders
interrupted me again and again, exclaiming that I lied,
that I was personal, but he ended with applauding me!
Rynders’s man then came forward, rath® dull and tire
some in speech. It was his own friends who interrupted
him occasionally, Mr Garrison calling them to order.
“ His argument was^hat the blacks are not human
beings. Mr Garrison whispered to me while he was
speaking, that the speaker had formerly been a com
positor in the office of the Liberator.
“ He ended at last, and then Frederick Douglass was
loudly called for. Mr Douglass came forward, exqui
sitely neat in his dress.
“ ‘ The gentleman who has just spoken,’ he began, ‘ has
�32
undertaken to prove that the blacks are n'ot human
beings. He has examined our whole conformation, from
top to toe. I cannot follow him in his argument. I will
assist him in it, however. I offer myself for your exami
nation. Am I a man ? ’ To this interrogatory instantly
there came from the audience a thunderous affirma
tive. Rynders was standing right by the side of Mr
Douglass, and when the response died away, he exclaimed
in a hesitating way: ‘But you’re not a black man!’
‘ Then,’ retorted Douglass, ‘ I’m your brother.’ ‘ Ah,—
ah,’ said Rynders, hesitatingly, ‘ only half brother.’ The
effect upon the audience need not be described; it may
readily be imagined. Mr Douglass then went on, com
plaining of Horace Greeley, who had recently said in his
paper that the blacks did nothing for themselves. ‘ When
I first came North,’ said Mr Douglass, ‘ I went to the
most decided Anti-slavery merchant in the North, and
sought employment on a ship he was building, and he told
me that if he were to give me work, every white opera
tive would quit, and yet Mr Greeley finds fault with us
that we do not help ourselves!’ This criticism of Greeley
pleased Rynders, who bore that gentleman no good will,
and he added a word to Douglass’s against Greeley. ‘ I
am happy,’ said Douglass, ‘ to have the assent of my half
brother here,’ pointing to Rynders, and convulsing the
audience with laughter. After this, Rynders, finding how
he was played with, took care to hold his peace; but some
one of Rynders’s company in the gallery undertook to in
terrupt the speaker. ‘ It’s of no use,’ said Mr Douglass ;
‘ I’ve Captain Rynders here to back me.’ ‘ We were born
here,’ he went on to say, ‘ we have made the clothes that
you wear, and the sugar that you put into your tea, and we
mean to stay here and do all we can for you.’ ‘ Yes!’ cried
a voice from the gallery, ‘ and you’ll cut our throats!’
‘ No,’ said the speaker, ‘ we’ll only cut your hair.’ When
�33
the laughter ceased, Mr Douglass proceeded to say:
‘ We mean to stay here, and do all we can for every one,
be he a man, or be he a monkey,’ accompanying these
last words with a wave of his hand towards the quarter
whence the interruption had come. He concluded with
saying that he saw his friend, Samuel Ward, present, and
he would ask him to step forward. All eyes were instantly
turned to the back of the platform, or stage rather, so
dramatic was the scene, and there, amidst a group, stood
a large man, so black that, as Wendell Phillips said,
when he shut his eyes, you could not see him. Had I
observed him before, I should have wondered what
brought him there, accounting him as fresh from Africa.
He belonged to the political wing of the Abolition party
(Gerritt Smith’s), * and had wandered into the meeting,
never expecting to be called upon to speak. At the call
of Frederick Douglass, he came to the front, and, as he
approached, Rynders exclaimed: ‘ Well, this is the origi
nal nigger!’ ‘ I’ve heard of the magnanimity of Captain
Rynders,’ said Ward, ‘ but the half has not been told me I’
And then he went on with a noble voice, and his speech
was such a strain of eloquence as I never heard excelled
before or since.
“‘There are more than fifty people here,’ said he,
‘ who may remember me as a little black boy running
about the streets of New York. I have always been
called nigger, and the only consolation that has been
offered me for being called nigger was, that, when I die
and go to heaven, I shall be white. If’—and here, with
an earnestness of tone and manner that thrilled one to
the very marrow, he continued—‘ If I cannot go to heav
en as black as God made me, let me go down to hell, and
dwell with the devils forever!’
“ The effect was beyond description.
“ ‘ This gentleman,’ he said, ‘ who denies our humanity,
5
�34
has examined us scientifically, but I know something of
anatomy. I have kept school, and I have had pupils,
from the jet black up to the soft dissolving views, and
I’ve seen white boys with retreating foreheads and pro
jecting jaws, and, as Dickens says, in Nicholas Nickleby,
of Smike, you might knock here all day,’ tapping his
forehead, ‘ and find nobody at home.’ In this strain, he
went on, ruling the large audience with Napoleonic power.
Coal-black as he was, he was an emperor, pro tempore.
“ When he ceased speaking, the time had expired for
which the Tabernacle was engaged, and we had to ad
journ. Never was there a grander triumph of intelli
gence, of mind, over brute force. Two colored men, whose
claim to be considered human was denied, had, by mere
force of intellect, overwhelmed their maligners with con
fusion. As the audience was thinning out, I went down
on the floor to see some friends there. Rynders came
by. I could not help saying to him, ‘How shall we
thank you for what you have done for us to-day ? ’ ‘ Well,’
said he, ‘ I do not like to hear my country abused, but
that last thing that you said, that’s the truth.’ That last
thing was, I believe, a simple assertion of the right of the
people to think and speak freely.
“Judging by his physiognomy and his scriptural name
Isaiah, I took Captain Rynders to be of Yankee descent.
Notwithstanding his violent behavior, he yet seemed to
be a man accessible to the force of truth. I found that
Lucretia Mott had the same impressions of him. She
saw him a day or two afterwards in a restaurant on
Broadway, and she sat down at his table, and entered
into conversation with him. As he passed out of the
restaurant, h^ asked Mr McKim, who was standing there,
waiting for Mrs Mott, whether Mrs Mott were his mother.
Mr McKim replied in the negative. ‘ She’s a good sen
sible woman,’ said Rynders.
�35
“Never before or since have I been so deeply moved
as on that occasion. Depths were stirred in me never
before reached. For days afterwards, when I under
took to tell the story, my head instantly began to ache.
Mr Garrison said, if the papers would only faithfully
report the scene, it would revolutionize public senti
ment. As it was, they heaped all sorts of ridicule upon
us. I cheerfully accepted my share, entirely willing to
pass for a fool in the eyes of the world. It was a cheap
price to pay for the privilege of witnessing such a triumph.
I was taken quite out of myself. I came home, stepping
like Malvolio. I had shared in the smile of Freedom,
the belle and beauty of the world.
“ A day or two after my return home, I met one of my
parishioners in the street, and stopped and told him all
about my New York visitJ He listened to me with a
forced smile, and told me that there had been some
thought of calling an indignation meeting of the church
to express the mortification felt at my going and mixing
myself up with such people. I had hardly given a
thought to the effect at home, so full was I of the interest
and glory of the occasion. I ought to have preached on
the Sunday following from the words: ‘ He has gone to be
a guest with a man who is a sinner !’ ”
����I
‘ A »« **<***■
fl ;Jt ' Jkfll
'•? *
W r t i r •; s
■-'-.a
|
«> *.»■•■>'♦ •>« ”
»••
■
**<feM»*'
�-’"■1JMTZ , i SMO
t y^-M ? ■**
«■<. ;
< > 'a
>K
■ . ?> ',..r: - V ' ■;<;,-••• :i.^-»' ■?&/< ’
gjF
Sfe ’
�MEETING
OF THE
Staig M fflmtmn CJ^nstians,
IN PHILADELPHIA,
HELD IN THE CHURCH, TENTH AND LOCUST STREETS,
JANUARY 1 2, 187 5,
IN commemoration' on the
FIFTIETH
ANNIVERSARY
OF
Rev. W. H. FURNESS, D.D.,
AS PASTOR OF THEIR CHURCH.
��39
On the evening of January 12th, 1875, the meeting
of the First Unitarian Society, in commemoration of the
fiftieth anniversary of the pastorate of the Rev. Dr. Fur
ness, was held in the church.
The following ministers were present:
Rev. Dr. John H. Morison,
Rev. R. R. Shippen,
Rev. Dr. S. K. Lothrop,
Rev. Wm. O. White,
Rev Dr. James Freeman Clarke,Rev. J. F. W. Ware,
Rev. Dr. James T. Thompson,
Rev. Wm. C. Gannett,
Rev. Dr. C. A. Bartol,
Rev. E. H. Hall,
Rev. Dr. H. W. Bellows,
Rev. J. W. Chadwick,
Rev. Dr. A. P. Putnam,
Rev. Thos. J. Mumford,
Rev. F. Israel,
RevMBS G. Ames.
The church was profusely but tastefully hung with
festoons of evergreen; on the wall, behind the pulpit,
was a large cross; among the festoons which overhung it
were the figures “ 1825 ” and ‘L{1875” in white and green
flowers; while in front of the pulpit, covering the com
munion table and all the approaches to it, were growing
tropical plants, amid which was a profusion of vases,
baskets, and bouquets of natural flowers, with smilax
distributed here and there in delicate fringes or festoons.
�40
The regular quartette choir of the church, consisting
of
Mrs. W. D. Dutton,
Mrs. Isaac Ashmead,
Mr. E. Dillingham,
Mr. F. G-. Caupeman,
....
Jr., .
.
.
....
....
Soprano,
Contralto,
Tenor,
Bass,
was on this occasion assisted by
Miss Cassidy,
Miss Cooper,
Mr. A. H. Eosewig,
Miss Jennie Cassidy,
Mrs. Roberts,
Mr. W. W. Gilchrist.
under the direction of Mr. W. D. Dutton, organist of the
church.
�PROCEEDINGS.
At half-past seven o’clock the exercises of the evening
commenced, as follows:
Music.
Tenor solo and chorus, ....
. Mendelssohn.
“ Oh, come, let us worship,” from 95th Psalm.
Mr. Henry Winsor, Chairman of the Committee of
Arrangements, in opening the meeting made the follow
ing remarks:
The occasion of our meeting here this evening is so
well known to all present that there is no need of any
formal announcement of it. We thought some time ago
that this anniversary of our pastor’s ordination, when
the half century of his ministration here is complete,
ought to be in some way marked and commemorated;
and as one of the things for that purpose,—as the best
means perhaps to that end, we invited friends in New
England and elsewhere to be with us here, to-night^ and
I am glad to say that some of them have come; as many
perhaps as we had reason to expect at this inclement
season.
6
�42
And now, speaking for this Society, I want to say to
them that their presence is a special joy to us ; a greater
joy than it could be on a similar occasion to any society
in New England; for there Unitarians are at home, and
each society has many neighbors with whom it can com
mune, and to whom it can look for sympathy, and, if
need be, for assistance. But this Society of Unitarian
Christians has long been alone in this great city, having
no connection with any religious society here and com
muning with none. And so, as I said, your presence on
this occasion is a real joy to us, and, on behalf of the
Society, I heartily thank you for it. But we are here—
we of the congregation are here—not to speak but to
listen; and I will now ask Dr. Morison, of Massachusetts,
to pray for us.
Prayer by Rev. Dr. John H. Morison.
Almighty and most merciful Father, we beseech Thee
to open our hearts to all the gracious and hallowed asso
ciations of this hour. Help us so to enter into the spirit
of this hour, that all holy influences may be around us, that
our hearts may be touched anew, that we may be brought
together more tenderly, and lifted up, with a deeper grati
tude and reverence, to Thee, the Fountain of all good, the
Giver of every good and perfect gift. We thank Thee,
most merciful Father; for the ministry which has been mod
estly carrying on its beneficent work here through these
fifty years. We thank Thee for all the lives which have
been helped by it to see and to do Thy will, and which
have been made more beautiful and holy by being brought
into quicker sympathies with whatever is beautiful in the
world without, and whatever is lovely in the world within.
We thank Thee for the inspiring words which have been
here spoken, brought home to the consciences of this con
�43
gregation by the life which stood behind them, to make
men more earnest to search after what is true and to do
what is right. We thank Thee, our Father in heaven, for
all the sweet and tender and far-reaching hopes, too vast
for this world, which have been opening here, begun upon
the earth and fulfilled in other worlds, in more imme
diate union with the spirits of the just made perfect; and
we thank Thee for all the solemn memories here, through
which the dear and honored forms of those to whom we
who are aged now looked up once as to our fathers and
teachers rise again transfigured and alive before us. We
thank Thee for all those who have been with us in the
ministry of Christ, and under the ministry of Christ,
gracious souls, rejoicing with us in the work which they
and we have been permitted to do, and now, as our trust
is, numbered among Thy saints in glory gverlasting. And
while we here render thanks to Thee for the ministry so
long and so faithfully fulfilled in this place, so allying
itself to all that is sweet in our human affections, to all
that is beautiful in the world of nature and of art, to all
that is holy in the domestic relations, to all that is strong
and true in the defence of human rights, to the deepest
human interests and to thy love, uniting in grateful rev
erence for the past, we would also ask Thy holy Spirit to
dwell with Thy servant, to inspire him still with thoughts
which shall keep his soul always young, his spirit always
fresh, for long years yet to come, with increasing ripe
ness and increasing devotedness; and that he may long
continue to walk in and out here amid the silent benedic
tions of those who have learned to love and honor him.
Our Father in heaven, help us that whatever may be
said at this time may be in harmony with the occasion.
While we here rise up in prayer and thanksgiving to
Thee, grant that Thy heavenly benediction may rest on
pastor and people, that Thy loving spirit may turn our
�44
human wishes into heavenly blessings, and that the words
and example of Him who came into the world, not to
do his own will but the will of Him that sent him, may
comfort and strengthen us; and that the life which has
been such an inspiration and joy and quickening power
to our friend may be to all of us still an incentive to
holiness, and an inspiration to all pure and heavenly
thoughts.
And now, most merciful Father, grant to us all, that
it may be good for us to be here—so gracious and so
hallowed is the time—and Thine, through Jesus Christ
our Lord, be the kingdom and the power and the glory
forever and ever. Amen.’":
Music.
