2 10 28 https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/e283d347e0dd90761b4791eb7c1393c5.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=bz7D9GRcK0rEvgXxqCNfhfn4lU-8VwsmnzeMswCM46gIDdp4f%7E2FhwQrJ%7Eu2WL-4fTBpOCUKPYTCy-qi0i%7EfB8qOhjsrMkBHq9XKiQCibK%7EpqiRuO0gbCaHy%7E6aVal30A8%7EkjbONhA7t1e19MUjIBzUSHeljfyPLFp1PGnh6znBzad-lRBhPoMQQbCq1KVw7XcfYtcbvpLZn3SnRWi035dA7lchGLr5-EGrl7LnARNuOa-EdZo1hXXmPSJZSm7rkUOieG%7ExokbIF48AMofuTOulgpnNF2CrGUqbYBLzzl7vSHOwqDviWoMsHtwY5HkSdH3ALipLarPG4i2bPDQdNUA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM f3ff13130f1edaf1e9367a24a2f767ae PDF Text Text ^Ci5>d.i scourses ON OCCASION OF THE DEDICATION OF HOPE-STREET NEW CHURCH, ■/’A '< ", ■■ LIVERPOOL, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 18, AND SUNDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1849. * ■ ’■f ■ - BY REV. THOMAS MADGE. REV. JAMES MARTINEAU. REV. CHARLES WICKSTEED. LONDON: JOHN CHAPMAN, 142, STRAND. MDCCCXLIX. PRICE ONE SHILLING AND SIXPENCE. ��DISCOURSES ON OCCASION OF THE DEDICATION HOPE-STREET NEW CHURCH, LIVERPOOL, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 18, AND SUNDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1849. BY REV. THOMAS MADGE. REV. JAMES MARTINEAU. REV. CHARLES WICKSTEED. LONDON: JOHN CHAPMAN, 142, STRAND. MDCCCXLIX. �LONDON: PRINTED BY RICHARD KINDER, GREEN ARBOUR COURT, OLD BAILEY. �PREFACE. The occasion of the following Discourses was naturally one of great interest to the Society in whose service they were prepared. At the entrance of a new era in its con­ gregational history, it seemed fit that some comprehensive expression should be given to the aims which it proposes to realise, and the views of life which distinguish its in­ terpretation of Christianity. The immediate request for the publication of the Sermons justifies the hope that they fairly represent the state of mind and purpose with which the new Church is entered by its possessors; and that they may stand as a record of the time and connexion to which they belong. This circumstance gives to them a value not due to any intrinsic qualities of their own; and induces the preachers to consign them to a permanent form, less as original expressions of divine truth, than as marks in the ever-changing course of human sentiment. November 14, 1849. a2 �t item, t « v< * ~i' �THE DEDICATION OF THE CHRISTIAN TEMPLE TO THE WORSHIP AND SERVICE OF GOD. A SERMON, PREACHED ON THURSDAY, OCTOBER 18th, 1849, By THOMAS MADGE, MINISTER OF ESSEX STREET CHAPEE. �LONDON: PRINTED BY RICHARD KINDER, GREEN ARBOUR COURT, OLD BAILEY. �A SERMON. Already, my brethren, as it was meet that it should be so, has the voice which has so often given utterance to the devout sentiments of your hearts, and to which, after a period of silence, you must rejoice again to listen, — * already, I say, has that voice breathed forth the prayer of thanksgiving and the prayer of supplication becoming the occasion on which we are now assembled. Nevertheless, I cannot enter upon that part which has been allotted to me of this day’s service without once more beseeching Him whose favour is the primal source of all illumination, of all truth, and goodness, and happiness, to look merci­ fully upon us at this time, and graciously accept our humble endeavours to glorify his holy name. The words which I have chosen as introductory to the observations which I have now to address to you are taken from Acts i. 13, 14. “ And when they were come in, they went up into an upper room, where abode both Peter, and James, and John, with the other apostles. These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, with the women, and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brethren?' * The devotional services were introduced by the Rev. James Mar­ tineau, the Minister of the Church, who, since his return from the con­ tinent after an absence of more than a year, had now, for the first time, presented himself to his congregation. B 2 �Most interesting and affecting must this first meeting of the apostles and their companions have been after the trying scenes through which they had lately passed, and the dispersion of that cloud of doubts, and fears, and anxieties, which had so heavily hung over them. From the deep depression into which their minds had sunk as they fled from the garden of Gethsemane and the tragedy of the Cross, they had now risen into a state of hopeful, joyful expectation. For a brief season they had given up all as lost. They disappeared from the public eye, and it seemed, for a moment, as if a life of privacy and retire­ ment were henceforth the life most fitting for them to lead. But the sudden re-appearance among them of their risen and now ascended Lord dispelled their growing despondency, revived their expiring hopes, brought them again upon the open stage of life, and imparted to them fortitude and courage, patience and perseverance, untiring and unconquerable, in testifying to the truth of what they had seen and heard. It was when their hearts were thus re-assured, and their confidence was more than restored, that they assembled together in the upper room men­ tioned in the text, to call to mind those words and deeds of power and of love of which they had recently been the admiring witnesses,—to bow down in grateful acknow­ ledgements before God for the glorious issue of their Mas * ter’s labours and sufferings in his triumphant resurrection from the dead,—and to invoke the divine blessing upon their own future labours in the Christian cause. Here they had met to commune with one another on the new and important relation into which they had just entered, and the obligations and duties to which it summoned them. Hitherto, for the purposes of religious worship and instruction, they had assembled with their Jewish �5 brethren in the temple or the synagogue. Now they were associated together, expressly and purposely, as Christians, to dwell upon their Christian blessings and privileges, and to present unto God their thanksgivings and supplications in the name and as the disciples of Christ. This meeting, therefore, may be regarded as the type of all future churches, as indicating the purpose for which they were designed, and the end to which they should be subservient. It teaches us that, in entering the Christian temple, we should enter there to sit at the feet of Christ and learn of him; to meditate with the men of Galilee on mortality and immortality; and to unite our voices, in one blended song of praise and thanksgiving, that so they may go up in accepted chorus to the throne of God. Honourable alike is it, my friends, to your feelings and principles that it was in your heart, as it has been in your power, to raise up this beautiful structure for yourselves and families to worship in—de­ voting it, not to the interests and fashion of a world that passeth away, but to the interests and welfare of that higher life which shall not pass away. In this place, then, we have nothing to do with the wisdom of the schools, with the doctrines of human phi­ losophy, or the speculations of human ingenuity. I deny not that in other places, and at other times, they may well and properly occupy some share of your thoughts and attention, but here we have greater and more important topics to dwell upon, higher questions to resolve, a nobler science to learn, more grave and solemn lessons to attend to. The first and greatest truth with which we are here concerned is the existence and government of God. That he is, and that he is the rewarder of all who truly and �diligently seek him, is a proposition of momentous import, upon the reception or rejection of which awful and mo­ mentous consequences are made to depend. But with the nature of God we must necessarily be totally unac­ quainted. It is a subject embracing heights which we cannot ascend, and depths which we cannot fathom. What the divine essence is,' or in what manner God exists, is one of those things which are properly termed mysterious. It is hidden from our sight. It belongs not to us to inquire into it. It forms no part of our know­ ledge or of our belief. It lies completely out of the sphere of our understandings. But there is one truth concern­ ing the divine existence which it is not difficult for us to conceive of, nor unimportant for us to believe. It is a truth for which reason and revelation both earnestly plead ; and it is a truth which the history of the world shows to be intimately associated with the virtue and the happiness of man. That God is one; that he has no equal, no rival, but reigns absolute and alone, power above all powers, is the great pervading doctrine both of the Old Testament and the New. We, therefore, dedicate this Church to the worship of one only God. With the doctrine of the Divine Unity there is closely connected in the gospel of Christ that of God’s paternal character. It tells us that as we came from him we are dear to him ; that as he is our Father, so we are his chil­ dren. It assures us that he has not only given us all things richly to enjoy, causing his sun to shine and his rain to descend, that the earth might give her increase and bring forth food for the service of man, but that even darkness, and storms, and tempests, are his messengers for good, that his afflictions are in kindness sent, and that �7 he chastens us for our benefit. It speaks of God as our almighty friend who ever careth for us, and who, in call­ ing us into the ways of piety and virtue, calls us to the nearer and more perfect enjoyment of himself. It assures us that as in love God made us, so in love he sent Jesus Christ to redeem us, that with him there is no respect of persons, that what he demands of one he demands of all, that he pities our infirmities and hath compassion upon them that love him, and that all who sincerely repent of their sins will be equally the objects of his for­ giving mercy. These are glorious, delightful revelations of Almighty God, well fitted to cheer and encourage the good, to reclaim the bad from the error of their ways, and to melt the hard and obdurate heart into penitence and submission. We dedicate this Church to the service of God the Father, the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. In accordance with the view presented to us by our Saviour of the character of God, is the representation made by him of the duty of man. When asked what was necessary to be done in order to, secure the gift of eternal life, he answered plainly and distinctly, “ Keep the commandments • love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and mind, and strength, and thy neighbour as thyself; this do, and thou shalt live.” And when the Scribe acquiesced in this declaration, and acknowledged that there was no God but one, and that He alone was entitled to the supreme homage and affection of his creatures, Jesus turned to him and said, “ Thou art not far from the kingdom of heaven.” In like manner, when he gave to his followers a test of true discipleship, it was not subscription to an unmeaning creed, the adoption of some mysterious dogma, but it was the practical �8 application of the precept, Love one another. “ By this,” said he, “ shall all men know that ye are my disciples if ye have love one to another.’* Wherever he saw piety associated with charity, there he recognised the only bond by which man is connected with heaven, “ the only step or link for intercourse with God.” “ Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth, Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy, Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” Impressive and beautiful, however, as these words of our Lord are, it is in his life still more than in his words that we see and feel the power and the beauty of the doctrines which he taught. Thus explained and illustrated, they become clothed with a touching sense of reality and truth. They speak to the soul with a voice of power to which all its purer feelings beat responsive. When I see how he went about doing good, healing all manner of sickness and ministering to the sorrows of the sorrowful, how he pitied the erring and sought to reclaim the wandering, what compassion he had on the multitude and what sympathy he felt for their distresses,—when I see him mingling with the despised and neglected of his race, and braving the misrepresentations and calumnies of his enemies in his efforts to raise up the fallen and to comfort the miser­ able,—when I look at the treatment which he observed towards the penitent, and perceive how gentle and merci­ ful it was, and that to the contrite spirit he ever turned an eye of encouragement and hope,—when I thus con­ template the conduct of Jesus, and remember that he appeared on earth as the image and representative of the Most High, I feel that his life is, indeed, the best of teachers and instructors, that it leaves upon the mind an impression of what God is, and man should be, such as �9 even his own gracious words would alone have failed to impart. Our duty, then, as it respects our Maker, our fellow-creatures, and ourselves, lies clearly and plainly before us. The gospel relieves us of all difficulty and dissipates all doubt. From its pages may be heard the voice of Jesus, saying to us, Hither come, this is the way of truth and righteousness. Whosoever folioweth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life. We dedicate this Church to a righteous and holy God, wTho sent his Son Jesus Christ to redeem us from all iniquity, and to purify unto himself a peculiar people zealous of good works. From what has now been said you will perceive that Christianity does not present us with cold and comfort­ less abstractions, fitted to the entertainment of the spe­ culative understanding, but that it brings before us those relations which connect us immediately with God, and the contemplation of which is adapted to touch and engage our hearts, to warm and enliven our affections, to awaken virtuous emotions, and to prompt to virtuous actions. It does not send us to struggle with conceptions too mighty for our grasp, but it places before us those sublime and simple truths, which, while they are intelligible to the humblest understanding, interest and delight the loftiest mind. To refine and elevate our souls, to lift us above the meannesses and littlenesses of earth, and to give us longings for the glories and satisfactions of heaven, our eyes have been opened to see the things which the wisest of ancient days desired to see, but were not able. Jesus Christ has torn away the veil by which the human mind was once shrouded in darkness and doubt, and let in upon our souls the discovery not only of that which will inform and instruct our understandings, but of that also which �10 will lighten the pressure of grief and relax the bondage of despair. Much as on this account it becomes us to prize the gospel, we have yet still more reason to prize it for the clear and explicit assurance which it contains, and for the confirmation which that assurance receives in the resur­ rection of Christ, that we shall live again, that this world is not the last stage of our existence, but one to prepare us for another and a better. Were I asked what, more than anything else, is needed to make man what he should be, to give him courage in the profession of what is true, and firmness in the practice of what is right; to make him, in all his ways and doings, pure-minded and single-hearted, uncorruptible by temptation and uncon­ querable by sin,—my answer would be, the doctrine of a future everlasting life, such as is brought before us in the revelation of Jesus Christ. No man who truly admits it into his thoughts, but must feel its great, its inestimable value. In all states and conditions of our being, whether we are cast down by misfortune, or whether sorrowing for the loss of friends, what more blessed source of peace and consolation can be opened to us than the anticipa­ tion of that rest which remaineth for the people of God. And when we ourselves are stretched on the bed of death, —when the last dark hour of mortality approaches, and weeping friends gather around us to take their solemn farewell,—what is the doctrine we value then ? What is the hope to which we then cling,—what the prospect upon which we then dwell ? At such a moment, do we concern ourselves with questions about the divine essence, or with distinctions in the divine nature ? Oh ! no. To the one only question then in our minds, “ When man dieth and giveth up the ghost, where is he ?” the answer �11 of Jesus, “ I am the resurrection and the life; whosoever believeth in me shall never die,” is all sufficient. This, —this satisfies the heart and gives rest to the soul. With glad and grateful spirits, therefore, we dedicate this Church to the Author and Giver of Eternal Life, to Him who hath given us the victory over death and the grave through our Lord Jesus Christ. The views of which I have now presented to you the merest outline, constitute the common faith of Christians; and to those who cordially embrace them, they afford every help and every encouragement that can be given to the mind of man when struggling with the evils and ad­ versities that here assail him. Some of the wisest and best men that have ever lived have been distinguished for their attachment to this common faith. Yes, among Christian professors of this enlarged and liberal school are to be found those wTho have daily and hourly walked with God; the consciousness of whose presence has been to them the sanctifier of their inward thoughts and the guardian of their outward actions; men, whom the se­ ductions of pleasure could not tempt, nor the terrors of suffering drive from the path of duty; men, whose great object in life was to do the will of God, and who, for this purpose, pressed right on in spite of every advancing dif­ ficulty and every surrounding danger, and who, when the summons of death arrived, fixed their thoughts upon that heaven, the promised inheritance of the wise and good, and so departed in peace and hope. Many are the men of this stamp and character who have been found in all churches. Take, I would say, Eenelon from the Roman Catholics; Jeremy Taylor, and Barrow, and Tillotson from the Church of England; Locke, and Newton, and Hartley from among the ranks of Christian philosophers; �12 and Doddridge, and Foster, and Price, and Priestley from the various classes of Dissenters ; and you will find that the great principles which they most valued and cherished —those principles which were the actuating motives of their conduct, and which shed upon their souls refreshing dews of joy and of hope—were the principles which they held in common, that is, were the principles by which we, as a Christian body, are emphatically distinguished. Now these principles we are desirous of upholding in their simplicity and integrity ; of preserving in their sin­ gleness and purity, apart from all admixture with foreign ingredients. We look upon the vital, essential truths of Christianity to be those which are possessed, not by any one sect exclusively, but which belong to the church of Christ universally. Our peculiarity therefore—if so it may be called—that which separates us from other bodies of professing Christians, consists mainly in this, in the prominence and distinction which we give to these truths ; in regarding them as of supreme and paramount import­ ance ; as, in fact, the be-all and the end-all of the Chris­ tian dispensation. We hold the catholic or universal faith to be the true genuine Christian faith, and the only one that should be made a condition of Christian com­ munion. It is upon this broad ground that we take our stand as a Christian society. It is upon this wide foun­ dation that the fellowship of our churches is based. Ever sacred be this temple to the cause of religious free­ dom, of piety, peace, and charity ! Of all the bonds by which man is connected with man, the first and the greatest is that which unites them all to the Creator. If there be anything more than another which belongs to us in common, in which we are all one, it is that of being the creatures of God, subsisting by his �13 will, depending upon his bounty, daily witnesses of his majesty and might, daily partakers of his kindness and care. Receiving common mercies, it is reasonable that we should unite in common acknowledgements. With the same reasons for thankfulness and praise, it becomes us to mingle our songs with the songs of our brethren, and in sacred union and fellowship to pour out our prayers and supplications together. Like the good men of old, it becomes us to go to the house of God in company, and, with the purest influences of heaven, to mingle the dearest sanctities of earth. For this let us welcome the return of each Sabbath morn, inviting us to suspend for a while the chase after worldly gains and pleasures, and opening to our inward sight the vision of an immortal heaven. There are, I know, those who say that they need not the ministriations of the sanctuary to remind them of their relation to God and eternity, to silence the clamour of worldly passions and pursuits, and to beget in them a genuine religious thoughtfulness. They can commune with their own hearts, they tell us, in the stillness of their chamber, or go forth, like the patriarch Isaac, to meditate in the fields at even-tide. I believe, however, that for the most part they who talk in this way do neither the one nor the other. Gallio-like, they are careless about these things, and make their objection to time and place which has its deeper foundation in their own indifference. This observation, I willingly grant, may not be applicable to all of the class of whom I am now speaking. There are instances among them, I doubt not, where the spirit, in its moments of high-wrought emotion, may think that it can safely dispense with all external helps and sup­ ports,—may even regard them as suited only to ignorant �14 and feeble minds,—may imagine that its piety need not be poured forth in words,—that human language only restrains, cramps, and confines it,—that time and place are but hindrances and barriers to its exercise, and that “ wrapt into still communion with God, it will rise far above all the imperfect offices of prayer and praise.” Now admitting that there are a few gifted minds capable of rising by the force of their own wills into the high re­ gions of pure spirituality, and that occasionally inclina­ tions and desires, looking in the same direction, may be partially felt by a few more, it is not to be believed, I think, that such a state of feeling can be either general or lasting. On the contrary, I am persuaded that most men’s experience will convince them that in the cultiva­ tion and exercise of their religious principles and affec­ tions thev must have recourse to much the same means of exciting and improving them that are employed in the formation and exercise of their affections and habits ge­ nerally. Humanity does not become changed, is not stripped of the attributes by which it is usually characterised and dis­ tinguished the moment it touches the ground of religion. It still possesses the same tendencies and is subject to the same laws by which it is commonly influenced and go­ verned. As we feel the value, the comfort, and the hap­ piness of the social affections in all other things, I cannot understand the wisdom or the propriety of refusing their aid and co-operation in the concerns of religion. We are sustained, strengthened and cheered in our convictions and attachments by the presence and communion of our fellow-men. In the midst of the animating associations of the church and the radiating sympathies of other minds, we gather encouragement, confidence, and assur­ �15 ance. It is therefore a great error to suppose that a dif­ ferent process must be pursued in building up in our minds the fabric of religion from that which is adopted in raising any other of our intellectual and moral struc­ tures. It is not in enthusiastic sentiments and fervid emotions that we must place our trust. Suddenly may they come, and as suddenly may they depart. Our chief reliance must be founded on the diligent and faithful use of all those appliances by which the heart of man is usually impressed and affected. The dread of supersti­ tion and the contempt of vain and idle ceremonies have, I am persuaded, led many to an undue depreciation and disparagement of the outward means and instruments of exciting and elevating our religious sensibilities. There is no doubt that abundance of mischief has been done by overloading religion with rites and observances. There is no doubt that the external garb and covering has been too often mistaken for the genuine inward grace, and that dead, inanimate forms have been substituted for the living spiritual substance. Too much care and caution, there­ fore, cannot be used to guard against such a perversion as this. But when that care has been taken and that caution has been exercised, let us beware of falling into the error, less pernicious, perhaps, but still an error to be deplored, of supposing that the religious principle can be built up and firmly maintained in the soul under a total disregard and neglect of those assistances and supports of which, upon other occasions, we are glad to avail our­ selves. We read of the prophet Daniel that, during the time of his captivity in Babylon, when he prayed and gave thanks before his God, his mind seems to have been im­ pressed by the circumstance that the windows of his �16 chamber opened towards Jerusalem. Now this is an in­ stance of the manner in which we are sometimes affected by little things,—by things, in themselves considered, of no importance, but which derive all their interest and in­ fluence from the thoughts and feelings associated with them. He whom Daniel worshipped was the same God and as ready to listen to the prayer of his servant whether his eyes were bent on Babylon’s plains, or turned towards Judea’s hills. Apart from the feelings called forth by them, it mattered not which of these it was. But who does not perceive that, with the thought of Jerusalem and the tender and solemn recollections which that thought would awaken, there would neces­ sarily come over the mind of Daniel a more intense and vivid feeling of God’s presence and power, of his pre­ sence to cheer and his power to save ? Tell me not that such a feeling betokens a state of pitiable weakness. For, if it be a weakness, it is one which God has attach­ ed to the very constitution of our nature, and above which the proudest pretender to philosophy, falsely so called, cannot exalt himself. Will he say that no pecu­ liar interest hangs around the spot where he has played in his childhood or sported in his youth ? Has no place ever become endeared to his thoughts and consecrated in his imagination by friendship and affection ? Can you visit the tomb where a parent sleeps, or walk over the ashes of the child you loved, with the same emotions with which you would tread on common ground ? Then times and places do exercise a power over our thoughts and feel­ ings to which we are all of us, in some measure, subject and obedient. It is a law of our very being, and resistance to it would be as impotent in its efforts, as it is vain and fool­ ish in its aim. And why, we may ask, why should man be �17 treated in his religious capacity in a manner totally diffe­ rent from that which is observed towards him in all his other relations? From the reasoning and conduct of some people in this matter it might be inferred that with reference to the subject of religion they contemplated man as a being who had neither senses to be exercised, nor imaginations to be affected, nor feelings to be touched, nor hearts to be impressed. They would take him out of the circle of all those influences which, in other respects, so powerfully move and govern him. They would deprive him of the benefit of those associa­ tions which, on all ordinary occasions, form one of the chief sources of interest and attraction. Such a proceed­ ing I cannot but deprecate as both unnatural and unrea­ sonable ; implying equally a forgetfulness of what the real condition of man is, and of what is taught us in the lessons of experience. If the love of country will grow stronger and warmer when standing before the shrine of her illustrious dead, or when gazing upon the scenes of her former greatness and glory, why should we not admit that the feelings of devotion may also be raised and strengthened in a similar manner, by going to the house of God in company, and uniting with our brethren in those sacred services which impressively speak to us of the glories of creating power and the riches of redeeming love ? Let not Religion be deprived of all those accom­ paniments which are calculated to enliven her sentiments and to render her services more beautiful and attractive. Let us view ourselves on all sides. Let us consider what is due to us as thinking, reflecting beings, and what may be needful for us as sensitive and imaginative creatures. And when we feel inclined to treat as superfluous and vain all outward aids and influences to further the ends c �18 of religion,—to think that all regard to times and places may be utterly discarded, and that our minds are strong enough to elevate and sustain themselves without such instrumentalities ; when we are disposed to reason in this manner, it would be well for us to remember the words of Christ, “ the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,” and instead of presumptuously relying on our own imagined strength, to feel more humbly concerning ourselves, and to be careful to put on the whole armour of God, so that in the day of trial we may be able to stand, to be firm and faithful, enduring to the end. Our failure in duty, our neglect of the things belong­ ing to our eternal peace, arises, generally speaking, far more from insensibility and thoughtlessness than from absolute ignorance. We need, therefore, to be told, not so much of what we do not know, as to be reminded of what we do; to have the dormant energies of our souls roused from their degrading, destructive torpor, into watchfulness and vigour; to have the genuine feel­ ings and principles of our nature called into activity and exertion, and those truths which lie, as it were, upon the surface of our minds, impressed deeply upon our hearts, and wrought into the web of our affections. One of our greatest aims should be to rescue admitted truths from the neglect caused by the very circumstance of their universal admission. Truths, says Coleridge, of all others the most awful and interesting, are too often considered as so true, that they lose all the power of truth, and lie bed-ridden in the dormitory of the soul, side by side with the most despised and exploded errors. If the principles which we hold, fail of prompting to virtuous conduct, of generating kind and devout affections, of making the life pure and holy, it is not because they �19 are intrinsically unfitted to produce these effects, but it is because they are not sufficiently rooted and grounded in the mind to be capable of sending forth strong, vigorous shoots of morality and piety. It cannot be, that while our faith exists thus loosely in the head without drawing the least nourishment from the fountains of the heart,— while it is a mere chance outward profession, and not a real inward conviction, a cold abstract speculation, into which there does not enter a single warm affection of the soul,—it cannot be, that, while it exists in such a form and under such a condition as this, any very valuable or precious fruits should be gathered from it. The fault, however, lies not in the principles which we profess to believe, but in not truly and heartily believing the prin­ ciples which we profess. Now the design and tendency of the services of this place is to excite within us those recollections of God and of Christ, of our duty and destiny, of our condition as men, and of our hopes as Christians, which cannot come frequently before the mind without rendering it, in some degree, purer and better and happier. I am not ignorant that complaints are sometimes made that the range of topics to which the preacher re­ stricts himself is too narrow and circumscribed to satisfy the thoughtful and inquiring. Hence there are those who seem to be desirous that other questions should be introduced here than those of a strictly religious character. Now while I admit that, in many cases, there is just ground for complaining that the discourses of the pulpit are trite and uninteresting, I must, at the same time, contend that this is owing, not to the nature of the sub­ jects treated of, but to the manner in which they are treated. Bring to their treatment judgement and imagic 2 �20 nation, genius and sensibility,—such, my friends, as you are no strangers to,—or, to say nothing of rare endow­ ments, let the speaker, if he be possessed only of ordi­ nary qualifications, give forth what is in him with simpli­ city and earnestness, and with a heart penetrated with the love of God and goodness, and it will, I think, no longer be found wanting in interest or impressiveness. I cannot agree, therefore, with those who are for including among the themes to be discoursed of here, questions of government and politics, of literature and science. I know well the exciting nature of these topics, and the resources which they supply for strong impression and immediate effect. But we assemble within these walls for other purposes than amusement and excitement. We have a more momentous and solemn end to answer, that of awakening the soul to its obligations and its hopes, as the creature of God and the child of eternity. With so many means and opportunities around us for acquiring all kinds of information, literary, scientific, and political, it were, as it seems to me, a wanton desecration of the purpose for which this temple is reared, to divert and alienate the little portion of time to be spent in it from its directly religious ministration. Considering the absorb­ ing nature of the things that press upon our senses, and the almost constant immersion of our minds in the cares and pursuits of this world, it surely is not too much to ask that our thoughts and affections should, for a few moments in the week, be withdrawn from these solici­ tudes and engagements, and be devoted exclusively to the spiritual and immortal concerns of our being. Of course I am taking it for granted that we have spiritual and immortal concerns; that out of and beyond this world lie treasures of knowledge and stores of enjoyment, with �21 which the wisdom and the gladness of the present mo­ ment are not worthy to be compared. If it be so, most fitting and reasonable is it that we should be awakened from our dreams of vanity, and be made to feel that earth is not all, nor man the mere tenant of an hour, but that when the night of the grave is past, the dawn of an endless day shall burst upon him, and he shall spring forth the denizen of a new and nobler community. We come here to think of these things, to meditate on this- high and holy destination of our being, and upon the feelings, purposes and actions which are its required and appropriate accompaniments. We come here to listen to the voice which speaks to us of a better and more enduring substance than meets our bodily eyes; of hopes which are unfading, and of joys which are imperish­ able ; of communions and friendships which time will not impair and which death will not interrupt. We come here to have our minds enlightened with the wisdom which is profitable to direct; to have our hearts touched, as it were, with a live coal from the altar of God, that even when we quit the precincts of the temple, a purify­ ing and invigorating warmth may still be felt glowing within us. We come here to break that continuity of little and low cares in which the world almost necessarily involves us, and to fasten upon our souls the links of a chain which embraces in its circuit wider views and loftier interests. In a word, we come here as weak, dependent, sinful, dying creatures, to be reminded of what, as such, it becomes us to be and to do; to be reminded of the power that made us, of the goodness that supports us, of the mercy that saves us, and of the heaven that awaits us. We come, the weak to be strengthened, the careless to be warned, the erring to be corrected, the sorrowful to �be comforted, the penitent to be soothed and encouraged, and all to have the spirit of their minds renewed, and to receive fresh impulse to run with patience the race that is set before us. The object for which we assemble on the “ day of the Lord” is not to pamper the appetite, ever greedy for something new, for something that may play around the head, but which comes not near the heart. It is rather to call attention to truths already acknowledged, but not sufficiently dwelt upon, not suffi­ ciently admitted into the homes and intimacies of our spiritual nature. It is to draw near and make bright to the inward eye, views and prospects which lie clouded in the distance. It is to make that felt within us as a warm and living reality which too often dwells without us as a cold and lifeless abstraction. It is to assist us in lifting up our hearts unto God, and to make us feel that in his favour there is life, and that his loving-kindness is better than life. It is, that seeing we may see, and hearing we may hear, what God hath done for our souls, and that the glad tidings of the gospel may not lie before us as a dead letter, but may be “ felt in the blood and felt along the heart, and passing into our purer minds with tranquil restoration.” I repeat then,—it is not for the gratification of the spe­ culative understanding that we are to assemble here as a congregation of Christian worshippers, but the lighting up in our souls of desires and aspirations which may lead us, when we retire from this place, to commune with our own spirits, and to make diligent search whether they are in the state in which they ought to be,—in the state becoming their distinguished privileges, worthy of their high descent, and befitting their heavenly destination. If the result of our weekly communion should be to send us away in­ �23 quiring within ourselves what shall we do to be saved, a real and substantial good will be obtained by it, a bless­ ing conferred infinitely surpassing any other which it could be the means of imparting. Let me observe also that, important as I consider just views and correct opinions on the subject of religion to be, more especially those which relate to the character and will of God, I must, nevertheless, not omit to remind you that it is of more consequence to feel right than even to think right; to do well than to reason well; that the best orthodoxy is the orthodoxy of the heart, and that while sentiments and creeds and systems perish, the best and purest feel­ ings of the human soul remain unchanged; the same in all countries, sects and generations, and so will continue to remain as long as the relations of man to God and of God to man have any existence. Doing righteously, living virtuously, carrying into the world a pure and a gentle and an elevated spirit, this is the beauty of holi­ ness, and the excellence of faith, this is the bright con­ summate flower, the end, the crown, and the ornament of the whole. Peeling it, then, to be our duty to gather ourselves together for the pure and spiritual worship of God, let us gratefully remember the blessed and benignant cha­ racter under which the object of our worship is brought before us in the generous and merciful dispensation of the New Testament. Let us be thankful that we have a religion so pure, benevolent and holy; so glorious in its doctrines, so precious in its promises, so beautiful in its hopes. Let us rejoice that we are ever in the sight of God, and that the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon him. Let us cheer and comfort ourselves with the welcome assurance that all who do his com­ �24 mandments shall eat of the tree of life, and live for ever; that there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth; and that no humble contrite spirit shall go forsaken of its God. In the presence of such a being let there be banished from our minds all desponding and despairing thoughts. Let us come and kneel before the Lord our Maker in the spirit of filial affection and in the confidence of filial trust. In deep submission let us bend before Him in whose hands our life is, and whose are all our ways. Humbly and meekly let us adore Him joyfully and reverently let us praise Him; making melody in our hearts as well as with our tongues. And since we have all one Father, let us bear in mind that we are one family, bound to render to each other mutual assistance and comfort. To our piety, therefore, there must be added charity—to the love of God there must be joined the love of man. Let these be the offerings with which we ap­ proach the altar of the Lord. Let us consecrate this house of prayer by the humble mind, the worshipping spirit, the devout heart, the grateful thanksgiving which we bring to it; and then peace within and hope in the favour of heaven will sweeten the days of our earthly pilgrimage, till, fit for a purer world of love and blessed­ ness, we pass on from this perishable temple to that eter­ nal temple not made with hands, where at a nobler altar we shall offer up to God a nobler worship, where we shall unite our feeble voices to those of adoring millions, and sing his praises everlastingly. To you, the members of this congregation, and to him whom you have chosen to be here the leader of your de­ votions and the expounder of Christian duty, I would now offer my cordial congratulations at the completion of that work and labour of love which stands before us, �25 together with my earnest wishes that you may long be spared to assemble under this roof, mutual helpers of each other’s joy. On the one hand, may you, my brethren, rejoice in the privilege of possessing a Teacher so richly endowed and so thoroughly accomplished to instruct you in all things pertaining to the kingdom of heaven ; and, on the other, may my friend, your valued and beloved minister, have the happiness of seeing that the work of the Lord prospers in his hands, and that through his instrumentality many have been made wise to the salvation of their souls. So may you both have reason to be thankful that you came up hither to keep the holy day, and may the intercourses in which you have delighted here be renewed and perfected in that land where dwell for ever the spirits of the just. �• • J* ' * �THE WATCH-NIGHT LAMPS. A DISCOURSE, PREACHED ON THE FIRST SUNDAY OF PUBLIC WORSHIP, (OCTOBER 21, 1849,) HOPE-STREET NEW CHURCH, LIVERPOOL. BY JAMES MARTINEAU, MINISTER OF THE CHURCH. �ZfW.k • KA« ‘ I T ' :• * -I' �THE WATCH-NIGHT LAMPS. Now does the Heavenly Mercy rebuke all my fears. The long-imagined moment is really come; God restores us to each other. Beneath his eye we parted, and before his face we meet; and that Infinite Light scatters the lingering shadows of misgiving which have hung around the forecast of this hour. We have not hoped in vain that He would remove with us to the shrine we have devoutly raised; and now in his eternal memory he sets the vows and prayers by which this new opportunity is to be consecrated or condemned. In distant lands, through waiting months, my eye has rested upon this day; which has appeared as a star of hope behind the perspective of every scene, and looked down, with a clear and guiding sanctity, on intervening tracts that had sometimes no other, and never a diviner, ray. Standing here at length, and looking round on this strange mix­ ture of the new and old,—the outward structure new and beautiful, the living temple of faithful hearts both old and dearer far,—First, I greet you with all the warmth of my affection and the fresh devotion of all my powers; consecrating myself anew to the service, not in­ deed of your will,—but of your faith and highest hope, your love and conscience, your remorse and aspiration,— E �30 which you know to be interpreters of a Will that must be monarch of your own. Next, I remember some, whom we had thought to have with us as sharers of our joy, but whom the voice of our salutation can no longer reach. Those close-filled ranks cannot hide from me the vacancies in their midst; and I miss here the sweet attentive look of maidenly docility,—there the dear and venerable form of one from whose eyes age had exhausted the vision but not the tears, and whose features were quickened and kindled by the light within. Greeting to others, Farewell to them ! and to Him, with whom we and thev alike live; from whose presence no pathless sea, no Alpine height, no gulph of death, can e’er divide ; who spares us for his work, or calls us to his rest; who makes sweet the memory of dreadful hours, and turns our tremblings into joy;—to Him, the assuager of care, the reviver of hope, the giver of opportunity, I render for this hour a glad thanksgiving, and renew my vow to bear again his glorious yoke. My purpose this morning is very simple. I ask you only to think what you have done in raising this building, and to find for your own act its true ground of thought. That you have built this house at all, places you at once in the great commonwealth of Christendom, and detaches you from all faiths or ^faiths that would destroy it. That you have joined together to build it, proclaims that through your religion there runs a common consciousness which blends and organises your individual wills into a higher unity, and makes a Church. The forms you have given to its outline, and the memorials embodied in its stones, speak everywhere the sentiments of Worship, and promise here, not the severity of teaching, but the mel­ lowed tones of meditation and prayer. That you throw �31 open its gates on this sacred day, and ever, when a week is gone, think to come back to it again, is a confession that you cannot make your every day a Sabbath, and would not turn your Sabbath into an every day; but would still intersect the time with holy lines, and help to prolong that ladder of heaven which climbs as yet through all Christian duration, the favourite pathway of saintly souls. These cardinal points I silently assume as fixed upon the very face of your design; and what further may be the function of a Church, and ought to be the function of this Church, in the present age of the world, I would explain from the words of the parable, Matthew xxv. 4. “ The wise took oil in their vessels with their lamps?’ And then, presuming on their supplies, they took their ease, like the foolish, and while the bridegroom tarried they all slumbered and slept. So must it not be in that great watch-night,—that solemn eve of an eternal day,— which we call Human Life. The spirit that sits sentinel through its hours, intent for the Master’s voice and ex­ pectant of his approach, cannot, however rich her stores, set the lamp of duty idly on the ground, while she dreams away beneath the stars; and then hope, by a sudden start, at the last knock, to refit the neglected fires and join the pomp and mingle with the everlasting train. The watch-lights which we must burn before God are no outward thing, no ritual adornment, but, like the glow-worm’s, the intensest kindling of our own life, rising and sinking with the tone of our energies; and the oil that feeds them is too ethereal to be set by; it exists only by being ever used and ever re-distilled. To keep the heart awake,—to resist all collapse of the e 2 �will and the affections,—to bring the angels of our nature to a mood not merely less heedless than the foolish virgins, but more faithful -than the wise; this is the disciple’s great thought, ever ringing like a midnight bell upon his ear, from the Master’s awful word, “ Watch ! ” A Church is a fraternity for accomplishing this thought; an asso­ ciation for realising the Christian life, creating the Chris­ tian mind, and guarding from deterioration the pure type of Christian perfection; and its agency is designed for keeping to their vigils the several Graces of the soul com­ missioned to wait upon their Lord; for trimming the lamps they severally bear, and screening them from the winds and damps of this world’s night. Let us number these Graces as they stand. Till their lamps were lighted they were themselves invisible, dark negations on the grand summit of human nature, looking into the dark: but since the glory of Christ has caught them, they shine afar, and we see in their forms the distinctive spirits of our religion. First, I discern the Spirit of Endeavour.—Foremost among the elements of the Christian consciousness do I place this,—that we must strive and wrestle to achieve the Will of God, and that only he who faints can fail. What else means the deep doctrine of self-denial, which it has ever been the lowest impertinence of philosophy to doubt, and the last degra­ dation of human nature to reject? How else can we read the contempt we feel for those who evade martyr­ dom with a lie,—the throbbing of our hearts as we watch the tempted in the crisis of his trial,—and their leap of exultation when he decides, “Better perish than be false”? These sentiments, than which none are more ineradicable in man, and none more intensely stamped into Christian history, would be absurd illusions, if we were not en- �33 Jdowcd with a knowledge, placed under a law, and in­ vested with a power, of right and wrong : they are founded on the conception of life as an Obedience due, and of mere Self-will as an insurrection against authority infinitely venerable. This faith which assigns a moral basis to all religion, touches, I believe, the ultimate point of all cer­ tainty : older than this or newer, more authentic, more infallible, no revelation can ever be. Its very contra­ rieties, which offend the one-sidedness of logicians and enthusiasts, constitute its truth, and accurately represent man’s balanced position; whom you can neither turn into the mere realm of nature nor invest with the dignity of a God; who is at once bound, yet free to slip his bonds, and strangely finds in his thraldom a true liberty, in escape a wretched slavery; and is conscious of divine and infinite prerogatives immersed and struggling in finite conditions. All religion is Christian in proportion as it takes up into its very substance this law of conscience, and resolves itself a consecration of Duty. It is the great glory of the Catholic religion, that it adopts and pro­ claims this principle : to this one deep root, which pene­ trates through the soil and very structure of our human world, far beyond the reach of ecclesiastic storms, does it owe the width of its branches and the richness of its shade. Conscience, indeed, in reference to the universe of Persons, like Reason in relation to the universe of Things, is the Catholic faculty of human nature ; and no faith which does not interpret and sanctify it can take as its motto, “ Quod semper, quod ubique, quod ab omni­ bus.” I am not forgetful of St. Paul’s depreciation of legal religion, and of the triumphs, asserted in all the churches of the reformation, of a Gospel of Love over a System of Law. This also I embrace with all my soul, �34 and chime in with the hymn of Grace led by Luther’s mighty voice. But this truth is only the other’s second half, and without it could no more exist than the comple­ ment without the primal arc, or the joy of convalescence without the lassitude of illness. Did not Conscience pro­ pose the awful problem, and the Will struggle into its midst, Faith and Affection could never bring the relief of solution. Law and Love are but the strophe and anti­ strophe of the great chorus of redemption; and without both the opening and the answering voices, the thought and melody must alike be broken. The moral law of God then, and the moral freedom of man, constituting life a theatre of endeavour, we lay as the granite pillars of an everlasting faith,—the Kock on which we build our Church; and whoever, in the partial spirit of one age, builds on any more inflammable material,—on the wood, hay, stubble, of a disenthralled enthusiasm,—shall find, when his work is tried by fire, that, however poised for awhile on the upward pressure of elastic heats, it will lean and totter as the temperature declines, and either drop on to some more primitive foundation, or collapse among the ruins of the past. Is Christianity, then, a mere Ethical System ? and do we identify religion and morality ? Shall we say that the man who commits no fraud, or violence, or excess, is forthwith a denizen of the Kingdom of Heaven ? God forbid ! as soon might we say that every scribbler who makes no slip in scanning his metres and tuning his rhymes is a great Poet. Morality speaks like the defiance of the hero to his foe,—“ DepartReligion like the summons of the leader to his impatient host,—“ Arise, come on !” As a prison-task to an Olympic race, so is the duty copied from a code to the service inspired by a �35 faith. So long as moral restraints and obligations are urged upon us we hardly know how, by usage, by opi­ nion, by taste, by good sense and regard to consequences, they appear to lie within a very moderate and definable compass, and to be matters of dry necessity included in the conditions of respectability. But when the voice of Christ has opened our spirit to their true nature, and from utterances of human police they become tones, stealing through the foliage of the soul, from enshadowed oracles of God, their whole character and proportion are as much changed as if the dull guest had turned into an angel, and the stifling tent expanded to the midnight skies. From the drowsy figure emerges the sleepless im­ mortal ; upon the heavy body grow the glorious wings; and the sheet which seemed a tiresome limit to our head, passes into the deep of stars open for an everlasting flight. The feeling of duty, no longer negative, ceases to act like an external hindrance and prohibition, and becomes a positive internal power of endless aspiration. Yes, of endless aspiration; for if the suggestions of conscience are breathings from the Holiest, they are no finite whole, but parts of an infinite Thought, the surface movements of a boundless deep. When we have brought ourselves to be at one with them, when they are no longer dashed and broken by the resistance of our spirits, but carry harmoniously with them all the movements of our nature, still all is not over; God will now try us with a quicker time: wave after wave of impulse will roll in with in­ tenser speed from the tides of his eternal Will; till the undulations reach the limits of a new element, and our thrilling spirits burst into an immortal light. To whom­ soever God is Holy, to him is Duty Infinite. The good habits, in which others abide content, give him no rest; �36 they are but half his world, and that not the illumined half: by the rotatory law of all custom, they have gone off into the dark, and make now but the negative hemisphere of his obligations; and this must be com­ pleted by another, where the morning light of thought is fresh, and the genial warmth of love yet glows. To such a mind is revealed the depth of that word, “ There is none good save One •” and of that other, “ I must work the work of Him that sent me, while it is day and life appears simply as the appointed scene of holy Endeavour. Now, to awaken this consciousness of infinite obliga­ tion, to draw forth and interpret its solemn intimations ; to resist and expose, as a Satanic delusion, every slug­ gish doubt or mean doctrine which denies it,—and to sustain it in its noblest resolves,—is the first function of a Christian Church. The great antagonist to it is that corruption of ease, that poisonous notion of enjoyment as the end of life, which in so many men absolutely stifles the higher soul, and suppresses in them the belief in its existence. In that lowest condition of human nature, man enjoys a certain unity with himself, because all powers above his animal and intellectual being are fast asleep, and give him no contradiction in his unworthy career. In its highest condition, his nature reaches again a unity with itself, because faith and conscience have carried their demands, and rule without dispute what­ ever is below. It is the aim of the Church to urge him through the vast interval between these two limits;, during the whole of which he is at variance with himself‘ and cries out for deliverance from that “ body of death,” which at first made up his entire consciousness and is no other than his unawakened self. When that fatal sleep is once broken, it is the business of a Church to suggest, �37 perhaps even to provide, a discipline of voluntary self­ denial, without which the incipient insight will not last, but relapse into the darkness which it is so difficult to dispel from the infinite. It is wonderful how faithful endeavour withdraws the curtain from before the opening eye of the late slumbering soul. As one who just turns on his pillow,—with another folding of the hands to sleep,—-feels without recognising the dazzling light, and it only passes through into his dreams to paint anew their empty phantasies;—so the mind, just stirring from the dead repose of self, does not yet treat as real the dawning glow of a diviner consciousness; which, stopping there, will only glide as a bewildering spectrum over the scenery which the man takes to be the world. But let him spring up and break the bands of sleep; let him move about among the objects which the new light shows, and do the things which it requires; and anon he finds what’s true, and feels how he is transferred from the subterranean den of dreams into the open and lus­ trous universe. Effort is the condition of the commonest intellectual knowledge; much more, of insight into things moral and divine. Is there a poem or a landscape which you are anxious to remember? So long as you only look at it and take it in, though with attention ever so fixed, its hold upon you will be slight and transient: but invert the mental order, begin at the active instead of the passive end, and force yourself to reproduce it by pencil or by word; and it becomes a part of yourself, incorporated with the very fabric of your mind. So with the whispers of the holiest spirit; while they only pass across the still—though it be listening—ear of the soul, they are evanescent as the traceless wind; but act on them, and you will believe in them ; produce their issue, �38 and you shall know their source; and he with whom God’s presence has quieted a passion or subdued a grief is surprised by the nearness of his reality. Such deavour, such earnestness of life, do the members of a Church undertake to preserve in one another’s remem­ brance. But next to this high Angel of the Soul, I observe a downcast spirit, bearing in her hand the lamp of Humi­ liation : and she too must never cease from her sorrow­ ing watch. Endeavour has its seat in the Will. If there were no sense of difficulty in the exercise of Will, if all resistance crumbled away at the first touch of purpose, and thought could fly off into instant execution, failure, shame, re­ morse would be unknown; conscience would realise whatever it conceived; and though the infinite character of holy obligation would leave an ineffaceable interval between our position and our aspirations, the one would for ever tend to overtake the other; and the chase, al­ beit without a goal, would be inspired by the joy of an eternal success. No deeper shade than the mild sense of imperfection would fall upon the spirit. But our actual condition is very different. The suggestions of God are ever fresh and his enterprises always new, demanding, if not new matter, at least a new spirit: and it is hard to our Will to quit the old track, to snap the old restraints, to lash itself into a higher speed. And thus, with a sentient nature that loves the easiest, and a conscience that reveres the lest, we feel that Epicurus and Christ meet face to face within our soul; which becomes at once the theatre, the stake, the arbiter, of the most solemn of all conflicts. The pleasant pleadings, so perl suasive to our languid strength, make our Temptation 1 �39 and their triumph plunges us into the Sense of Guilt. This utterly changes the relations of the mind to God; breaks the springs of Endeavour; turns every blessed sanctity from a life within the heart to a load upon it; and condenses the infinite heaven of duty into a leaden universe of nightmare on the breast. So sinks in sad­ ness the pure enthusiasm that had flung itself upon the godlike track; and the wing that had soared so high hangs drooping and broken down. It is less the anguish of this fallen state, than its weakness, that makes it awful. Who shall remove this burden of sin, which paralyses the soul’s native strength and restrains it in terror from seek­ ing God’s ? Could the immediate remorse be banished or outlived, yet who can resume an infinite race with a lowered hope, or faith abashed ? This crisis is the turn­ ing point of many a life. By either fall or rise may the mind escape from it; in the one case relapsing by the gravitation of the world into the stupor of indifference and the old belief in the dreams of sense : in the other, lifted once more into a light of heaven, milder perhaps, ‘ but less precarious. Lifted,—I say; for sure it is that the fallen, though he may hold his place and fall no more, has crippled his power to lift himself. Even an arch­ angel’s wing cannot rise without an atmosphere; and the human will (in things divine) is ineffectual with its mightiest strokes, unless surrounded by a certain air of pure and clear affection,—which recent sin exhausts and spoils. While the sweet element of love and hope and self-reverence is lost to the mind, the spasms of reso­ lution are but pitiable distortions,—cramps of uneasiness and fear, not the progressive action of a vigorous health. It is the awful punishment of all unfaithfulness, that it turns the mind in upon itself; makes it look at its dis­ �40 ease, and put forth a writhing movement to escape it, with no effect but to renew the anguish, to feel all the weakness, and sink down again in faintness and despair. The intense power which conscious evil gives to con­ siderations of Interest, the tumult of anxiety and alarm it induces, is in itself the most fatal obstacle to recovery : on which however, with the delusion common to all em­ pirics, the mere moralist rests all his hopes. There are no terms in God’s universe on which the selfish can be saved; no,—not if a thousand Calvaries were to repeat to him the divine tragedy of the world. And the more you set upon him with fists of unanswerable reasons, the more do you make him the sharp-witted alien from God. What opening then is there for the offender prostrate under the sense of sin ? Shall I be told that expiation must be made by another, who will bear the burden for him ? Doubtless, with the low mood to which guilt has brought him, he is just in the state to accept that mer­ cantile view of sin, and reckon it as a debt against him on the ledger of the universe, which the overflowing wealth of some perfect nature might gratuitously wipe off. And if you can then convince him that such free sacrifice has actually been made, that for him in his de­ gradation a heavenly nature has been moved with pity, taken up the conditions of sorrow, laid down the im­ mortal prerogative and died; I do not deny that you may touch the springs of wonder and delight, and that a burst of thankfulness may break his ice-bound spirit and set it free. Gratitude for an immense personal benefit is the first affection of which a low and selfish mind is susceptible; its very selfishness rendering an act of generosity in another the more surprising. The pas­ sionate emotion thus awakened may certainly tear him �41 from his prison; and as the object to which your fiction conducts him is the Jesus Christ of sacred history, that sublime and holy being, the gentle and winning type of God’s own perfectness, it will be strange if the false and immoral grounds of his first homage are not insensibly exchanged for a veneration purer and more disinterested. As it is sometimes easiest at the moment to cure a mor­ bid patient by a trick, the immediate case of many souls may be met by this disenchanting legerdemain ; but not without the cost inseparable from untruth. The great doctrine of mediation is here corrupted by a complete inversion of its truth. There are two parts of our nature essential to our first approaches to God; the Imagination places him before us as an object of conception external to the mind ; the Conscience interprets his personal rela­ tions of communion with ourselves. The first of these emphatically needs a mediator; the function of the second perishes, the moment he appears. We cannot trust the representative faculty of our nature whose pencil of design varies with the scope of Reason, and whose colours change with the moods and lights of Passion, to go direct to the sheet of heaven, and show us the Al­ mighty there: else, what watery ghost, or what glaring image, might we not have of the Eternal Providence ? Only through what has been upon earth can we safely look to what is in heaven, through historical to divine perfection; and by keeping the eye intently fixed on the highest and most majestic forms in which living minds have ever actually revealed their thoughts and ways, we have a steady type, with hues that do not change or fly, of the great source of souls. Jesus of Nazareth, the centre of the scattered moral possibilities of history, is thus media­ tor to our imagination between God and man. On the �other hand, we cannot allow the Conscience to resign for an instant its native right of immediate contact and au­ dience with God: to delegate the privilege is treason; and to quit his eye is death. Yet the current theology reverses this. The imagination of the offender, at the very instant that it is throwing out the fire and smoke of conscious guilt, is invited to paint its own unmediated image of the Most High, and rely upon the terrible pic­ ture with unquestioning faith; and while the corrupted fancy is thus sustained in its audacity, the shuddering Conscience is encouraged in its cowardice, and allowed to hand over its burthen to a mediator, under pretence of forfeited approach. Who says, that the sinner must fly the terror of the Lord? I say, he must face the terror of the Lord, and instead of blasting it will only melt him then. You say, he dares not tell his tale and cannot pray ? Then, I answer, not yet is he true and contrite; and it is not his humility, but the little speck of insincerity still spoiling it, that asks for a mediator. He must accept his whole abasement; must desire, not to escape, but to endure, his woe •, must not even hang the head and veil the face before God; but look full up into the eye of infinite Purity, and, as he disburthens himself, seek its most piercing glance, that nothing may escape. Nothing but truth can appear before God ; but the truth always can appear, and loses its very nature in parting with its rights to an intercessor. And, as dread­ ed duties are apt in the performance to surprise us by their lightness, so the moment the soul lies thus exposed and transparent before God, he appears terrible no more a the dark reserve thrown from the heart seems to sweep away the cloud from him; and he shines upon us, not indeed with the sudden blaze of clearance after storm, �43 but with the affectionateness of an eternal constancy. We have trusted him, and he is distant no more; we are emancipated into sympathy with his pure nature; the old aspirations find way again ; and instead of look­ ing at him with outside recoil, we go up into his glory, losing ourselves once more in those positive admirations and desires for perfection, which are the very glow of his spirit, and which, far more than any passionate gratitude for personal benefits, are fitted to restore our union with him. And in this crisis it is that the repentant eye, now purified by tears, turns with infinite refreshment from the false forms that have beguiled it, to rest on Christ, as the divine depositary of the sanctity we have lost and seek again ; and that the ear feels the deep sweetness of that call, “ Come unto me, ye weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” Now to give this humiliating self-knowledge, to open the sources of remorse, to prevent its lingering into morbid and credulous woe, to cause every film of pride and fear to drop away, and bring the penitent to make a clear heart before God, is the proper aim and function of a Church; which thus humanises, while it sanctifies, and uses our own sins as ground for pity to others, not others’ as excuses for our own. In the early Christian societies, penitents were recognised and distinguished as a class,—a practice which, however needed in evil times as a check to apostacy, could have no place now, without drawing fines of classification not truly distinguishing the characters of men. In later times, the still more dangerous practice of confession to a human—yet hardly human, because a sacerdotal—ear, bears witness to the boundless power of repentance in the heart of Christen­ dom. Perhaps the reaction into the jealous individuality �44 of modern times, in which each soul not only repels the intrusion, but declines the sympathy of another, has been carried beyond the point of natural equilibrium. At least it is not natural that, in fraternities under common vows of Christian obligation, flourishing selfishness should often hold a higher place than humble sanctity; and un­ repaired, therefore impenitent, injustice should lift its head unabashed amid indulgent worshippers. Surely the power of rebuke is too much lost in an easy indifference; the estimates of the world,—ranging greatly by outward fortune and condition,—have extravagantly encroached on those of the Church, which can look only to internal soundness and affluence of soul. That is not a true com­ munity of disciples, in which a collective Christian opinion does not make itself felt by at least some silent and sig­ nificant expression. So long as the trumpet gives an uncertain sound, who will prepare himself for the battle ? By its revelations of self-knowledge, its echo to the voice of self-reproach; by its suggestion of a restorative dis­ cipline ; by its appeal to that faith in infinite possi­ bilities which alone sustains the burthen of penitential self-denial; by leading the soul at once to suffer, to aspire, and to love much,—must every Church of Christ pour into the energy of endeavour, the lowly spirit of humiliation. Side by side with this sad Angel of the Soul stands another, with look of equal meekness, only clear of shame : and the small fair light in her hand, shining a few steps into the dark around, is the lamp of Trust.—The companion Spirits of which we have hitherto spoken preside over the work and temper of the Conscience in its relation to God; and they would still have to stand upon their watch, though the soul �45 (were such a thing possible) lived in empty space, in mere private audience with its Creator. But now comes before it another object, forcing it to look a different way, and pressing for some orderly interpretation;— viz., Nature or the outward Universe. To a mind that, through moral experience, has already begun its life with God, the glorious spectacle of the heavens and the earth will instantly appear divine: the voice of the waters and the winds, the procession of the sun and stars, the moun­ tain’s everlasting slopes, smiling upwards with pastures till they frown in storms,—will seem the expressions of Eternal Thought. Well would it be if this first absorp­ tion of nature into the substance of faith enabled them permanently to grow harmoniously together. But the universe, which ought to be the abode, becomes to us the rival, of the living and indwelling God. Its inflexible steadiness, its relentless march, so often crushing beneath the wheels of a blind law the fairest flowers of beauty and the unripened fruits of patient hope, look so unlike the free movements of a living and loving mind, that the decrees impressed on finite matter begin to contest the sway of the Infinite Spirit. Other sorrows than any mentioned yet,—sorrows not merited or self-incurred,— and which even fancy cannot plausibly link with any sin, come upon us; and as we cannot sincerely meet them with humiliation, we need some other guide from infidel despair. The order of Cause and Effect crosses and con­ flicts with the order of Moral Law. This is plainly seen in the history of the physical sciences-; whose exclusive pursuit first lowers the conception of God to that of the primal force, or at best the scientific director of creation; and then lapses, consistently enough, into a fatalistic atheism. And the same thing is keenly felt in that in­ �46 explicable distribution of suffering in human life, which, in every age, has perplexed the faith and saddened the love, of hearts not alien to God. How must this contro­ versy be ended in our souls, between the physical God omnipotent in nature, and the holy God who reveals himself in Conscience ? I will not say here what may be the solution which the thoughtful may draw from a devout Philosophy; only that it must be one which charges no evil upon God. Whatever cannot be glorified into good, let it be referred, so far as it is not from the human will, to that negative datum, that shapeless assemblage of conditions, which constitute the ground of the Creator’s work; but it must be withheld on any terms from him who is the perfectly and only Good. He must be ever worshipped, not as the source, but as the antagonist, of ill; the august and ever-living check to its desolating power, who never rides upon the whirlwind, but that he may curb the storm. It is only in this view that He can have pity on our sorrows; for who could pity the sufferings which he himself, without the least necessity, invents and executes ? That cry on Calvary, “ My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”—was it not a cry for rescue, ■—rescue as from a foreign foe, from a power ^divine ? And did it not then burst from One who felt the anguish of that hour as the inrush of a tide from which the barrier of God’s volition had withdrawn ? And so the faith which gave way in that momentary cry is just the oppo­ site of this; a faith that no evil is let loose without his will; that he knows the utmost it can do, keeps it ever in his eye, and will yield to it no portion of his holy and affectionate designs; that he has considered all our case, and will not fail to bring it out clear, if we are true to him. Trust has no other bearable meaning than this; for �47 else it would only say that God, being the unquestionable cause of evil, is not malicious in producing it, and would thus merely silence a doubt impossible in a Christian, aud scarcely pardonable in the grossest heathenism. Trust therefore in the ascendancy of divine Thought and Affection in the universe, serene confidence in their per­ fect victory, I take to be the essence of the Christian faith respecting nature. The particular thought of God that may be hid amid events, moulding their forms and pre­ paring their tissues for some growth of incomparable beauty, it may be impossible to trace; but He is there and never leaves his everlasting work; which is the same in the shrine of conscience, in the mind of Christ, and through the sphere of universal nature. Now to interpret life and all visible things in the spirit of this Trust; to raise the mind oppressed by the sense of material necessity: to meet the tendencies towards passiveness and despair, and, for the consolation of memory and the kindling of hope, show where the order, not of a hard mechanism, but of beauty, love and good­ ness is everywhere enthroned;—this also is the duty of a Church. In this relation we must contradict the doc­ trine of mere science, which proclaims Force, rather than Thought, as the source of all: we must counteract its purely causal and fatalistic explanations -, must detain in the living present, that God whom it would allow to re­ cede indefinitely into the Past, and must lean upon Him as the nearest to us in our weakness, the most loving in our sadness, and the Rock beneath our feet in our alarms. We agree together to sustain each other in this sacred trust; to withstand the godless doubts and grievings suggested by our lower mind; to defy nature’s inexorable Laws to disguise for us the supernatural light and love f 2 �48 within; and to feel the hardest matter of life, as well as the severest work of conscience, burning at heart with his dear spirit. This triple group, however, of Endeavour, Humiliation, and Trust, are never found apart from a sister Spirit, in whose features you trace more human lineaments, and in whose hand is borne the lamp of Service.