Soprano solo and chorus, .... Spohk.
“ How lovely are thy dwellings fair !”
Mr. Winsor then spoke as follows:
At the ordination of Dr. Furness, fifty years ago, the
sermon was delivered by one eminent among Unitarian
Christians, ^^gtom&is memory will be long cherished
and honored, Henry Ware, Jr., and for this reason I ask
to speak first of all here to-night his son, Rev. John F.
W. Ware, of Boston, Mass.
Address of Rev. John F. W. Ware.
Friends of this Christian Society: I have no
other claim to be standing here to-night and participating
in your service than the one just mentioned—that I am
the son of the man who, fifty years ago this day, preached
the sermon at the ordination of his friend, William
�45
Henry Furness, and what may seem to you my fitness is
indeed my unfitness. Proud as I am in being the son of
a man so much honored, loved, and remembered, I never
feel it quite right in any way to try to represent him, and
had I known that this was to be a part of the conse
quences of my journey I think I should have stayed at
home.
But during the hours that I have been on the way my
thoughts have been busy with that fifty yea® ago, think
ing of the goodly company who, “in the winter wild,”
came down here from New England that they might
plant this vine in the vineyard of the Lord. And none
of them who came at that time to plant are permitted
to be here to-night to help us gather the rich and Opened
clusters. It showed, I thinaMwe love that these men
had for, and the confidence that they had in, their young
friend, that they should have come, in that inclement
time, this long journey by stage, taking them days and
nights of discomfort as it did. IBSik that there was
no sweeter household word in that dear old home of mine
than “ Brother Furness ”—the old-fashioned way in which
ministers used to talk of one anotheAwhich we of to
day have forgotten. In those times it meant something;
to-day we don’t feel as if it did, so we have dropped it.
I think there was no‘name so sweet outside of the closest
family ties as that name, and we children grew—my sis
ter and myself—to have always the deepest love for the
man that our father loved; and as time went by, and
young manhood came, I looked forward to the hearing
of the tones of that voice, and the seeing of that smile,
and the touching of that hand, as among the bright and
pleasant things—a sort of condescending, it always seemed
to me to be, of one who was in a sphere higher up than I
ever hoped to climb to. Then, as I grew older, I re
member the audacity with which I offered him “a labor
�46
of love ” in this church, and I remember I trembled after
I had done it; and I remember how he thanked me, and
how he criticized me, and the criticizing was a great deal
better than the thanking. It was very deep; it meant a
good deal, and it has not been forgotten.
Fortunate man! he who came into this city fifty years
ago; fortunate in the place, and the time of his birth :
fortunate in the education he had had and the faith he had
imbibed; fortunate in the place he had gone to, not to be
coddled among friends, emasculated by being surrounded
by those who thought just as he did, but thrown out by
God’s will into this outpost, where he could grow, as we
cannot where we are surrounded by those of our own
preference and method of thinking; fortunate in the
bent of his study, iii the opportunity to unfold the beau
tiful life of Jesus; fortunate in being of those who
stood up for the slave; fortunate in having lived to see
the issue of the work that his heart was engaged in; for
tunate in being now crowned by the love and benediction
of his people, and retiring calmly and sweetly from the
work of life, still to dwell among those who have loved
him these years long. Oh, fortunate man! God bless
him, and continue him here many years yet, your joy,
your companion, your guide, and your friend.
Not many of us shall see our fiftieth anniversary, for
more and more this profession of ours becomes a thing
of yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow alone. Very few oc
casions there will be again to meet together to celebrate
the fiftieth anniversary of a minister’s settlement.
Let us treasure the memory of this occasion. Let it
go with us who are here to our homes and our works,
and may it remain here with you a thought and memory
and a help; and as, in the beginning, this church drew
its life and its first impulse through a little band of
sturdy and steady and upright laymen, so in the time
�4
47
that lies before you, lay friends of this Society, remem
ber that it is not the past upon which you can lean—the
work that has been done by the servant who retires. It
is the future in which you are to hope, and the charac
ter of that future must be largely your work. With
this simple word, knowing that there are many gentle
men here who are to speak, and will speak more wisely
and properly than I, I ask Mr. Gannett to follow me.
Rev. Dr. Furness then came forward, and said:
My dear Friends : I am very doubtful about the
propriety of my being present on this occasion, not be
cause any deserts of mine would call forth any extrava
gant eulogium, but because I know the kind hearts of my
friends. They would say things which would make me
very uncomfortable! But just before I came from home
I got a letter from our friend, Mr. Weld, minister of the
church in Baltimore. He has sent us from the church in
Baltimore two communion cups—silver cups—as a token
of kind fellowship and recognition of this anniversary
from the church in Baltimore. They wished to have an
inscription placed on them, but they had no time; in
dicating that they were gifts from the church in Balti
more. So I thought I would bring them down without
delay, and put them upon the table, if there was any room
for them.
In all the kind words which my brethren say about
me, I think there is a good deal put in. Just like the old
man who took notes of his minister’s sermons, and when
he read them over to the minister, the ministei said,
“ Stop ! stop ! I did not say that.” “ I know you didn’t,”
he said; “ but I put it in to make sense of it.
So, I
think, on this occasion, there will be a good deal put
�1
48
in. If you will allow me, I will go and sit down at
the other end of the room, and if they get a little too
strong I can run out. I was entreated to come here
and show myself. I am very grateful to you for your
kind attention.
Address
of
William C. Gannett.
Like Mr. Ware, I only speak as the son of the right
man. The right man stood by Dr. Furness’ side fifty
years ago, and gave him the right hand of fellowship. I
know not whether there are any here that saw the sight
or heard the words; perhaps of all he only. The air
seems full, to me, at least, of the memories of the other
one. And to you who sit and listen, the air must seem
full of the very spirit of communion that these cups just
given symbolize. There ought to have been a white head
here; there ought to have been dark eyes; there ought
to have been a ringing voice; there ought to have been
a voice that would have been full of tenderness as he
stood at this side of the fifty years,—as he then stood at
the other side,—and said the words of an old man’s fel
lowship. He would to-day, as then, have been just six
months Dr. Furness’ senior in the work. I suppose
one can imagine anybody, any old person, as young,
easier than he can his own father or his own mother. I
cannot conceive the one whom I call father standing here,
or in the place which this church represents, as a young
man of twenty-four speaking to a young man of twentythree, and bidding him welcome into the work which he
called partaking in the work of heaven; bidding him
welcome into its pleasures; bidding him welcome into
its pains,—for he had been six months a minister, and
in those first six months of a minister’s life he knows a
<
�49
great deal of the pains that accompany it. It so hap
pened that just after I got your kind invitation to come,
I happened to lay my hand upon the manuscript of that
right hand of fellowship, and not having time to read it
then, I brought it with me in the cars; and only three or
four hours ago I was reading the very words, and read
ing from the very paper which, fifty years ago, was held
and read from, and to which Dr. Furness listened. It
does seem to me as if the reader were here now to say,
“ God bless you, old friend, for having stood ever faithful
to the end.” I almost think he is saying it; and if he
is, I know it comes with just that feeling: “God bless
you, old friend, for having stood faithful to the end ; for
having fulfilled all and more than all the words that then
I said to you.” And that is all I have to say. I was
asked to pass the word along to another boy of the old
men. Your father and my father and Dr. Hall were
classmates. Will Edward Hall speak for his father ?
Address of Rev. Edward H. Hall, of
Worcester, Mass.
I hardly know to what I owe this pleasure, for it is a
great one to me, of joining my thoughts with others to
night, at so early a point of our gathering. I believe
my claim is a double one, and I am willing and anxious
to make it as large as possible, both as the successor of
one who, fifty years ago, was present to give the charge
to the people, and, still tenderer to me, the claim which
has just been presented by the friend who preceded me.
In that class, which I suppose stands eminent among the
graduating classes of Cambridge for the number of men
it has sent into our ministry, to say nothing of their
quality, were the three whose names have just been
7
�50
brought together, who had no greater pride, I believe,
than to have their names in common. And it is for me
one of the pleasantest memories which this hour brings
that they were not only classmates—my father and our
father to-night—but that for so long a time, through their
college course, they were in closest intimacy as room
mates. And yet I should be sorry to think that this was
my only connection with this occasion. It was said, I
remember, of one of the finest and noblest of our officers
killed in the war, that of the many who had met him,
each one seemed to feel that he had made a special dis
covery of that man’s noble character and fine traits, so
did the discovery overpower him, and so sure was he that
to no one else had it come as it did to him; and I am in
clined to think that there is no one of these ministers
here to-night who does not feel as if his connection with
him whom we meet to-night to honor was something
special, as if the inspiration which he had drawn from
that source was one which no one but himself had got.
No qualification for our profession, I suppose, is higher
than the power of historic intuition; the power of seeing
things as they were; of reading the words and seeing be
hind them; the power that reproduces the past. Our
great historians are those who read the past in that way;
our great theologians are those who read the past as if
it were present, and feel a personal intercourse with those
who walked and fspoke in those early days. They are
the holy men and apostles of to-day; they will always
be the apostles to the end of time, and I am glad to feel
that out of our numbers has come one whose power of
divining the past has shown itself so fine and true.
I can hardly help speaking about another feeling.
I am impressed to-night by the difference, the vast dif
ference, between our fathers of a generation ago and
us who are upon the stage to-day. We look back rev
�51
erently to them; perhaps children always do to their
fathers. It is barely possible that our children may look
upon us in the same way. We look upon them as a
group of men set apart by themselves—a kind of priest
hood, conscious of the sanctity of their work. A sort of
moral halo encircles their heads as we think of them, and
we group them in just that affectionate way to which our
friend before me has alluded, as a band of brothers. Will
this generation of ministers ever look to their successors
as they appear to us ? I cannot believe it. That will not
be our claim upon their honor or their regard. Happy
for us if we can have any claim upon it; if men shall
see that the second generation of ministers took bravely
up the work that was half done, uttered the words that
were still unspoken, continued in the path which the
fathers cannot longer tread, and proved that it takes
more than one generation to do the work which Unitarianism is born to accomplish.
But I have no more claim upon your time, and close
by introducing to you, as I have been asked, the Rev.
Dr. Lothrop, of Boston.
• .
Rev. Dr. S. K. Lothrop spoke as follows:
My Christian Friends : I have but a few words to
say, and I rise to say these simply that I may more
fully express what my presence here implies, my deep
sympathy and interest in this occasion.
There are scenes and events in life which, from their
simplicity and beauty, and the moral grandeur which
always mingles more or less with everything simple and
beautiful, can gain nothing from human lips. Eloquence
can coin no words that shall impress them upon the heart
and conscience more deeply than they impress themselves.
This occasion is one of these events. We meet here to-
*
�52
5
night—this company, the members of this church, these
brethren from distant and different parts of the country
—to commemorate fifty years of faithful and devoted ser
vice in the Christian ministry, and rhetoric can add
nothing to the moral dignity and grandeur of this fact,
that is not contained in the simplest statement or expres
sion of it. We meet to do honor and reverence to one,
who, from the earliest aspirations of his youth to the later
aspirations and ever enlarging service of his manhood,
has known no object but truth, no law but duty, no
master but conscience, and who, under the inspiration and
guidance of these has wrought a noble work in this city,
made full proof of his ministry, and given a glorious
illustration of the power of that faith, “ which is the vic
tory that overcometh the world.”
The Unitarian Congregationalists recognize a large
personal freedom and individuality. Among the brethren
present and all called by our name who are absent, there
are wide differences of theological thought and opinion;
and some of us may not entirely concur in all the con
clusions—the result of Christian thought and study—
which our honored brother, the pastor of this church, in
his fifty years of noble service, may have presented in
this pulpit or given to the public through the press. But
however he may differ from him on some points, no one
who has read what he has published, can fail to perceive
or refuse to acknowledge the spirit of devout reverence,
love, faith, the large and glorious humanity that every
where breathe in his words; while every one familiar
with his long life-work in this city, every one who has
known him intimately, had opportunity to study and ob
serve his character, to mark its mingled firmness and
gentleness, sweetness and strength, its martyr spirit ad
hering to conscientious convictions and carrying them
out at whatever cost or sacrifice, its loyal spirit, faithful
�53
to Christ and truth according to honest and sincere con
viction, every one who knows and has witnessed how
these things have pervaded and animated his life, char
acter, work, cannot fail to cherish toward him a senti
ment of reverence and honor; and amid all differences of
opinion there may be between us, I yield to no one in
the strength and sincerity with which I cherish this sen
timent in my own heart. When I visited him at his
house to-day, I could not but feel that while years had
not abated one jot of the vigor of his intellect or the
warmth of his heart, they had added largely to that
something, I know not what to call it, that indescribable
charm, which has given him a place in every heart that
has ever known him, and made us his brethren (I am
only uttering what they will all acknowledge) always
disposed to sit at his feet in love and admiration.
I am oue of the oldest, probably the oldest of our min
isters present. Dr. Furness’ ordination antedates mine,
which occurred in February, 1829, only by four years
and a month. As regards term of service my name is
close to his on our list of living clergymen, and I remem
ber, as if it were but yesterday, his ordination fifty years
ago to-day, and can distinctly recall the deep interest
with which it was spoken of that evening in the family
circle of the late Dr. Kirkland at Cambridge, of which I
was then a member. I had but slight personal acquaint
ance with Dr. Furness, however, till thirteen years after
this, in 1838, when suffering from ill health he was unable
for several months to discharge his duties. His pulpit
was supplied by clergymen from Boston and the neigh
borhood, and as he had many loving friends and warm
admirers in Brattle Square Society, they were very will
ing to release me for six weeks, that I might come to
Philadelphia and preach for him. This visit and service
brought me into more intimate acquaintance with him and
�54
this Society. The pleasant memories of that period, fresh
in my heart to this day, were prominent among the mani
fold recollections that prompted, nay, constrained me to
come and unite my sympathies with yours on this occasion.