—An individual mind, alone in the universe with God, might hold the latent germs of all that is human, and yet, in that solitude, could hardly enter, perhaps, on the real experience of endeavour, humiliation, or trust. It is only amid other minds, in the reflection of eye upon eye and soul upon soul, that we so read our impulses, and decipher our inspirations, as to be really capable of the religious life. Society, which opens the sphere of mutual sympathy, touches also the springs of reverence and worship. And I entreat you to notice how it is that the companionship of our fellows operates to bring out these individual affections. We hear much in this connexion about the natural equality of souls, implied in their common source and common work and common end, and are referred to this evident brother­ hood as the true basis of both fraternal love to one another and filial acknowledgment of God. And, no doubt, this identity of spiritual nature is indispensable to all sympathy and all devotion ;—not, however, as their positive and exciting cause, but only as their negative condition. Like only can comprehend like: and if the being next me had not the same nature and the same kces with myself, I should have no key by which \ him; he would belong to an unintelligible id fellow-feeling could have no place. But the here required is not in the minds as they are, �49 only as they might be. Their circles of possibility must coalesce; the same capacities must sleep within them, and the same Law must rule over them. This similitude of kind, the silent assumption of which lies in all our affections, merely expresses an ultimate and unrealized tendency, to which present and actual facts will continually approximate. Meanwhile, these facts present a very dif­ ferent picture;—not of resemblance between man and man, but of variety so vast and contrast so startling, as almost to perplex our faith in the unity of nature. Now it is precisely this inequality of souls which is the positive awakener of all our higher affections. No man could love or venerate in a universe stocked with mere repetitions of himself; the endless portrait would be a barren weari­ ness. He pities what is below him in happiness : he re­ veres what is above him in excellence: he loves what is different from him in beauty. His affections rest on those whom he blesses and those who bless him,—on his clients and his God. At the shock of lower lives and the startling spectacle of higher, he is driven to moral recoil and drawn to moral aspiration; in the one case invested with armour for the resistance of evil, in the other equipped with wings to soar after the good. Whatever is purer and nobler in another than in ourselves opens to us a new possibility, and wields over us a new authority; and thus it is that, ascending through the gradations of souls which culminate in Christ, we find ourselves carried thence at a bound over the chasm between finite and in­ finite, and present at the feet of the Most High, saying, “ Just and true are Thy ways, Thou King of Saints; who shall not fear Thee, 0 Lord, and glorify thy name, for Thou only art holy ! ” It is therefore precisely through the diversity of minds �50 that the unity of the Divine law reveals and asserts itself within us; and the common end of life to all is felt. And it is on this same inequality of souls that Christianity, as a religion of love and mutual aid, builds all its work. On the one hand, the strong must bend to the weak; and on the other, the weak look up to the strong. In both cases there is self-denial,—self-renunciation from pity, in the former,—from obedience, in the other. In both there is reverence for what is divine ■ with the one, for a god­ like capacity in the low; with the other, for a godlike reality in the lofty. When the differing ranks of minds read off their relations in these opposite directions, the whole compass of Christian service is given. Within the Church therefore the eye must be trained to discern this rank, the affections to own it, the will to obey it. Dis­ guised under a like exterior of life are souls divided by immeasureable intervals; and it is strange and even ter­ rible to think what secret differences lurk beneath the common gloss and gaiety of the same assembled numbers. How superficial is the kindred of the utterly earthly, who sees no reality but in the means of ease, the course of material interests, and the colours thrown up by the shifting game of external life; with the saintly sufferer, before whom these flit as unsubstantial shadows, and nothing is real but the spirit-drama that is enacting in the midst and the great Will that plays the everlasting part. Yet we often move about where both of them are found, and speak with them face to face, and believe them much alike. Can we not catch from our Lord, who looked with divine perception straight into the heart of the widow and the Samaritan, some portion of that in­ sight which detects the heroes and despises the impostors of the present ? Why should we leave it to history to �51 find out and glorify the good? If they are with us, they are the most precious of all God’s gifts; let us know them ere they die, and feel that the earth is sacred where they tread. Above all, in every Church, the only classi­ fication known should be of character and age : and in using these as grounds of mutual service, provision should be made for teaching the child, for lifting the suffering, for confirming the weak, and for supplying duties pro­ portioned to the strength of the strong. And while this angel of Service stands to her watch, a glorious Spirit is at her side and closes the train; with an undying flame from her lamp of Communion.—The relations of service are far from being limited to the present and its intercourses. Our life is but the focus of living light into which the Past and the Future condense their interests. The ranks of minds by which we help each other, run up both the di­ rections of time, and cover the two worlds of mortals and immortals. We are ourselves disciples of an ancient and a foreign prophet; and as we pronounce the word “ Christian,” we feel the spark of his transmitted inspi­ ration uniting us with a long chain of generations, and fusing Christendom into one life and one Church. We are disciples also of an ascended prophet; nor is it pos­ sible for any one to bow down in soul before the divine law of which he has made us conscious, to burn with the aspirations which it kindles, and touch upon the peace of entire surrender, without feeling assured that he is created on the scale of immortality, and that the risen Christ is indeed, as the Scripture saith, the head of an immortal host. It is a faith which fails chiefly to those, who, in looking at human fife, miss its grandest elements, and are little familiar with the highest and characteristic �52 features of our nature. Ask the confidants of great souls,—the bosom-friends of the holy,—and they will tell you that life eternal is the only lot at all natural to the children of the Highest. And the more you grow faith­ ful to your own most solemn experience, and learn to trust your noblest love, the more will that amazing pros­ pect assume proportion to the terms of your daily thought. The happy instinct of purified affections is ever one of hope and ready faith. And when I simply remember what faculties, what conceptions, what insight, are im­ plied in a being to whom a Church is possible at all; when I think what a scene in the universe must be opened to a mind ere it can pray; when I reflect how the Infinite God must estimate one whom He thinks it worth while to put on trial amid the theatre of free souls;—all sense of difficulty recedes from the Christian doctrine of an here­ after ; all rules drawn from other races of creatures sink absolutely away; and man appears no less ennobled above them than if, like the Angel of the “ Revelations,” he were standing in the sun. Under the influence of this truth, the natural kindred of souls is infinitely extended and deepened; exalted into independence of change ; and glorified by the hope of sympathy and con­ nexions ever fresh. The blessed family of God colonises, not only the banks of the time-stream that passes by, but the Alpine heights from which it flows, and the blessed isles of the ocean to which it tends. This sense of Communion between all ages and both worlds, it is the business of a Church to cherish. Within its walls, and by its ways, must the mind be surrounded by the atmosphere in which this faith may thrive and grow,—this family tradition of noble souls be guarded and handed down. For this end, neither the mediation �53 of argument nor the directness of authority will avail so much as the just and holy discipline of the conscience and affections. To nurture the love of greatness and goodness in the past; to awaken confidence in the intui­ tive estimates of the pure and pious heart; to glorify the dark places of the world with some light of thought and love; to vindicate the sanctity of death against the pre­ tensions of its physical features, and penetrate its awful spaces with the glow of prayer and hope;—is the true method of clearing away the mists from holy expectation, and realising the communion of Saints. See then in complete array, the five wise Spirits of the soul that must stand through the night of the Bride­ groom’s tarrying, with their ever-constant lights of En­ deavour, Humiliation, Trust, Service, and Communion. To maintain them at their vigils is the proper end of every Church that would maintain the Christian attitude of life. Am I asked, by some theologic wanderer, what then is special to this Church ? I say, chiefly this, that these five lamps, and these alone, we believe to be held in angel hands, and fed with the eternal aliment of truth; nor will they ever give of their oil to nurture the emptied lamps, which many foolish servitors of the bridegroom have brought, and which now are flickering with their last flame, and expiring in the smoke of error. A pretty late hour in the watches of this world has struck: many of the interests and controversies that once dazzled with their flame have been self-consumed: and when, to find how the night rolls, we look up to heaven and observe the altered place and half-inverted form of the eternal constellations, we know that a morning hour is drawing on. It behoves every Christian Church to be awake and set itself in order for a coming age, in which, as I beG �54 heve, the strife will be something very different from that whence existing churches obtain their several names. It is not without some view to that Future of the Church that I have called the five Spirits, spirits of the soul, and have shown them to you as they rise from our nature itself. I might with equal truth have called them cha­ racteristics of Christianity, and have evoked them by appeal to Scripture, and the analysis of Christian history. But we are on the verge of a time, when the mere use of an external authority, however just and moderate its application, will cease to be of much hearty avail; and only those elements either of Scripture or of Christian history will have any chance of reverent preservation, which find interpretation and response in the deeper ex­ perience of Man. Whoever keeps fearlessly true to these may feel secure; but none can say what else will survive the perils of the present and the coming time. What mean the strange movements of Catholicism on the one side, and a pantheistic Socialism on the other, between which every form of mere Protestantism is growing weaker, day by day? Are they not a reaction against the extreme individuality, the disintegrating tendency, of modern Christianity ; whose unions, born in the transient enthu­ siasm of reformation, cannot maintain themselves against the habits of freedom they have created, or live upon the dogmas they refuse to change ? Are they not both an attempt, only prosecuted in opposite directions, to re­ cover some centre of human cohesion, more powerful than interest or judgment, around which the scattered sympathies and dissipated energies of society may be collected? In this common quest, the one reproduces an authority dear to the Memory of Christendom, the other pours out prophecies dazzling to the Hopes of all �55 men; the one adorns the old earth, the other paints a new. The field seems clearing fast to make room for these great rivals; and in their mutual position the signs are not few, that they portend a mightier contest than Europe has seen for many an age. The hosts are already visibly mustering. On the one hand the venerable Genius of a Divine Past goes round with cowl and Cro­ zier ; and from the Halls of Oxford and the Cathedrals of Europe gathers, by the aspect of ancient sanctity and the music of a sweet eloquence and the praises of conse­ crated Art, a vast multitude of devoted crusaders to fight with him for the ashes of the Fathers and the sepulchres of the first centuries. On the other, the young Genius of a Godless Future, with the serene intensity of meta­ physic enthusiasm on his brow, and the burning songs of liberty upon his lips, wanders through the great cities of our world, and in toiling workshops and restless col­ leges preaches the promise of a golden age, when priests and kings shall be hurled from their oppressive seat, and freed humanity, relieved from the incubus of worship, shall start itself to the proportions of a God. Who shall abide in peace the crash and conflict of this war ? He only, I believe, whose allegiance is neither to the anti­ quated Past, nor to the speculative Future; but to the imperishable, the ever-present Soul of man as it is; who keeps close, amid every change, to the reality of human nature which changes not; and who, following chiefly the revelations of the Divine will to the open and con­ scious mind, and reading Scripture, history, and life, by their interpreting light, feels the serenity and rests on the stability of God. �W Lit. ■' . * a 4 *> y c'f ■ ? ”>i' : f *l hl ,U ‘ .J 1W> ' jMRR ; V i<Hhi < . ‘ \ •! 'HdPBWtH J’fe: ... ‘ lij’ w■' * ' ■ >' '»fe ■mp •*« 1 tv ,H > '.•<*/' , g I i’l *'■ z "T $ ■rf • W ■. gM| w£ft" W rw • j mF. »■ 1 Mr t -■ i .'Fh< i ^RFl4 ?h RRta ghUF :' * ^r W- . �THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY AND CHURCH OE THE EIRST-BORN. A SERMON, PREACHED IN HOPE-STREET NEW CHURCH, LIVERPOOL, ON SUNDAY EVENING, OCTOBER 21, 1849. By CHARLES WICKSTEED, B.A., MINISTER OF MILL-HILL CHAPEL, LEEDS. �<> k k r �A SERMON. Hebrews xii. 22-24. “ But ye are come unto Mount Sion, and unto the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innu­ merable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the first-born, which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all, and to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel Of all the desires of the present time, there is no one more profound and general than the desire for Christian unity, communion, and fellowship. Indeed, the craving for agreement, for, as it were, spiritual identity, for the support in conviction, and the comfort from conviction, that according numbers seem to imparty has characterised the history of Christianity through it^whole extent. On this has been founded the determination of the Roman Catholic Church, to preserve at all costs, at costs often most painful to itself, its spiritual and formal unity : and in this have originated the imitative efforts of the various protesting churches which have sprung from it. h 2 �60 But taught by the experience of ages, taught by the resolute and the ever-recurring intellectual differences of mankind, the unity at which, for the most part, the present age is aiming, is a unity of feeling, a fellowship of labour, a communion of love. The old desire for unity took the form of Proselytism. Each Church sup­ posing itself to be constructed especially and exclusively after the heavenly type, it could realise no other and no better unity than the conversion of all mankind to its standards, and the introduction of the whole race within the veil of its Temple. Much of this aim and expecta­ tion is to be met with still. The Roman Catholic Priest goes about, hoping to bring his Protestant neighbours back into the true faith, and rejoicing in the prospect which he thinks begins to dawn, that unity may be yet achieved in England, by the return of the Church and the nation into spiritual submission to the Papal See. The clergyman of the English Church may still be found, ignoring the existence of Dissent in his parish, talking of the number of souls under his care, of spiritual destitu­ tion, of there being only one church or two churches, one school or two schools, in such and such a population, while there may be an equal number of other churches and other schools maintained for Eke holy purposes, but to whose very existence, as they are not within his spiri­ tual precincts, he chooses to be blind. But though these are very important phenomena, and show that the old dream of the outward comprehension of all the inhabitants of a country under the same forms and symbols, in the bosom of the same outward Church, is being dreamed among us still; yet such is not the tendency of the general and independent elements of society. The liberal churchman is beginning to regard �61 his Church as a religious community among religious communities, and only desires permission for it to take and keep its ground, as others are to take and keep theirs too. The Wesleyan probably never did regard his con­ ference or association as the ultimate or general form of Christian government and fellowship, but if he ever did so he must now be taught, by the rapid course of events, to regard this view of it as untenable. The Independent earnestly struggles for his theory of Congregationalism; but so far is that theory from tending to a comprehen­ sion within the limits of one outward Church and For­ mulary, that it rests upon the basis of the independence of each society. Added to these signs of hopelessness of, or indifference to, universal dominion on the part of the separate bodies, is the increasing desire to unite on prin­ ciples which are sufficiently wide, and for purposes which are sufficiently general, to allow each body to retain its own peculiar standing-point. The modern desire of union and of fellowship, then, takes the form, not so much of proselytism as of com­ prehension ; is founded, not so much on the expectation of bringing all communions into one Church, as of bring­ ing all Churches into one communion. It is distinguished by the effort, while seeing the points of difference, to discover the points of agreement, and, while recognising the right of intellectual and theological variety, to bring out into practical relief the reality of a moral harmony. The organisations by which it has been attempted to combine parties otherwise differing, for the expression of some common feeling or the achievement of some common object, however imperfect in their conception, or incom­ plete in their accomplishment, are indications of the ex­ istence of this desire. Contemplated in this light, the �62 Evangelical Alliance itself is not without its interest! For, whatever may be its exclusions, and whatever its narrowness, it yet at least attempts to penetrate through the mere Episcopalianism of the Churchman, the mere Congregationalism of the Independent, the mere Me­ thodism of the Wesleyan, to a common Christianity, deeper and more vital than anything involved in these points (important as in themselves they may be), and so far even this, in many respects exclusive and limited, association bears witness to the growing desire of our times for peace combined with liberty, independence combined with concord, and the love of truth combined with the love of each other. But besides this tendency towards a larger compre­ hension and wider terms of union, there is a growing dislike in most bodies, of denunciation and virulence. The firm adhesion of a man to that Church or that Body which is to him the depository of the purest forms of truth, is a subject of genuine respect. But there is less and less disposition to approve of the peculiari­ ties of that division being made all-important, and theological intolerance has now to be combined with some striking practical excellence or moral power to be itself tolerated. The working classes of our large towns especially look upon the struggles and animosi­ ties of sects with indifference, and even with disgust, regarding that man as the best man who lives the best life, and that man as the purest Christian who most re­ sembles his Lord. Two things have principally contributed to this ten­ dency : First, the growing disposition to ask what are the essentials of Christianity, and to separate from these the adjuncts or modifications which the convictions of �each body require it, in its own case, to make. Accord­ ing to the breadth or narrowness, the grandeur or petti­ ness, of our estimate of these essentials, will be the cha^ racter for comprehensiveness or exclusiveness of the Church we found upon them. Thus, if to submit to the authority of a particular Church be necessary to the right reception of the Christian faith, then the essential element of unity is conformity. If the essentials of Christianity be a set of theological propositions laid down in a special ecclesiastical symbol, then there is no such thing as a Christian Church comprehending all, but only a Christian sect requiring that all shall belong to her. But if the essentials of Christianity are found out to be not in the things which distinguish Churches so much as in that which is common to all, then we may worship with a liturgy or without a liturgy, under the ceiling of a meet­ ing-house or the roof of a church, under the ministry of clergymen ordained by Bishops, or ordained by Presby­ ters, or ordained bv the voice of God in their own consciences, and in their people’s choice; the essentials of Christianity will be alike within the reach of us all: and there may on earth be found such a thing as free thought combined with a common heart, individual liberty with universal charity, and Christ may say unto us all, “ I am the vine, ye are the branches.” The second thing which has contributed to this desire for Christian union, and a perception of its possibility, is the influence of good men; the natural, catholicising tendency of their Christian tempers, and their holy-lives. Persons who have been in the habit of supposing belief in certain doctrines essential to Christian character and Christian salvation, are startled from their position by the discovery that certain men, whose lives and characters �64 they venerate for their purity and goodness, and about whose salvation it is impossible for them to doubt, do not believe all these supposed essentials. These truly good men rise up before them in every branch of the Church; live long, holy, and beneficent lives ; manifest the fruits of sincere truth-loving and heavenly hearts; and they cannot possibly conceive of such men being driven from the presence of their God, and living in the eternal sorrows of his displeasure. In asking, then, who are the true Church below, we find a very good guidance in the light reflected from this other question, who are the true Church above ? In in­ quiring whom we should consider our brethren and fellowChristians here, our greatest help will be found in the answer of our hearts to the question, who are likely to be of the general assembly and church of the first-born hereafter ? Thus there grows up, almost unconsciously, within every man whose heart is open to the signs of human excellence wherever discerned, a sort of Church of the Soul, very different in its filling up and in its limitations from any of the fixed ecclesiastical divisions around us, which we exclusively call Churches. And we find our­ selves anticipating as it were the conditions of heaven and the judgment of God, in settling (not indeed to the satisfaction of the logician, but in obedience to the yearnings of our own hearts) what are the essentials of Christian Faith and Life on earth, and who are the chil­ dren of the kingdom here. It will be my object, then, to-night, with a single eye to the end I have in view, and without scrupling to employ any plainness of statement which I may find necessary to my purpose—to bring this test before your �good sense, your conscience, and your affections, in the most palpable form I can command. Let us, then, vary the ordinary tenor of address, and the customary appeals of argument and demonstration, and inquire for Christianity by inquiring for our fellowChristians, and for the essential faith of Jesus Christ by inquiring for the general assembly and church of the first-born in heaven. Towards the end of the seventeenth century, a young French ecclesiastic of extraordinary piety and virtue com­ menced his career of public duty with the charge of a seminary devoted to those who had been newly converted to that branch of the Christian Church of which he was himself a conscientious member. Subsequently, he went into an unhealthy and desolate district where the greatest cruelties had been practised against those whom he was now desired to convert. The first demand he made of the king was, that all armies should be removed from the district, and that all persecution and oppression should immediately cease. He then set himself to the task of recovering the wanderers by kindness and per­ suasion to the bosom of that Church from which they had strayed. He lived a long life, but when removed from that district, he watched over it and all others similarly circumstanced, and whenever he heard of harshness and severity sent his remonstrance to the seat of power. From this post of duty he was removed to the most fascinating and brilliant court of Europe. He was made tutor to a boy of great ability, but almost ungovernable pride and passion, but of whom it was important to the world that he should create an accomplished man and a virtuous Christian, for he was heir to one of the greatest monarchies of the earth. Here, amidst his pupil’s bursts �66 of passion, he maintained an unbending dignity, and the proud boy soon learned to weep before him for his sins, to drink in his instructions with eagerness, to delight in him and to love him. Here royalty, too, received his calm but intrepid rebuke, and power acknowledged his sincere independence. He was raised, but by no arts or efforts of his own, to an archbishopric. Here the still piety, which was part of his nature, was misapprehended. His principles and his doctrines were misinterpreted and condemned. A storm of calumny gathered round him. The smile of royalty was converted into a frown, the arm of patronage was changed into a weapon of offence—friendship turned away from him—that Church which he had so sincerely served, began to regard him as her enemy—and the re­ vered head of it slowly and unwillingly pronounced his condemnation. In the midst of all this (gentle, suscep­ tible, modest as was his nature), he held fast to his in­ tegrity. Immersed in a wearisome, protracted contro­ versy, he preserved throughout his courage undaunted, and his charity unchilled. “ God, who is the witness of my thoughts,” says he to one of his greatest adver­ saries, “ knows that, though differing with you in opi­ nion, I still continue to revere you, to preserve unceas­ ingly my respect, and to deplore the bitterness of this contention.” In the midst, and in the pauses of this storm, he was performing the duties of his See with exemplary fidelity. A peace-maker among the divided, a rebuker of the dissolute, an encourager of the deserving, a father to the poor: surrounded by the pomp of a princedom, he lived the life of simplicity. The humblest village pulpit in his diocese knew the sound of his voice, and the presence of �67 his care. He would sit down in his walks with the rustic on the grass, and utter his pure words of counsel. He would daily have his almoners around him, to mi­ nister to the necessitous; and when the evening hour set in, he was found with his household in prayer. Throughout all these labours, sorrows, and painful re­ membrances, his only recreation was to walk. His con­ versation was directed to instruction. “ I have still fresh in my recollection,” says one, “ all the serious and im­ portant subjects which were the topics of our discourse; my ear caught with eagerness every word that issued from his lips: his letters are still before me, and they bespeak the purity of his sentiments, and the wisdom of his principles. I preserve them among my papers, as the most precious treasure which I have in the world.” His sense of friendship was intense and pure. “ Good friends,” says he, “ are a dangerous treasure in life; in losing them we lose too much. I dread the charms of friendship. Oh 1 how happy shall we be, if, hereafter, we are together before God, loving each other in his love, and rejoicing only in his joy, and no longer exposed to separation.” At length the hour of death approached him. He lay thinking of his friends, his flock, and his Church; receiving the consolations of his faith—hearing the selected words of the Scripture, and saying, “ Repeat —repeat to me those holy words again.” He died as he had lived, in sanctity—all his goods given to his stu­ dents, to his clergy, to his guests, to works of piety, and to the poor. This man was a Roman Catholic—his name was Fenelon. In our own country, and nearer our own time, at the be­ ginning of the present century, in a county bordering on �68 the Principality of Wales, there resided, in a not ignoble condition of life, a true servant of God, who took under his care the spiritual and the temporal wants of an ex­ tensive but humble neighbourhood. Diligent in busi­ ness, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord, he watched with anxiety over the morals, the faith, and the happiness of those about him. Frank and cheerful in his manners and habits, he was full of an earnest piety. He thought that the strictness which made no distinction between things absolutely immoral, and things that were innocent, or blameable only in their abuse, was prejudicial to the interests of sincerity and religion. He was so absolutely simple and good-natured, from the innocence of his own heart, so little prone to consider how others might view him, when he saw and meant no evil—that people who were accustomed to judge of seriousness of character by habitual length of countenance, scarcely appreciated the religiousness of his soul, as it really lay deeply within him. From a child he was devout. When in circumstances of danger his mother was in alarm, the infant monitor beside her said, “ Be still, mother; God will protect us.” The generous liberality which compelled his parents, when sending him to school, to sew up his money in his pocket, lest he should give it all away upon the road, tempered with the wiser judgment of the man, continued with him in maturity. When the poor came to speak to him, he always, if possible, went out to them immediately, for he said, “ the time of the poor is very valu­ able to them; besides, they are more sensitive to any apparent inattentions.” In the midst of all this simplicity and goodness, he was courted by the great for his talents, and for the fas­ cination of his company, and his connexions opened out �69 to him the prospect of a brilliant and distinguished career. But there was one subject which pre-eminently engaged his interests, away from the engagements im­ mediately around him. He thought much of the super­ stitions, ignorance, neglect and misery in which lands at a distance lay under the reign of Heathenism. He heard of a Brahmin who had gone to die on the banks of his sacred river—but to whom a British officer had given nourishment, and whom he had thus saved. The Brah­ min lost caste by this occurrence, was avoided by his own countrymen, became dependent on the British offi­ cer, and each day, as he came for his subsistence, cursed the hand that had saved his miserable life. “ Now,” said he, “ if I could only rescue one such miserable crea­ ture from this wretched superstition, I should think myself repaid for any sacrifice.” The dear claims of neighbourhood, friendship, old family associations, and old familiar habits—the still dearer claims of his relationship, as father, husband, bro­ ther, son—made him pause for a moment, but at length he accepted the arduous and honourable post that was as­ signed him in the eastern continent. Bor three or four years he laboured in that fatal clime, travelling from region to region, initiating and confirming in the mild faith of the Gospel, raising the character, and stimu­ lating the zeal, of the Christian population, elevating the condition of the natives, noticing and remonstrating against their oppression or neglect, founding schools for their instruction, and endeavouring to bring the blessings of justice in their own tongue into their own neighbour­ hoods, till at length he killed himself by the labours that were too great for his strength, and left a Church in India sorrowing as for a father. �70 That man was a Bishop of the English Church —his name was Reginald Heber. An upholsterer in London had an only son. Having been successful in his business he left him considerable property. With this the son greatly enlarged an origi­ nally small estate, lived among his tenantry, and devoted himself to their good. The neighbourhood being un­ healthy, he drained it—the cottages being badly con­ structed, he rebuilt them—the people being ignorant, he opened and supported schools. He encouraged the habit of attending religious instructions, and warned all those about him from places of intemperate or dissolute resort. His health being delicate, from the commencement of manhood he had often travelled for its improvement. On one of these occasions, attracted by the mournful in­ cident which had left Lisbon in the ruins of an earth­ quake, his course was directed to the shores of Portugal. He was seized, when on the waters, flung into captivity, and confined in the nauseous dungeon of a jail in France. Here, meat was flung to himself and his fellow-captives as to dogs; they had no instruments wherewith to cut it, and they gnawed it off the bone in the ravenousness of their hunger. In the midst of the horrors of this capti­ vity, he excited a most remarkable feeling of reliance on his honour—was presently permitted to be at large upon his word—and finally was sent home on the express condition that he would return to his confinement in France, if the English government refused to liberate a French naval officer in his place. This promise he would have fulfilled, if the government of his own country had not, by their compliance with the conditions, rendered his return unnecessary. Years rolled by, and his life was marked by the same �attributes of sobriety, virtue, religiousness and benevo­ lence, with the addition of great efforts on behalf of cap­ tives of war, with whose fate and sufferings he could now so acutely sympathize—till he was made High Sheriff of his county. In this official capacity he was, at Assize time, to be met with in the prison, examining into the condition and government of its every part, even to its inmost cell. “ The distress of prisoners,” he says, “ of which there are few who have not some imperfect idea, came more immediately under any notice, when I was Sheriff of the county of Bedford; and the circumstance which excited me to activity in their behalf was, the see­ ing some, who by the verdict of juries were declared not guilty; some, in whom the grand jury did not find such an appearance of guilt as subjected them to trial; and some, whose prosecutors did not appear against them; after having been confined for months, dragged back to jail, and locked up again till they should pay sundry fees to the jailer, the clerk of assize, &c. In order to re­ dress this hardship, I applied to the justices of the county, for a salary to the jailer in lieu of his fees. The Bench were properly affected with the grievance, and willing to grant the relief desired; but they wanted a precedent for charging the county with the expense. I therefore rode into several neighbouring counties in search of a precedent; but I soon learned that the same injustice was practised in them; and looking into the prisons, I beheld scenes of calamity, which I grew daily more and more anxious to alleviate.” You know the rest—you know the heroic career of philanthropy which filled every town and county of Great Britain, and every country of the world, with the name of this great social benefactor. Devotedly attached to his �72 own views of Christian truth, in the work of Christian benevolence, to him Christian, Mussulman and Hindoo were all alike ; he would have risked his life to save any. In a remote province of Russia, stricken by a fever caught by attendance on another, lay at length the philanthropist, at the goal of all his earthly labours. In his memoran­ dum book he had been writing, “ May I not look on present difficulties or think of future ones in this world, as I am but a pilgrim or wayfaring man that tarries but a night; this is not my home; but may I think what God has done for me, and rely on his power and grace.”