It is a glad occasion, yet there is something solemn and
sad about it. Like all anniversaries, it has a double
meaning, makes a double appeal to us. It gives a tongue
to memory, calls up the shadows of the past, brings be
fore us the forms of those we have loved and lost; we see
their smiles; we hear their voices; and as I stand here
to-night, and look back upon those fifty years, and call
to mind the venerable fathers of our faith, whom I knew
and loved and honored in the early days of my profes
sional life, Drs. Bancroft, Ripley, Thayer, Harris, Pierce,
Nichols of Portland, Parker of Portsmouth, Flint of
Salem, and bring before me the Boston Association when
it numbered among its members Channing, Lowell, Parkman, Ware, Greenwood, Frothingham, Pierpont, Young,
and last, though not least, that great apostle who has
just departed, Dr. Walker, I feel as if I had lived a
century, and was a very old man. I feel, however, that
life is not to be measured by years, and I hope, mean al
ways to try to keep as young, bright, joyous, and buoyant
as Dr. Furness seemed this morning when I greeted him
in his own house.
I sympathize in all that has been said here this even
ing, especially in all that has been said in relation to the
future of this Society and its honored and beloved pas
tor. It is no longer a secret, I believe, that he intends
to ask a release from further service. I am sure, my
friends, that all the brethren present will leave with you
their loving benediction, and the hope that something of
his mantle may fall upon whoever comes to try to fill his
place. The whole of that mantle, in all its beauty,
grandeur, and simplicity, you cannot expect any man to
�55
have or wear; if you find a successor wearing a goodly
portion of it you will have great reason to rejoice, to
thank God and be of good courage. As for Dr. Furness
himself, we leave with him our gratitude and reverence,
and our devout wish that the sweetest serenity and peace
and moral glory may mark his remaining years; and for
ourselves, who have come from far and near to hold this
jubilee with him, we all hope to gather here to-night
and carry away with us on the morrow memories, in
spirations, influences that shall quicken us to fresh zeal
and effort in our several spheres of work, determined to
be faithful and persevere unto the end, whether that end
cover twenty, thirty or forty, or, as may be the case with
some of us, fifty years of professional service.
Rev. Dr. James Freeman Clarke, of Boston, being
called upon to read a poem written for the occasion,
spoke as follows:
A great many years ago I was journeying from Ken
tucky to Boston, and passing through Philadelphia, I
could not deny myself the pleasure of going to see our
dear friend, Mr. Furness, and he was then full of the
thoughts which were afterward published in his first
book, concerning Jesus of Nazareth. I spent the whole
morning talking with him, and when the morning was
through, said he, “ Stay a little longerand I said, “ I
will wait till night before I go;” and I spent the after
noon talking with him, and when the night came, he had
not finished speaking, and I had not finished listening.
So I spent another day. We talked in the morning, we
talked in the afternoon, and we talked in the evening. I
still had not heard all I wanted to, and so I stayed the
third day, and, of course, Brother Furness is very much
associated in my mind with his studies on this subject,
�56
which has led me to take the tone which you will find in
these lines:
Where is the man to comprehend the Master,
The living human Jesus—He who came
To follow truth through triumph or disaster,
And glorify the gallows and its shame?
No passive Christ, yielding and soft as water ;
Sweet, but not strong; with languid lip and eye ;
A patient lamb, led silent to the slaughter;
A monkish Saviour, only sent to die.
Nor that result of Metaphysic Ages;
Christ claiming to be God, yet man indeed—
Christ dried to dust in theologic pages;
Our human brother frozen in a creed !
But that all-loving one, whose heart befriended
The humblest sufferer under God’s great throne ;
While, in his life, humanity ascended
To loftier heights than earth had ever known.
All whose great gifts were natural and human ;
Loving and helping all; the great, the mean ;
The friend of rich and poor, of man and woman ;
And calling no one common or unclean.
Most lofty truth in household stories telling,
Which to the souls of wise and simple go ;
Forever in the Father’s bosom dwelling—
Forever one with human hearts below.
Not in the cloister, or professor’s study
God sets the teacher for this work apart,—
But where the life-drops, vigorous and ruddy,
Flow from the heart to hand, from hand to heart.
�57
He only rightly understands this Saviour,
Who walks himself the same highway of truth ;
Unfolding, with like frank and bold behavior,
Such earnest manhood from such spotless youth.
■ ' -«
Whose widening sympathy avoids extremes,
Who loves all lovely things, afar, anear—
Who still respects in age his youthful dreams,
Untouched by skeptic-doubt or cynic-sneer.
Who, growing older, yet grows young again,
Keeping his youth of heart;—whose spirit brave
Follows with Jesus, breaking every chain,
And bringing liberty to every slave.
To him, to-night, who, during fifty years,
For truths unrecognized has dared the strife,
In spite of fashion’s law or wisdom’s fears,
We come to thank him for a noble life.
He needs no thanks, but will accept that love,
The grateful love, inevitably given
To those who waken faith in things above,
And mingle with our days a light from heaven.
And most of all, who shows us how to find
The Great Physician for all earthly ill—
The true Reformer, calm and bold and kind,
Who came not to destroy but to fulfil.
And thus this church grows into holy ground
So full of Jesus that our souls infer
That we, like Bunyan’s Pilgrim, must have found
At last “ The House of the Interpreter.”
Dr. Clarke called upon Rev. Dr. Bartol to speak, who
said:
My Friends : I certainly ought in all sincerity, and I
certainly do in all humility, thank the committee for in8
�58
viting one, so devoid of all conventional virtue, with no
place in any conference, standing for the desert—yet not
quite, I think, belonging to the tribe of Ishmael, for my
hand is against no man, and no man’s hand, I think, is
against me,—to say even one word. But let me tell you
there is good ecclesiastical blood in the family. I throw
myself on one who is worthy, I am sure, and popular in
this church, a cousin by blood. I think there is a good
deal of vicarious atonement in him; and I hope his
righteousness will be imputed to me, though I do not
mean to make him a scapegoat for my sins.
Notwithstanding what my brother has said, I shall call
him not only brother but John Ware; and because of what
he said we shall all be convinced that this is a real
brotherhood in spirit as in name after all. I call it a
very goodly fellowship, not only of the prophets but of
the people to-night. And that is the thought that comes
into my mind in regard to it. Here our brother and
father Furness, your minister, has brought all these
brethren together who stand in thought so wide apart.
Is it not a real fellowship? I need not mention the
names to show you how wide a space of thought they
measure, and the beauty and power of a man’s fellow
ship. It is not to be determined by the number of his
disciples or followers, by the largeness of the congrega
tion he can gather, or the crowds that hang on his lips;
but by the measure which all those men, be they more or
fewer, make in the world of ideas, which is also the world
of love; for a man’s parallax, that twenty friends may
make for him, is a larger parallax than a million friends
may make. And I think it is, in spite of our dear friend’s
utter modesty, an occasion of joy with him. It should
be an occasion of joy that he reaches so far out on either
hand, and gathers such a company together. It is a real
fellowship, a real brotherhood, a real fatherhood; and while
�59
these young men have been speaking—and we have not
begun with the eldest, even to the last, but have begun
the other way—it seemed to me as if the almond blossoms
from the old heads which we remember, as well as see,
have been dropping upon some of our heads, and that
they have shed them upon us. We are glad for that fel
lowship. It is rich beyond measure.
I had a letter from our dear Brother Dewey. He says
in this letter, speaking of the death of Dr. Walker, “ He
seems to say to me, ‘ Your turn next.’ ” Ah, “ sad !” Did
I hear that word? No, not sadtj Death is not sad;
departure is not sad; ascending is not sad. Death is
nothing. But what is meant by our thought? I said to
my dear friend, Dr. Bellows, last night as we were talking,
“ How strange it would be, when we came each one of us
to die, to find that death, which we have thought so much
of, is nothing to think of! Death at last and for the
first time takes everlasting leave of us. Death will just
so surely depart from us as we come to die. And in the
article of dying, it will depart.”
It is well that I should close with this single thought
of fellowship. Providence has been working very won
derfully and very mightily, with all these great causes
which have had great sway in the modern world, through
this gospel of free thought. I call it a gospel,—a gospel
of humanity, this loving gospel to bring people together.
I do not like the word fellowship as an active verb. I
never could speak of fellowshipping one. Fellowship is
the result of being true to our own conviction one to
another; coming and sitting in the circle that takes in
the heaven as well as the earth,—and I will finish my
little talk with what perhaps is as yet an unedited fact
or story, of one of those other elders, not so very old, who
have gone to the majority. Samuel Joseph May illus
trated this bond of fellowship ; how God will have it, that
�60
we must be brethren and fellows, whether we will or not.
He told me that one day, a great many years ago, it must
now be between thirty or forty years, he was returning
from an anti-slavery meeting, on a steamer, when a theo
logical conversation arose between some parties, and one
man was pleased to denounce Unitarians very severely;
and perhaps some of you remember what that denuncia
tion was of the Unitarian Doctrine. It was infidel, it
was atheistic, it was all that was bad. Mr. May listened
quietly until the man got through, who had the sym
pathy of others, and then frankly, like himself, said, “ I
must tell you, sir, that I am myself one of those dreadful
Unitarians.” “ Indeed, indeed,” said the man. “ I have
listened to you with great pleasure at the anti-slavery
meeting; would you allow me to have a little conversa
tion with you at the other end of the boat, privately?”
“ With the utmost pleasure,” said Mr. May. They took
their departure from the little circle to the bow of the
boat. As the man was about to open his converting
speech, Mr. May said : “ Now before we proceed to our
little controversygl wish to ask you one question. Do
you believe it is possible in this matter of theology, I
after all may be right and you may be wrong ?” “ No,
I don’t believe it^s possible,^* said the man. “Then,
then,” said Mr. May, “ I think there is no advantage in
our having any further conversation.” Mr. May had
his place nevertheless in that man’s heart: for we do not
choose our fellows. God chooses our fellows for us. A
man said one day: “ I heard that transcendental lecturer
speak. He got his thought into my mind, and the worst
of it is, I can’t get it out.” Be true to your conviction;
for that is the charm, the beauty, the holiness! And
then—I must say it, yes, I must say it in spite of Dr.
Furness’ presence—not your thought alone, but you will
get into the heart of every man or woman who has the
�61
slightest knowledge of you. And the man and the woman
will love you, and the time will come when they will
not want to get you out of their mind.
Rev. Dr. Thompson, of Jamaica Plain, Mass., then
addressed the meeting as follows:
My Friends : I feel a good deal of embarrassment in
taking my place on the platform, having received no
hint that any word would be expected of me.
If I were as old and gray as some of the brethren who
have preceded me, I might perhaps follow in their
severely sober strain, but you will have to take me as I
am. Before touching on what more immediately con
cerns the occasion, let me frankly confess to having
brought with me a slight pique againsttithe venerated
pastor of this church, and you shall know how it hap
pened. About ten years ago—it will be ten in April—the
Sunday after the first National Conference in New York,
I was seated in this church. Three or four of us ministers
had come on to attend the worship ; by what attraction
you can well imagine. Robert Collyer preached the
sermon, one of the best he ever preached, that on “Hurting
and Healing Shadows.” Now you all know Dr. Furness’
great fondness for conferences and such like, only he
never goes to them ! Well, I think he must have been
a little uneasy while Collyer was preaching from having
heard of the great enthusiasm which prevailed in the
recent conference, and from regretting, though he did
not say so, that circumstances, or something, had pre
vented his being there to share it. While he sat in the
pulpit under this “hurting shadow” he was thinking very
likely—but I do not assert it as a fact—how he could
extemporize something here that would bear a resemblance
to what we had been doing and enjoying in New York;
and he hit on a plan. So, immediately after Brother
�62
Collyer had finished, our excellent friend arose, looking
exactly as he does to-night, and, with that peculiar
twinkle under his spectacles and expression about the
mouth which none of you will ever forget, said, that it
had occurred to him that, as a number of ministers were
present who had attended the New York conference, it
might be interesting to the congregation to hear an ac
count of it from their lips ; and without further ceremony
he would call upon them. When it came my turn he
introduced me in this fashion; (and here comes in the
pique of which I am going to free my mind). “ This
gentleman,” said he (giving my name), “some of the
older members of the society may perhaps remember to
have heard preach here, I will not undertake to say
precisely when, but it was some time within the present
centuryI” Do you wonder that I have had a feeling
about this insinuation ? It was true that I had preached
for him while yet a young man, and he about as old to
my appreciation as he is now. It is also true that in the
abundance of his kindness he wanted to say a pleasant
thing about the sermon ; and he did say it. And what
do you think it was ? I hope it is not too flattering for
me to repeat after having carried it so long in my memory.
He said : “ Thompson, there was one capital word in your
sermon, a capital word.” “ What was it ?” I asked,
surprised. “ It was the word intenerated; where did
you get it ?” “ From the dictionary,” I meekly replied ;
“ and you will find it there.” And now I wish to say
that if at any time within the last forty years you have
heard that word “intenerated” from the lips of your
minister you may know where it came from.
Dr. Furness: I have never used it once. (Laughter.)
What delightful reminiscences of my connection with
this church!
And now let me come to the matter of the jubilee.
�63
It happened to me less than a week ago to walk into the
sanctum of our Brother Mumford, the accomplished
editor of the Christian Register. I entered expecting to
see my welcome in the generous smile with which he
usually meets his friends. But instead of this, his face
wore a most solemn expression, and he seemed to find it
hard even to look at me. “ What now ?” thought I;
“ what have I been doing ?” After a minute or two of
suspense, I was relieved by his lifting his eyes pleas
antly and saying: “ I am doing up Dr. Furness,” or
words to that effect. I instantly remonstrated, say
ing it would spoil every man’s speech who goes to
Philadelphia, for they are all doing just what you are.
They are all searching the volumes of the Christian
Register and Christian Examiner, and other newspapers
and periodicals to find out all they can in relation to the
man and the ordination fifty years ago. But he was in
flexible, saying that - he didn’t mean that the Christian
Register should be behind any of them.” So he went on,
and the result was the excellent notice of our friend which
appeared last Saturday.
However, he did not give quite all the facts that link
themselves in my mind with the ordination of Dr. Fur
ness. It was a very remarkable year of ordinations in
our Unitarian body, remarkable as to the number of
them, and as to the character and future eminence of the
men ordained, and the reputation of the ministers who
ordained them. Let me refer to a few of them. Six
months before the ordination here, June 30th, 1824, our
beloved Brother Gannett had been ordained as the col
league of Dr. Channing; and, on the same day, his lifelong
friend in the closest intimacy, the Rev. Calvin Lincoln,
was ordained at Fitchburg. Then came this ordination ;
and in just a week after, January 19th, followed that of
the Rev. Alexander Young, over the New South Church
�64
in Boston. Such highly distinguished ministers as Pier
pont, Palfrey, Ware Sr., Channing, Upham, and Harris,
took the several parts. Of these, two only survive, Dr.
Palfrey, whom several of us here remember as our teacher
in the Theological School, and, remembering, have be
fore us the image of a man as remarkable for method,
industry, learning, and accuracy as a teacher, as he was
for a conscientious fidelity in the discharge of every duty,
the least as well as the greatest; and Charles W. Upham,
who had been ordained but a month before, over the First
Church in Salem. Mr. Upham, after twenty years in the
ministry, retired and became for a time a servant of the
country in the National House of Representatives. In
his advanced age he has pursued his favorite historical
studies, and has, as you know, recently published a Life
of Timothy Pickering in four volumes, which has been
received with great favor by the public.
The week following the ordination of Dr. Young, came
that of the Rev. Edmund Q. Sewall, at Amherst, New
Hampshire, a man of rare abilities and virtues; no longer
living. At this ordination we find our friend Palfrey
taking part with Pierpont, Lowell, and Thayer of
Lancaster. This was followed the next week, February
2d, by the ordination of Rev. John Flagg, of West
Roxbury, in the exercises of which we find the names of
Palfrey again, the lately deceased Dr. Walker, and Drs.
Pierce, Lowell, Gray, and Lamson, all well known by
those of us who are far advanced in the journey of life,
and all, but the first, now gone on out of sight but not
beyond the reach of our affections. The week following
Mr. Flagg’s, came the ordination of that true man and
faithful servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, the Rev.
Samuel Barrett over the Chambers Street Church in
Boston; a man of clear, strong mind, devoted to his
work, exercising his ministry in great patience, in great
I
�65
cheerfulness, with great joy in God and great love for the
brotherhood. Then followed in the very next week,
February 16th, the installation of the Rev. Henry Cole
man in the Barton Square Church, of Salem, at which,
among others, Messrs. Frothingham, Pierpont, and Brazer
officiated. I ought to mention that at the beginning of
the same year, 1825, if not a little earlier, our eminent
brother, the Rev. E. B. Hall, a particular friend of Dr.
Furness, received a call to the then new parish in North
hampton, which the state of his health did not permit
him at once to accept. But tima parish would not give
him up; and in the August ensuing, his health being
partially restored, he became their minister; the venerable
Dr. Ware preaching the sermon, and Pierpont! Willard,
Lincoln, and Brazer, assisting in otl^P exercises.
Said I not truly that the year which gave Dr. Fur
ness to Philadelphia, was memorablafor its*rdinations
in our denomination ? Certainly no other has been so
fruitful. And all these eminent brothers ordained, with
two or three exceptions, were the coevals and intimate
personal friends of him whom we have come here to
night to honor with the outpourings of our respect,
gratitude, and affection.
Now there is one other event relating to our good
friend, which I hope it will not seem improper for me to
refer to, having been for twenty-seven years of my life a
minister in the city where it occurred ; a very important
event in the history of his singularly happy life. It
occurred in the year following his ordination; and it has
probably had quite as much to do with his comfort and
happiness here as your unfailing kindness and sympathy.
The event was of so much importance that it was chron
icled in the Salem Gazette in this wise:
“ In Salem, August 29th, 1825, by Rev. Mr. Emerson,
Rev. William Henry Furness, Philadelphia, to Miss
9
�66
Annis Pulling Jenks, daughter of the late Mr. John
Jenks.”
I don’t dare to tell all I have heard about the bride,
though I think from what you now see, you would find
no difficulty in believing it. I refer to the event because
of its influence and its long-continued charm ; and I hope
the few lines from Rogers’ “ Human Life,” with which I
close, if I can join them to what I have been saying, will
not inappropriately relieve your attention.
“ Across the threshold led,
And every tear kissed off as soon as shed,
His house she enters there to he a light
Shining within when all without is night;
A guardian angel o’er his life presiding,
Doubling his pleasures and his cares dividing;
Winning him back when mingling with the throng,
Back from a world we love, alas, too long,
To fireside happiness, to hours of ease,
Blest with that charm—the certainty to please.”
I am requested to introduce our Brother Chadwick, of
Brooklyn.
Rev. John W. Chadwick, of Brooklyn, N. Y., spoke
as follows:
Dear Friends : It seems to be the order of the
evening for each speaker to justify in some way his
presence on this sacred and beautiful occasion, and I,
knowing that my turn was coming, have been not a little
troubled as to what I should say for myself. But Dr.
Thompson has helped me out. In the accounts of
various ordinations which he has read to you, you
must have noticed how few old men had anything to do
with them, from which it would appear that, whether
there is or is not less respect for age now than formerly,
there was formerly much more respect for young men
than at present. Nowadays we never take up with any
�67
young men at ordinations and such times, till there are
no more old men to be had. I suspect, therefore, that I
have been invited to speak here this evening as a sign
that respect for young men has not entirely died out.
Dear friends, I saw this occasion while it was yet a
great way off. When Robert Collyer said to me up at
Saratoga last September, “John, we must all go to
Philadelphia next January,” I answered, I have been
meaning to this three years.” After your invitation
came, thinking it might possibly mean that I should say
something, I began to think what I would say, and all at
once I found my thought was going to a sort of tune. I
couldn’t account for it except by the fancy that my
thought was sympathizing with the music of Dr. Furness’
life, which has been a sort of symphony—a “Pastoral
Symphony ”—for has not the thought of the Good Shep
herd been the central thought and inspiration of it all
from the beginning until now ?
Here is what came to me.
W. H. F.
January 12th, 1825. January \2th, 1875.
Standing upon the summit of thy years,
Dear elder brother, what dost thou behold,
Along the way thy tireless feet have come
From that far day, when young and fresh and bold,
Hearing a voice that called thee from on high,
Thou answeredst, quickly, “ Father, here am I.”
Fain would we see all that thine eyes behold,
And yet not all, for there is secret store
Of joy and sorrow in each private heart,
To which no stranger openeth the door.
But thou can st speak of many things beside,
While we a little space with thee abide.
�68
Tell us of those who fifty years ago
Started thee forth upon thy sacred quest,
Who all have gone before thee, each alone,
To seek and find the Islands of the Blest.
To-day, methinks that there as well as here
Is kept all-tenderly thy golden year.
Tell us, for thou didst know and love him well,
Of Channing’s face,—of those dilating eyes
That seemed to^eatch, while he was with us here,
Glimpses of things beyond the upper skies.
Tell us of th®t weak voice, which was so strong
To cleave asunder every form of wrong.
Thou hast had good companions on thy way ;
Gannett was ®rith thee in his ardent prime,
And with thee still when outward feebleness
But made his spirit seem the more sublime,
Till, like another prophetj&mmoned higher,
He found, like him, a chariot of fire.
And that beloved disciple was thy friend,
Whose heart was blither than the name he bore,
Who yet could hide the tenderness of May,
And bleaker than December, downward pour
The tempest of his’Wrath on slavery’s lie,
And all that takes from man’s humanity.
And thou hast walked with our Saint Theodore,
Our warrior-saint, well-named the gift of God,
Whose manful hate of every hateful thing,
Blossomed with pity, e’en as Aaron’s rod,
And lips that cursed the priest and Pharisee
Gathered more honey than the wilding bee.
All these are gone, and Sumner’s heart beneath
Should make more pure the yet untainted snow ;
Our one great statesman of these latter days,
Happy wert thou his other side to know,
To call him friend, whom ages yet unborn
Shall love tenfold for every breath of scorn.
�69
All these are gone, but one is with us still,
So frail that half we deem she will not die,
But slow exhale her earthly part away,
And wear e’en here the vesture of the sky.
Lucretia, blessed among women she,
Dear friend of Truth, and Peace, and Liberty.
And one, whose form is as the Son of man,
Has been with thee through all these busy years,
Holden our eyes, and He to us has seemed
As one seen dimly through a mist of tears Bl
But thou hast seen him clearly face to face,
And told us of his sweetness and his grace.
Standing upon the summit of thy years,
Dear elder brother, tbou canst see the day
When slavery’s curse had sway in all the land,
And thou art here, and that has passed away.
We give thee joy that in its hour of pride,
Thy voice and hand were on the weak® side.
But from thy clear and lofty eminence
Let not thine eyes be ever backward turned,
For thou canst see before as cannot we
Who have'^ot yet thy point of ’vantage earned.
Tell us of what thou seest in the years
That look so strange, seen through our hopes and fears.
Nothing we know to shake thy steadfast mind
Nothing to quench thy heart with doubt or fear ;
But higher truth and holier love revealed,
And justice growing to man’s heart more dear.
And everywhere beneath high heaven’®3ope,
A deeper trust, a larger, better hope.
There are some here that shall not taste of death
Till they have seen the kingdom come, with power.
O brave forerunner, wheresoe’®| thou art,
Thou wilt be glad with us in that glad hour.
Farewell! Until we somewhere meet again.
We know in whom we have believed. Amen.
�70
Rev. Mr. Chadwick, in turn, introduced the Rev.
R. R. Shippen, of Boston, Mass., who said:
My dear Friends : Amid these memorials of your
Christmas rejoicing, and these fresh flowers and ever
greens of tropical luxuriance with which you would
symbolize the fragrance of the memories that cluster
round this aniversary, and your desire to keep them
green, it is my pleasant privilege to speak for the
Unitarian Association a word of greeting, giving you
congratulations on this your golden wedding, with best
wishes for the coming years. Yet as I speak for the
Association, I remember that some of our noblest and
best, from Channing through the list, have been some
what fearful of ecclesiastical entanglements, and of
hard, dry machinery, and have deemed the truest and
best work in life that wrought by character and personal
influence; even as Jesus himself did his work, not by
organizations, but by his own personality. Permit me
then to touch two or three lines of personal influence
flowing forth from this pulpit, that are but representatives
of many more. Let me speak for one in your city, now
in her ninety-third year, kept from this meeting only by
the feebleness of old age, who this afternoon told me of
her fresh remembrance of the occasion of fifty years ago,
vivid as if but yesterday, who has been a lifelong friend
of our cause, a generous worker in this church and bene
factor of the Meadville Church and. Theological School,
who recognizes this pulpit as the source of some of the
choicest inspirations of her life. Shall I speak for one
who in a large home-circle of many brothers has been a
loving, sisterly influence of sweetness and light ? who in
her youth was here a worshiper, and caught the inspira
tion of this place, and in her greeting sent me to-day
writes that she is with us here in spirit to-night; that no
one present can join in these services with a more deep
�71
and tender gratitude, and no human thought can fully
know what her life owes to the ministry we now com
memorate ? Shall I speak for another, a younger
brother, the brightest of the seven, whose youth and
early manhood were spent in this city in study and
practice of law ? who Sunday by Sunday learned here
that blessed faith that, when in the full promise of his
manly prime his last hour came, enabled him to go
bravely to death full of a cheerful hope of immortality ?
As to-night he makes heaven more real and more attrac
tive to my thought, in his name I-pay the tribute of
thanks for the inspirations of this pulpit. Shall I speak
for myself ? In my early home I remember your pastor’s
familiar volume of “Family Prayer” as a household
word. At the outset of my ministryf at the Portland
Convention, just twenty-five years ago, I first heard the
genial, charming, gracious word of your minister in his
prime. And as in Boston one may, day by day, correct
his own timepiece by Cambridge observations of the sky,
whose electric communications give us every passing hour
the celestial time true to the second, so in my young
ministry at Chicago,—a lonelier frontier post then than
now,—when the barbarous Fugitive Slave Law passed
through Congress, and the Northwest Territories were
opened for slavery, and the dark days came upon the
nation, if, as I tried, I bore any worthy testimony for
freedom, I rejoice that I was aided in setting my con
science true to the celestial time by this observatory in
Philadelphia. The blessed influences of your pulpit have
run their lines through our land and through the world.
And, friends, what does our Association seek but to
extend and multiply these lines of personal influence, to
enable Boston and Philadelphia to join hands in the
same noble work ? When I asked your pastor for the
last book of Whittier, that I might quote a forgotten
�72
line, he replied, “ All good books have feet and wings
and will find their way at last.” But our Association
only desires to quicken their speed, and by the people’s
generosity to enlarge their wings; that as we are now
sending Channing through the land, we should gladly
send the noble words of Dewey and Furness flying on
the wings of the wind.
And what do our Association and Conferences stand
for but for fellowship ? for the good-will and helpfulness
of brotherly greetings ? Pennsylvanian as I am by birth
and ancestry, with you I rejoice that these Boston
brethren have been brought to Philadelphia. It will do
us all good to know more of each other. This meeting
to-night is just like our Conferences, where our hearts
are warmed by words of brotherly kindness. As I recall
your minister’s inspiring word at the Portland Conven
tion, it has been one of the regrets of my life that we have
not heard him oftener among us. But it is never too late
to mend. On behalf of the Association and the Confer
ence I invite our Brother Furness and all of you to at
tend our meetings henceforth every time.
And now, my friends, when Brother Mumford wrote
that editorial last week, I said, “You are a generous
fellow; why didn’tl^ou keep that to make a speech
from ?” I am sure I don’t know what he is going to say.
I am requested to ask him to speak.
Rev. Thomas J. Mumford. Dear Friends: On account
of the lateness of the hour I will only say that that was
my speech. The next speaker will be Brother White,
and when I say Brother White, I mean brother just as
much as they did in the days of Henry Ware.