— “ My soul, remember how often God has sent an answer of Peace, Mercies in the most seasonable times—how often better than thy fears, exceeded thy expectations. Oh! why should I distrust this good and faithful God ? In His word, He hath said, ‘ In all my ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct thy path.’ But, Lord! leave me not to my own wisdom, which is folly, nor to my own strength, which is weakness. Help me to glorify Thee on earth, and finish the work Thou givest me to do.” “ Suffer,” he said to his friends as he was dying, “ suffer no pomp to be used at my funeral, nor any monument, nor any monumental inscription whatsoever, to mark where I am laid: lay me quietly in the earth, place a sun­ dial over my grave, and let me be forgotten.” This man was a Calvinistic Dissenter—his name was Howard. More than a hundred years ago a pious boy left a country parsonage, the abode of his father, and entered the Charter-house school in London. From thence he went to Christ Church College, Oxford. There he ad­ vanced, not only in the learning of the place, but in habits of Christian seriousness and piety, which were not of the place. Associating himself with a few others like­ �73 minded with himself, they devoted a portion of their time to a study of the Scriptures and to serious reading. Always of a moral and religious disposition, he might be said to have obeyed the commandments from his youth. But this he soon began to feel was not enough. He began to visit the sick in prison and the poor in their homes,- prayed and exhorted; avoided all trifling ac­ quaintance ; and commenced the religious observance of the ancient fasts of the Church, keeping Wednesdays and Fridays with a distinct religiousness. In the midst of all this he had much heaviness and fear—was often weak in his new faith, and of doubtful mind. Yet keep­ ing his eye upon his object, he practised abstemiousness— underwent exposure to sudden changes of climate, heat and cold, fatigue and dangers, which were, under Pro­ vidence, to prepare him for his work. Presently he stepped forth to awaken a drowsy, careless world, sunk in sin and sensuality. The conventionalism of society was shocked. Though a clergyman of the English Church, the door of the English Church was shut against him. But Newgate was open to him; the hill-side, and the high-way, and the market-place, were free to him; and submitting to be made thus vile, as he expressed it, against his own natural taste and liking, he preached with ardour the word of warning; and while he created great disquietude of heart in those who heard him, at the dreadful nature of sin and the just wages of it, he spake again to the storm and tempest of these souls, and im­ mediately there was a great calm. All these services were not rendered without great contradiction of sinners. The brutal people rose up against their benefactor; thereby showing what need they had of him. Alluding to the gradual growth of �74 these outrages, he says, “ By how gentle degrees does God prepare us for his will! Two years ago a piece of brick grazed my shoulders. It was a year after that a stone struck me between the eyes. Last month I received one blow, and this evening two; one before we came into the town, and one after we were gone out; but both were as nothing; for though one man struck me on the breast with all his might, and the other on the mouth with such a force that the blood gushed out immediately, I felt no more pain from either of the blows than if they had touched me with a straw.” At length he was sur­ rounded with fellow-labourers in this cause, in this great and good cause of the conversion of the heathens at home. He made rules, he organised a society, he appointed dis­ tricts, and preachers, and meetings. And he nobly says, “ The thing which I was greatly afraid of all this time, and which I resolved to use every possible method of preventing, was a narrowness of spirit, a party zeal, a being straitened in our own bowels; that miserable bigotry which makes many so unready to believe that there is any work of God but among themselves. I thought it might be a help against this frequently to read to all who were willing to hear, the accounts I received from time to time of the work which God is carrying on in the earth, both in our own and other countries; not among us alone, but among those of various opinions and denominations. For this I allotted one evening in every month; and I find no cause to repent of my labour: it is generally a time of strong consolation to those who love God, and all mankind for his sake, as well as a means of breaking down the partition-wall which either the craft of the devil or the folly of men has built up, and of en-< couraging every child of God to say, ‘ Whosoever doth �the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother.’ ” No doubt in all this a strong will was manifested, and was accompanied by the exercise of no little authority. Considerable means poured in upon him to help him in the accomplishment of his extensive work. Selfish men were not slow to attribute to him the baseness which would have characterised themselves. But death, the great earthly judge, vindicated his character from this calumny, for he died possessed of nothing but his books. This man, the spiritual father and regenerator of many thousand souls, was unwillingly the greatest Schismatic the Church of England has ever known—his name was Wesley. I must touch upon two characters I wish still to call to your remembrance with much less detail. One there is, the record of whose life must have recently passed through the hands of many now present, who was worthy of being enrolled among those women who followed our Lord unto his death, and ministered to his last necessi­ ties. The gentle woman who could throw off the allure­ ments of a life of refinement—who could submit to the distressing demands of public duty upon a shrinking nature—who could go with her spotless purity into the midst of the most abandoned of her sex, and appease the anger and calm the passions of guilty men—to whom the coarse ribaldry, the loathsome filth, and the tomb-like uncleanness of soul, which characterised the inmates of a jail, were no barrier to the sun-like beams of her penetrating Christian love—that woman—the observer of no ordinances, the acknowledger of neither Bishop nor Presbyter, member of neither Protestant i 2 �76 nor Catholic Church—could not have stood the test of any of the Churches. She was a Quaker—and her name was Elizabeth Ery. It is difficult sometimes to return in memory to the pre­ judices, the indifference, and the doubt with which great works have been regarded in their commencement: it is difficult to realise the state of feeling which made a given labour necessary, but which now no longer exists, the very labour which it called forth having driven it away almost from our recollections. But the corn of wheat, which first fell into the ground, abiding now no longer alone, but bringing forth much fruit, must not be forgotten. Not many years has the tomb closed over the remains of a humbler and less known labourer in the vineyard of God, than any that I have mentioned. Placed in early life upon one of those streams of social good, the channels of which Society scoops out for herself, and in which the majority of her sons are content, and wisely content, to bear their portion of the freight of human duty,—he of whom I speak devoted himself to the service of the Christian ministry. Eor many years he was happy and content to do the work of an evangelist among his neighbours and parishioners, shedding the light of a pure heart upon their daily Eves, healing the bitterness of their sorrows by the overflowing balsam of his sympathy, and each week assembling them together to point out to them again the brightening way of truth and heaven. At length his heart was smitten with the thought of those who never saw him, and whom he never saw. Be­ hind the goodly array of pure young faces, of sober man­ hood, and reverend old age, that stood before him in the Church—behind the attentive countenances, the cleanly robes and the decorous manners which the Lord’s day �weekly called before him—his mind’s eye saw a gather­ ing group of guilt, intemperance, and crime—of sorrow­ ing, sinning men and women, and of children, with their tears of pain drying upon their unwashed cheeks. In the very midst of those who came to him to hear the sounds of peace and holiness in that happy temple, his soul filled with the thoughts of those who never came. As he stood upon the steps of the doors which at his touch were to throw open to him homes of cheerful innocence and competence, radiant with a welcome to himself, his heart grew full and heavy with the remembrance of those at whose door he never stopped, and who never sat at good men’s feasts. He thought of those great cities in his own young country, of those greater cities in other lands, older in sorrows, and more crowded with crime. His own more limited range among the poor of his prosperous, healthy village-town, satisfied not the craving of his sympathy with the wide-spread humanity that pined in neglected sorrow, and uncombatted vice. He threw up his easy, happy charge, he went to the nearest great city, to study and to alleviate its unseen woes, and to stir up the heart of philanthropy and religion to the obligation and necessity of this work. Now that Bishops organise large companies of Missionaries for this very work; now that Town Missions send forth their hun­ dreds of labourers; now that almost every considerable society of Christians in our large towns bears a part in this holy undertaking, as an obvious and indispensable part of their Christian duty,—it is difficult to believe how new and strange this very work appeared, even to the best of men, twenty years ago—and how this apostle of the neglected, this remembrancer of the forgotten, toiled to convince men’s judgments, and to satisfy their hearts �78 of the possibility of taking religion and hope into the very homes of the poor. Yes ! I remember him when he landed on these shores, with that countenance, the light whereof was a divine charity. I remember him when he came among us, new from the actual personal fulfilment of his own scheme, and about to return to it again, to die in it. Yes ! I remember him, with his thrilling tones, and his overflowing heart, and his consecrated life, and I re­ member, too, that at that time there was no such thing in this country as a Domestic Mission to the outcast of society, and the neglected and forgotten of Christian, as­ semblies, and that most men thought that there never could be! This man, so full of purity, so rich in human tenderness, so affluent in divine forbearance—this man, the friend of the heroic Follen, the spiritual brother of the high-souled Channing, and yet the daily companion of the hardest and most neglected beings in the streets of Boston—was a Unitarian, and his name was Tuckerman. Now to which of all these men wTill even the Bigot venture to deny a place within the Infinite Bather’s all­ comprehending mercy ?—a place in the reverent regards of the great human family ? a place in the heaven of the just made perfect ?—which of all these will he ven­ ture, in any assembly of the good and wise on earth, to declare unfit to share in the inheritance he anticipates for himself? Whichsoever of these sainted men is the object of his intolerant presumption, there is not one high soul in the world that will cry Amen to his ana­ thema. And yet to the Roman Catholic I say, here, in this group, is to be found almost every possible form of schism from the unity of your Church ! To the Church �79 of England man, I say, here are a Quaker and a Uni­ tarian ! To the Unitarian, I say, here is the professor of what you call the stern and gloomy faith of Calvin, here the submissive subject of the See of Rome ! Not­ withstanding, as surely as our Lord said of the little children, “ of such is the kingdom of heaven,” we may say of these men, of such is the general assembly and church of the first-born, whose names are writ in heaven 1 When you ask me, then, for the essentials of Christianity, I point you to the belief these men had in common ! When you ask me for the Holy Catholic faith, I tell you, it is there ! It was not the belief in transubstantiation in one, or the belief in episcopal ordination in another, or a be­ lief in vicarious sacrifice in another, or the neglect of public religious ordinances in another, or the mental adoption of the doctrine of the divine unity in another— that made of him a child of God, and a true follower of Jesus Christ; but it was that which each had in addi­ tion, that which each had, I will say, in superiority, to these special characteristics of his individual faith—first, a hearty sincerity in the belief he did profess; and, se­ condly, an actual incorporation into his own spiritual being, of the life and mind of Jesus Christ. There is one possible conclusion, however, from these considerations, against which I would earnestly warn you; it is the adoption, as any result of this survey, of that in­ fidel and worldly latitudinarianism, which proclaims it as indifferent, what mode of faith the individual mind adopts or professes. The survey of the lives of these great and good men teaches us nothing of the kind. Each one of these men commenced, as the very basis of his spiritual existence, with being earnest and sincere in his own pro­ fessions and belief. Each one of them laid the founda­ �80 tion of his character in serious thought, and in honest confession. We are not to stand before this noble army of holy men, and, as a result of the contemplation of their excel­ lency and their glory, say, “ then it is indifferent what form of Christianity we shall profess—any is sufficient, all are good.” Do we suppose that was the spirit in which they formed their faith ? On the contrary, these men wrought out their faith with the profoundest anxiety, and took reverently to their souls every word of God. Fenelon would have been no Fenelon had he been merely a con­ forming Catholic, and not a true and earnest man. Re­ ginald Heber would have been no confessor had he been in heart a Unitarian or a Congregationalist. These things cannot be. Nothing great or good is ever founded on a lie. These men were sincere; and though we may not be able to see how the specialities of their belief influenced their characters, they were without a doubt wrought deeply into the tissue of their souls, were not put on as a garment in which to go forth to meet the world, or in an easy indifference as to what profession they should make, but formed a genuine part of their individual religious being. It was this very earnestness, this profoundness and sincerity of individual conviction, that made Christianity to them so intense and vital an influence. They received the faith of Jesus Christ under that form which appeared to them, after grave reflection, to be the purest and the best; and henceforth it could exist as a personal influence in no other form whatever to their hearts. When will men see that he to whom all faiths are alike has no earnest faith at all ? It is the very lesson of these men’s lives that they had convictions, determinate convictions, convictions that �81 made them what they were, and that they were faithful to them. It is indeed a holy and delightful thought, that we may also conclude, (without denying the reality, and to the men the necessity, of those special and distinctive peculiarities in which the common faith of Christ ap­ proved itself respectively to their consciences,) that the great saving power of their faith consisted, not in that which distinguished them from one another, but in that common treasure which lay at the foundation of all their differences, in that obedience to God, that love to Christ, that charity to man, that hope of heaven, in which they all rejoiced together; that carefulness of mind with which they sought the truth; that conscientious fidelity with which they maintained it; that vigilant self-discipline with which they applied its lessons : and that joyful hope with which they rested on its promises. It is not for me, my friends, to speak of the holy lessons to which this temple shall, from week to week, be devoted, in the building up of human souls for the conflicts of earth, and the inheritance of heaven. But I believe I may with certainty specify two general objects in its erection; that it stands as an offering to since­ rity, to the sacredness of the individual conscience, and as the provision of an altar for an honest and truthful sacrifice, such as they who come here may truthfully and earnestly offer: and that, in the next place, it stands in determined Protest against those accretions and additions which Churches too generally enforce upon Christian belief, as essential to salvation, and in restoration of that old and only catholic Christianity which is common to all Churches, though obscured and weakened in so many. Por we, too, in common with all the holy men whose �lives and characters we have been considering—we, too, believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of Hea­ ven and Earth—we, too, in common with all these holy men, believe that he hath, in his merciful providence, sent Jesus Christ to turn away every one of us from his ini­ quities, and to be the way, the truth, and the life to us —and we, too, in common with all these holy men, look forward to a life beyond the valley of the shadow, where our sins and our sorrows shall be lost in the light of the benign presence of God; and trusting in the mercy of Him who forgiveth, we long, with them, to be prepared, by pureness, by knowledge, by long-suffering, by kind­ ness, by the holy spirit, and by love unfeigned, to join that blest assembly and church of the first-born, which are written in Heaven.—Amen. �NOTE. In the above Sermon—designed to promote a feeling of eatholic charity, in an audience consisting of a variety of de­ nominations—the question remains unsolved, and indeed unattempted, Does any one of these forms of Christian doc­ trine accord more than the rest with the teachings of the New Testament, and is any one more conducive than the rest to the realization of Christian life and character ? That this must be the case with some one or other of them, no one can doubt, for no one can pay attention to their several cha­ racteristics, and believe them to be identical in their essence or in their influence. That any one of them actually reaches the ideal standard which these two tests imply, is more than, the writer at least is able to assert. He is much more disposed to believe that each of these forms of Faith contains a portion—and the purest and most vital portion—of Christian truth and influence ; but that in actual development, that portion in each Church suffers from a relative exaggeration, or a relative neglect—the exaggeration leading to an exclu­ sion of other important principles, necessary to be associated with it in an integral Faith—and the neglect leading to a gradual and half unconscious admission of other and inferior principles, which ultimately predominate and overwhelm it. The apparent result of this view is Eclecticism. But Eclec­ ticism is an artificial and critical process, landing us in a result which is usually destitute of all homogeneity, a collec­ tion from without, under the guidance of the judgment, �rather than a natural integral production of the soul within. It is a kind of Peripateticism among the sects—alternately assimilating and rejecting the elements of actually existing Churches. Surely the old, but rarely realized, idea, of a recur­ rence to the New Testament itself, as containing the spirit of Christianity in its purest form, and to the life of Jesus Christ, as affording the only perfect instance of that spirit exemplified in humanity, involves a far sounder principle. It is a truth often overlooked in these discussions, but nevertheless to be borne carefully in mind, that no human being can tell on what proportion the peculiarities, the differentia of the Roman Catholic form of Christianity, entered into the composition of the mind and character of Fenelon—any more than he can tell in what proportion Calvinism entered into the spiritual fabric of Howard, or Unitarianism into that of Tuckerman. It may be—and this is probably nearer the truth—that the distinctive peculiarities of their special forms of faith were in each case the subordinate parts of their spiritual system— that the common essential Christian truth excluded from none of their systems, but, lying at the base of all, was the great element in their personal and actuating faith; and that this fact was precisely the influence which made them the excellent men they were—as it is probably the fact which seems to make men of the highest spiritual excellence almost always of one interior family and creed. A great mind is able to penetrate beyond the outworks of its creed, and lay hold of the citadel. But ordinary minds rest in those very outworks. With them the accretions are the great thing : and therefore it is, that the purification of popular belief is a work of great necessity still, for in the subordinate and comparatively uninfluential elements of the various prevailing forms of Christian belief, pressed upon the notice of the general mind, as they are, by the very differences and antagonism they create, the ordinary mind takes its chief position, and of these it takes the firmest hold. The doc­ trine, then, of this Sermon—the salvability of all these good and great men of every Church, does not alter the duty of �85 preventing the saving truth, which they were able to discern and make their own through all that surrounded it, from being overwhelmed and paralyzed by accretions—preventing in fact the saving truth from being saving to the hearts of the multitude. The truth appears therefore to stand thus : Each Christian Church contains within itself the means of salvation, and the essentials of Truth—but each contains them in various degrees of development, some having them more perfect in one direction, others in another. By the first of these posi­ tions, we are bound to a universal charity—by the second, to mutual help, correction and enlightenment. Far from mono­ polizing all Christian truth—still less all Christian excellence— and less still, all Christian salvation—for that religious body to which the writer belongs—he yet should say, if by so vague a word he could denote his own version of the Christian Faith, that among prevailing systems the theory of Unitarianism appears to him to be in itself the purest, the highest, and the most enduring; and when it shall have engaged in its development and application a larger number of the best minds of the community, and the attention of its adherents shall not be engrossed in its dogmatical defence (as by the necessity of its position is too much now the case), it must necessarily produce loftier and more extended spi­ ritual results than the world has ever yet witnessed—that it must necessarily produce the highest characters, and the greatest number of them: that is to say, the belief in one undivided and infinite God, our Father, is in itself, and in its influences, necessarily higher and holier than the present scholastic division of that unity into natures and persons;— the belief that God was as fully manifested in J esus Christ, as the Divine can be in the Human, affords a better support and guide to our spiritual nature, than the dogma that Christ himself was the Infinite God;—the desire to partake of the divine nature in Christ, and to grow up into a resemblance in all things unto him which is our Head, is a more holy and influential desire for the heart of man, than a reception of �86 the doctrine of a vicarious sacrifice, a substituted righteous­ ness and a substituted punishment;—and, finally, a prospect of futurity, in which the fruits of the seeds sown in this life, whether they be good or whether they be evil, shall be reaped by each man in a world of greater light and higher progress beyond the grave, is in itself truer, and in its influences more efficient, than a belief in the ordinary twofold division of an everlasting Heaven and an everlasting Hell, into one or other of which each man is to depart at his resurrection. This form of Christianity, then, which is at present distinguishedfrom others bythe designation “Unitarianism,” is still, in the writer’s opinion, a very noble thing to avow—a very righteous and holy cause for which to labour and to suffer reproach. THE END. Printed by Richard Kinder, Green Arbour Court, Old Bailey. �May be had of John Chapman, 142, Strand, and all Booksellers, Price 6d., PAUSE AND RETROSPECT; The Last Discourse preached in Paradise-street Chapel, Liverpool. BY JAMES MARTINEAU. With an Address on occasion of laying the Foundation-stone of the New Church in Hope-street. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. In two volumes 12mo, price 7s. 6d. each, ENDEAVOURS AFTER THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. Each Volume may be had separately. ALSO, THIRD EDITION, Price 4s. paper cover; 4s. 6d., cloth, THE RATIONALE OF RELIGIOUS INQUIRY; OB. THE QUESTION STATED, OF REASON, THE BIBLE, AND THE CHURCH. In one vol. 8vo, price 7s. 6d., LECTURES IN THE LIVERPOOL CONTROVERSY. 1. THE BIBLE, WHAT IT IS, AND WHAT IT IS NOT; 2. THE DEITY OF CHRIST. 3. THE ATONEMENT. 4. CHRISTIAN VIEW OF MORAL EVIL. 5. CHRISTIANITY WITHOUT PRIEST AND WITHOUT RITUAL. WITH INTRODUCTION, AND PRELIMINARY CORRESPONDENCE. Bach Lecture may be had separately. �In 12mo, price 3s. 6d.,—to Congregations, 2s. 6d.,—bound in cloth, HYMNS FOR THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH AND HOME. COLLECTED AND EDITED BY JAMES MARTINEAU. SIXTH EDITION. Congregations requiring a supply should make application to the Editor, Liverpool. .a Price 21s., THIRD EDITION. HOLY SONGS AND MUSICAL PRAYERS. * Composed or adapted, and harmonized for Four Voices, with separate accompaniments for the Pianoforte and Organ. By J. R. OGDEN, Esa. EDITED BY JAMES MARTINEAU. A set of Sixty-two Compositions, of which three-fourths are original, expressly designed for Hymns in the above Collection. The Supplement to the former Editions may be had separately, price 7s. Price 6d., IRELAND AND HER FAMINE. A DISCOURSE. Price 6d., THE BIBLE AND THE CHILD. A DISCOURSE. On the 1st of February, May, August, and November, Price 2s. 6d., THE PROSPECTIVE REVIEW. EDITED BY Messrs. J. J, TAYLER. J. H. THOM. C. WICKSTEED. J. MARTINEAU. Respice, Aspice, Prospice. St. Bernard � 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 &amp; 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 Discourses on occasion of the dedication of Hope-Street New Church, Liverpool, Thursday, October 18, and Sunday, October 21, 1849 Description An account of the resource Place of Publication: London Collation: 86, [2] p. ; 21 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Contents: The dedication of the Christian temple to the worship and service of God: a sermon preached on Thursday, October 18th, 1849 / Thomas Madge -- The Watch-night lamps: a discourse preached on the first Sunday of public worship, October 21, 1849, in Hope-Street New Church, Liverpool / James Martineau -- The General Assembly and Church of the First-Born: a sermon preached in Hope-Street New Church, Liverpool on Sunday evening, October 21, 1849 / Charles Wicksteed. A selection of related titles from the publisher's lists on unnumbered pages at the end. Printed by Richard Kinder, London. Date given in Roman numerals. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Madge, Thomas Martineau, James Wicksteed, Charles Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1849 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available John Chapman 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 (Discourses on occasion of the dedication of Hope-Street New Church, Liverpool, Thursday, October 18, and Sunday, October 21, 1849), 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> Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5375 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 Sermons https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/ba717514708438544e2ae82accc94728.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=Cr0H%7EhMCct3TFNfNPXweB1q9lypPc5uzD%7E3IYyCn3RzQ8HLDkTwxfhQBNjZT9LAlzkEXbCavYI%7EWg7EW5CPOaEo4u3%7E5LBpxQ1zdSzB8HNs49NQ2De6kx7l5LWpXXfMDHi0%7EHJ1TuSH40%7E%7EZ6MFS6acXTgfKpUG-G2sAXg8sMtj7ZR9WdM4kiZCidmSpbSJXt-2urqLUaisxXShgKcAEi6JuP6PRoHT5fiVH8Ead75EYfAhvxDY9p36U6-zYxat3d3YiFE9GjpEfC29u49GC6iU1URqmIfuuyzOwcSRlCCM2UQiwfJ8ZJ3gcVzqunID2cRH8iu1y%7E20c8CNPQCcQPQ__&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 &amp; 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 https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/5172818a303cf9ac387a7e208df10f72.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=PMXb-90VR1RQYZS6LsKmt-J5-Iy-VJ5RESEiJoB1NPMChiWGgOblG-0j5YIbr1wUD2c6wqLV2nIL92dIwOnuADjILuedsPXBt0U-ZRQOvpR5UPal-mgX8MjbJ4JPmDBoXEGAQSGNR8HGe49aptivuDEEmDmFx6DlmovB8x3OFlHHBjqnFBsAtCumKUH1MmIFnchXmjyGpDuRMMxu-CAQw1HhavRyQ%7EUZfZDzAWjyjnWlvzLYiWqFo-uUqwTOZ0X3PLEyYF1a0H4CIb0ojNxwV2cYQQSA0Ql-bx8G-e-vAVnkmSdqb%7EgxDdtLl2m7PeGNgOCm2dki8Zo7C3lgea6D5w__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM b3ed53f2412cab7cae4a7846e4bb012f PDF Text Text INAUGURAL DISCOURSE AT ST. GEORGE’S HALL, ON SUNDAY, 1st OCTOBER, 1871. BY REV. CHARLES VOYSEY, B.A., ST. EDMUND HALL, OXFORD, LATE VICAR OF HEALAUGH. LONDON: To be obtained of the Author at ST. GEORGE’S HALL. 1871. Price Fourpence. ��SERMON. c< Let us not be weary in well-doing; for in due season roe shall reap if we faint not.” Q&LKTlkKS vi. 9. I have chosen this text as a motto on this very interesting occasion of our assembling here to-day, rather than as a special subject of our meditation. It would be unnecessary, and even unprofitable, to occupy our thoughts with an essay on the duty of perseverance, or with a string of common-places about success being the reward of patient and well-sustained exertion. We are too much men of the world not to know by experience that if we wish to succeed in our present undertaking, we must bring to bear upon it our best and wisest thought— our undaunted courage under, apparent failure—and our most patient and self-denying exertions. It seems more fitting to the circumstances of the hour that we should begin our work with a brief and comprehensive review of what we have undertaken �4 to do, so as to get, if possible, in plain words, a definite statement of the objects which have drawn, and are still drawing, together from all parts of the world so important an organization as that which we profess to represent. Our first work—that indeed which has been the key note of this organization — is to undermine, assail, and, if possible, to destroy that part of the prevailing religious belief which we deem to be false. We make no secret of our antagonism. We frankly state our denials, and are ready to give our reasons for the denial of any doctrine which we de­ nounce. We are in open warfare against much of what goes by the name of Christianity. We repu­ diate at the outset the tacit or avowed assumptions which are almost universally accepted as the basis of religious belief. To be more explicit, we deny the doctrines of the fall of man from original righteousness; of the curse of God against our race, and of his supposed sen­ tence of any of his creatures to everlasting woe; therefore we deny not merely the doctrine of the atonement, but the necessity for any method what­ ever of appeasing the imaginary wrath of God. For every one of these doctrines involves a flaw in the moral perfection of God, and violates our instinctive perception of His goodness. The fall of man, e.g., involves an admission that God was either unable or unwilling to keep His creature as good as He had at first made him ; and that, contrary to the conclusions of science, God’s work is not progressive, that the �5 first man was a paragon of perfection, instead of being in the lowest rank of savages. The doctrine of God’s curse against our race in consequence of the first man’s sin involves a still greater blemish on the moral perfection of God; it is contrary to all sense of justice that one man should be an object of wrath in consequence of another man’s sin, much more that a whole world of countless millions should be deemed accursed and sentenced to everlasting perdition through the sole faults of their first parents. This doctrine we discard, because it is morally de­ grading to God. For the same reason, only with immeasurably greater indignation, we reject the doctrine that God withdrew the curse and sentence from the heads of a few of our race in consequence of the death of Jesus, by which, orthodoxy tells us, the Father was reconciled to men. The remedy was worse than the disease. The compromise more dis­ honourable than the injustice which it was intended to amend. These are only a few, but they are the most prominent of the doctrines which nearly all socalled Christians deem to be essential; and our first work, I say, is to hasten their coming downfall—to rid the world of ideas which, though once were good and useful in comparison with the ideas which they supplanted, have now become both poisonous and loathsome—full of injury to the human heart and mind, and blasphemous in the ears of the most High. Gathering round these abjured doctrines are others of only less noxious character, such as the belief in �6 a Devil, the doctrine of the Trinity, the Godhead, and even the superhuman Divinity of Jesus Christ— the expectation of His return to earth as the Judge and King of men—the doctrine of the Church as a spiritual and authoritative power—the doctrines of sacraments, of holy orders, of priestly interference and control in every shape, and of the necessity for priestly intervention at the burial of the dead. All these topics are suggestive of many protests, which it will be our duty to make. There is one, however, which I have not yet men­ tioned, reserving it for a paragraph by itself. We shall be met at the onset of our attack by the warning, that we have no right to form about any of God’s dealings an opinion which may be con­ trary to the revealed religion contained in the Bible, or in the Church, or in both. This is where the conflict will be hottest. We must bring all our forces to bear against this insidious and plausible plea. We shall have not merely to defend our own right to use the Light of Nature within us, but to show up the weak points in our enemies’ armour—to challenge them to a defence of those glaring immoralities and absurdities in the Bible, or in the £‘ revealed ” religion, which none of them as yet have had the courage to defend—to exhibit also un­ sparingly the numberless fallacies which abound in their theories of a Church, and to make them show cause why any claimant for our obedience should be accepted more than his rivals. We must repeat and repeat the fact, that so-called revelations abound in �7 all the earth, each one being believed by its ad­ herents to be the only true one; and that Chris­ tendom itself is divided piecemeal into separate and antagonistic Churches, each of which in turn is, of course, the only true Church. To the world outside, who may watch the struggle, we may appeal with confidence, knowing that all the Churches, all the priests, all the Bibles, and all the Catechisms, have never yet been able to quench the spark of Divine justice, and love of truth, which the Almighty God has kindled in the human breast. The time will come when, if our orthodox opponents shall have succeeded in proving that the Bible or the Church teach authoritatively doctrines against which the mind and ■ heart and conscience of men rebel, men will make answer—“ So much the worse for the Church—so much the worse for the Bible;” and what is bad in both will be cast away to the moles and to the bats—to the dust and darkness appointed for all falsehood. To pave the way for even this preliminary work of necessary destruction, we must first of all persuade the timorous to enter upon the work of religious enquiry without any dread of being punished for honest conviction. The Churches hold all their power at this moment through the superstitious fears of men and women. From first to last the cry is, “Flee from the wrath to come,” “Believe this, and thou shalt be saved and as nothing is so catching as fear, the multitude run hither and thither, to seek shelter from impending doom. �A great part of our work, then, must be to pro­ claim the perfect safety of the path of enquiry. To tell men and women that even if they go wrong in opinion, even if they miss much precious truth and embrace much mischievous error, the Lord of all will not damn them for it for ever. The Father’s love will not shrivel up or grow cold because, in our blindness or twilight, we have missed the path of truth, or made but slow progress therein. We must teach them that, wrong or right, they are equally safe from the absurd horrors which have hitherto scared them; and that all the ill-consequences of error which Divine goodness has ordained, are only ordained to teach us to correct our mistakes, and to improve our method of search after His truth. 