Rev. William O. White, of Keene, N. H., then ad
dressed the meeting as follows:
�73
There is one comfort, dear friends, as I thank you at
this late hour, for giving me the pleasure of being with
you, and that is, that Philadelphia time is a little more
generous than the time which I carry in my pocket; but
I will not abuse even Philadelphia time. The word that
Brother Mumford just mentioned brings up very dear
and tender associations with men so closely united in my
memory with our friend and brother, Dr. Furness. But
I will not carry out the thought that comes to me. I
would gladly help along one or two strains that vibrate
in our hearts, as the words are spoken, that “the time
will come when we shall take a last farewell of death,”
and that other word of a younger speaker who almost
felt, and almost knew that one of the long-departed
friends of our Brother Furness was here./'
I am glad to feel that I am here, just as some of my
younger friends were, because I am the son of a friend
of Dr. Furness, a layman whose tastes led him to the
study of theology, and who, I think, was more attached
to the studies of the ministry than many of us ministers
are. I say this, because as soon as I saw Dr. Furness
this morning I was greeted as my father’s son.
And I would not hava spoken here at all at this late
hour, but to try to fasten to those one Im two sweet
thoughts that have been uttered to-night, to which I
have alluded, a line of the poet-sculptor “Michael
Angelo.’^ He is contemplating theyvasting block of
marble upon which he is working; the block lessens ;
lessens, lessens, continually in size; and so the years of
our friend’s sweet, earnest ministry here, are fast pass
ing away before our eyes. But the great lesson that I
have found, as I go back to the time when I remember
to have heard Dr. Furness’ voice in my father’s house,
and in the old pulpit in Salem, and as I remember the
week that I spent with him more than a score of years
10
�74
ago, and as I recall the tenderness of his voice, in his
supplications and his preaching, only last October, the
great lesson I have taken with me about him fastens
itself to the line which I am now to quote of “ Michael
Angelo.” As the poet and sculptor contemplated the
wasting marble, he said:
“ The more the marble wastes, the more the statue grows.”
So, with our friend, the years are passing away ; pass
ing away, soon they must be gone; but the statue grows
with tenderness of heart deeper than ever; that sweet
voice, rich with varied experience of the joys and sorrows
of those friends of his in his flock, year after year, has
acquired an added tenderness; and we feel
“The more the marble wastes, the more the statue grows,”
and we can welcome the time when he, or any of us, who
try to live in a like spirit of devotion to the Master, shall
“take an everlasting farewell of death.”
I am requested to call on our friend Brother Putnam,
of Brooklyn, New York.
Rev. Dr. A. P. Putnam made the following address:
My dear Friends : I think it must have been for a
larger number of years than Brother Chadwick said for
himself, that I have been looking forward to this occasion,
meaning to be here not with a set speech, as you will very
soon see, but because I wished to come and to say from
my heart, I thank you, Dr. Furness.
I remember when I was a bookkeeper in Boston, how
my elder brother, who was in the divinity school at that
time, used to bring me the volumes of Channing, Buck
minster, and Ware, and also various pamphlet sermons of
Dr. Furness. I recollect well the delight with which I read
Dr. Furness’ pages, and the gospel of liberty they taught
me, and the new revelation they seemed to give me of
�75
the Christ. I have been a disciple following far off. Yet
I know I have not lost during all these years the strong
conviction I had then. It has deepened and deepened
from that time until now. I have gathered his pamphlets
wherever I could find them, and with not a little zeal
I have searched for all his books, many of which are out
of print and are not easily to be found, until, some years
ago, I completed the whole list, and I cherish them as
among the most precious treasures in my library. The
argument which he draws from the naturalness, the
simplicity and artlessness of the gospel records for their
truth, and the uplifting of the curtain so that the Christ
may be seen in his higher spiritual beauty! what a
debt do we owe him for that. Does he know ? can he
know ? can we tell him how much the members of our
churches feel of gratitude and love to him for all that
he has done for us in this way ? Perhaps in some far off
time he may know it more fully; but it is right, dear
friends, that we should come together thus and say these
words which are uttered here to-night, and before he
has gone away tell him how much we do love and
honor him, and why it is we do love and honor him, and
why it is that yve shall always revere and bless him.
When I have thought what words have gone forth from
that desk in behalf of liberty and right in this land, I
have wished that the church might remain just as it is
to-night, and that pulpit just as it is for years and
generations to come. It speaks a lesson for all; those
words abide with us still; they have come home to our
hearts, and kindled in our souls new zeal for the truth
as it is in Jesus. How many chains they have broken,
and oh ! what a welcome, in comparison with which these
congratulations of the hour are small indeed, is reserved
for our venerable father and friend, from the spirits of
�76
the ransomed freedmen who have ascended to heaven,
and who will greet him there.
Let me say that forty years ago it was, that Dr.
Furness preached the installation sermon of the first
minister of the church which I represent here ; the first
society of our faith in Brooklyn. It seems a long, long
while indeed. I have been over ten years there myself.
Dr. Farley preceded me, and he was there twenty years
or more. Mr. Holland was there several years before
him; Mr. Barlow several years before Mr. Holland. Dr.
Furness preached the installation sermon of Rev. Mr.
Barlow, who was the first minister of our faith in
Brooklyn, forty years ago the 17th of last September.
Of the ministersjwho took part in the services of that
occasion, all except your pastor and my immediate pre
decessor, who was then of Providence, R. I., have passed
away,—William Ware, John Pierpont, Caleb Stetson,
E. B. Hall, and others^ Nearly ten years later, Dr.
Furness was present at a| convention held there at the
time of the dedication of our church, and preached the
closing communion sermon. His is a familiar name with
my people, who are all with you here in the spirit, and
would join me, I know, in heartily saying, “God bless
him and you, and the cause of humanity and righteous
ness, which is so dear to you.”
I am requested to call upon Rev. Mr. Ames to address
you.
Rev. C. G. Ames, of Germantown, Pa., said:
As I am one of the younger brethren, and very much
at home, I feel that I should deny myself, and take up
my cross, and introduce a brother from a distance, espe
cially as you have met to hear from these patriarchal
ministers who can offer things which I cannot. But I
may boast one advantage; they cannot see Dr. Furness
�77
every day. Nor can I speak freely of what I feel; it is
too much like being one of the family. I live too near,
and can easily be excused. My voice is very frequently
heard in this house. With a heart brimming full, I
have the painful pleasure, therefore, of holding it down,
knowing it will keep.
I will introduce Rev. Dr. Bellows, of New York.
Rev. Dr. Bellows made the following remarks:
I am sure both modesty and discretion would suggest
the wisdom of my being taught by my junior and friend,
and in releasing you from any further attendance on this
interesting service. As for myself, I feel tired as a child
with the pleasures of the evening; and I can conceive that
you all must be so tired that you would welcome as your best
friend him who would permit you to go home and think
over all the kind things you have heard here. And yet
I think it is a kind of duty to say 1 word in behalf of my
own people and city, and all that great community which
I am privileged to represent here. New York speaks
to Philadelphia; and to a good many of us in New York,
Brother Furness is more than half of Philadelphia.
When we think of Philadelphia we think rather of him
than of anything else, and it is not for anything he has done
either; not for all that great service to freedom, not for
all that valuable contribution to theological speculation
or criticism, but for being what he cannot possibly help,
and that is, himself. It is so much more to be than to
say, or even to do, that I have not always a great deal
of praise for the bright things he does, or the bright
things he says,—only because he is what he is and can’t
help it, and deserves very little thanks for it; for God is
the being we must thank, not him. It is, therefore, that
I am by force compelled to thank God for him, and not
thank him.
�78
Good fellow! he has had it all himself. God gave
him all his precious gifts; he gave him his broad and
generous humanity; made him a harp for all the winds
of heaven and earth to play on, not a fife, to be stopped ;
gave him that benignant smile which he doesn’t know
anything about himself; and gave him that delicious
voice which is in itself a harmony of all his sweetest
powers, an expression of the depth and clearness of his
spirit.
Poor fellow! he cannot help it; he has carried it with
him all these seventy-two years. And, surely, the first
time I ever saw him his voice was the thing that spoke
to me. I didn’t care what it said; there it was, and I
have often thought if a soft voice be an excellent thing
in woman, such a voice as his is, is one of the most
magnificent and significant gifts that God ever gives to
man. Well, let us thank God for him, and then let us
thank him for using those talents so well. Now let me
thank you in behalf of the denomination, dear brethren,
for not being able to be otherwise than so generous, so
kind and faithful to a man who, for all I know, never
used one particle of machinery to keep you together, has
taken no particular pains to keep you together, but just
stood like a kind of magnet, and drawn you to his
heart. We don’t understand it all, but God does; and
we see how with a witchery he has done more than most
of us are able to do by getting every sort of instru
mentality at work that we can possibly use to supple
ment the defects of our natural constitution. I wish I
could work just as Dr. Furness does, and have that same
influence and power, without seeking any. If I could
stand up in naked simplicity and majesty, and then win
the people without using all this painful labor, this
fatiguing desperately drudging machinery, I should be
very glad indeed ; but for most of us poor fellows, it is a
�79
necessity to resort to these matters, to supplement the
defects of our natural constitution and faculties; but I
think Brother Furness can do without it. One thing
further I will say of Dr. Furness. It is a subject of
special congratulation that he has been always himself;
that no theological or critical studies have given an
ecclesiastical tinge or twist to his character, or prevented
the people from seeing him in his native outline. He
has been a preacher and minister, but still more, a man,
and although no man less deserves, in the depreciating
sense, the name of a man of the world, yet in a noble
sense he has been a man of the world; for he has made
the world tributary to his growth; drawn in its widest
culture, enjoyed its largest freedom, entered into its every
day feelings and joys, and made it his own by his great
enjoyment of it, and insight into its meaning. Neither
ecclesiasticism nor dogmatism has been able to quench
his native originality, and that is one of his chief charms
to-day.
Dear brethren, let me congratulate you at the close of
this half century of your minister’s labors, upon what we
n ow behold in the magnificent development of th e theologi
cal ideas and religious temper for which our branch of the
church has meanwhile stood. We expected great things,
but we have seen larger ones, although of a different
kind. We looked for a multiplication of our churches,
which we have not seen, but how vast has been the spread
of our ideas and principles? We expected to be the
chief instruments in the work of liberalizing Christian
thought and feeling, but Divine providence took up the
work with larger methods and new agencies, and made
us rather sharers than leaders in theological reform. We
happened to be the first wave of what turned out to be
an incoming tide, which has swept the whole church on.
I think Luther did not see in his day a greater, a more
�80
important reformation in theological ideas than we have
realized in the last half century.
Whether there be one Unitarian church in Phila
delphia or more, or whether our churches in New York
and Brooklyn, Baltimore and Washington, New Eng
land and the West have multiplied as fast as we hoped or
not, there is more liberal Christianity preached in this
country to-day, than the boldest prophets could have
foreseen when our enterprise started. It has advanced,
and it has triumphed, by whatever way. God has taken
it up, and brought the aid of a broad science, a broad
philosophy, a broad reformatory influence in society,
during all these last years, to bear powerfully upon it.
We have seen results which may cause many of us to
say, “Mine eyes have seen thy salvation; let now thy
servant depart in peace.” I feel no further anxiety
about the spread of liberal Christianity. It now spreads
by a necessity. It is a glorious privilege to work in it
and for it. But the business is essentially done. The
leaven is at work, and it is working everywhere, just as
much in the orthodox churches, so-called, as in our own.
And very little free thinking is done in our denomination
which is not just as fully represented in the old ortho
doxy. We are no longer the sole officers in that great
army. I thank God that the business of fighting is
pretty much over’, and that we are now beginning to
think more of cultivating religiously the area which has
been left for us specially to take care of. Let us now
look to it, as churches and ministers and parishes, and
see that we produce workmen, and, finally, spiritual
fruit, in the particular area over which we are set as
husbandmen and gardeners. That you may succeed
in cultivating your own soil, and in making the vine
yard a nobler and grander one, and in bringing forth
more clusters of grapes of the particular vine from which
�81
you are set, is my earnest prayer. And that we may all
return from these services bearing your blessings and
Brother Furness’ blessing with us into our own several
fields of labor, and that we may be abler and nobler and
more careful shepherds, and more faithful husbandmen,
is the best thing I can ask, that we may be permitted to
carry away from this hour and this blessed assembly of
Unitarian Christians and friends.
Music.
Duet for Two Sopranos and Chorus,
.
. Mendelssohn.
“I waited for the Lord,” from “Hymn of Praise.”
Chorus, .
..........................................................Spohr.
“ Happy who in Thy House Reside.”
Dr. Furness then addressed the meeting.
Dear Friends : While I am very glad to meet here
my brothers in the ministry, and am not at all insensible
to their kind words, I call you all to witness that they
are not here by my invitation. I never invited them
to come here and talk about me. But as long as they
have done so, I congratulate you all, and all who are in
terested in the success of the good cause. It is, you see,
in the hands of young men. Although some of your
guests here show gray on their heads, they are very
young men evidently, fond, especially brother Bellows,
of romancing. I use the words that Dr. Bancroft used
at my ordination: “ It was a comfort to him to feel that
as he was going away the cause would be left in hands
that would carry it on a great deal better than he could.”
Some of my friends told me I had better not come here
to-night; but brother Bellows intimated to me that by
staying away I might seem to be bidding for praise. So
I thought I would come and see whether some restraint
11
�82
could not be put upon the speakers by my presence. But
I don’t think I have availed much.
The day that I was ordained—but I am not going to
tire you with old time stories,—when an old minister
begins telling his experiences we never know when he
will stop—we were all invited,—the gentlemen of the
clergy, and the delegates from Boston and New York,—
to dine at Mr. Thomas Astley’s, who lived at the corner
of Ninth and Walnut Streets, a wealthy Englishman of
our persuasion. While we were sitting waiting for dinnoy,
the report came that the kitchen chimney was on fire!
One of the gentlemen suggested that the fire could be
put out very readily by putting a blanket before the
chimney, and throwing some sulphur into the fire-place.
After dinner, when the wine was passed around and the
toasts were given, one of the gentlemen proposed “ the
Furnace that had been kindled in Philadelphia.” And
another added, “May it never be put out with brim
stone.”
The meeting was closed by a benediction pronounced
by Dr. FurnessJfc
�*
LETTERS.
�THE FOLLOWING LETTERS WERE RECEIVED BY
THE COMMITTEE FROM PERSONS WHO
WERE UNABLE TO BE PRESENT.
�Sheffield, January 4th, 1875.
To the Committee of the First Congregational Society
of Unitarians.
Gentlemen : I am obliged and gratified by the invitation.
I wish that I could comply with it. It would have been a
great pleasure to me, to join the friends of your honored pastor,
in commemorating a ministry, not only so long, but otherwise
equally remarkable. I should like to be in your church on
that interesting evening of the 12th, to hear the pleasant things
that will be said, and to say some, perhaps, myself.
But I cannot, that is, I cannot take so long a winter journey.
I am not sure enough of my health and strength to venture
upon it. Will you give my love to Dr. Furness and his family,
and accept for yourselves and the society, the congratulations
with which I am,
Very truly yours,
Orville Dewey.
Hazelwood, Cambridge, January 6th, 1875.
Gentlemen : I feel very much honored and gratified by
your invitation to be present at the commemoration of Dr.
Furness’ settlement in the ministry in Philadelphia, but the
state of my health forbids me to accept the invitation. My
interest in your society dates from a still earlier period.
I have listened in your old Octagon Church to the preaching
of Mr. Taylor, and I believe of Mr. Vaughan, as well as
preached there repeatedly myself. For more than fifty years
I have been your pastor’s admirer and warm friend.
I heartily wish him future happy years of earthly life, and I
pray God that after his retirement from your service another
pastor may serve you with an ability and zeal not too inferior
to his.
I am, gentlemen,
Very respectfully,
Your obedient servant,
John G. Palfrey.
�86
Cambridge, January 1st, 1875.
Gentlemen : I regret very sincerely that college duties
render it impossible for me to accept your invitation. Regard
ing your pastor with equal reverence and affection, I should
deem it a great privilege to he present at the commemorative
services, from which imperative necessity alone would detain
me.
I am, gentlemen,
Very truly yours,
A. P. Peabody.
Hingham, January 4th, 1875.
Gentlemen : I thank my dear friend, Dr. Furness, and the
committee for thinking of me at this time. I should he so very
happy to be with you, and join in all the expressions of respect
and love for one whose long and faithful ministry has earned
the esteem and confidence of all who know him. Beside this,
Dr. Furness and I alone continue in the ministry, of those who
were classmates in th® Divinity School and, I think, in College.
Give my love to your pastor. I need not wish him a happy
old age. That blessing is assured to him by his fidelity to his
convictions of truth and duty through life.
Very respectfully,
Calvin Lincoln.
Cambridge, January 5th, 1875.
Gentlemen : I received your invitation to be present at the
observance of •the fiftieth anniversary of the settlement of your
pastor, Dr. Furness* It would give me great pleasure to attend.
But I do not feel at liberty to be absent from my regular duty
so long as would be required.
No occasion of the kind so significant has occurred for many
years. For fifty years Dr. Furness has stood at his post, and
manfully defended the cause of what he deemed Divine Truth
and Divine Right. He has never failed to hold up the highest
standard of private and public duty. He has made no abate
ment from the truth in his utterance of it, nor deformed it by
an immoral spirit. For fifty years he has been an untiring
student of the life of Jesus Christ in the four gospels, seeking
�87
to bring to light the reality of that life, the internal evidence
of the truthfulness of the original record of it, and the moral
grandeur and spiritual beauty of the life itself. He has followed
in no servile spirit, but with original force of thought, his great
teacher, Mr. Norton, from whom, differing in many things, he
caught the impulse to this line of inquiry, this work of love, in
which his merit has been unique, his service one never to be
forgotten. To this it may be added, with Bini versal consent,
that his living example has been in harmony with the great
subject of his studies, and has done as much as that of any
minister to show the worth of the officwaf spiritual instructor
to a generation too ready to distrust those whoMbxercise it.
Though not many years younger, I have the habit of looking
up to him, and he is one of tho^ntjrgn whom inspiration and
strength have flowed into my soul
needed.
I am, brethren, yours in Christian fellowships with thanks
for your kind invitation, and MilEannatMbwith you in all
that belongs to a most memorable occasion.
Oliver Stearns.
Roxbur^j Mass., January 7th, 1875.
Dear Sirs : I very much regret that the state of my health
forbids my being pres e® at the commemoration, not of the
close, thank God! but of the close of the first fifty years of the
ministry of Dr. Durness. I regret it not only on account of my
personal affection for the minister, but because it has been a
ministry eminently after my own heart, one th®I admire ex
ceedingly. What I know of it is derived onlv from glimpses
and intuitions, and will be filled out and corrected by the fuller
face-to-face knowledge of the
It has looked to me
at this distance as a ministry of a mild and quiet type, as of one
that doth not strive nor cry, neither doth any man hear his
voice in the streets. Other ministries have been more effective
as the multitude measures efficiency, dealing with larger crowds,
using more complex agencies, and touching society at more
numerous points of interest and with intenser action; but within
its own sphere St has dealt with a profoundness, and fidelity not
elsewhere surpassed with the soul’s greatest interests, uncom
promising in its absolute loyalty to truth and right, always
taking the highest ground, always elevated and elevating,
�88
always searching, quickening, soothing, sanctifying to heart
and conscience, a lifelong dispensary of Sermons from the
Mount.
The specialty of this ministry, it seems to me, has been the
unfolding of the personality and character of Jesus of Nazareth.
I do not believe there is a pulpit in Christendom that has done
so much to penetrate the heart and life of the Master to its
inmost depths, and open its riches to the sympathies and ac
ceptance of men, as that Philadelphia pulpit for the last fifty'
years. Every shade and turn of thought, every gleam of
emotion heavenward and earthward, all the sweet humanity
and grand divinity of that wonderful soul, have been discerned
and delineated there as never elsewhere, I think, and dwelt on
with all the earnest zeal and affectionate faith of a disciple, and
all the enthusiastic appreciation of an artist—dwelt on almost
too exclusively one might think, were it not done by one who
knew how to draw all living waters from that one well, and
bring up all the gold and gems of the moral and spiritual uni
verse from that one mine. I have no doubt this has been done
in this case, so far as any single mind can be comprehensive
and all-sided enough to do it.
The ministry which you commemorate has been singularly
self-conta^ed, that is, has been carried on apart from all official
and organic connection with other ministries, without denomina
tional bonds, with no outside ties except those of a fraternal and
genial spirit. I sympathize with the characteristics of Dr.
Furness’ ministry; my own has been conducted on a similar
plan, though I fear with less fixedness of principle, and less
consistency»©f action. Most of our brethren will call this our
fault, our limitation. Well, they are the majority, and must
decide that point; only I am sure they will have the charity to
own that we, being such as we are, could do no otherwise.
You of Philadelphia do not need reminding; but I want to
express my own appreciation of the manner in which the ministry
you celebrate has all along been adorned, refined, deepened, and
broadened by literary studies and artistic taste and culture,
bringing to that ministry contributions, or rather an aroma
and innumerable subtle and sweet influences from all realms of
spiritual beauty and fragrance and sunshine.
Shall I dare in such a letter as this to make allusion to the
way that looks to me so felicitous, in which the church in the
�89
sanctuary has been supplemented by “the church in the house?”
To my eye and my remembrance the home in Pine Street, and
the church on Locust and Tenth, in the hospitable, genial, cheer
ful, affectionate, and ever gracious spirit that pervaded them
both, were always the counterparts and archetypes of one an
other, each reflecting what was best and brightest and holiest
in the other.
Though this long ministry has been characteristically so quiet
and even and suave, it has had epochs and aspects, or one at
least, of the kind, in presence of which the earth is shaken, and
principalities and powers are prostrated. We may have doubted
the wisdom and necessity of the course taken by our brother;
but we cannot fail to recognize the sublime moral grandeur of
clear and strong conviction® adhered to and acted on, with im
movable persistence, at all risks and at all cost, and though the
heavens fall. We should be blind B>t to discern there the stuff
of which martyrs were made, and the spirit that bore the meek
and gentle Jesus to his cross.
Perhaps my mind has dwelt more on the jubilee from the
fact that if all had gone well with me, I should have been the
next among the liberal ministers, so far as I know, to have been
entitled to such an occasion for myself. I have had my nine
lustra, and if the tenth fail why should I complain ? I can still
rejoice with all my heart in the well-earned honors and happi
ness of my well-beloved friend and brother in Philadelphia.
Very truly yours,
George Putnam.
106 Marlborough Street,
Boston, January 4th, 1875.
Dear Sirs : I am deeply indebted to you for the very kind
invitation to be present at the fiftieth anniversary of Dr. Fur
ness’ settlement. I regret to say that I cannot leave my work
at that time.
I am sure that you have reason to thank God and take courage
as you look back upon the half century. Dr. Furness has served
nobly both in Church and State, and has done much to show
that the two are indeed one.^ My warmest wishes accompany
him as he enters upon his green old age, which surely lacks
nothing that should go along with it. May he have the out12
�90
ward strength, as he is sure to have the inward desire, to speak
to you and for you these many years.
Gratefully and sincerely yours,
Rufus Ellis.
Portland, Maine, January 4th, 1875.
It is with great regret that I find myself unable to accept
your kind invitation to be present at the fiftieth anniversary of
the settlement of the Rev. Dr. Furness.
During the whole of that fifty years, and it embraces all my
life excepting the seven years of infancy, I have had near rela
tions and friends among the parishioners and lovers of Dr. Fur
ness, so that my interest in the occasion is almost personal.
But I am obliged to be in Philadelphia a fortnight later, and
cannot possibly spare the time for both journeys.
With the most cordial congratulations for both pastor and
people, and the hope of many happy returns of the season, I
remain,
Very respectfully and truly yours,
Thomas Hill.
Cambridge, Mass., January 2d, 1875.
Gentlemen : I am very sorry that I cannot accept your kind
invitation to be present at the fiftieth anniversary of the settle
ment of Dr. Furness as your minister.
The fact of so long a pastorship is itself noteworthy in these
days of change; but, in this case, we have all a special right to
be sharers in your joy, since we have received our part in the
fruit of your minister’s labors during these fifty years. Dr.
Furness has set an example, rare in these days of divided and
superficial work, not only by his devotion to a single parish
during so long a period, but also by his consecration to one
chosen line of thought. He selected the noblest theme and
gave his life to it, and made us all his debtors. With thanks
for your kind invitation, and congratulations for minister and
people,
I am, yours very truly,
C. C. Everett.
�91
Boston, January 9th, 1875.
Gentlemen : Since I heard that your jubilee was proposed I
have hoped to be able to be present, but I am, at the last moment,
disappointed. I think our friends in Philadelphia must under
stand that they are only a very small part of the multitude of
people who are grateful to Dr. Furness for the labors and the
love of his wonderful life. So soon as we who were then
youngsters found out how he preached, we used to say we would
walk fifty miles barefoot to hear him, if there were no other
way to enjoy that privilege. But even more than the preaching,
it was the reading of the books, and the living picture which
they gave us of the Saviour’s life, that set us on a track of
preaching and of thought wholly new.
Let me congratulate the congregation on his health and
strength, and pray express for a multitude of us our love and
gratitude to him.
' Truly yours,
Edward E. Hale.
Dorchester, Mass., January 10th, 1875.
Gentlemen : I have delayed replying to your letter of in
vitation to be present with you on the 12th instant, because,
while my very earnest desire was to accept it, and my heart
spontaneously said “yes,” there were circumstances making it
questionable whether I could. Those circumstances, I am sorry
to have now to say, have decided for me that I must deny my
self the hoped-for pleasure.
I can do no less, gentlemen, than express to you, and those
for whom you act, my sincere thanks for this thought of me in
such connection, and for including me among the friends of
your minister who were considered worthy to be gathered
around him on such an occasion.
Though I can hardly believe that my presence would add
anything to the enjoyment of it, I think no one will enter more
heartily than I should into all that belongs to it for memory
and sentiment and affection and benediction.
Your minister seems very near to me as he is very dear. My
acquaintance with him dates back to his boyhood. He is most
intimately associated in memory, as he was in fact, with those
nearest to me of my early home, whose love for him I shared;
�92
a love joined with admiration for his dispositions and gifts.
They are all gone to whom I allude; and the more tenderly for
that does my heart, as if hearing their love with its own, em
brace him and this occasion.
And the feelings inspired by those earlier memories towards
him whom in this occasion you so deservedly honor have been,
I hardly need say, continually deepening, as I have followed
him through his life since, and seen the promise our hearts
cherished in him unfold towards a-fulfilment so beautiful and
rich.
Most heartily do I congratulate the members of his society in
the privilege they have enjoyed in him whose very presence has
been a benediction, and whose life, in its simplicity and sanctity
and humble heroism and self-devoting fidelity, has given such
empowerment to his words, and won for them such place in
many hearts beyond those who have been the immediate re
cipients of them.
Much more is in my heart to say; less I could not, in justice
to myself, and as a fitting response (the most so in my power to
make) to your very kind invitation.
If I may be allowed to add what is so wholly personal to my
self, I would say that the memories which connect myself with
your church as being the first I ever preached in, forty-one
years ago, and the memories of those of it who so kindly re
ceived me (so many of whom have passed away), have deepened
my desire towards an occasion of such varied and touching
interest. With the prayer that heaven’s blessing may rest upon
minister and people,
I am, respectfully yours,
Nathaniel Hall.
Baltimore, Md., January 5th, 1875.
Very many thanks for your kind invitation. I havea wedding
on the night of January 12th, which I fear, as I have not, so far,
been able to postpone or advance, will prevent my going to Phila
delphia. I have not given up all hope yet. I wish to assure
you of the great pleasure I would take in witnessing the celebra
tion of an event, so marked in our common history, and so full
of inspiration to a young man like myself, and I hope that
beautiful life which has so blessed you through these years,
�93
may be spared to repeat, in your midst, that old story, which
he has made so living, of God’s great mercy and love made real
in the divine life on earth. With greetings and congratulations,
I am most truly,
C. R. Weld.
St. Louis, January 4th, 1875.