1 sometimes fear that—as regards this country at all events—most of us will not live to see the false doctrines of Christianity utterly rooted out, but we may well hope to have set free our countrymen in a few short years from this insane and ridiculous fear of damnation as the penalty for error in opinion. We can do nothing with the religious masses till we have set them free to think without trembling at every step. Let us do this with all our might, and let us not be weary in this piece of well-doing, for in due season we shall reap if we faint not. But our work does not rest here. I believe I am only echoing the thoughts of every heart which has sympathised with us, when I say we should be both distressed and ashamed if all our work were only destructive, if all our energies were to be exhausted �9 in pulling down even false belief and only in under­ mining erroneous doctrine. So far from that, we only pull down that we may build up, we only de­ sire to eradicate false beliefs that we may be able to plant true beliefs in their place. Though I am only an insignificant unit in the great brotherhood of free­ thinkers and enemies of orthodoxy, I may point with an honest pride to those published works for which I have been expelled from my benefice, and ask, Are not those writings full of positive beliefs ? Can you find a sermon amongst them all which does not pro­ claim as much my anxiety that we should believe and teach what is true, as that we should give up and de­ nounce what is false ? Had this not been so, I should certainly not deserve to stand here to-day as the mouthpiece of so many earnest and devout men. But we must be prepared for every form of reproach and every degree of misrepresentation. When people can deliberately say of a man, “ He is only a Theist,” assuming that, in their own minds, and in that of their hearers, contempt need go no further, it proves that they know nothing whatever of Theism and that they have never taken the pains even to ascertain what we really believe, or why we believe it; still less why we should have willingly suffered for it. It will be our chief duty and our highest delight to proclaim our real convictions — to contrast our own faith with the faith we have so gladly aban­ doned, and to try to teach those who may be halting between two opinions, and others who may have �10 no faith at all, to embrace the views which our own hearts, as God made them, have taught us to ap­ prove. It will delight us to tell how we have learnt to call God our Father—to trust Him unseen—to look to Him for guidance in difficulty, and for strength in duty—to feel that He is about our path and about our bed, near to us at every moment of our lives, ready to give all the light and knowledge which our narrow souls can receive—to console us under every disappointment and sorrow—and to give us hope when everything else is gone. It will be our joy to show that this faith in our Father is the natural outcome of the possession and exercise of loving virtues; that—if there be a God at all—He must for ever be above, and never below, the moral beauty of the best of His creatures; that as we grow in friendliness, and brotherliness, and fatherliness to our fellow-men, we learn more and more of the ex­ ceeding and unspeakable love of God ; that we give to Him the best name we know to-day, ready to ex­ change it for a better and truer one on the morrow, if human life and its relations rise higher still. Contrasting this with the miserable narrow estimate of God’s love as given us in Christianity, we gladly proclaim that all that God is to ourselves, He is also that to every one of our fellow-men. He has no favourites, and the best and happiest one amongst us all, in this world or in the world to come, is only the type of what every other soul shall be when his turn come. Meeting with the objection against His love, �11 drawn from the sufferings and moral degradation of many of our race, we can either explain it by thoughtful reference to pains and sins we have our­ selves once experienced, and found them to be preg­ nant with eternal blessing, or we take refuge in the thought that our goodness—small as it is—would not allow us to inflict one grain of pain or shame without a purpose of lasting good, nor to withhold any amount of painful discipline that was necessary to secure the ultimate happiness and virtue of the individual exposed to it; and then we ask ourselves, “ Shall mortal man be more just than God ? Shall the creature be more loving than the Creator ?” We shall have to confront those who believe too little as well as those who believe too much. We know that if an unspoken Atheism be rife in this land, it must be laid at the door of those who painted man worse than a worm, and God blacker than a fiend. The creed of Christendom is the cradle—nay, the mother of Atheism ; and the Churches may thank themselves for degrading not only the name and work of Jesus—one of the world’s best men—but also the principles of mankind and the honour of God. If we would do any successful work amongst those who are exiles from the regions of faith, we must come to them to learn, not to teach—to learn every bit of truth and duty which they have valued, while, per­ haps, we have under-valued it. We must come to them, honouring them for their protest against a foul caricature of the Most High and His dealings, and �12 only desiring to impart to them what is so precious to ourselves by the legitimate process of argument, and the still more efficient agency of a well-ordered example. If they make their just boast that they are all for mankind—to raise their kindred and their race, to un-loose the heavy burdens, to let the op­ pressed go free, and to break every yoke—let us meet them, at all events, on their own ground as brothers of humanity, and as setting the highest possible value on services rendered to man as the only true service acceptable to God. Amongst the beliefs which it will be our duty to proclaim, stands next in order our hope for the life to come. We do not dogmatise on this or on any other point, but it will devolve upon us to multiply and strengthen all the evidences on which our hopes are based. We all feel that our future life is bound up in the very existence of God; the two must stand or fall together; and while we are careful never to allow our hopes and longings for immortal bliss to clog our foot­ steps in the path of duty upon earth; while we are most scrupulous to avoid turning it into a bribe for the performance of duties which are their own reward, we should do all in our power to deepen the roots of our belief in the world to come, as the only solace under the bitter pangs of bereavement, and as a wholesome stimulus to our efforts after holiness, which can never be adequately satisfied in the world below. To all this, which we may call our public work, we must add the far more important business of �131 cultivating in our lives the spirit of truth, integrity, purity, and brotherly love. In our own homes, and in the pursuit of our daily toil, we must find the great field of self-culture and discipline, without which all our public exertions in the service of truth and liberty will be thrown away. If we find our honour growing more sensitive, our thoughts more elevated, our speech more refined and exact, our tempers more placid and enduring, our consciences more tender, and our affections more wide and deep, we shall find, also, that our public and social influence for good will grow at the same time, and men will learn to love us in spite of our creed, and will pardon us for spurning their own. And above all, if, in our desire to know more of God, and to be convinced of His goodness, where we only doubted before, we seem only to become more confused, more bewildered by the strife of tongues, our only chance of rest, and peace, and joy in believing, will be found in our own efforts to be good and to do good. There is no other avenue to the Throne of God’s majesty on high; no other means of rending the veil which hides the glory of His love, but what is to be found in the goodness of each man’s own heart. “ Blessed are the pure in heart for they only shall see God.” Time would fail me were I to attempt to enume­ rate the many collateral duties which will belong to us as an association. We must only resolve to meet them as they arise, in the same sincerity, and with the same activity, as that in which we desire to regulate our lives. �141 Of the service in which we have all united to-day, it becomes me not to speak but in terms of humility and hope. It has been prepared in distressing haste. At best it is only an experiment, and time alone will enable us to test its value and to correct its faults. I only ask you—and that with perfect confidence— for your patient trial of it. One word more upon my text and I have done. “Let us not be weary in well-doing, for in due season we shall reap if we faint not.” For my own part, I have taken up my share in this great work without any sanguine expectation of my own success. But I mean to work at it body and soul, day and night, if need be, in spite of any amount of opposition and discouragement. I do not mean to let it go till I am beaten off it, as it were, lifeless. As long as I have a voice left me, it shall be raised to magnify the loving kindness of the Lord, and to speak good of His name. No terror shall shut my lips—no bribes shall tamper with the utter­ ance of my heart’s thoughts. So help me God ! But in saying this for myself, I know I am speaking for the thousands who have hitherto supported me, and for those who are gathered here to-day. If we fight shoulder to shoulder, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, we shall in time disarm all opposition, win over to our ranks the wavering and fashion-fearing multitude, and plant our banner of truth, and liberty, and love, where no foe can reach it. Thank God, the cause to which we have pledged ourselves is not our cause only but His—does not �15 depend on my life or fidelity, or feeble powers—no, nor on all of us put together——it must prevail in the end, conquering every obstacle, and rising over every wave of seeming failure, because it is devoted, first to God’s truth, then to God’s honour, and last, but not least, to the true welfare of man. u Our help standeth in the name of the Lord who hath made heaven and earth 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 &amp; 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 Inaugural discourse at St. George's Hall, on Sunday 1st October, 1871 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Voysey, Charles Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 15 p. ; 21 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Text of sermon from Galatians vi. 9 "Let us not be weary in well-doing; for in due season we shall reap if we faint not". Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [The author] 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 G5371 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 (Inaugural discourse at St. George's Hall, on Sunday 1st October, 1871), 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 Sermons https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/a79de8a3e000ad75132b36a048070753.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=TkmsKpMCHEa4nF0yIgnnZL-jbZ4hpIQzz9FVu2brkeFQYHGUGbdpixM%7ElVXHtSlIE%7ETEPLIx4jF4yBwKCrJWSpT995CoOuC5ukqmNQ-JZc5BR1y2U72bH7gQfP5AsbGEpC7biAw%7EAZspwlId4e-dgLVCfPQ9ISNLMX86cuHy7fma4cDGqvSVhc6qhbMb321yMO7sA2FiTqfZNyIK5Bri5KQgoplEQJX5k5Qz-Zjf8KCJQ-zW0Qhk9VtDY5btfvnIgj5OG6JIk9bAGxRTL6xAsJHeQpGZURQtg7bxEg70uR-z0S9COPH1lhNIkRjJdx5auTTA9NoLG%7EaK3Jy0xR8T4w__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 06a93aeef1990e72b80816a07219bda5 PDF Text Text ROBERT COLLYER AND HIS CHURCH '* " ’' ' A DISCOURSE DELIVERED IN THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL UNITARIAN CHURCH IN PHILADELPHIA if 0 V E M B ER 12 1 8 71 BY ■wliHI. ZFTTZRzJSTZESS MINISTER King & Baird, [printed not published.] Printers. ��DISCOURSE I take for my text what thJ3|g|.h elders said to Jesus when they went, to him in behalf of the Roman centurion. He is worthy for, whom thou shouldst do this. . Luke vii. 4. My Friends: The religious societies of our denomination have all » been invited tel aid flniBBflwQBv Church in Chicago for our dearly ^»veMm?iend and brother? Robert Collyer, whose' ^^utiSlOlle^ of worship was burned down in the grS^o^i^gBOH It is proposed to fifty thousand dollars for the purpose. I have no doubt this sum will be raised. Apart from Robert Collyer’s peculiar personal claims, there is in the Unitarian E»omirH®n as in all reli­ gious denominations, as irf :all»EM^gociated for com­ mon objects, what the French call, a spirit of the body, which prompts the members of the body to liberal giving, and causes every proposal n^e in its name to be greeted with favor for the mere |pme’s|sake, letting alone the intrinsic merit^jof the proposal. Political parties as well as religious sects illustrate this spirit. �4 Even the greatest outrages upon liberty and common honesty are more than pardoned—they are accounted honorable and sacred, when perpetrated in the name of the party or the church. But, thank Heaven ! we have as striking instances, and most cheewig instances are they, of the same spirit in the interest of good 'objects. Witness the great Rebellion, when, in the name of Our Country, which makes this multitudinous and diversified popu­ lation one body, acts of the noblest heroism were done, and self-sacrifice became a luxury. Witness also the generoutftutpOuring >f effective sympathy in behalf of thejiffering hosts of the West, in the name of the common humility which makes all mankind one. Seeing that this spirit is so strong, I have no doubt, I say, that attachment to the name, loyalty to the denomination, will be powerful enough among liberal Christians to rebuild Robert Collyer’s church in Chi­ cago. I am very ^BrnlSBi desirous, friends and brothers, that we of this church should take a prompt and generous share in thi^mgost worthy enterprise. But for the fulfilment of my ardent desire, I do not rely upon your zeal for the denomination. If there is any one Church in our denomination in which there is less of a denominational spirit than in �5 others, it is this Church. I do not believe there is any associated numb® of Unitarian Christians less disposed than we are (to use a vulgar but expressive phrase), toBgdJm a? merely denominational object. I ha^^^H attempted—I should most cer­ tainly have wle|H||Oj^Epo use the Unitarian name to conjure money out of your pockets. I regard it as a very good thing that it is st^na^tn^^ ^among you so little of IWm onoBteMSRnil^^MII whatever solicits youriw^^^^Mw must stand or fall upon its merits. For thB state of things amongst us of this Church, there are* tb< best of reasons. For a feflg^ime we were, and we are still, gecBaph^m^fpe|jkihg, on the outskirtsW^ifffwitfe’^Uni^^^a coSSmrWB n nl in the closest and most vital connection with it. When I first became the pastor of this church, nearly half a century ago, scarcely a si^^^^Orbassfed *ffiaB some one of my brothers in the ministry from Boston or its vicinity— the headquarters of the T^taWay —did not stand in this pulpit, and thus keep up a living con­ nection with the Ka' ’lbfawners and brothers have, one after aiWthe^ nearly all disap­ peared. Their voices are heard B^WwrlM A new generationJdfel sprung up. W:JWfcKfee^^bft more and more alone. Then again the advocacy of the caute of the slave, �6 which I was “ driven of the spirit ” some thirty years ago, in a humble way to undertake, tended still further to isolate us. I was regarded as endangering the interests of Unitarian Christianity, which it was pleaded, had as much as it could do to bear the odium of the Unitarian name without having the added bur­ then of Abolitionism. It was impossible that this plea should increase our zeal for nominal Unitarianism. What churchlwhat religious wganization on earth was not bound to go members could not feel and speak for the4 oppressed as oppressed with them 1 What? doctrines,. howeve^pure and simple, were of any galue if they could not Sustain the cause of Humanity, howeveilobnoxious that cause might be'? Is it any twonder that we grew lukewarm in the interest of .mere 3Jnitarian Christianity ? Dr. Channing said a little while before his death that he cared little for Unitarianism, and this it was that gave occasion to a re^rt ^abat he had become a Trinitarian. The’ truth was that he cared less and less for a denomination, as he was growing to care more and more for Justice and Humanity. In addition to the subject once so dangerous and hateful, the so-wled theological opinions in which I have been interested, my views of the nature and miracles of Jesus, have also helped, perhaps, to set our little church here in Philadelphia apart by itself. We �7 live to see' both of the great bugbears shorn of their terrors. Once more. We hav^feeifl 1S| to wsjtand by our­ selves by the origin of ouSSoiwty and by the materials of which it is composed. Almost all the Unitarian churches out of New England, with the solitary excep­ tion of ours, were, and, I suspect, still are, almost exclu­ sively, madeiup of people of New England birth, New England colonists. Long after two Unitarian churches had been gathered a^icp^^ro'New York, I was told by a leading member of one of them, that he did not believe that they had had a- single accession from among the nathW of that city. O ur ’ehurch, on the other hand, had its beginning, gnl five and seventy years ago, with ^rs@ns exclusively from Old England, followers and admirers of Dr. Priesfcy, when the name of that eminent man was regwddd with distrust by some of the most advanced mS9 in New England. In fact the autographed f Dr. Prwtley appears on the records of ou^fcMurch, enaBWi with the names of our earliest members. And furthermore, while, from time to time, individ­ uals and families from New England have joined us, many of thos^whom we have had thl happiness of welcoming to our commfion have come from the' denomination of Friends|| and if dhey wereQiot here, they would be, if any where, in Quaker Meeting. �8 * All their associations are with Quaker ways, and they have been moulded by the influence of that eminently Christian denomination. It is not any attraction of Unitarian formularies; whether of doctrine or observ­ ance, but the liberal spirit of our mode of faith that has drawn them to us. The Friends are not a prose­ lytizing people. According!yu those of you who have come to us fromghem have no special interest in the methods adopted for the diffusion of liberal views, in spreading L»tarianisgfi popularly so termed. You put faith rath® in the spirit than in collecting money and building churches, Rooking for moral and religious results, not to be manufactured by costly machinery, but to flow from iwlivictual effort prompted by the inner light, He spirit of Tteuth. On all these account^* frien®, there is no strong denominational feeling among us, no burning zeal for what are termed Unitarian movements, such as, for instance, the plan recegjly proposed by our Unitarian brethren of building a so-styled Rational Unitarian Church in Washington & We are all learning, I trust, to put less and less faith in mere organizational and the mechanism of sects, in measures rather than in men, in making religion by 'the collection of money and the distribution of the written word; not that money and tracts may not be serviceable to the good cause, but the man-made letter �9 is not the God-inspired spirit, although it is constantly mistaken for it. In soliciting, therefore, y^ur pecuniary aid to the rebuilding of Robert Collyer’s churchjC am not dis­ posed to lay any stress upofflthe^adwiitage it will be to Unitarian Christianity. The object proposed stands before you upon grourgl Inroad and strong of its own. lie is most we should do this, most , worthy of the specialmMmfi church. This was the first liberal churcMI^^^B^^E Robert Collyer ever entered. It was the first certainly in which he preached. As a minister of a liberal faith, here was where he first* drew breath. ’ Here was he born into our sphere, our son, our brother. Somewhere about fourteen years ago, I met one evening at the house of a friend, some seven or eight miles from the city, a young ^Englishman, W workman in a neighboring hammotfactory, and a Methodist class leader, accustomed to exhort in the HRigapus meetings of his denomination. |^*was imprip^M b^hiljthought- ful air and by his acquaintance with the litellectual topics of the day. "He- was - evidently a man who was subsisting on food which his fellow-workmen knew not of, constantly growing, taking into his blood what­ ever nourishment books afforded him. He was a reader, they said, of the Encyclopaedia Brittannica. Through the influence of Lucretia Mott he had • �10 become interested in the Anti-slavery cause; and, as was almost always the case with orthodox men in those days, when they touched that great living Cause, Robert Collyer’s orthodoxy began to slough off like a dead skin, and he became interested in liberal religious views. It was not long after, that he came one evening to , this church. The weather was .stormy, and there were so few present that, contrary to my wont, for the first and only tim% I spoke that evening entirely without notes. I sujg)oseithis being in accordance with the custom of the Methodist church may have increased whatever of interest the services of that evening had for him. Shortly afte^fards I went to| Cincinnati to the marriage of my brilliant friend, Moncure Conway, now and for some year? settled in London. He too had been a few yearlW^fore at,<ihe early age of nineteen a Methodist preacher, in Virginia, his native State, and although we were then personally strangers to each other, he had at that time communicated to me the story of the painful douhtl through which he was gasping for a freer air. The letter which I received from him then, -appealing to me for spiritual help, breathed great distress of mind, and touched me very deeply. When, after withdrawing from the Methodist communion, he took charge of the Unitarian church �11 in Cincinnati, I accepted his urgent invitation to go thither, and take what part in marrying him the laws of Ohio might permitti Of ^course this pulpit was to be provide(|fcfo^g I invited Robert Collyer to take my place for theh@®e Sunday I was to be absent. Upon arriving in Cincinnati I desired to prolong my visit another week. I telegraphed home in reference to a supply for the second Sunday, and received for answer that you weii^wellK.onjtwitlaiiilCT mml than satisfied with my substitute. It is now more than. thirteen years ago, and Iuloi|®rnot that many of you remem­ ber with pleasui^Rqfc^^jOollyer’sfctr^^&ig at that time. It wannd^gM^^o^mMblfeten. Upon my return home^v^hing to sh^re in- your pleasure, I iagited ot® friend to preach for me. He came again from hisw|l>aG©,oh wm^|to give me a labor of love. I wait takenjill, and sW'ar fom being able to come to chuwh, I was^not ajfele todleay mv room. I had a day or two before received a letter from Chicago, where van^aitarian Church ^as already es­ tablished (now uaafet the charge of Robert Laird Collyer), inquiring about a remarkable blacksmith, of whose rare gift^ m,yjE)rre*(|hdeighl understood that I had had much to tell, and asking whether he would not make, what they greatly needed in Chicago, a good “ minister at large,’[/to go among the poor, and preach to them. i The* letter, if I thought him the �12 right man, invited him to that city, offering him twelve hundred dollars a year. Of course there could be but one answer. When Robert Collyer came up into my room on that Sunday morning, before going to Church, I handed him the letter, merely hinting at its purport. He refused to read it then, and put it in his pocket. In the afternoon he came up into my room again to see me, and handed me back the letter. I told him to take it home with him and let me know his decision. He replied that he had already decided. He should go to Chicago. He had mentioned to me in the morning that he had received the evening before his month’s wages, thirty-nine dollars and some cents. In a few daysfhe quitted the hammer factory forever, and moved with ^s little family to Chicago. There he ministered to the poor, rising so rapidly in the respect of the community that when the terrible Iowa tornado occurred, Robert Collyer was chosen by acclamation at a publid meeting of his fellow citizens to go to the scene of that calamity and distribute their benefactions there. He soon gathered so flourishing a church in Chicago that a few years ago a large edifice was built for him and his congregation. I suppose it was quite impossible for our friends in Chicago to resist the genius of the place which could tolerate only the big and the costly. A city, whose growth was hardly outdone by the most extravagant stories of �13 California vegetation, expanding so rapidly to giant dimensions, must have a Unitarian Church in propor­ tion. Consequently; Robert Collyer’s Church, Unity Church as it wajHBOTjfed, was buiB- at ancost of nearly two hundred thoi&n^ OyLlars. including an organ that cost ten thousand dollars. Although o® the day of its Dedication, members of the Church subscribed with a graadtiliberality to­ wards the payment offiHffif,|jgft. perched, what the flames could not consume, a debt of sixty-five thousand dollars. So was the at­ traction of the pa^chwLi that people flocked to the church, so lo^hpis sioutlv bore the burthen. But the terrible Fire came. And ltrwhen,B writes Robert Collyer, in his account of the burning of his church we®!® fought rifefairly as it came on us from below, and beaten the infernal beasifcso that it could never burn^s^umbli^Bw^mdltliat it had set its fiery teeth away up in the roof out of our reach, and I knew that all was over, I crept up stairs alone to my pulpit, where I had K»igW before and spoken to nearly a th^gfffiid men ancwvK^W^; I took one last long look at iijphe church and the dea^ sweeji noble organ, then Xstook the Bible as it lay when| I had left it, got out at last and-flocked the door and put the key in my pocket and went away, for by that time the �I 14 roof was ablaze, and I thought my heart was broken. That Unity has gone up, like Elijah, in a chariot of fire, she is not dead to me,—she never will be dead,— or to those who loved her as I did, my hope and joy and crown of rejoicing, for I held her for God and Christ, God knows.” The church was insured. And it is expected that the insurance will cover the whole or nearly the whole debt. Whatever ofWthe debt shall remain, Robert Collyer says muf t be paid, if they all have to go to work and earn the money. Not a dollar of debt is to rest upon the church that is to be built. Taught by this most severe experience, our friends in Chicago have no desire now but for “ a plain, simple build­ ing,”—not a dollar for ornament, except, as Robert Collyer writes, where use is ornament. Now, dear friends, in praying l^ou, as T do most earnestly, to unite with all the churches of our faith in building a Church for our rarely gifted friend and brother, I do not introduce him to you as a mendi­ cant who must perish miserably if we do not give him this assistance. Do I need to tell you of his rich gifts, his winning graces ? Is not his praise in all our churches, nay, is it not sounded everywhere at home and abroad? Can he preach anywhere where the English language is spoken, where people do not flock �15 to hear him, whether he speak from the pulpit or in the lecture room 1 How well, by the way, does he tffend the trial of his great popularity ! It is no feeblejfest to be put to, to be so suddenly raised from the anvil to the pulpit, to pass from the MM®e drudgery of hard manual labor to a position, commanding the admiring attention of multitudes, and^Hong them mostBnlightened in the land. It has been finely said that, wrhile “ the prospect of the applause of ^ostgri^ is like the sound of the distant diSnl which elevates the mini present applause, flung] <M^etly in one’s face, is W® the spray of the same ocean wluppn th^^E^rand^geq uiring a rock to bear it.” > jKat RoberWCollyeruhas been animated, elatHM iBjVom will, by his great and well merited success, I do not d®E| It would argue an insensibility in him if he were not. He is no rock in this respect.. But notwithstanding the seductive trial, he stands like a rock by his flock and his work in Chicago. Shortly aftelf the great calamity, I wrote to him and told him that, he, Roberlr Collar, could rebuild the city, to say nothing of his church. And is it not by “the Orpheus-like musa^of the wisdom” to which such as he give utterance that cities are built end nations led up the loftiest heights of humanity'll You have all read the words which he spoke the Sunday after the �16 fire, standing upon the ruins of his clear church. A Chicago paper tells us that his voice had cheered not only his own flock, but all the people of the city, thus justifying my assurance to him. He has not, he cannot have, any anxiety on his own account. As he himself says—and I suppose he is prouder of the fact than of any sermon he ever preached—that, if the worst come to the worst, he can make as good a horseshoe as any blacksmith in Chi­ cago. I do not know about his horseshoes. I am no judge of the article. But I do know what good hammers the young blacksmith was wont to make by scores every week. They sent the nail home, even as their maker sends home the truth, only he does not, like a hammer, break in pieces the hard and stony heart; by his rare pathetic power he melts it into smiles of hope, into tears of penitence, and sympathy and aspiration. But the worst will not come to the worst with him. There is no likelihood that he will ever be reduced to the necessity of manual labor,-although it is no wonder if amidst that wide ruin he felt for a moment that it might come to that. What church is there, what community, that would not gladly welcome him'? He has not the slightest concern for his bread. This then must command for him our warmest ap­ probation and respect, and insure our bountiful aid, �37 * that while he may choose his place, sure of a lucrative position wherever he may go, the thought of leaving his flock and the desolated city, heems never to have occurred to him. After the death of Theodore Par­ ker, he was invited^o be the successor of that able man, and preach in the Music Hall in Boston. But, while, for obvious reasons,the invitation was very tempting, he chose <o remain in Chicago. And now he has no though^utjbf devoting himself and all that he is to the building up again of all good interests in that most afflicted ciwl Believe me, dear friends, I am not using the empty language of eulogy, nor ong| giving utterance to the promptings .of personal g'iendship. You all know that Robert Collyer is a man of peculiar gifts. Cole­ ridge seems to be describing just such a man as our friend, when he says that “ to find no contradiction in the union of old and new, to contemplate the Ancient of Days with feelings as fresh as if they then sprung forth at his own fiat—this characterizes the minds that feel the riddle of the world, and may help to unravel it. To carry on jhe feelings of childhood into the powers of manhood, to combine the child’s sense of wonder and novelty with the appearances which every day, for perhaps forty years, has rendered familiar, With Sun, and Moon, and Stars, throughout the year And Man and Woman— �this is the character and privilege of genius. And so to present familiar objects as to awaken the minds of others to a like freshness of sensation concerning them—this is the prime merit of genius and its most unequivocal mode of manifestation.” When a man thus endowed with “ the vision and 1 the faculty divine ” gives’ all that he is with generous ardor to the service of the highest truth, shall we not give of what we have, and uphold him with our hearts and hands ? Shall any loss befal him that we are not eager to repair ? You are sending food and clothing and money in boundless quantities to the devastated West. But, believe me, you can render the people there no more solid and enduring service than to do and to give allfthat you are able, even to the stinting of yourselves, for such a creaM^fl centre of beneficent influence as our friend/ that* he may have a place where he may stand, and, with the arm of the spirit stronger than the arm of flesh, which made the anvil ring again, lift the thoughts and aims of men above the material interests to which they cling as all in all—lift them up into communion with the Invisible and Everlasting, and with the blessed spirit of the Lord Jesus. For his oWn dear sake, for the sake of the gracious influence which he has, and for the sake of Religion, pure and undefiled, of which he is so powerful an advocate, I pray you, dear friends, let �19 us all help, and help generously this good object,—to build him a church. It has been proposed by the American Unitarian Association, which has its centre in Boston, that col­ lections be taken up in all our churches for this purpose on this the second Sunday in November. I do not, however, suggest a collection to-day. There is no pressing need of haste. I wish to commend the mat­ ter to your-most thoughtful Consideration. You may think it advisable to take up a collection shortly. In the meanwhile, I shall be happy and proud, as I always am, to receive for my friend whatever you may be prompted to give. The appeals, recently made to you, first in behalf of our brother from Paris, and then for the sufferers of the West, to whom there are few who have not given more than once, have been so cheerfully and liberally met that they create the faith that, so far from accounting it a burthen, you regard it as a privilege, as it assuredly is, to give for a good purpose, and that you are grateful to the Bountiful Giver for the means that he has blest you with, and for every new opportunity. By giving, you receive more and better things than you give, and thus become rich before God. In conclusion, let me say that I trust I have not offended against propriety in speaking so freely in �I A. .20 praise of our friend, as is customary to speak only of the dead. But I have spoken thus not to flatter him, but for the simple truth’s sake. And if I have failed in regard to the truth, it is not in going beyond it, but in falling short of it. If there is any alloy in the sense of truth which moves me to speak of him as I have done, it comes from the fact that he has, more than once, as I have been told, allowed the kindness of his heart and the warmth of his friendship to carry him away and alluded in his pulpit to his old friend, the pastor of this church, in such terms as have been, I confess, not without weight among the reasons moving me to decline his repeated and most urgent invitations to visit him and preach for him in Chicago. I own to the weakness of not caring that his people should find out, as they surely would if I went there, how far beyond the truth their minister had been carried in the ardor of his personal regard. Let me confess to you, dear friends, between ourselves, that I am not without a feeling of satisfaction in having this opportunity of speaking of him in a way that necessarily squares a private account of mine with him. � 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 &amp; 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 Robert Collyer and his church: a discourse delivered at the First Congregational Unitarian Church in Philadelphia November 12, 1871 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Furness, W.H. Description An account of the resource Place of publication: Philadelphia Collation: 20 p. ; 22 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Text taken from Lukje Vii. 4 "He is worthy for whom thou shouldest do this". Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available King & Baird, printers 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 G5367 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 (Robert Collyer and his church: a discourse delivered at the First Congregational Unitarian Church in Philadelphia November 12, 1871), 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 Robert Collyer Sermons Unitarianism United States-Religion https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/73e9f915f631d1d62dd52cee05b2893f.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=czhfcTFvgV3RnjxgtQdPBEvLBYfyf6O%7EZg2uP%7ENTN2lG5I3JhOhYlVm0XsWUu8reFLWoQpMwgGGaujG8hX9-E1kSswcOZj0QBcOgmxeRjr6owS2fZztHky10zzfuiH0ABPubdNUQrEJ72Ylh1Bos0CREOuJ8SlovCYnZrlSwRVxrutMTbNzIPBxqC01l-kjrKg0MxjG9l2wqCZhPg%7EyqxWnZEV4jUgBvx5M7qDIBLHTh9j-4fzxPqIqranM4zzvmgVThs-mIYMwGexUy6rfK7WoOorBlHGFI3O-gQEbNT1h8j9yVs64absQTPyECwut6t3WN5llt-tWGEayV8gT7MQ__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM be974d92498528f05a2e47af3c132321 PDF Text Text THE CHURCH OF THE PRESENT, AND THE CHURCH OF THE FUTURE. AN ADDRESS, DELIVERED IN THE CONGREGATIONAL CHAPEL, MOSELEY ROAD, - .>.• BIRMINGHAM, 8th MAY, 1870. BY MATTHEW MACFIE, ON THE OCCASION OF HIS RESIGNING THE CONGREGATIONAL MINISTRY, AFTER FIFTEEN YEARS' SERVICE. PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. “Our little systems have their day, They have their day and cease to be, They are but broken lights of Thee, And Thou, O Lord, art more than they.”—In Memoriam. BIRMINGHAM : E. C. OSBORNE, 84, NEW STREET. LONDON: SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & Co. 1870. PRICE SIXPENCE, �Those who heard the following Address will observe several passages introduced in its printed form which were omitted, for want of time, in its delivery. A few sentences here and there, too, are cast in a different mould. �AN ADDRESS, &c. Matthew 6-10.—“Thy kingdom come." A distinguished foreigner, himself a true Christian, a few years since said, in a select circle : “ I begin to doubt whether Christianity has a future in the world.” EWhyso?” asked one present, in surprise at so dark a saying from such a quarter. “ Because,’! he replied, neither in India, nor in America, nor anywhere in all Europe, does any of the govern­ ments called ‘ Christian’—I do not say do what is right—but even affect and pretend to take the Right as the law of action. Whatever it was once, Christianity is now, in all the great concerns of nations, a mere ecclesiasticism, powerful for mischief, but helpless and useless for good. Therefore I begin to doubt whether it has a future; for if it cannot become anything better than it is, it has no right to a future in God’s world.”* These grave words of one so wise and devout should, perhaps, be taken “with a grain of salt.” But many a thoughtful and earnest Englishman will feel bound to admit that, to a certain extent, they are too true, and hit a blot in our practical religious life as a professedly Christian community. As far as consis­ tency is concerned in the application of our sacred writings to the affairs of national life, do we not present a striking contrast even to some semi-barbarous nations ? The religious traditions of India teach that the Brahmins were born from the head of their god, and the Sudras from his feet; and caste, with all its cruel exclusiveness, is the logical outcome of this doctrine. The Buddhists revolted from this article of Hindoo faith, and we are not surprised, therefore, to find prevailing in China a sort of Social Democracy. The Mussulman believes the Koran to be * From an article by F. W, Newman on “the weakness of Protestantism,” �4 his moral and spiritual guide for this life and the next, and the laws and usages of Turkey are consistently enough framed on the prophet’s model. It is otherwise with the Christian nations of the West. They boast a higher civilization than that of the despised Orientals. They possess a faith (I speak of the mass of Europeans) which they hold to be the only true Revelation of religious truth and duty to the world; and yet the moral teaching of the New Testament—zealously contended for in our orthodox churches—is strangely ignored in our political and social life. Think, for instance, of the incongruous pro­ ceedings of the British legislature. With one hand it upholds, from professed zeal for the spiritual and moral good of the nation, a costly Established Church, and with the other hand it mutilates every just and noble measure brought before it; so that if ever a good bill passes into law at all, it usually comes to the people an emasculated thing—the mangled off­ spring of compromise and expediency. Is not our English common law .borrowed from Pagan Rome ? And up to this nineteenth century of the Christian era, it is notorious that the international disputes of Christian states, glorying, theore­ tically, in the forgiving and peaceful principles of Jesus, can not, as a rule, be settled, without the slaughter of millions to propitiate mutual hatred and jealousy. We should accuse our preachers of heresy, if they did not tell us that all men are to be loved and cherished as brethren; and yet in the very House of Prayer, as well as in our every day life, we file off into classes, and raise up the unhallowed distinctions of rank and wealth, extremely attentive to those in least need of our sympathy and help, and standing quietly by while untold numbers of our fellow-countrymen perish in misfortune, igno­ rance, and shame. Well, then, in this strange state of national contradictions the Christian church stands forth, reiterating her claims as the one divinely-appointed agent for applying the balm of truth and love to the social wounds of Humanity, ever ready to take credit for all the spiritual and moral good effected among men under this Dispensation. Many, quite competent to judge, and with no wish to disparage the efforts of the church, take leave to doubt whether that credit is always due. But at any rate �5 it is to be feared that the sects of Christendom, have not always been careful to reflect fairly the spirit and essence of Christ’s religion. Divisions about trifles of dogma have drained off the strength that ought to have been given to the improvement of the masses, physically, intellectually and morally, and have driven the higher intellect of the country beyond the pale of modern churches. The most enlightened of the population have ceased to take the least interest in Sunday services, and every year witnesses secessions from the sects, and brings more powerful opposition from the enemy. Different schools of church theology wax more and more bitter in their jealousy toward each other. Dr. Pusey accuses Bishop Bickersteth of holding unworthy views of the "sawfamentsjthese two “brethren in Christ” unite in charging Bishop Temple with deadly error, and in denouncingyDissenters from the established church as unauthorised religious <g^ides. Nor is forbearing charity between members of evangelica^n.©.mcon|prmist churches always so conspicuous as to call forth th^exclamftion, “ Behold, how these Christians love one anotlie$ ! ” This, then, is the strange spectacle the avowed disciples of Christ present to the world, each sect believing their church the true one, all vying in their reverence for one book as the perfect source of religious truth, equally earnest in asking Divine guidance in the study of it, and yet all intensely differ­ ing from each other about its meaning; and this difference not confined to what they deem secondary points, but touching the very essentials of salvation. , One naturally asks: Can this incoherent mass of sects, with their endless and conflicting metaphysical dogmas and varieties of ritual and ill-disguised jealousies of one another, be the church of Him who did not strive or cry—“the meek and lowly Jesus ” ? I rejoice to believe that multitudes of His true followers—like the seven thousand in the time of Elijah who had not bent the knee to the idol—are included in the institutions of organized Christi­ anity now. But the institutions themselves, as a whole, in the judgment of many, are relics of superstitious times, and are fast losing their hold on the talent and culture of mankind— powerless to leaven the mind and life of civilized nations. The “ secular ” press, as a teacher, has a vastly larger and more �6 enlightened audience than the pulpit. The strongest spirits, if they frequent Sabbath assemblies at all, do so mostly for the sake of setting an example to the weak and the ignorant, who are always more impressed by priestly authority and church ordinances than by abstract principles, religious or moral. What then is the goal to which events are tending ? Must we share the fears of the distinguished foreigner I have referred to, that Christianity is dying out and has no future; and that religion and morality are doomed to the same grave with itself? Or will there be a resurrection out of this threatened decay of the Christian faith, of all that is real and vital in it ? I believe that when a system or an organization has done its work, it is the will of God that it should give place to another more suited to the genius and wants of the times, and this, in the opinion of many great thinkers, is to be the fate of existing churches. Most certainly history strongly favours that opinion. But I have no fear about the future of Christianity as taught by Jesus, and as distinguished from the myths that have crept into the record of His life, and from the metaphysical theology over which his name is profanely called. I believe it is destined, in its essence, sooner or later, to be the religion of the whole world, because it is written, in characters more indelible than those in any book, however “ sacredit is written in the very nature of man. There is much in the present state of the church to cause pain, but nothing to discourage our hopes in reference to the future of “ pure and undefiled religion.” The laws of the universe are laws of progress, and so far from the sun of religious development having reached its meridian, we are only as yet in the grey dawn of a brighter day. Humanity is still in its intellectual and moral childhood. Organic life has from the beginning been shaping itself into higher types under laws of progress. The advance of civilization is marked by the strides made by men from the age of flint to the age of gold, and still its course is onward. From the period of the Magna Charta our political institutions have developed into their present freeness, and will continue to expand till even the most liberal Reformers of to-day will be looked back upon as the fossils of a slower and a duller time. Why, then, should we despair of the future of religious thought and life ? It �7 were ungrateful to reproach the church of the past or of the present. All great systems of thought and activity are the creatures of their age, and cannot reasonably be expected to rise above the level of those outward conditions for which they are adapted and prepared. They have no mission to the future. But the history of Religion clearly proves that it always has been controlled by thefllaw of progress, and so it will ever continue to be#-. From the worship of men haw risen to the worship of One Pw^on, and the religion of Monotheism has developed from the grim conception of God as a ruler which prevailed uncte® Mosaism, into that more tender and * worthy conception of Him as a great and loving JWAer under Christianity. Early contact with Hearf^aMm- m8I State-craft marred the original beauty and^eajMaed the natiwqpower of the Christian God, and fb^cemuri^^ we kmvaJjltopffitianity lay like a corpse,—the only beautiful thing about i^ibeing the embroidered winding sheet But the. Reform­ ation of the sixteenth century fewied. therfmMllectual and spiritual life of Europe a step»MmMmii^Mit- was before; and again the fulness of time has come, I venture to think, for a second Reformation. Let us look and labour Let us hail the jubilant note® l^sdKDn every side which “ ring in the Christ that is to be.” Old churches are fast breaking up in decay, with their effete theologies and formal observances. Many minds already descry the di® morning twilight that will usher in the Church 0/ tAe Fufru/re. In what remains of this discourse to say a few words on the Church of the Present, as compared with the Church of the Futu^MI I. The sources of religious thought will be wider in the Church of the Future $han they are Mj the Church of the Present. Before the days of Luther the Bible was hardly known to the laity, or even to the- clergy of Europ® as ajbody. So that whatever theories have b<Wffi held by Christians as to its Inspiration and Infallibility are mainly jgonfined to the past three centuries. Me®» previously believed in the Infallibility of a church, and driven from that shelter, but still clinging to �8 the fancy that they must have some human symbol of Divine authority to cling to, the second generation from the Reformers betook themselves to faith in the infallibility of a book. And with the pronounced followers of Calvin, Knox, and the Puri­ tans the battle cry still is, “ The Bible and the Bible alone the Religion of Protestants.” They hold this book to be the sole authoritative, certain and final Revelation of the moral char­ acter and will of God bearing on the eternal interests of His creatures. They believe that God chose one nation from the beginning and “made known his ways” to them, mysteriously leaving all other nations in hopeless darkness and death. They believe that to the Jews this revelation was made in symbol and prophecy, and that it was reserved to our era to receive that more perfect substance of spiritual truth of which Judaism was but the appointed type and shadow. They believe that in the life, teaching, death and resurrection of Jesus, and in the alleged writings of certain of his apostles, we have a miraculous unveiling of all that was needed to “ make us wise unto salvation.” It is not wonderful, there­ fore, that this collection of writings, affirmed to have so vital a significance to us, should be diligently and prayerfully studied by theologians and private Christians; and that, how­ ever ignorant English children may be of the history of Greece and Rome, China and America, most of them should know something of the history of that ancient people to whom God is believed to have been related by a special supernatural Revelation. The kernel of critical inquiry however, in regard to the credibility and authority of the Bible as a Revelation lies in the history of the Canon. On this I would fain speak at large, but may not in the limited space of time allotted to a sermon. But be our views on this topic what they may, that man would betray not only ignorance but impiety who could think or speak without reverence of the “ sacred books ’ of any nation, especially of the Bible. Whatever mistakes may be in it affecting matters of science, history, and of the Divine government, it contains an interesting record of the religious thought and life of a people who attained a loftier idea of God than the surrounding nations of their time. The noble aspirations of Hebrew patriarchs, seers and poets, as �9 breathed in their lives and their utterances, will stir the spiritual instincts of true souls for ever. And what shall we say of Him who is the central figure in the Book,—the grandest man, whose teaching swept all the keys of moral thought and spiritual feeling, like the fingers of a God, and struck chords of love and peace in sincere hearts, and notes of terror and self-condemnation in those that were hollow and base ? What shall we say of His life, so rich beyond that of ordinary lives in meek wisdom, in unconscious self-denial, in holy patience, and in humility, unsullied even by the shadow of that most subtle and impalpable vice of the mind, spiritual pride ? What shall we say of His death, that purest and most triumphant sacrifice to Truth and the world’s highest good ? Who can read the sketches the New Testament affords of the first planting of Christianity, without feeling that it marks the passage of man­ kind into a new stage of religious developmenwaccount for the origin of the movement as you may ? gfflfen we have the Epistles to the early churches, abounding in allusions seen to be very apt if read in the light of the circumstances of those * to whom they were addressed, but utterly bewildering and mischievous if interpreted literally throughout, and applied, as they still too often are, without discrimination, to men of all ages and climes. But stripping these letters, semi-Jewish in great part, of their local and figurative dress, we shall find in them thoughts and counsels that will be earnestly pondered and cherished even in the days of the world’s maturest man­ hood. It is not surprising, then, that the Bible should have so conspicuous a place assigned it in our homes and churches, and that it should be introduced to sanctify all the great events of our lives. But, while the Church of the Future will not fail to show becoming respect to the Bible, as setting forth certain sublime conceptions of the government of the world, as the cause of the greatest religious movement the world has yet witnessed, the Church of the Future will feel that it honours God more by lovingly, but strictly, bringing to the tribunal of reason every word in that book, than by blindly accepting any part of it as necessarily infallible. The Church of the Future will take a wider view of the range of Revelation than the �10 Church of the Present usually does. It will appreciate more intelligently physical laws as lying at the root of the effectual elevation of the race, and as, in a most solemn sense, revealing the will of God. What progressive mind can think without a blush of the suspicion and bitterness with which the Church of the Past, to say nothing of the Church of the Present, was accustomed to look upon scientific discoveries, almost as if they revealed the ubiquitous demon of Christian mythology, instead of the good and glorious God ? It has been common for a large class of Christians to view the world in a sort of Gnostic light, as if it were a waste, howling wilderness, and to think of the chemical elements composing it as saturated by sin and cursed by Divine anger, in consequence of that tragic scene in the history of our traditional mother—the eating of an apple ! Many a discourse has been preached to show that any strong interest in the affairs of the present life, scientific or commercial, is the sure mark of a godless heart, and that the truest proof of godliness is to be ever dwelling in the atmosphere of hymns and prayers, and devout medita­ tions, and I white robes,” and “ crowns,” or groaning over the hundreds of millions of our fellow beings whom a morbid faith is always thinking of as falling into a burning lake. I need hardly say that those who come after us will have worthier ideas of the possibilities of the world, and of the individual and collective happiness to be derived from discovering and obeying physical laws. Then religion will consist less in that imagined super natural contact of God with the’human spirit —the visions and nervous raptures, for which good orthodox people so often pray now. It will consist more of being loyal to material laws, improving the health and strengthening the frame, increasing brain-power, laying to heart every form of responsibility, giving to the race a noble organization, and a more rational idea of how to control body and mind as mutually dependent on each other, in the forming of a great and noble character. Without slighting the importance of God’s dealings with the Jews, and with the members of the first Christian Churches, the Church of the Future will recognise the wing of God’s equal love and care spread over all nations, and His Providence �11 as truly visible in the guidance and discipline of one as of another of them. Every nation will be seen contributing its share to the world’s culture, and revealing forms of thought and life all needful to the complete culture of humanity. The Church of the Future will see, in the mechanism of the individual mind, and in the economy of family and social life, a true Revelation of God, unclouded by the “original sin” of a gloomy theology. The reason and the affections will be revered as a medium of that Revelation. The conscience will be more solemnly listened to as the accredited voice of God, enforcing His moral and spiritual claims. The domestic constitution will be more honoured than at present, not merely as of His wise appointment, but because it was intended to mirror the all-embracing love of His own Fatherhood to the whole human family; and so far from politics being deemed unholy, it will be held to be a grave defect in the character of a religious man not to take part in all political schemes for the raising of the suffering and the oppressed. All great and good men who increase the stock of human knowledge, purity, and happiness, will be venerated as Godsent revealers of Himself, born to unveil to us the endlessly varied phenomena of material and spiritual law. God’s Revelation will then be no longer viewed as exhausted in one book, or as confined to any favoured people. Never was there anything good, or true, or wise, written or spoken, without the inspiration of God, and in reading words clothed with these attributes, you read a Revelation of Him. One servant will not be exalted to the disparagement of other servants. God’s will, in what is vaguely called the spiritual sphere, will not absorb attention to the neglect of his Revelation in morals and aesthetics. All things are spiritual to the good. The reign of law will be owned uniform and universal, and its claims in one department will not be allowed to over-ride its appeals to our nature in another; and every man gifted with a seer’s insight in the manifold realms of law, will be hailed as a messenger of the Most High. The Newtons to the Church of the Future will be revealers of God in the science of the stars, the Murchisons in the system of the rocks, the Turners in the beauties of the canvas, the Miltons in the ideal charms �of poetry, the Shakspeares in the philosophy of character, the Watts and the Faradays in the latent forces and functions of nature, and the true prophets of all countries and times, with Jesus at their head, in the glories of moral and spiritual truth. Blessed period! When the lingering shadows of superstition, fanaticism, bigotry, and sectarian heart-burning shall be chased away by the light of universal knowledge and rational religion, when the tendrils of religious feeling shall not be found, as now, chiefly entwining around Gothic and Grecian piles— symbols of intense and beautiful religious sentiment though these may be; when semi-Jewish restraint shall no longer make British Christian life so sombre on that day consecrated to rest which our Continental neighbours twit us with turn­ ing into a “ Himalaya of wearinesswhen holiness shall not consist so much in an extended countenance, in exclusive devotion to books of an unctuously pious type, and in the mere round of little | denominational ” activities, often to the neglect of personal culture and the claims of home; but when the sincere and truth-loving heart shall be held the most sacred thing on earth when the craft we ply for our daily bread, and the friendly circle in which we regale the social affections, and the sunny hillside on which we bask in holiday time; when all that ministers to the expansion of true thought and unselfish sympathy, to purity of conscience, and to the music of innocent joy, shall be regarded as most holy and suggestive of God. No words could more fully express my sentiment than those of Tom Hood :— “ Thrice blessed is the man with whom The gracious prodigality of nature— The balm, the bliss, the beauty and the bloom, The bounteous providence in every feature, Recall the good Creator to his creature, Making all earth a fane, all heaven its dome. Each cloud-capt mountain is a holy altar, An organ breathes in every grove, And the full heart’s a psalter Rich in deep hymns of gratitude and love.” Then the Revelation of God will be treated not as a distant thing of the past, when He is believed by many to have startled the world with a cannonade of miracles, and afterwards retreated �13 from direct contact with His creatures. To the Church of the Future God will he an ever-present Being, as near the soul that loves and does His will in the work, joy, and rest of life, as He could possibly be in any imagined supernatural age. His Revelation will then appear in its true light—perennial, and needing no theological creed and priestly commonplace to help us to understand it. II. The scope of teaching in the Church of the Future will be freer than it is in the Church of the Present. The sects of our time, whether Established by law or Non­ conformist, are fettered by creeds. I say fettered by creeds. And yet creeds of some sort, implicit or expressed, would seem to be necessary as a basis of religious union and action. That is freely admitted. It is stereotyped, minute, dogmatic creeds, that I object to, as these are found in Evangelical Christen­ dom. I hold that a religious sect has no more right to bind all coming generations to believe the metaphysical dogmas which it now believes, and in the same form, than any body of scientific men in one age have a right to make exact agreement with them a condition of their successors enjoying the honours and privileges of the Royal Institution. We complain of the disabilities placed upon us as Dissenters by the unjust ecclesi­ astical and doctrinal tests that, till lately, have shut us out from the National Universities. But what authority have we to insert clauses in the Trust Deeds of our so-called “ Free Churches,” permitting only those to preach in our pulpits who can subscribe certain non-essential articles of belief which we in our wisdom think essential ? A ncient creeds have always savoured of an intolerant spirit, and modern creeds, to say the least, bear a strong family lilceness to their ancestral relations. I have always found that the more narrow, minute and elabo­ rate a man’s creed, if he follow it logically, the more bitter and uncharitable is his temper towards those who differ from him. No matter how superior they may be to him in earnestness, talent, and attainment, he is accustomed to treat their honest difference from him almost as a personal offence, if not a sin. We should never forget that while some men are worse, others are better than their creed; but all the difference I can see �14< between the exclusiveness of the Evangelical Protestant and that of the Catholic is in the mode of persecuting heretics. The Romanist, informer times, treating freedom of thought in religion as a fearful crime, burned offenders ; and even now he consistently enough stands aloof from other professing Christ­ ians as schismatics, because he believes his church to be infal­ lible, his priesthood to be alone endowed with the grace of apostolical succession, and his way of salvation to be the only true one. But the Evangelical Protestant rejoices in the “ right of private judgment ” and of free inquiry, and yet will only tolerate as his teacher one who falls in with a certain stereotyped theological system. No matter how single-hearted and truthloving, if he should happen to diverge from what are called “ the cardinal doctrines,” he is cast as a leper outside the camp. Fixed creeds are opposed to the spirit of progress. Any Church that exists in order to perpetuate a tabulated set of opinions, which they have sworn never to change, must sooner or later be swamped by the advancing tide of free thought, and deserted by the intellectual strength and liberal culture of the age. No Church is worthy of support which does not exist to teach truth as its prime object, and which is not eager to hear what every competent earnest teacher has to say, whose soul burns with his message. His accord with the creed is a trifling consideration. * The captain of a ship may use his quadrant and record his bearings at midday to-day, but surely, as his vessel is still sailing towards a foreign port, he will not think that he can dispense with reckoning his longitude and latitude to-morrow, and so on to the end of the voyage. But the meaning of a traditional creed is this : “ The doctrines our fathers have handed down to us include the alpha and the omega of truth, absolute and unchangeable, and we insist on posterity accepting it as we have done, and will inflict penal disabilities on those who refuse to think as we do. We have squared the theological circle, and anybody who presumes to differ from us is either profane, foolish, or mad.” Now just apply the same criterion to science and see how it would * Carlyle in his life of Sterling relates that once his friend objected to some opinions he had offered, by saying, “That’s flat Pantheism.” “What matters it,” Carlyle replied, “if it were flat Poftheism, if it’s truth?” / �15 stand. Suppose Mr. Huxley were to endow a professor’s chair at Oxford, and enact that no candidate was eligible for the position unless he gravely affirmed that the founder had learned and taught all that could be known about comparative anatomy; why, men of science, with one voice, would laugh to scorn the conceit of the proposal. And what is this but the ridiculous attitude of a theological creed ? It outrages reason by undertaking to solve religious problems for all time, and so impiously affects to have already all the light which ever can be thrown on such themes. Precisely in this spirit most of the fathers of the (Ecumenical Council condemn the whole circle of modern science,—including discoveries that have immortalized the names of Laplace, Herschel and others, as only a renewal and reproduction of errors that have been a thousand times refuted by the Church * But there has been a change in the religious beliefs of the past, and why should we arrogantly fancy that the Church of the Future must subscribe the creed which prevails among Evangelical Christians now ? Mr. Leckyf powerfully shows that formulated doctrines, like all animated things, accom­ plish the end of their existence, expend their force and die out, and are followed by others which, in their turn, expire at length in like fashion. As a matter of fact, take that doctrine which, above all others, is popularly regarded, in this country, as essential to salvation—I mean the atonement of Christ for sin. It has passed through so many transformations, that it is simply impossible for any one intelligently acquainted with its history to show what theologians would have us believe about it, that we may be saved. Not a single trace of proof can be *Well may we ponder the words of Richard Hooker on this subject. “Au­ thority is the greatest and most irreconcilable enemy to truth and rational argu­ ment that this world ever furnished out since it was in being ; against it there is no defence ; it is authority alone that keeps up the grossest and most abominable errors in the countries around us ; it was authority that would have prevented all reformation where it is, and which has put a barrier against it where it is not. Tor man to be tied and led by authority, as it were with a kind of captivity of judgment, and though there be reason to the contrary, not to listen to it, but to follow, like beasts, the first in the herd, they know not, nor care whither_ this were brutish.” f History of Rationalism. Vol. I. �16 adduced in the apostolic or post-apostolic fathers in support of the theory held by many now, that Jesus suffered as a judicial substitute and offered himself a sacrifice for the punishment due to our sins. Allusions do occur in some of the early Christian writings to the world being under bondage to the Evil Spirit, and bought off by the holy life and martyrdom of Christ; but they are only figurative, and point to self-denying efforts of the Saviour to deliver men, by his revelation of God’s truth and love, from the influence of error, ignorance, formality, lust, pride, and all sin. The ideas of the first Christians imprinted themselves on their simple works of art, even more distinctly than in their writings, and though in the Catacombs touching references to the rest of the departed in Christ often occur, the emblem of Christ on the Cross never does. The idea of the mental and physical sufferings of Jesus, as a literal satisfaction or propitiation to Divine justice, was not developed till the outbreak of Mahometanism in the sixth century, when a superstitious priesthood spread the opinion among the credulous masses that God could no longer have patience with so wicked a world; and religion, as taught by the Church, began to assume throughout a dismal aspect, from which it has not yet quite recovered. It was then for the first time that paintings and sculptures of Christ on the Cross appeared. It was then that the theory first took wing, that the multitude must be scorched eternally in consequence of their sins, and that only the few who viewed Jesus as having paid the bloody price which Divine justice demanded could be saved. It was then that all the dreary machinery of penance and the Inquisition actively began. But with all a convert’s wish to trust the vicarious efficacy of the atoning sacrifice, the difficulty of exactly knowing that special point in the doctrine on which his soul was to rest, became more embarrassing to him from the disputes of polemi­ cal divines. Under Pope Homisdas and some of his successors, there was a fierce strife as to whether we ought to say “ one, of the Trinity suffered in the flesh,” or “ one Person of the Trinity suffered in the flesh; ” and the two parties in this controversy went on damning each other most zealously, till the displacement of this crotchet, by another equally important, �17 . revived the same process, which has been so general in the Christian Church in all ages. In our own time, the thought­ ful enquirer after salvation, through the atonement, is almost as much at a loss. For some learnedly argue that the virtue of the “ saving work ” lies in the death of Christ; others, that it is in the shedding of His blood; others, in His obedience from the cradle to the grave; some have written to prove that He died only for the elect; others, that He died for the world, but His sufferings only avail for the elect. Some of us, too, can remember the countless distinctions of faith so finely drawn by preachers, that a sensitive mind felt bound to hesitate which was the right one. Then there were the varied and perplexing definitions of predestination, “sublapsarian,” “supralapsarian,” and “ subter-superlapsarian.” 0, Christianity, what follies have been perpetrated in thy name! Even as late as the days of John Wesley, to deny the existence of witchcraft was branded an impiety, equal to rejecting the Bible. Here are the venerable man’s own words: “ It is true that the English in general, and indeed most of the men of learning in Europe, have given up all accounts of witches and apparitions, as mere old wives’ fables. I am sorry for it. . . . The giving up of witchcraft is in effect giving up the Bible. . . . 