Dear Sirs : Your kind invitation to be present at the com
memoration of the fiftieth anniversary of Dr. Furness’ settle
ment in Philadelphia was to-day received, and I wish for my
own sake that I could accept it. But my engagements here
are such as to make it impossible for me to leave St. Louis, and
I must be content to stay at home. Dr. Furness was one of my
earliest friends and guides, to whom I have always looked up
with sincere affection and respect. He officiated at my mar
riage with the best woman that ever lived, and I associate him
with all the purest happiness and success of my own life.
William Henry Furness : For fifty years of faithful service,
the brave and consistent advocate, in good report and evil re
port, of Freedom, Truth, and Righteousness : May his last days
still be his best days.
I remain, very truly yours,
W. G. Eliot.
Chicago, January 26th, 1875.
Gentlemen : When you sent me an invitation to be present
at the fiftieth anniversary of the settlement of my dear friend
and yours, I felt sure I should be able to come. My youngest
boy had been sick then for some weeks, so that I could only
leave him a few hours at a time, and for the most imperious
reasons. But on the Saturday he was so much worse that I
had to telegraph I feared I could not leave him at that time.
There can be but few reasons in a man’s whole lifetime so
strong as mine was then for coming to Philadelphia, but the
poor little fellow begged I would be with him through a very
dangerous operation the surgeons had to perform on the day I
should have been with you, from which we were not sure he
could rally.
Pardon me for touching with this private sorrow your ex
�94
ceeding joy, and accept this for my reason why I have not
written sooner.
I did not want to intrude these things at all even into the
blessed after-taste of your festival. But as it seems to me no
man on the earth could be so strongly drawn to that festival as
I was, from any distance, I cannot say another word until you
know the whole reason why I was not with you.
For my debt of gratitude to Dr. Furness takes precedence of
my love for him asone of the truest friends a man ever had,
and as my peerless preacher of “ the truth as it is in Jesus,”
some years before I emigrated to America, my soul clove to
him as I sat one day in a little thatched cottage in the heart of
Yorkshire and read “ The Journal of a Poor Vicar.”
I never expected to see him in the flesh then, but I remember
how I cherished that exquisite little thing among my choicest
treasures ; read it over and over again; spoke of it to other lads
of a like mind with my own, and got a worth out of it I had
not then begun to get out of sermons.
I knew also, when I got to Philadelphia, that I could hear
my man preach if I wanted to, and made out where the church
was; but I had been taught from my childhood to give such
churches a wide berth, and had not the sense to see that the
well, out of which I had drawn such sweet waters in England,
must still be flowing with some such blessing in America. So
that mighty movement that ended in breaking the fetters from
the slave, had to break mine, and then it was not very long before
I stole into theltdjhurch one dismal Sunday night, when being
good Unitarians, all but about a dozen of you, you had your
feet in slippers on the fender.
It was not a sermon, but a talk about Jesus; and how he
washed their feet, and what they saw, and what he said, and
how it all came home to the preacher; but as I went home I
thought, as so many have done time and time again, if that is
Unitarianism I am a Unitarian.
When again I met my author and preacher at the house of my
friend, Edward M. Davis, it did not take long for my gratitude
to grow into love. He was positively the first minister of the
sort we call “ ministers in good standing,” except Mrs. Lu
cretia Mott, who had not tried to patronize me, and put up the
bars of a superior social station.
If I had been his younger brother, he could not have been
�95
more frank and tender and free of heart and hand. I suppose
he never thought of it for an instant, and that was where he
had me, or I should have put up my bars. For, in those days,
I guess I was about as proud as Lucifer. So, it was a great
pride and joy in 1857, to be invited to preach in his pulpit,
while he went off to marry another son in the faith, Moncure
D. Conway, to be the guest, for that day, of your minister’s
family, to have Mrs. Furness and the children treat me like
a prince and a preacher all in one, and to have a glorious good
time altogether, as any man ever had in this world.
Being good Unitarians again in those days, at least half of
you ran off to hear Brother Chapin in the morning, who was
preaching somewhere round the corner, just as my people run
now to hear Brother Swing when I am away, and have to sup
ply with some man they never heard of. I have never quite
forgiven Chapin for preaching there that Sunday.
But Annie Morrison was there, and the very elect, who are
always there, and on the next Sunday, when I preached again,
the rest were there, and the glory of the Lord seemed to me to
fill the house, and so your church is to me one of the most
precious places on earth. I came to it as the men of Israel
went to Zion, and all these years have but deepened and purified
my love for the good old place. Where I first heard the truth
which met at once my reason and my faith, and where, within
a church, for the first time I felt I was perfectly free.
And so it is, that I dare not write down the sum of my love
for my friend and his family, as 1 could not have told it if I
had come down. I feel I am under bonds not to do it; I can
only hint at it.
He got used to blame in the old sad days, when he could not
count such hosts of lovers and friends outside his own church
as he can now, but he will never get used to praise. Some men
don’t. I must say, however, that I do not see how I should
ever have made my way into our blessed faith, had he not opened
the door for me; or found my way to Chicago but for his faith
that I was the man they wanted here ; or done anything I have
ever been able to do half so well, but for his generous encour
agement, or found my life at all so full of sunshine, as it has
been so many years, had he not given me of his store.
Now and then, the ways of God do visibly strike great har
monies in life and history, and this perfecting of the circle of
�96
fifty years in the ministry of my dear friend, is one of the har
monies of life. He has seen the travail of his soul for the slave,
and is satisfied.
He has lived through the days when the majority of Uni
tarians were content with being not very unlike the Orthodox,
into the days when the Orthodox are not content, if they are
not very like Unitarians, and he has done one of the heaviest
strokes of work in bringing this resolution about.
And he has lived to prove to those of us who may wonder
sometimes, what is coming when we have preached to our
people a few more years; and it gets to be an old story, how a
man may preach right along, just as long as he can stand, and
then sit down to it as Jesus did on the Mount; grow better all
the time; win a wider and truer hearing at the end of fifty
years than he has at the end of twenty-five ; and then, when he
is “ quite worn out with age,” may cry, “ Lord, now lettest thy
servant depart in peace according to thy word, for mine eyes
have seen thy salvation.”
Surely yours,
Robert Collyer.
�97
The following extracts are taken from the Liberal
Christian and Christian Register :
“ On Tuesday of next week, January 12th, there will be a
very simple celebration of a deeply interesting occasion. It
will then be fifty years since Rev. Dr. Furness was installed as
pastor of the First Congregational Unitarian Church in Phila
delphia. Next Sunday the venerable pastor will deliver an
appropriate discourse. Tuesday he will receive callers at his
house, and in the evening therecwill be a meeting at the church.
Brief addresses are expected from friends, whose homes are in
Missouri, Illinois, Maryland, NeiB, Yor^j, and New England.
“ At the installation^^; the 12th of January, 1825, Rev. Wil
liam Ware, of New Yo^, aged tflfent^fevayyears, offered the
introductory prayer and read from the Scriptures ; Rev. Henry
Ware, Jr., of Boston, aged thirty years, prfegghed the sermon,
mostofwhich we intend torepringpext week; Rev. Dr. Bancroft,
of Worcester, in his seventieth year, offered the ordaining prayer
and gave the charge ; and Rev^Ezra’jj'. Gannett, aged twentythree years, gave the fellowship of the chUBches and offered the
concluding prayer. Dr. Furness himself wasBisiffigaty-two years
old, having been graduated at Harvard College when he was
only eighteen. None of those who took the prominent parts in
the service are now living pH^Kirth. Dr. Gannett and the
Wares, though then in all the strength and promise of their
early manhood, have followed good old Dr. Bancroft to the
heavenly home.
“ Dr. Furness was installed a few weeks before the ordinations
of Rev. Drs. Alexander Young and Samuel Barrett. Th<aservices were reported in the first numb^ of thdjpecond volume of
the Christian Examiner, and in the fourth volume of the Chris
tian Register. It was four months before the organization of
the American Unitarian Association. James Monroe was Pres
ident of the United States. Boston had been a city only three
years, and had about fifty thousand inhabitants ; New York had
about a hundred and sixty thousand, and Philadelphia about a
hundred and forty thousand. It was the same year in which
the first public railway in England was opened, the passengers
being drawn by horse-power, although locomotives were soon
introduced. It was five years before Dr. Putnam’s settlement
13
�98
in Roxbury, nine years before Dr. Lothropwas called to Brattle
Square, ten years before Rev. N. Hall became junior pastor of
the Dorchester First Parish, and twelve years before Dr. Bartol
became Dr. Lowell’s colleague. Dr. Bellows, aged ten years,
and James Beeman Clarke, fourteen, were school-boys. Rev.
E. E. Hale was scarcely old enough to go to school, and Prof.
C. C. Everett had not been born. It was less than half a century
since the battles Lexington and Concord, and Thomas Jeffer
son and John Adams did not die until eighteen months after
wards. President Grant was then two years old.
“ During the whole of the last half century Dr. Furness has
remained faithfully at his lonely post. He has had no colleague
and no very long vacation, we believe. In addition to his pul
pit work he has written some admirable books, besides trans
lating others. Great changes have occurred in public opinion.
Eight years after the beginning of his ministry in Philadelphia
the American Antislavery Society was formed in that city.
He did not join it immediately, but before long he enlisted in
the ranks of the abolitionists, and neither blandishments nor
threats ever caused him to desert from the forlorn hope of free
dom. For many years, when almost every other pulpit of that
great town., so near the borders of Slave States, was dumb
concerning the national sin, Dr. Furness’ silver trumpet gave
no uncertain sound. Whoever might come, and whoever might
go, he was resolved to be |aithful to the slave. The despised
and rejected champion®of liberty were always sure of his sup
port. When Charles Sumner, struck down by the bludgeon of
the slave power, needed rest and healing, he sought them in the
neighborhood and society of Dr. Furness. Together they visited
the hill country, and mingled their congenial spirits in high
discourse of truth and righteousness. We are glad that at last,
with grateful ears, our venerated brother heard liberty pro
claimed throughout all the land to all the inhabitants thereof.
To know that he contributed to this blessed result must be the
grand satisfaction of his life, more precious than any pride of
authorship or professional success. His whole soul must respond
to Whittier’s declaration that he set a higher value to his name
as appended to an early antislavery declaration than on the
title-page of any book. ‘ I cannot be sufficiently thankful to
the Divine Providence which turned me so early away from
�99
what Roger Williams calls “ the world’s great trinity, pleasure,
profit and honor,” to take side with the poor and oppressed.
Looking over a life marked by many errors and shortcomings,
I rejoice that
“ ‘ My voice, though not the loudest, has been heard
Wherever Freedom raised her cry of pain?
“ But while Dr. Furness must look back with profoundest
gratitude upon the great triumph of justice which he helped to
secure, he cannot be indifferent to the theological progress which
has led to wide and cordial acceptance of many of his dearest
opinions. Once he was one of a small number of Humanitarians
associated with a great majority of Arians. Now the Arians
are nearly extinct, and the divine humanity of Jesus is almost
orthodox Unitarianism. No other individual has done more
to bring this about than the Philadelphia pastor who has made
it the study of his life to understand the spirit and to portray,
in glowing yet truthful tints, the matchless character of the Son
of man. He has been well entitled ‘the Fifth Evangelist.’
None of the ancient narrators ever lingered so fondly over
every trait of him who was touched with a feeling of our in
firmities, and made perfect through suffering. He has rendered
the sympathy of Christ so actual and available that it is a
familiar help to thousands of tried and lonely human souls, to
whom traditional dogmas could give no comfort or strength.
“ We have heard that Dr. Furness is about to retire from the
professional responsibilities which he has borne so long and so
well. It will be a richly earned repose, and yet we cannot
endure the thought that he is to desist wholly from preaching
while his eye is undimmed and his natural vigor scarcely
abated. We heard him last summer with rare satisfaction and
delight, and we wish he could be induced to speak oftener at
our general gatherings. We have thought a great many times,
and perhaps we have said so before, in these columns, that,
owing largely to force of circumstances, Dr. Furness has borne
too close a resemblance to Wordsworth’s Milton whose ‘soul
was like a star, and dwelt apart.’ It is too late now for him
to be in the slightest danger of becoming too social or gregarious.
We wish, most heartily, that he would sometimes meet with
the thousands of our laymen and the hundreds of our ministers
�100
to whom he is personally a stranger, never seen, and never
heard, and yet they regard him with affectionate gratitude and
veneration which it would do them good to express, and not
harm him in the least to receive. Let us fondly hope, then, that
at the semi-centennial celebration of the American Unitarian
Association, or at the next National Conference, we may hear
from this beloved father in our Israel some of those words of
wisdom, truth, and beauty which it is still his mission to speak.”
—Christian Register.
'
“ Philadelphia, January 12th, 1875.
“ It is safe to predict that not even the powerful attractions
of the National Centennial Exposition will call to this city as
many of our UnitaSwn clergy as gathered here to-night to cele
brate the semi-centennial of the settlement of Dr. William H.
Furness. It is an went to which for some time past many of
his absent friends have looked eagerly forward in anticipation
of its peculiar interestA«gnifi<^nce. Pastorates of fifty years
can never be common, and have rarely furnished the necessary materials for the heartiest and sincerest sort of congratulation.
But here was an occasion of which the anticipations were all of
the pleasantest and most unclouded kind, where everybody felt
that it would be a personal privilege to say a congratulatory
Amen with everybody else, and to say it heartily and sincerely.
Dr. Furness' quiet but intensely individual ministry in
this city of Brotherly Love is too widely known among Uni
tarians to m®ke any merq mention of the fact at all necessary,
but to speak of
and justly would be to write a vol
ume; ample materials Hr which, however, are, we are glad to
say, not wanting. But our word must be only of the event of
to-day.