1 cannot give up to all the Deists of Great Britain the existence of witchcraft, till I give up the credit of all history, sacred and profane ” Well, these, with many more theological speculations and superstitions equally interesting, that once stirred up much bitterness among the followers of Jesus, have been consigned to the limbo of dead credulities. And with such exploded errors once believed by well-meaning men, not very distant from our own times, it is only bigotry that can prevent us from seeing that the Church of the Future will recall many of the opinions, eloquently defended now by Evangelical teachers, as the debris of a theological period, which only the curious student of antiquity will take the trouble to look into. As from the beginning, the “extreme views ” of to-day will be the moderate views of the coming age; and men who think only at the level of their times, are taking a sure path to speedy oblivion. But not only do creeds proscribe inquiry; they give oppor* B i �18 tunities for hypocrisy. There are thousands of clergymen in the English church who, in common with no small number of excellent laymen, cannot think on any subject very deeply, and are content to take their creed ready made; and the same class of minds make up the vast proportion of adherents to every system. But there are clergymen of a higher order. They signed the “ articles ” before they had time thoroughly to examine the mysteries they contain. These men become committed to their position and dependent on preaching for their support. As always must 'be the case with independent thinkers brought up in strict orthodoxy, and who are thrown in the way of argument on the opposite side, the convictions of these men deviate eventually from the “ old paths.” What is the result ? They sigh for freedom of thought and speech, but while there are institutions to take in the criminal and the vicious who want to break away from their evil ways, there are none that seem to offer refuge for the honest clergyman who desires to be true to his conscience, but fears lest destitution should overtake his family. The barometer of his moral cour­ age, perhaps, is not naturally high, and the miserable man stays where he is, doing daily violence to the most holy part of his nature, quenching; because perverting, the only light within him appointed for his moral and spiritual guidance, proclaiming to others what his conscience is ever telling him is untrue. Is it surprising that the same tendency should exist, though perhaps to a smaller extent, among Nonconformists ? A young man entering a Dissenting college is obliged to profess his faith in a list of dogmatic statements which his youth and inexpe­ rience preclude the possibility of his having gravely examined. At the close of his preparatory course he is expected to have read and thought much, but those who guide his studies take care that his reading and thought shall be in the direction of confirming him in the doctrines of his denomination. * When he is ordained to the ministry, the repetition of an unchanged statement of his belief is again demanded from him. The doctrinal provisions in the Trust Deed of the chapel in which * In my college days, by desire of one of the tutors, the Westminster Review was excluded from the House, �he preaches are an additional chain to bind his intellect. I challenge any man of average mind to let the thought-currents of this age have free access to his soul, and conscientiously endorse many dogmatic articles of belief framed in the six­ teenth century and still prevalent in many quarters. To throw in the way of any minister, therefore, the temptation, to which I fear not a few are exposed, of being untrue to their convic­ tions, is an iniquity that must, sooner or later, bring Divine retribution upon us, in the form of a heartless ministry and a hollow church. If such deceitful “ things be done in the green tree ”—in that institution which claims to be the very ark of the New Covenant—what must be the effect “in the dry”— in the paths of politics and commerce ? Christ lays down no creed, or any form of church govern­ ment; whatsoever. He came to declare what Moses and the prophets had done before Him,—judgment, mercy, faith,—only with the motive-power of a higher and more tender conception of God. He came to emancipate men from the slavery of forms and ceremonies, and to enforce earnestness in knowing, and sincerity in doing, the will of God. Nothing could be more catholic and beautiful than religion as He taught it before brangling theological doctors had done for Christianity what the Masoretic Rabbis did for the original and essential princi­ ples of the Hebrew faith. “ God is a spirit,” He said, “ and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit, and in truth.” The apostle, Peter, on escaping from the despotism of Jewish forms, announced a similar doctrine. “Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons; but in every nation he that feareth Him and worketh righteousness is accepted with him.” “Let us therefore stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again in the yoke of bondage.” If your heart be under pure, lowly, and sincere impulse^ your mind may be safely trusted to roam in the joys of intellectual freedom. If the church is to keep pace with the world in energy for good, honouring the devoted efforts of men of every name to receive and spread the truth; if Christians are to prevent enlightened and benevolent enterprise from passing wholly from themselves to men of the world, many of whom are nothing in �20 the eyes of the sects because they cannot embrace their dogmas (nevertheless as truly saved before God as those who sit in judgment on them), then they must combine firmness of present conviction with perfect freedom of enquiry into the opinions of all seekers after truth, and be ready to follow wherever the light of evidence leads. This will be a prominent characteristic of the Church of the Future. That church will elect its teachers, not because of their agreement with any one set of dogmatic views, but because of their pos­ sessing that mysterious gift of insight, which, in a certain high and genuine order of minds, lets in the rays of beauty and truth. It will despise those teachers who waste their strength, and the time of their hearers, in expositions of useless metaphysics. It will supplicate those who minister, thus: “ Preach not simply what we believe, if it be not in perfect accord with your own conscience. We encourage you to think closely, deeply, and clearly, and tell us, without the least reserve, all that is in your heart about the great interests of religion, and we will respect your loyalty to conscience.” Methinks the members of the future church will look back from the heights of their calm intelligence with mingled grief and pity on the things we now generally call religion and theology, and on the unreal and unprofitable utterances called sermons, that pour even from eloquent lips throughout Evangelical England to fill up two half-hours every Sunday. The Church of the Future will consist of voluntary associations of unselfish seekers after truth, without a distinct professionally-trained ministry of any kind. All the members of the church will have sufficient education to develop their powers, if' they have any powers to develop, each will hold the culture and use of his special talents sacred, and devote a fair share of his time to the study needful to increase intellectual and moral strength. Business and wealth will be made subservient- to the pursuit of truth and goodness, and of the bliss which these precious qualities bring, and all the “pomps and vanities” of the fashionable world will be pitied as signs of ignorance and barbarism. Thus the future church will be able to “edify” itself in the best sense. It will not depend for instruction and impulse on what is now called “the �21 regular ministry,” or any one man, or class of men, toiling their weary round, week by week, in the narrow circle of orthodoxy. Each of the ministers will possess something that a century of devoted application to academic study could never give. They will be inspired, gifted with a sort of clair­ voyant perception of the true and the right, which can never be acquired—intuition, insight; and so their minds will be to the church like so many windows opening out upon the mani­ fold glories of the universe. They will not see eye to eye, but, coming before the people in rotation, they will be able, alto­ gether, to cover the wants of the congregation. Each of them will be “a law unto himself,” and his teaching will be approved, not because it happens to agree with what somebody believes, but because it is a true effluence from an earnest and gifted man. III. Terms of membership in the Church of the Future will be simpler, than they mostly are in the Church of the Present. There is an anomalous section of the Protestant Church in this country which has expended immense ingenuity in its creeds, parties and bearing, and with great success, in making the Christian religion look ridiculous. I refer to the body that makes residence in the parish the one title to church com­ munion, and yet every Sunday hurls anathemas at those respectable parishioners, its legal members, who do not believe the incomprehensible doctrine of Three Persons in One Person. I except therefore the Church of England from this comparison. But Evangelical Nonconformists, while they would shrink from applying the damnatory clauses of the Athanasian Creed, would, I suppose, reject any applicant for membership who did not receive the teaching of that Creed. What authority have you from reason or from your Master for shutting out any God­ fearing man, who as conscientiously believes that he is honour­ ing God by denying your views of the Godhead, as you believe that you are doing the same thing by holding those views ? Never did Jesus require any test of discipleship but thinking and doing what one believed to be right. “ He that doeth the will of my Father who is in Heaven, the same is my mother, my sister, and my brother.” Nor did Paul place any meta- �22 physical barrier in the way of anybody entering the church at Rome. In his Epistle to that church he says: “ God shall render to every man according to his deeds; to them who by patient continuance in well-doing seek for glory, honour, and immortality, eternal life; but to them that are contentious and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness, indignation and wrath, tribulation and anguish upon every soul of man that doeth evil; but glory, honour, and peace to every man that worketh good. . . . For there is no respect of persons with God.” As a matter of fact we know that there were members in the church at Corinth who did not even accept the doctrine of the resurrection, and yet there is no record of their expulsion. In the Reformed Church of the yet distant future, when a higher secular training will have braced the powers of men to grapple with such questions, I believe the doctrinal terms of membership will be reduced to two : the Fatherhood of God, and the Brotherhood of man. These are the grand central be­ liefs to which men of soul and light in all countries are rapidly tending, as they gradually uncoil from their souls the chains of churchism and creedism, and we need no other principles to live and die by. Most of the discords and divisions of Christendom about “ points of faith ” will be viewed by the Church of the Future as very much of the same importance as Milton, in his History of England, gives to the battles of the Kings of the Heptarchy. He passes them over, as if they had only been “fights of crows in the air.” Upon the two doctrines I have named, the Church of the Future will peacefully rest. And are they not strikingly simple and intelligible ? They need no miracle to reveal them, and no learning to expound them. They are written upon our nature, and directly revealed to the whole race. They cannot create religious strife, but wherever honestly realised, they must bind all men together in one happy and holy family, and bring all into blissful relation to God. A man must belie his being not io feel their truth the very moment they are presented to him. They are moral intuitions. Four and twenty years have I been a student of theology and a preacher, and now when life is more than half gone, it pours �23 a terrible mockery on one’s past intellectual toil, to be obliged to unlearn the vague, shifting and clashing theological theories with which my intellectual and moral' growth has been cramped. But with humility, joy, and faith, I return, like a little child, to the guidance of those two natural sentiments, which the true prophets and teachers of all times have but repeated and confirmed, but which dogmatic theology has tended so much to mystify. They are the core of Christ’s teaching, and the pillars of the future church. A twofold rule of duty and discipline to be imposed on applicants to the new church, will form inevitable counterparts of these two fundamental principles. The one test of fitness for fellowship will consist in a true effort to keep those com­ mandments, on which hang the law and the prophets : “ Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, soul, strength, and mind, and thy neighbour as thyself;” commandments which embrace immutable morality, and are the most exhaus­ tive expressions of practical and eternal religion ever uttered. In these two precepts are to be found the substance of all the guiding laws and dispensations of God. Blessed is he who fulfils them. The man who candidly does his best to conform to them, will be welcome to the coming Church of God. In our love to God we have the motive-power to aim without ceasing at perfection. In our love to man—the sequel of our love to God—there is a pledge that all bitterness and hatred between man and man shall perish. If we understand our true relations to God and to each other, brotherly love, a virtue not conspicuously developed by Evangelicism, will be evoked ; all the benevolent feelings of our nature, patriotism, philanthropy, charity, compassion, forgiveness, and the do­ mestic affections. Movements will be encouraged, fitted to promote the material, intellectual, social, and moral improve­ ment of mankind. All nlalevolent propensities, all attempts to harm the temporal and spiritual interests of society will be checked. In the bonds of real human brotherhood, as distin­ guished from the artificial ties of creed and sect, all oppression, tyranny, pride, envy, ingratitude, and deceit, must disappear. Such an ideal of brotherhood will become a fact in the Church of the Future. Then the wise and the unlearned, the rich and �24 the poor, the strong and the weak, shall dwell together in the holy tabernacle of God, rendering mutual services under the inviolable covenant of love, and sharing far more warmly than at present, the blessing conferred by the common Father; and the hope of humanity shall approach realization: “ Peace on earth, and goodwill toward men.” Those who accept these two principles of faith, and strive to keep these two great command­ ments, whether they come from the East or from the West, the North or the South, will sit at the banquet of this glorious Catholic Church fellowship. No “ deputation from the breth­ ren ” will need to be appointed to examine the faith of the candidate for membership, for the satisfaction of the church. There will be no occasion for imposing dogmatic tests. If the life be right that will be accepted as a sufficient proof of the reality of the faith. The new church will not be a self­ constituted heaven only for those who fancy themselves saints, but rather a hospital for the moral cure of all who honestly wish to be healed,. None will then, as now, be found stand­ ing aloof from the church, because the terms of commun­ ion are thought to be too strict. The society of the church will be so pure, truthful, and noble, that the bigot, the back­ biter, the vain, the mean, will feel rebuked and repelled under the consciousness of their own unworthiness. Family distinc­ tion, wealthy ignorance, and bustling conceit, will have no favour shewn them in that serene and enlightened community Those Divine graces, now so much at a discount, if not decked out in golden attire in the Church of the Present, will be the all in all of qualification for admission to the Church of the Future. IV. The objects and aims of the Church of the Future will be more practical than those of the Church of the Present. The object and aim in which the prayers, preachipg, teach­ ing, and all other kind of Evangelical effort, at home and abroad, avowedly centre, is a work which is described as “ the salvation of souls.” It is the keeping of this work ever in view that is, with orthodox Christians, the chief signs in the individual and in the church, of spiritual life. It is this that kindles the passionate zeal of the young disciple in �25 dedicating himself to the toils of the ministry. It is the shaping of a sermon to this, that is supposed to give it its true value. Take away the animating doctrine of “ the salvation of sinners” from Evangelical theology and organiza­ tion, and the speeches delivered in Exeter Hall, at the present season, would be extremely tame, the peculiar “unction” which is so indispensable an element of ministerial power with the faithful, would be sadly wanting, and the decline of “ the prayer meeting,” of the “Tract Society,” and of application for “ fellowship with the church,” would be even more lamented than it is. What then is the nature of this solemn business, that so inflames the zeal and the liberality of popular churches ? There are very different ways of looking at the matter, according to the stratum of Evangelical society to which people belong. The Primitive Methodist preacher presents the orthodox view of “ salvation through the blood of the cross,” in its most naked and consistent form. There can be no mistaking his meaning when he cries aloud about the eternal destruction of the sinner. Without ceremony he pitches his camp in the street, and states the case between sinners and God, plainly and honestly, according to the Evangelical theory of the universe. It is strangely otherwise, in most instances, with Evangelical ministers of the middle class. They profess just the same doctrine on this subject as the untutored “local preacher.” But out of an unwarrantable and expedient regard to their somewhat more intelligent congregations, they illogically—I might be pardoned if I were to use even a more severe term—allude to the disagreeable articles of their creed, in a subdued and reserved tone, as if they thought it vulgar to be only, after all, doing exactly the same kind of work as their more ranting brethren. Why should the quieter clergyman or congregationalist smile at the excited methodist, for manifesting an earnestness, which, believing as he does, would surely not be too intense in himself? This is a discrepancy of orthodox Protestantism, which might afford scope for an interesting paper, at the next meeting of the “ Evangelical Alliance.” The common notion among orthodox sects is, that in consequence of sin,—either committed by the first man and imputed to his race, or committed by both him and them �26 together—a dread abyss has been prepared to engulf human beings ; that, in order to avert this fate, the second person of the Godhead was slain by a Divine decree, so that, in some variously .defined, and consequently unintelligible way, the attribute of God’s t( official justice ” might seem not to be compromised in the salvation of men. It is gravely affirmed that Jesus must be lacerated, exposed, and crucified, like the worst Roman malefactor, and that only by trusting in the efficacy of this awful transaction, as meeting the imperious demands of a dishonoured law, and as substituted for our own individual and everlasting punishment, can any one escape certain material and moral torments in the next life. Is it wonderful that, with these conceptions of God’s character and dealings, many a parent has been driven to distraction about the deliverance of his children from this “ blackness of darkness,” and that not a few strong minds have lost their balance in following out the doctrine to its logical issues ? It is some consolation, however, to the poor sotds that, Sunday after Sunday, are consigned, either to the woe of eternal conscious suffering, or of annihilation, to know that ma^iy of those ministers who are most impassioned in their pulpit speculations about the horrors of the lost, do not allow these things to spoil their relish for the comforts, and, where they can afford them, for the luxuries of life. In private friendship they are usually most vivacious and humorous. By a mysterious but happy contradiction, the crushing agony we might naturally expect them to feel for the millions they tell us are ever falling into “ eternal destruction,” does not impair their interest in the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, or Tennyson’s last poem. What is the inference from this fortunate incongruity be­ tween professional phrase and the common sense of every-day life ? Certainly not that Evangelical preachers practise deceit. I believe that, as a body, they are free from the remotest shadow of wilful insincerity. But how, with the facts before us, can we avoid the suspicion that they deceive themselves ; that what they fancy to be a belief is merely a sentiment, a “ tradition of the elders,” with which reason may not inter­ meddle, and which, consequently, has never really entered into �27 them as a practical conviction ? If it be so, the reaction of this self-delusion upon the conscience cannot be favourable. How could any religious man believe that nineteen-twentieths of the world’s population have for countless ages been going to perdi­ tion, in spite of their possible deliverance through the preaching of the gospel, and yet retain his sanity ? Indeed, if he took the subject to heart, he would be just as likely to go mad over the apathy of the church as over the doom of the world. Suppose we were told that out of a thousand British subjects in Greece five hundred had been captured by brigands, and subjected to a slow and an incessant process of torture which they had resolved to continue through an indefinite number of years, and that the remaining five hundred were in imminent risk of being taken also; to say nothing of Christianity, would not common humanity impel all civilized governments to combine and rush to the rescue of our countrymen ? Then I hold it to be contrary to all the laws of mind for any rational being to believe in the eternal destruction of “ unbelievers,” in any form, and go about the duties of a citizen like other men. But most orthodox people, clerical as well as lay, seem quite at home in secular affairs, and thus demonstrate the revolt of their better nature from this figment of semi-Pagan theology. But, again, the Evangelical way of salvation offers a motive to the impenitent which cannot but render their faith and obedience specially unacceptable to God. He seeks our love, and whoever turns to Him from the mere dread of punishment, or from the selfish desire to get behind the walls of a city im­ pregnable to flames, and without the breathing of the heart supremely after the pure, the truthful, the just and the good, must be an object of the Divine pity, if not contempt. What noble-minded man does not shrink from the servility of a creature who affects esteem only because he is afraid of punish­ ment ? And shall the holy God be placed beneath the level of imperfect men ? What I have known of the tendency of the Evangelical system—all elaborate repudiations of the fact notwithstanding—leads me to , believe that it never can and never does produce a high type of character where it is con­ sistently followed. But to the credit of thousands be it said, that it is not always consistently followed. It exalts escape I �28 from future punishment and the attainment of future happi­ ness into the chief end of religion. That is its gospel, and a most selfish gospel it is. I tremble at the thought of the grievous and degrading perversions of the relations between God and man for which it is responsible. No wonder there is such unavailing complaint on the part of preachers that, as a rule, religious progress usually ceases with converts at the point of their admission to the circle of communicants. They were taught to “ flee from the wrath to comethey were made un­ happy by the burden of real or, as is quite as often the case, of imaginary sins. Their grand inquiry is “ How are we to get forgiveness and peace, and release of the fear of endless woe ?” The judicial notion of Christ’s mission is set before them, and whatever idea they may have of the desirableness of becoming God-like, the necessity of being insured against the dreaded forensic penalty of sin is presented to them in a light so ab­ sorbing, that any distinct conception of Christianity as aiming chiefly at the moral elevation of our nature, and at the recovery of our powers to harmony with each other and with God’s will, is kept in the background. Evangelical congregations may hear God referred to as a Father, but the corner-stone of their theology is that He is an inflexible Ruler, whose official anger is to be appeased. The spectral representation of a magistrate who may be approached only through a propitia­ tory sacrifice is the backbone of orthodoxy. How then is it possible to love, in any rational sense, this governmental ab­ straction ? How can a Ruler be other than a cold embodiment of law ? You may fear and reverence such a Being, but to let your heart go out in passionate love for His character, to be inspired with a longing desire to be like Him, to delight in the thought of His presence, would necessitate a revolution in the laws of being. That gospel, then, which interprets the salva­ tion of souls according to legal analogies, and gives such towering prominence to escape from punishment as a motive­ power, and turns the life and death of Christ into a substi­ tutionary sacrifice, cannot fail to produce in the subject of Evangelical faith, either spiritual stagnation, oi' fanatical illu­ sion which will be mistaken for sound religious progress. I might, did time permit, prove that the whole Evangelical �29 fabric rests in a confusion of Pagan and Jewish traditions with literal facts. I might trace back with you the prevailing idea of. future torment to its true source in Babylon, where the Jews found it during their captivity, and afterwards brought it with them to their own land, and incorporated it with their t national theology, I might easily prove that, as a poetical figure has been confounded with an absolute truth respecting penalty, so allusions to ancient Jewish ceremonial laws have been confounded with literal facts respecting redemption through Christ. But I must leave this train of thought to be pursued by you at leisure. What I am most anxious to say is, that the supreme object of the Church of the Future will be to teach and spread a salvation not material, but moral, intellectual, and spiritual; present, too, as well as future. “ The Kingdom of Heaven is not meat and drink, but right­ eousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.” So the kingdom of wrath is not fire and brimstone, but envy, pride, idolatry, lust, uncharitableness, ignorance, superstition, and bigotry. And it will be the aim of the Church of the Future to heal minds by applying the salve of truth, in all its adapted forms and bearings, in order to cure these ruinous diseases. That was the work Christ, the Great Spiritual Physician, set Himself to accomplish. He found one faculty out of joint, another bruised, another bleeding, and another cumbered with a loathsome excrescence, and lie brought to bear His spiritual surgery to heal all. While recognising the necessity of a turning-point in a character that was previously under some dominant wrong influence, the Church of the Future will reject most of the sensational experiences which are now described as gathering around Evangelical “ con­ version.” In that golden age of religion to which our hopes reach' forth; the beginning of Divine life in the soul will consist in free moral decision to escape from the thraldom of error and , wrong-doing, and to be governed by those pure and changeless principles laid down by a loving Father for the control and the guidance of His children. Worthier impulses than the terrors of woe, or the safety of Heaven, will be urged to bring men into sympathy with truth and righteousness. The justice of God will not then be degraded into a bugaboo to frighten �30 sinners. It will be delighted in as a manifestation of holy love. No miserable Jewish modes of seeking reconciliation with God will then be acknowledged. The intrinsic charms of harmony with His appointments in our being, and in the universe at large, will eclipse all inferior considerations. Love to God, the essential transforming power, will not then spring from some one sup­ posed judicial contrivance to “deliver from going down to the pit,” or from some morbid emotionalism supposed to be of super­ natural origin, but really a sympathetic and nervous affection. Love to God will then spring from an adoring view of all His endless contrivances to promote the happiness of men, and the full development of all their powers. The labours of the Future Church will be directed to improve everything within its reach, capable of improvement. Its teaching and work will be eminently practical. Instead of strumming ad nauseam, as is now done, upon a few doctrines or duties supposed to contain the essence of saving truth, but which often leave those who hear them as dead in their besetting sins of temper, ignorance, and covetousness as they found them, the Church of the Future will deem all truth equally sacred, and in its place necessary to be unfolded for the illumination and the advancement of mankind, for the hastening of the period of which the seer of olden time spake, when “ the wilderness and the solitary place shall become glad, and the desert rejoice-and blossom as the rose.” Moreover, the efforts of the Church of the Future will ever be encouraged by the assured faith that the antidote of truth, love, joy and peace will yet perfectly neutralize the bane of error, hatred, misery, and care. It will have risen out of the heartless, useless, tiresome debates of minds struggling with creed-bonds, as to whether conscious agony or final extinction of being awaits the sinner. The Church of the Future will be able to work without the feverishness and gloom that generally mark the movements of the Church of the Present. It will be able to work calmly and joyfully in the confidence that the chasm which still exists between God’s ideal of the world and the realization of that ideal will be bridged over, arid that not a soul created will ever fail of being lifted up into holy and blessed fellowship with Himself. What earthly parent would �31 ever dream of making the punishment of his child an end ? The object of all intelligent parental correction is to subdue wrong habits and bring the chastised one into the orbit of obedience ? Is it not one of the plainest signs of advancing civilization too, that criminal discipline is made subservient to the reformation of the offender?. It is not so easy now as it once was to induce juries to find a verdict that will necessitate punishment by death; nor are judges so ready, as they once were, to sentence men to the gibbet. All ranks of society are becoming increasingly permeated with the idea of the improve­ ability of the race under conformity to physical and moral law. And the principle which is only dawning upon our age as a discovery has been acted upon by God from all eternity, and He will never swerve from it. So when the church becomes a more instructed medium of God’s revelation, she will labour in every sphere of the useful, the beautiful, and the good, in the unfaltering hope that all rebels and all revolted provinces in the universe will be finally restored. Now, in my capacity as your minister, I say Farewell. I thank you for your kindness toward me, during the four and a half years of my ministry among you. I have not inten­ tionally offended anyone. I have tried under somewhat difficult conditions, in a congregation, made up of all beliefs, and of marked differences in intelligence, to impel and guide, by God’s help, your religious life. My own convictions have expanded of late, and I should have been glad to lead you, as I believe I have been led, into upward paths, which the Church of the Future will not fear to tread, but I may not. In my retirement from the Congregational ministry, I mean no attitude of antagonism to Evangelical bodies. They are, I doubt not, suited to the felt spiritual wants of the masses of worshippers in this country at present, or they would not be so numerous and influential as they are. The character of their teaching has changed in a measure, in the past, and it will gradually become - vastly more modified still, ere another half century go by. But the ideal church we have been contemplating to-night is not, I think, to result from the transformation of any existing church. Each of the present sects has a history and a mission, and when the �32 forces of its doctrines and discipline are expended, it will no longer dovetail into the necessities of the age; it will die. But out of the ruins of the Church of the Present, the New Church of our aspirations will rise. It will embrace, as I have already remarked, many bright souls that are now as “ proselytes of the gate,” conscientiously standing outside all orthodox communions, because these have ceased to be true to their consciences. The Church of the Future will also take up into itself what of light and life may remain in the churches it is destined to displace. I am among those who seek the intellectual and religious freedom that, at present, lies beyond the walls of sectarianism. I will honour the well-intentioned efforts of all orthodox bodies, and am willing to preach in their pulpits, and join in their worship, and help in their good works, and rejoice in all that is true in them. But the call of God to me is to cease from the salaried pastorate of an Evangelical Church, and I dare not disobey. My future in another sphere is full of care and uncertainty. But for conscience’ sake I must not hesitate to take the uninviting road. God will provide, and should He see fit to provide adequately for ‘my temporal wants, I shall not abandon the hope of some years hence, being able to preach what I believe, without fear of creed or of man, in true apostolic fashion, in the happiest sense, an “ Independent ” minister, because an independent man. I shall delight in your peace and prosperity throughout all the organizations of the Church, and shall never cease to think kindly of you all, and long for your growth in the spirit and truth of Jesus Christ. E. . C. OSBORNE, PRINTER, NEW STREET, BIRMINGHAM. � 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 &amp; 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 church of the present, and the church of the future: an address, delivered in the Congregational Chapel, Moseley Road, Birmingham, 5th May 1870 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Macfie, Matthew Description An account of the resource Place of publication: Birmingham; London Collation: 32 p. ; 23 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. "Published by request". Sermon preached on the occasion of Macfie resigning the Congregational ministry after fifteen years' service. Text of sermon from Matthew 6-10 'Thy kingdom come'. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available E.C. Osborne; Simpkin Marshall & Co. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1876 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5370 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 church of the present, and the church of the future: an address, delivered in the Congregational Chapel, Moseley Road, Birmingham, 5th May 1870), 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 Sermons https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/57f49941a65ed15642e34ca7b1b25bc3.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=gA3%7ECzIOGn4lrcHdfNK6Uum9bP8e6r4ofD2fzkma0XD5pYmX1OIO41%7EDP-7HrIOxPwpW-9Q9-dzbxZXXn73zRAn1%7Em0-WRUrWbi2eaS-6Cja5eSaSi2cbsbE8AwBm8OIMjPIkid5%7EtjNufCYfykNewETnlQGA9M9js-6ABONQTTOEnwXRhL9CVDVrPgBng6A21impuD8vBh8Q2S5JFbLD0wfE92VH-k6lZHd3-N5ehV5fTw1R0rlenseqlACCIdg8kb48CeFWcQF0y2OPCGcFj%7Er1Ko6xwOzUD1qwB3FM086EZxozNfxvu71zij2J8ZLyz%7E1ICy1nn2C173xpzmeGg__&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 &amp; 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/b992f62ac328edb2edbacfaf5d83368e.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=ps0P4nPtgNeFiAfGXXDjB1arIjWXZJbSz6Fhn5O-oVqw4sgD60ecBcbLZ7w2eKqDL2XiM4cKz3-mw-feKwCzyEg5RRfKXL8G9wgaOyBrW8VT5he5mevaxFkiDBPQwgeWEi9T%7E9GOu3opl5CxoTOJ4jsUF2QQmagE%7ECX0hA5Snfns1VkGeLJam9YTqMZgGYHHYtx22RbS8V2dInVm8uhj5haOUT9CjQqFM8fjBDP2e65qiTXNKuy-sYoTzg7s28MQHmuPehl9Rm7H81El5HfWt7oFh6gqBhfxfBDH6kIgEJl7Rjl9jDfUUC24VGHovUt0n%7ETzzBf2EIcNrYsA1OLtSw__&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 &amp; 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/6f8423767b06e2063fa1031a65fba9f8.