“ The celebration began, we hear, early in the morning at the
pastor’s house, where he^g® delightwlly surprised by the sweet
carols of children’s voices. In the afternoon a large concourse
of friends went to greet him at his home, where beautiful flow
ers scented the air and smiling faces vied with each other in the
expression of sincere respect and love.
“ This evening the old church is beautifully and richly dressed
with evergreens. Below the pulpit is a solid mass of rare trop
ical plants most tastefully arranged, the whole surmounted by
�101
baskets of the choicest flowers. The most conspicuous features
of the decorations are the significant numbers 1825-1875, worked
in small white flowers on either side of the pulpit.
“The old church is full of the Doctor’s parishioners and
friends, the front seats beingpccupied by the invited guests from
abroad. Among the clergy present we Noticed Drs. Lothrop,
Morison, Clarke, Bartol, Bellows, Thompson, A. P. Putnam,
and Rev. Messrs. White, E. H. Hall, Shippen, Ware, Ames,
Israel, Mumford, Gannett, Chadwick, a®t’.®®s®ral others.
“ Dr. Furness had protested against hispersfljnal participation
in this elaborate and deliberate feasit of Prai,s^,. bisfrl the timely
suggestion that his absence might be^|nterprS$ed as a quiet ‘ bid ’
for unlimited adulation proved too atiMSging lferthe equanimity
of even his modesty, so he came and occupied a retired seat near
the door.
“The proceedings were of the^^^^>lesit'^ttd most informal
kind—a genuine love-feast, with more fullness of heart than of
utterance. Yet there was nrf ladfflaf pleasant, hearty words.
After an anthem, with soloi by the accomplished ^hoir, which
seemed to have been augmented and specially drilled for the
occasion, the Chairman of the C®amittee of Arrangements wel
comed the guests and assembled company, and asked Dr. Mor
ison to offer prayer. After a sopfafto solo, the first speech of
the evening was made by Rev. J. F. W. Ware|(whose father,
Henry Ware, had preached Dr. Fu3FBessM®rdination Sermon.
Dr. Furness then came forward^ bearing two communion cups
which had just been recededasa token .^•'remembrance from
our church in Baltimore. He expressed his pleasure at this
expression of affectionate sym|fet'hy, psfetring, incidentally, to
the peculiar method of celebrating the communioffifin his church,
bread and wine not being partaken of, but being placed on the
table only as symbols of the preci«0&things they stand for.
“ William Gannett, whose father gave the right hand of fel
lowship at Dr. Furness’ ordination, said that this was the
principal reason for his presence here to-night. His modest,
cordial words were followed by others, from Rev. E. H. Hall
and Dr. Lothrop. Dr. J. F. Clarfe thqnWead an original
poem, in which, in strong and eloquent words, he commended
Dr. Furness’ earnest and persistent efforts to present more
clearly to the world the living Jesus as distinguished from the
�102
theological or sentimental Christ. Dr. Bartol and Dr. Thomp
son then added their cordial testimony of appreciation. Mr.
Chadwick read a lovely original poem, full of appreciative
references to some of Dr. Durness’ more distinguished cotem
poraries. Messrs. Shippen, Mumford, White, and Ames, each
said a few words, and Dr. Bellows finished the sweet symphony
of praise with a genial portraiture of Dr. Furness, thanking
the Lord that no amount of culture had in any respect weak
ened the vigorous manhood of his friend, and that God made
him just what he is.
“ After music, and a benediction by Dr. Furness, the large
company separated, evidently deeply pleased by the many
hearty testimonies of the evening.”—Liberal Christian.
“Yesterday morning, at seven o’clock, the pupils of Madame
Seiler, an accomplished teacher of music, and author of several
excellent text-books '(gave a serenade to Dr. Furness and his
household. It must have been a delightful surprise to the
awakened family when the sweet sounds began to ascend from
the hall below, where the singers, according to the RwWe&n,
stood 1 candle in hand,’ and paid this delicate and welcome
complimenMin the good old German style. Between the hours
of twelve and six, hundreds of parishioners and friends called
to congratulate the honored pastor upon the successful comple
tion of his half century of service. Most of the time the rooms
were thronged, and such an array of bright and happy faces is
seldom seen. Anfc®fi?he guests who were present during our
brief stay we noticed the Doctor’s children and grandchildren,
Prof. Goodwin, of Harvard University, and Mrs. Eustis,
daughter of Rev. Dr. W. E. Channing.
“ Last evening there was a driving storm of sleet and rain, hut
the church was packed again. The floral display was equal to
that of Sunday. Among the changes we observed that the
large figures ‘1825’ and ‘1875,’ above the pulpit, were made
of pure white flowers instead of white and red as before. After
prayer by Rev. Dr. Morison, Mr. Henry Winsor, Chairman of
the Committee of Arrangements, made a felicitous welcoming
and introductory speech.
“The first clerical speaker was Rev. J. F. W. Ware, son and
nephew of the young Wares who, fifty years before, had taken
�103
prominent parts at the installation service. His remarks were
full of the warmest affection for Dr. Furness, and the tenderest
allusions to the love cherished for his Philadelphia ‘ brother ’
by Henry Ware, Jr. Agreeably to the request of the com
mittee, Mr. Ware asked Rev. W. C. Gannett to follow him.
Mr. Gannett’s father gave Dr. Furness the right hand of fellow
ship, and Mr. Gannett had just been reading the manuscript
copy of that earnest address, on his way to Philadelphia in the
'cars. His speech was eminently appropriate and impressive.
He was followed by Rev. E. H. Hallflof Worcester, suc
cessor of Rev. Dr. Bancroft, who gave the charge at the in
stallation half a century before, and son of Rev. Dr. E. B. Hall,
who was Dr. Furness’ townsman friend, classmate, and room
mate. After most appreciative mention of the noble labors of
our fathers, Mr. Hall spoke eloquently*<of the peculiar work
which each generation has to do for ’jtSelf and the world. Rev.
Drs. Lothrop, Clarke, Bartolj Thompson, A. P. Putnam, and
Bellows, and Messrs. ChaAwick, ShippenMWhite, Mumford,
and Ames were called upon, and the most of them responded;
but we have no space w*tl®H remarks this week. Next week
wTe hope to find rooni for a report, but now we must content
ourselves with copying from the Bulletin the poems which
were read.
“ Before quoting them, however, we must not forget to say
that Dr. Furness spoke twice in the course of the evening, the
first time acknowledging the gift ®f some communion cups
from the church in Baltimore to the church in Philadelphia.
It was hard to believe that thif graceful and happy speaker,
with as fresh a voice as that of the youngest man heard that
evening, and saying the brightest and merriest things of the
hour, could be the venerMfflpastog whose semi-centennial we
were celebrating ; but we presume that there is not the slightest
doubt of the fact. And we must also remember to state that
among the gifts from parishioners and friends were some elegant
mantel ornaments, and the complete and original manuscript
of Charles Lamb’s 1 Dissertation on Roast Pig.* The Bulletin
says that this unique and interesting present was ‘ secured as a
Christmas gift at a recent sale in London, and handsomely
mounted and bound in large folio form.’
Christian Register.
�104
W. H. F.
“ THE FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY.”
BY WM. C. GANNETT.
Fifty times the years have turned
Since the heart within him burned,
With its wistfulness to be
An apostle sent of Thee.
Closely in his Master’s tread
Still to follow, till he read,
Tone of voice and look of face,
Print of wound and sign of grace.
Beading there for fifty years,
Pressing after, till the tears
And the smiles would come and go
At the self-same joy and woe-^
Sharing with him shouts of Mad ! ”
When the bold front to the bad
Bent to pluck the “ little ones ”
From the feet of fellow-sons—
Sharing in his inner peace,
But not sharing the release,
He is with us while thglchimes
Ring his “ Well done” fifty times.
Listening boys across the field
Pledge a hope they may not yield :
Are they listening from the air —
Boys who started with him there ?
�REV. DR. FURNESS’ RESIGNATION.
14
�On Thursday, January. 14th, 1875, Dr. Furness sent the fol
lowing letter/<to the Society, resigning the charge of the pulpit
into their hands—
�107
TO THE MEMBERS OF THE FIRST CONGREGA
TIONAL CHURCH.
My very dear Friends : While the measure of health and
strength still granted me demands my most thankful acknowl
edgments, and while I ^jgaMinexpressib wwat.efnl for the re
cent manifestations of your affectionate regMkll
admon
ished by the ending of fifty years of service as your minister,
and by the time of life that I have
only a little
while remains to me at the longest. I am moved, therefore,
to resign the charge of the pulpit into your hands. How could
I have borne it Mog bwM|r your fetjj^^^ManidBsteadfast
friendship ? I recogniz® a salutary discipline in the necessity
which I have been^nde® al 1 EgSaSpars of ^^MjmBIpsaat.ion
for the Sunday sHg|age. It is good, as I have learned, for a
man to bear the yoJke in
and even in middle age ;
but now, when only a fragment of lim^remafes.^jte^^pyould
fain be released from thl^fe Jwhwi neither timp^or custom
has rendered any ligMbdpnan Mm v
With the surrender of the pulpit you will understand of
course that I decline all farther pecuniary support. I beg leave
respectfully to suggest thatjiMsome time«ome the pulpit be
supplied by settled ministers, so that nothing shall be done
hastily in the matter of deciding upon my successor. More
over, for all other pastoral offices, I shall be at your service,
remaining always your devoted friend, and in undying affec
tion,
Your pastor, :
W. H. ^Furness.
January 14th, 1875.
�108
At a meeting of the Society held in the church Saturday
evening®January 23dSjl871Wt was voted that the following
letter should be sent to Dr. Furness, accepting his resignation,
andiffigBthe Trustees should sign the same oh behalf of the
Society.
�109
FIRST CONGREGATIONAL UNITARIAN CHURCH.
Philadelphia, January 25th, 1875.
Dear Dr. Furness : The members of this Society have re
ceived with sorrow your letter of the 14th inst., in which you
resign the charge of the pulpit which you have filled so long,
with so much ability and so much to their satisfaction.
Although we deeply regret the existence of the circumstances,
which in your opinion have made the step necessary, we ac
knowledge the justice of permitting you to judge freely of the
force of the reasons in its favor, which have governed you in
coming to your decision; and though we feel it would be a
great privilege to us to have the pastoral relation continued
through the coming years, during which we fondly hope you
may be spared to us, yet we acquiesce in the propriety of promptly
acceding to the wish for relief which you have so decidedly ex
pressed both in your letter and verbally to the committee ap
pointed at our meeting on the 19th inst., to ask you to recon
sider your action and to withdraw your resignation. It would
he ungrateful for us to do otherwise, and would show on our
part a want of proper appreciation of the value of your longcontinued labors thus to make what must be to you in itself a
painful act still more painful.
We cannot fully express in words our thankfulness that the
relation between us has remained unbroken through so many
years, and that, though the formal tie may now be severed,
we are yet permitted to see you face to face, to hear your voice,
to press your hand, and to know that you are among us.
For the reasons which you have presented, and because you
so earnestly desire it, because it is our wish to do, at whatever
loss to ourselves, that which will bo most grateful to you, and
thus to manifest in the strongest way wo can our appreciation
of our privileges in the past, and with the hope that for years
�110
to come you may be with us and of us, we regretfully accept
your resignation, and remain, on behalf of the Society,
Your affectionate friends,
Henry Winsor,
Lucius H. Warren,
Dawes E. Furness,
Joseph E. Raymond,
John Sellers, Jr.,
Enoch Lewis,
Charles H. Coxe,
Trustees.
This letter was read at the meeting of the congregation, held
on Saturday evening, January 23d, 1875, was approved, and
the Trustees were instructed to sign it on behalf of the Society
and forward it to Dr. Furness.
Charles H. Coxe,
Secretary.
�INDEX.
PAGE
Preliminary Meetings, .
Dr. Furness’ Fiftieth Anniversary Discourse,
Extract from Forty-ninth Anniversary Discourse,
Commemorative Meeting,....................................... .
Prayer of Rev. John H. Morison, D.D.,
Remarks of Rev. J. F. W. WarM
“
“ Rev. W. C. Gannett,
.
“ Rev. E. H. Hall, flHH
“
“ Rev. S. K. Lothrop, D.D.,
“
“ Rev. J. F. Charlie, D.D.,
“
“ Rev. C. A. Bartol, D.D.,
“
“ Rev. J. F. Thompson, D.D.,
“
“ Rev. J. W. Chadwick, .
“
“ Rev. R. R. Shippen,
.
“
“ Rev. T. J. Mumfor^^JI
“
“ Rev. W. O. Whitey .
“
11 Rev. A. P. Putnam, D.D.,
“ Rev. C. G. Ames, .
.
“
“ Rev. H. W. Bellows, D.D.I
“
“ Rev. W. H. Furness, D.D.,
Letters,
Extracts from the “ Liberal Christian ”
“ Christian Register,” .
.
Poem, by W. C. Gannett,
Resignation of Rev. W. H. Furness, D.D.,
Letter of the Trustees,
,
3
9
28
41
42
44
48
49
51
55
57
61
66
70
72
72
74
76
77
81
83
AND
97
104
105
109
�I
�
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
Exercises at the meeting of the First Congregational Unitarian Society, January 12,1875, together with the discourse delivered by Rev. W.H. Furness, Sunday, Jan. 10, 1875 on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of his ordination, January 12, 1825
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Furness, W.H.
First Congregational Society of Unitarian Christians in the City of Philadelphia
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: Philadelphia
Collation: 110, [1] p. : ill. (with tissue guards) ; 23 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Contains index. Includes poem by W.C. Gannett and resignation of Rev. W.H. Furness.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Sherman & Co., printers
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1875
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
G5366
Subject
The topic of the resource
Unitarianism
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 (Exercises at the meeting of the First Congregational Unitarian Society, January 12,1875, together with the discourse delivered by Rev. W.H. Furness, Sunday, Jan. 10, 1875 on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of his ordination, January 12, 1825), 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
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
application/pdf
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Language
A language of the resource
English
Conway Tracts
First Congregational Society of Unitarian Christians in the City of Philadelphia
Sermons