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=MoN5Mful%7E4%7EEY95irjw2GEB2uyYfQnmfx5XjcAzfYBhehq9nYYqA89aE5R3c9GM3lkj7shdg9bx6jKoFuJp9knOgGmU%7Ep3kUHoTimCGztVgT6xXgkUoovVIX1CUemOGPljp0jv6dsIQSHavKgNUtIQEAh18O7kn0WtuuPe4wWrLPuQyy29vQELZvFoyZNdFWUdAE83cW0sM8m%7EO%7EmsQNgjtNOLQTFUxeWvBr0ruh0qihTGw8MSrKpibu6%7EV6-aV8qcFhYSfFVuC1kDzz7Zd1XnzmUQslSaU%7EecvF6dEta%7E2nhYhPxghktc-Yq0YnhfB1Sr8Rqao3kBPsqe3GOFbsEg__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM 4eef8084f67b6c6fd89a1828aeade093 PDF Text Text PREFACE. rjTTE second of these Sermons is printed in compliance with requests which have reached me from various quarters since it was preached. The earlier Sermon has been added, as com­ pleting, from another side, the general view, common to both, of the privileges and duties of Academical life, and the rewards and difficulties of the study of Theology. ��Ubc Jrrcboin of fbc (!5ospcL PREACHED ON THE ACT SUNDAY, (THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY,) JULY 5, 1859. �Mi �JUDGES iv. 4, 5. Deborah, a prophetess, . . . she judged Israel at that time. And she dwelt under the palm-tree of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in Mount Ephraim: and the children of Israel came up to her for judgment. TUHO is there so dull as not to be stirred by the ’ T event which, in narrative and in song, occupies the first Lessons of the morning and evening of this day ? Manifold indeed are its interests. We have the rare advantage of a history, illustrated in its minutest details by a contemporary poem, of which the antiquity, the genuine, absolute, contemporary antiquity, has never been doubted. We see in that poem a picture of the whole state of the Jewish Church and nation, vivid and complete in all its parts, though but shewn to us for a moment. We see in the deed of Jael and the blessing pronounced upon it, a remarkable illustration of the double truth, first, that the spirit of those who lived in old time was different from the spirit of Ilim who bade us bless our enemies, and forbade us to call down fire from heaven ; but, secondly, that there was, even in the midst of their imperfect morality, a zeal and a self-devotion through which “ God in sundry times and divers manners” spake to our fathers, and through them still speaks even to us, who know Him in His Son. Yet there is something of more enduring instruc­ tion than any of these points. The main interest gathers round the central figure of the story. It �8 was not Jael, though she dealt the final blow,—it was not the thunder and rain, and the swelling of the river Kishon, though all these causes helped,— it was not Barak, nor Issachar, nor Zebulun,—that first raised the sinking hearts of the people. Every­ thing remained silent, sluggish, panic-struck, until (to use her own words) that “ she, Deborah, arose, that she arose a mother in Israel.” Under the solitary palm-tree on the rocky heights between Ramah and Bethel, as Saul beneath his pomegranate-tree, as kings and chiefs in later ages beneath their ancient oaks, “ Deborah dwelt and judged Israel.” We may remember the repre­ sentations in which, many centuries later, when the Jews had fallen under the Roman yoke, Judaea is drawn under the figure of a woman in chains, seated weeping beneath a palm-tree. It is the contrast of that figure which best places before us the character and call of Deborah. It is the same Judaean palm under whose shadow she sits, — not with downcast eyes and folded hands and in the last decline of her people, but with all the fire of faith and hope, with all a mother’s burning love for her children, eager for the battle, confident of victory, rejoicing in the triumph, meeting the returning conquerors with the hymn of praise which still sounds like the voice of a trumpet, rousing herself and rousing them, “Awake, awake, Deborah: awake, awake, utter a song! Arise, Barak, and lead thy captivity captive, thou son of Abinoam.” That one spark �9 of devotion was enough to light up the whole dor­ mant mass : that one voice was enough to break the chain which kept a thousand hearts in unworthy bondage, a thousand tongues in unworthy silence. And in this her mission of national deliverance she was not merely a ruler and a leader of the hosts, she was a prophetess. She was the first, the only representative (in the earlier history of the chosen people, in that dark interval between Moses and Samuel,) of the divine, life-giving ele­ ment of religious enthusiasm, of religious instruc­ tion, which afterwards grew up into the long suc­ cession of the Schools of the Prophets. On her, through the troubled period of ignorance and anarchy, as the harbinger of better times and more settled institutions, the Jewish nation must have looked back, as we from this day may look back to the dim figures of the pure saint, or the wise king, or the good prince, who first consecrated this place to piety and learning. Her palm-tree, or the spot where her palm-tree grew7, must have been cherished as the revered relic, as the beloved sanctuary, where first in Palestine the sons of Israel went up to gather wisdom and strength from the oracle, as of their mother and guide. And what was the lesson, the doctrine, that they learned from her lips, and which still sounds to us through her song of victory ? It is, in one word, Freedom. The love of freedom, indivisibly united with zeal for God. The note which Deborah sounded rang on through �10 all the nobler portion of the Jewish story: it rang on in wild and desperate cries even into their last days of ruin and decay. And did it expire in the new dispensation which arose on the fall of the old ? Has Freedom become a less sacred deposit under the Gospel than under the Law? Is it less closely bound up with the sacred studies, with the prophetic schools of Chris­ tian education, than it was “ under the palm-tree of Deborah, between Ramah and Bethel ?” This is the doctrine which I propose to consider this morning,—the freedom of true Religion, the freedom, the independence, the energy of Chris­ tianity and of Christian Theology. A union dear alike to those who love freedom, and to those who love the Gospel,—a union of which the possibility has been sometimes called in question, but which must be maintained, if the cause of freedom is to be saved from excess and wrong, if the cause of religion is to retain its hold on the best sympathies of the human soul and the human race. In this question we have a direct interest. Un­ derneath the shade of our sacred groves has sate from age to age the venerable mother in Israel, “the Mother” (as we call her in the old familiar lan­ guage of other days) to whom the sons of England resort for judgment and for knowledge. And her voice, like that of the ancient Prophetess, if not always nor in tones equally sustained, yet in its usual and its more elevated strains, speaks to us of Freedom. �11 Freedom and independence we boast in this place to be our very breath of life. Of all the charac­ teristics of our education and our institutions, it is the one which most rivets the attention and excites the wonder of strangers. It is an inheritance of our earlier ages, it is the aim of our latest aspirations. A society where spontaneous and contagious energy should take the place of rigid rules, where the generous devotion of the teachers should en­ kindle the zeal of the taught, where the no less generous zeal of the taught should rekindle in turn the self-denying zeal of .the teacher, where free activity of body and mind should leave no place for languid indifference or for brutal self-indulgence.— Or, again, a society where an independent spirit of honest inquiry and ardent research should dwell as in its natural home; as when Wycliffe found in Oxford a refuge which elsewhere he sought in vain ; or when, at Cambridge, Cud worth, and More, and Isaac Barrow led the foremost van of English philo­ sophical thought.—These are no imaginary pictures of what a College and a University may become. The freedom is, or ought to be, ours; it is for us to make it a freedom worthy of the Christian name. All freedom needs restraint, lest it become either tyranny or licence. But the best restraint is the re­ cognition of it as a Christian grace. The true limit of human thought and speculation is its absorp­ tion into a wholesome Christian atmosphere, where it may find that the Gospel is not its jealous enemy, nor its hard taskmaster, but its cordial ally. Here �12 also the great argument of Butler extends. There is an analogy, and not an antagonism, between the best parts of the constitution of our human nature and the highest doctrines of revealed religion. Chris­ tianity is a law, but is a “ royal law of libertya.” It is founded on the past, but it is founded on those elements of the past which are most free, most universal, most eternal. With these objects in view, and passing over the various points, political or social, in which Chris­ tianity may, in some sense, be considered the parent of European freedom, I select out of the many illus­ trations which offer themselves, three general topics specially suggested by the occasion and the services of this day. I. Let me take first that characteristic of Evan­ gelical Freedom which is brought out expressly in the Gospel itself, as rising above the mere out­ ward and local liberty of which the Jewish nation boasted; the best text and motto, it has been well said, of a Christian place of education,—“ Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you ffeeb.” In “the truth,” no less than in “the mercy” of God, Psalmists and Prophets had trusted of old. “By truth” as well as “ by mercy” in man, we are told, in the strong language of the older Scripturesc, “ iniquity and sin is purged away.” “ Through the truth,” our Saviour tells us, “we are sanctifiedd.” a James ii. 8. c Prov. xvi. 6. b John viii. 32. John xvii. 19. �13 ‘‘ To this end He came, and to this end He was born into the world,” (and to this end also, in our humble measure, we each of us have come into the world, and come to this place,) “ to bear witness to the truth'.” By the truth, by the knowledge and the practice of the truth, the Gospel and our own best experience tell us, we are set free. 1. What a freedom is given to all our intercourse one with another, by frank, open, straightforward, manly dealing, it needs not one word to prove. And what a fearlessness, what an innocence, what a calmness is given to us in thought and study, as soon as we fairly embrace the doctrine that what Christ requires of us is to ask not whether this opinion or fact is dangerous or safe, or pious or useful, but whether it is true. Truth will take care of herself. “We can do nothing against the truth,” says the Apostle, “ but only for the truthf.” How clear is the field, how light the task, even of controversy against others, if we feel and can make them feel that our object is not to blast their cha­ racter, or to make capital out of our attacks upon them, but simply to set forth what is true. How freely can we pass*by all the insinuations and in­ jurious epithets against ourselves, if once we are satisfied that what we have said is simply the truth, —sincere in intention, true in fact. 2. Again, there is the immense relief afforded when we are able to distinguish between the sub­ stance and the shadow, the things and the words, the c John xviii. 37. f 2 Cor. xiii. 8. �14 truth itself and the various forms in which it is expressed. “Not in word and in tongue, but in deed and in truthg,” is a rule which clears up Christian speculation, no less than Christian prac­ tice. It is because we “ know the truth,” because we appreciate, understand, embrace it fully, that we are able to dispense with false and artificial sup­ ports. He who knows the form, and lineaments, and proportions of truth,—who knows that, as in nature so in grace, as in science so in theology, there are lights and shades, foregrounds and dis­ tances, means and ends, signs and things signi­ fied, shallows where a child can wade, and depths where an elephant must swim,—he who has so learned “ the truth as it is in Jesus h,” according to the absolute truthfulness, the deep reality of Christ, —he “will not be afraid of any evil tidings,” “be­ cause his heart standeth fast, and believeth in the Lord1.” He will sleep with an easy mind, because he knows that he has “ laid up his treasure there, “where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and “ where thieves do not break through nor steal where no research need be feared, where change of place and time have no effect.' 3. So with human characters, nothing places more restraint on our intercourse one with another, as nations, as churches, as students, as companions, as teachers, and pupils, than concealment and affec­ tation and crooked dealing. We know what it is g 1 John iii. 18. h Eph. iv. 21. 1 Ps. cxii. 7. �15 amongst ourselves. We know also how it needs but one single man to keep the world in bondage to its fears, if it so happen that from elevation of sta­ tion, or inscrutable reserve, or unfathomable fancy, or tortuous policy, his character and designs remain a mystery. But, if once we “ know the truth,” we are set free from alarm, set free from anxiety; we know how to act, how to think, how to speak. So also, as long as we approach men of former ages in ignorant awe, they are to us a succession of phantoms ; we dare not mention their names above a whisper, or without a eulogy, or, if so be, without an apology. But our knowledge of the truth, of the exact fact and reality of their lives, sets us free, disenchants our minds, exorcises our studies, lets us move amongst them without restraint, makes us feel that they are of our race, of our kindred, flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone. 4. So, above all, it is with the facts and with the characters of the Bible. Here the Bible itself sets us the example. “ Freely it speaks to us of the Patriarch David k freely of the Prophets and Apo­ stles. It is not afraid to tell us the truth. It is not afraid to call even the most hallowed objects by their proper names. That false reverence, that strange illusion of modern days, which will only venture to look at sacred events and persons through a vague, shadowy haze, was unknown in ancient, Apostolic times; or, rather, was known only as a dangerous form of heresy, the heresy of the “ Docette,” or “worshippers of phantoms.” k Acts ii. 29. �16 The Apostle Paul was not ashamed to speak of “ Christ crucified” and of “the Cross of Christ,” al­ though to the sensitive Jew and the fastidious Greek the homely fact which those words expressed was the great stumbling-block of the age. He knew that this homely fact, however humble in form, was the salvation of the world. He determined, there­ fore, to know and to preach this only. He teaches us, by this one instance, nor yet by this instance only, that the truth, the actual, original facts and words of our faith, have power beyond anything else to make us free from the idols alike of the market-place and the temple. It may be that “ the offence of the cross” has not ceased, that the offence of calling Scriptural persons and doctrines by their right names, of looking at them as they really were, has not ceased, and perhaps never will cease. But not the less in justice to them, and for our own profit, we must “ know the truth” respecting them, the “ truth will make us free.” They will bear to be examined and sifted to the bottom, through the most searching microscope of critical research ; the fibres of every true Scriptural fact and word will bear to be seen, will gain as they are seen. Whatever narrowness and servitude there may be, is not in the Scriptures, but in our­ selves and our own groundless theories concerning them. To us the Apostles and Prophets may well say,—“Our mouth is opened to you, our heart is enlarged. Ye are not straitened in us, but ye are straitened in your own selves1.” 1 2 Cor. vi. 11. �17 II. There is another element of liberty, indispens­ able to its vital power in the world, but endangered by the present tendencies of modern civilization, (so it has been recently urged in a well-known work of great ability"1,) namely, the element of in­ dependence, originality, variety of mind and cha­ racter. Does the Gospel furnish any guarantee for this liberty, any opposition to this contract­ ing, monotonous tendency of our age ? 1. Yes, in a most remarkable form this sanction was involved in the first appearance of Christianity, and in all its genuine teaching. The very charm by which the appearance and character of Christ Himself first riveted the attention of men, was (if it may be said with reverence) its newness, its originality, its unlikeness to anything which had ap­ peared before, or which existed then. He thwarted the course of the world and of the Church of His time. The religion and the kingdom which He founded were “a new creation.” Whenever a gleam of loftier genius strikes across our path and opens to us a new world of thought, whenever a brighter vision of justice, or generosity, or devotion passes before us, fear it not, turn not from it. The advent of the second Adam warns us that it is a likeness, however faint, of that Divine Light which “ shined in the darkness, though the darkness com­ prehend it notit is the salt of the surrounding mass, which, without some such Christlike invigor­ ating influence, would sink into mere deadness and m Mill’s Essay “On Liberty.” C �18 putrefaction; it is the very gift of God to prevent our dull senses from falling asleep, and to stir the sluggish blood of our indolent, corrupt, apathetic race. 2. And, further, look at the Parable of the Great Supper in this morning’s Gospel“. How exactly does that story represent the one peculiarity of the Christian religion, which to many minds (at least I may speak for myself) is one of the most striking proofs of its divine origin, its heaven-born inspira­ tion ; namely, the unexhausted and inexhaustible character of the words and works of Scripture. At that “ great supper” there are indeed many seats. “ In our Father’s house there are indeed many mansions0.” “ Lord, we have done as Thou hast commanded us, and yet there is room.” The feast might seem to have been filled when the Chosen People first were called. The exclusive devotion to one great truth, the fervour, the faith of the Jewish nation, might seem to have met all the needs of the Divine call. But not so. There were many truths, many feelings, many aspirations in the ancient Scriptures, and yet more in the manifestation of Christ, to which the Jewish people, to which the Semitic race had no response. The house grew around and above them ; they filled but a corner of its vast dimensions ; from “ the streets and lanes” of the great city of the Greek and Roman world, a new people were called in; Greek and Roman found themselves at home, where the earlier n Luke xiv. 16. 0 John xiv. 2. �19 inmates were beginning to feel themselves strangers; and the Church of the Fathers sprang up within the wide walls of the expanding structure. But “ still there was room.” And again “ from the high­ ways and hedges” of the German tribes, another in­ flux of unexpected guests broke in ; and the poetry, and the tenderness, and the chivalry of Christianity fed the Middle Ages, as its divine philosophy had already fed the age of Athanasius and Augustine. The Middle Ages came to an end, and again it seemed as if the feast was empty. The feeling of the age of the Reformation, exaggerated no doubt, yet still bearing witness to the fact of which I am speaking, was as though the Bible had never been read before, as though St. Paul’s Epistles were then for the first time understood; as though the Chris­ tian faith had taken a new start in the race of life. “ Lord, we have done as Thou hast com­ manded, and yet there is room.” After all that had been done, after all the volumes that had been written by Fathers and Schoolmen, there was still room for Erasmus, for the long succession of translators and critics, who have revealed to us a new world in the Sacred Records, unthought-of before ; there was still room for the Reformers, who have at least shewn us how full of interest that new world was to them, how full of life and interest it may still be to us, in each succeeding age of Christendom. We see it in the words, in the truths, in the characters, which still lie in the sacred volume, almost unoccupied, c 2 �20 Each one, we may say, is the key to a new chamber which has hardly yet been explored. Everywhere, as you look in for a moment, a long vista opens before you. “ dpparet domus intus et atria tonga patescunt.” Study the full meaning even of single words, (“Spirit,” “Gospel,” “Love,” “Faith,” “Righte­ ousness,” “Redemption,” “Sacrifice,” “Grace”); what treasures does each contain which the succes­ sive generations of theology have but skimmed as they passed I Take whole chapters of St. Paul’s Epistles, take most of the discourses and the parables of the Gospels, take the closing chapters of the Apocalypse ; where were many of these during whole centuries of the Christian Church ? How entirely have some of them waited for their fulfilment and understanding till now ; how entirely do some of them wait for their fulfilment and understanding in times yet to come. Take, too, large classes of characters as we see them in the world, and as they are reflected, as they are anticipated in Scripture; can it be said that these are exhausted for the service of Christ ? Is it only the orderly, the so-called religious world, which the Gospel owns or claims as its own ? Nay, may we not almost say that the very reverse is the case ? Is it not to the streets and lanes, to the highways and hedges, that the divine messengers are sent forth with the announcement that “ yet there is room?” Not the correct elder brother only, who has been in his father’s house always, but the wild young prodigal can, if he will, have a share in that feast with music and merriment. Not �21 the Priest and Levite only, but the outcast Sama­ ritan, will be our welcome neighbours in that vast assembly. Not the staid and dignified Pharisee only, but the humble, penitent Publican of few wTords and no professions; not the son who said that he would do his father’s will, but the sturdy youth who, in spite of his stubborn defiance, went and did it without saying a word. From these outlying, dangerous, difficult, wayward classes, the Master of the feast is still willing that His guests and friends should be drawn. You, if there be any such, who despise yourselves, and think yourselves good for nothing,—who think that there is no occasion, no place, no room for you to be religious,—to you, the Gospel in its freedom especially turns; out of the like of you have been hewn some of the wisest and bravest of the servants of God; Christ has respect for you, even though you have none for yourselves; He entreats, He compels, He constrains you to come in. You have a work to do, which none can do so well; to you it is given to speak with autho­ rity which cannot be gainsaid, to deal with those who will listen to none besides. III. This brings me to a third point in which the liberty of Christianity makes itself felt. It is in the peculiar aspect in which it regards its one great enemy—Sin. This aspect is represented to us by two familiar phrases,—so familiar, that they have almost lost their meaning for us,—“ Redemption,” and the “Freeness of the Gospel.” “ Redemption.”—For more than a thousand years �22 this was the chief image used throughout Christen­ dom to denote the work of Christ. We think of sin as a transgression to be forgiven, as a guilt re­ quiring punishment ; do we sufficiently regard it, with the Apostles, with the long succession of their first followers, as a bondage from which we hope to be set free ? We regard Christ as our Teacher, as our Lord, as our Priest ; do we sufficiently regard Him, as He was regarded in old time, as our De­ liverer, our “ Redeemer?” Look at the matter for a moment in this light. It may seem but a mere figure of speech ; but, indeed, it is full of significance. Look at any one who is under the influence of some strong passion or pre­ judice, or who has done some wrong, or who has fallen into some temptation : what word so well expresses his state as to say that “he is a slave to it ?” It drags him against his will : the remembrance of it haunts him : it weaves a chain of difficulties round him. Self-indulgence engenders extrava­ gance, and extravagance engenders falsehood, and falsehood destroys self-respect, or unfaithfulness with our consciences engenders superstition, and super­ stition engenders injustice,—and the man is no longer what he was or what he would be. His time, faculties, conscience, cease to be his own. And now, what is the weapon by which the Re­ deemer “ smites asunder these bars of iron and lets the oppressed go free ?” There are many. I name but one, in accordance with the subject of this discourse. It is what used^to be called in old time �23 “the free grace” of God. It is that grand appeal which, in the original Gospel of Jesus Christ, is made by the majesty and grace of God to the help­ lessness and gratitude of men. It is that announce­ ment which runs through all the words and works of Christ, but nowhere more forcibly than in the Parable (which we have just heard) of the Prodigal Son. The Prodigal has but to turn and repent; no long remorse or penitence is needed ; when he is still a long way off, the Father runs to meet him; “God in Christ” has come down even to this world of ours to meet him half-way, to assure him of forgiveness, of love, of restoration. These are words, perhaps, that we have often heard without heed or thought. May I, on this the last Sunday of the academical year, give them a homely application which they may well bear for all of us. We have heard it said in the troubles, and toils, and temptations of the world,—“ Oh that I could “ begin life over again ! Oh that I could fall asleep, “ and wake up twelve, six, three months hence, and “ find my difficulties solved ’.” That which we may vainly wish elsewhere, by a happy Providence is furnished to us by the natural divisions of meeting and parting in this place. To every one of us, old and young, the Long Vacation, on which we are now entering, gives us a breathing space and time to break the bonds which place and circumstance have woven round us during the year that is past. From all our petty cares, and confusions, �24 and intrigues ; from the dust and clatter of this huge machinery amidst which we labour and toil; from whatever cynical contempt of what is ge­ nerous and devout ; from whatever fanciful dis­ regard of what is just and wise; from whatever gall of bitterness is secreted in our best mo­ tives ; from whatever bonds of unequal dealing in which we have entangled ourselves or others,— we are now for a time set free. We stand on the edge of the river which shall, for a time at least, sweep them away; that ancient river, the river Kishon, the river of fresh thoughts, and fresh scenes, and fresh feelings, and fresh hopes : one surely amongst the blessed means whereby God’s free and loving grace works out our deliverance, our redemption from evil, and renews the strength of each succeeding year, so that “we may mount up again as eagles, and not be weary or faint.” And, if turning to the younger part of my hear­ ers, I may still more directly apply this general les­ son to them,—Is there no one who, in some shape or other, does not feel the bondage of which I have been speaking ? He has something on his con­ science ; he has something on his mind; extrava­ gance, sin, debt, falsehood. Every morning, in the first few minutes after waking, it is the first thought that occurs to him : he drives it away in the day ; he drives it off by recklessness, which only binds it more and more closely round him. Is there any one who has ever felt, who is at this moment feel­ ing, this grievous burden ? What is the deliver­ �25 ance ? How shall he set himself free ? In what special way does the Redemption of Christ, the free grace of God, present itself to him ? There is at least one way, clear and simple. He knows it better than any one can tell him. It is those same words which I used before with another purpose,— “ The truth shall make him free.” It is to tell the truth to his friend, to his parents, to any one, who­ soever it be, from whom he is concealing that which he ought to make known. One word of open, frank disclosure,—one resolution to act sincerely, honestly by himself and by others,—one ray of truth let into that dark corner will indeed set the whole man free. Liberavi animam meam,—“ I have delivered my soul.” What a faithful expression is this of the relief, the deliverance effected by one strong effort of will in one moment of time I “I will arise and “go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, “ I have sinned against heaven and before thee, “ and am no more worthy to be called thy son.” So we heard the prodigal’s confession this morn­ ing. So may the thought well spring up in the minds of any who in the course of this last year have wandered into sin, have found themselves beset with evil habits of wicked idleness, of wretched self-indulgence. Now that you are indeed, in the literal sense of the word, about “ to rise and go to your father,” now that you will be able to shake off the bondage of bad companionship, now that the whole length of this long absence will roll �26 between you and the past,—take a long breath; break off the yoke of your sin, of your fault, of your wrongdoing, of your folly, of your perverse­ ness, of your pride, of your vanity, of your weak­ ness ■ break it off by truth; break it off by one stout effort in one stedfast prayer ; break it off by innocent and free enjoyment; break it off by honest work. Put your “hand to the nail,” and “your right hand to the workman’s hammer1*:” strike through the enemy which has ensnared you ; pierce and strike him through and through. How­ ever powerful he seems, “ at your feet he will bow, he will fall, he will lie down ; at your feet he will bow and fall, and where he bows, there will he rise up no more.” “ So let all Thine enemies perishq, O Lord ; but ‘ let them that love Thee be as the sun when he “ goeth forth in his might.” p Judges v. 26. q Judges v. 31. �(Lije iatrrrurirs in (linen ari). PREACHED ON SEPTUAGESIMA SUNDAY, FEB. 5, 1860. ��ST. MATTHEW xx. 6, 16. Why stand ye here all the day idle? . . . The last shall be first, and the first last. TF this great Parable teems with difficulties, it also teems with instruction. Dismissing the diffi­ culties, which were amply discussed from this place on this day last yeara, let us gather up its instruc­ tions in the two practical doctrines which, under the shadow of the one great truth of the absolute sovereignty of God, it proclaims to the world. I. The first is that which, in conjunction with the other Scriptures of this day, we cannot doubt that the Church intended to urge upon us in selecting this passage for the Gospel of Septuagésima. It is the call to energy, to labour, to work. Whatever theories we may frame of merit or demerit, of justi­ fication or of predestination, this one fundamental truth runs underneath them all, and through the whole texture of Scripture from end to end. “ By the sweat of his face shall man eat bread,” is the opening doctrine of Genesis b. “ I come quickly,” so we read in the last page of the Apocalypse, “ and My reward is with Me to give to every man according to his wTorkc.” “He that doeth that which is lawful and right, shall save his soul alive,” is the voice of the ancient Prophet4. “He that a By the Regius Professor of Divinity. b Gen. iii. 19. c Rev. xxii. 12. d Ezek. xviii. 27. �30 doeth righteousness is righteous,” is the voice of the beloved Disciple®. “He only that runs shall win the prize,” is the burden not only of the Epistle of this day, but of all the Epistles of St. Paul. “He only that labours shall receive the labourer’s re­ ward,” is the burden not only of this, but of all the Parables of Christ. Doubtless the Gospel recognises the sacredness of repose, as well as the sacredness of labour. Mary may choose the better part by sitting at the feet of Jesus, whilst Martha is cumbered with much serving. But still the prevailing call of God and of nature is that “ man must go forth to his work and to his labour until the evening1.” If the great Puritan poet has beautifully expressed the excep­ tional case in that most touching and consoling line,— “They too may serve who only stand and wait,”— the wider and more general principle is laid down in the ancient medieval distich,— Qui laborat, Orat. ‘ Why stand ye idle?’ ‘ Why standest thou idle ?’ is still the first, paramount call which the Lord of the vineyard addresses to all His innumerable labourers. II. The other practical truth of this Parable is that brought out by the Church in selecting the context of the passage for the festival of the Conversion of e 1 John iii. 7. (Serm. i. and xxvi.) f Compare Newman’s Sermons, vol. viii. �31 St. Paulg. Every generation, every age, every station and circumstance of man has its own peculiar work to do, which none other can do as well. The day of the world, the day of life, is long and various. At each successive hour,—at the first, at the third, at the ninth, at the eleventh hour,—the call comes, in different tones, to different plots of the vineyard, each equally needing to be worked, each work equally de­ serving its reward. In the pale dawn of the Patriarchal age, in the bright sunrise of the Law, in the noon­ day clearness of the Prophets, in the evening shades of the close of the Jewish Church,—or again, in the Christian Church, as the finger of the great dial of time has marked the onward progress of events from the first early age to the fifth, to the thir­ teenth, to the sixteenth, to the nineteenth century, the call has been again and again repeated,—in each the same, yet in each different. We must not de­ spise or impede the call or the work of any. The latest labourers must acknowledge that their pre­ decessors “ have borne the burden and heat of the day,” must not grudge them their thrones11, exalted high, “ in the regeneration” of mankind. But the first must no less be ever ready to receive the last. The twelve elder Apostles must not murmur at the unexpected intrusion of the younger Paul. The work that each can furnish is not more than is needed for climbing the successive terraces of that vine-clad hill1; for “ fencing it ” round about; for “ gather­ ing out the stores thereof;” for “digging a deep g Matt. xix. 27—30. h Matt. xix. 28. ‘ Isa. v. 1—7. �32 winepress therein, and building a high tower in the midst of itk;” for “preparing a wide room for the choice vine,” and “ causing it to take deep root so that it shall fill the land, that its boughs shall spread far and wide like the goodly cedar, that the hills shall be covered with the shadow of it1.” For works so various we must welcome all assist­ ance ; here, as elsewhere in the Divine dispensa­ tions, we must be prepared for sudden surprises, unexpected combinations, unwelcome disturbances : “ The first shall be last, and the last first.” These are the two truths, each sustaining the other, each blending with the other, which I pro­ pose to set before you,—The necessity, the sacred­ ness of work. The necessity, the sacredness of the peculiar work of each successive age. Homely and universal as these Evangelical doctrines are, overlaid as they have been by human traditions, trampled upon by carnal or spiritual pride, they are the words of Divine Truth, not the less true be­ cause they are so homely, not the less divine be­ cause they are so universal. And to us this double call comes home with peculiar force on this, as it may in some sense be called (with its new beginning of Lessons and Services), our second New-year’s day. There are years marked in the history of man­ kind by such unusual destructiveness amongst the gifted men of the earth, as to call our attention with unusual force to the void which has to be k Matt. xxi. 33. 1 Ps. lxxx. 9. �filled up by those who remain. Such a year, be­ yond any perhaps within the memory of any here present, has been the one which has just passed awaym. From Germany, we have lost the poet, the scholar, the geographer, the master of universal knowledge; the statesman-philosopher of France ; the two chiefs of practical science amongst our­ selves ; from those who speak the English language, seven names, at least, great in historical literature, two of them to be remembered as long as that language endures, as having told the story of our country’s greatness, the one with unexampled judg­ ment, the other with unexampled skill, to the whole civilized world. Such men are the gifts of God. They go and come at His good pleasure. But when they go, their departure gives a keener edge to the question, What is there in the coming generation that shall supply their place ? In the day “ when the towers fall,” who is there that shall “ bind up the breaches” of time, “and heal the stroke of the wound11 ?” It is a question which concerns not a few only, but all. For it is out of the whole atmosphere of a generation that such characters are born and bred. A thousand men, it is said, go to make up m The obituary of the last twelve months includes amongst its celebrated names, connected with science and literature, Hum­ boldt, Ritter, Wilhelm Grimm, Arndt, Tocqueville, Brunel, Stephenson, Prescott, Washington Irving, Hallam, Lord Ma­ caulay, Sir James Stephen, De Quincey, Mountstuart Elphinstone, Col. Leake, and I may add, since this Sermon was preached, Sir William Napier. n Isa. xxx. 25, 26. �34 one hero. It is the collective energy, industry, honesty of all, that renders the appearance of any one such possible or probable. It is the idleness, stupidity, commonplace indifference of the whole mass that weighs down the hopes and aims even of the firmest and grandest minds. “ One gene­ ration, O Lord, shall praise Thy Name unto another.” Each one of us will succeed into some one else’s place. Each one of us is treading in some one else’s footsteps. Behind each one of us another is treading, whose progress we may ad­ vance or retard. Behind us all, with ever lengthen­ ing shadows, comes the Dark Night “when no man can work.” Let me, then, to the various stages of life, ad­ dress, in their various senses, the warning and the encouragement of the text. I. “Why stand ye here all the day idle?” So, in the simplest and most literal sense, we hear the complaining question asked of many amongst you, my younger hearers, “ Why stand ye here, idle, all the day, all the year long ?” Why stand ye idle in the market-place, idle in the street, idle in the quad­ rangle ? idling, lounging, loitering, from room to room, from one listless pleasure to another; list­ less in work, listless even in amusement? “ Why stand ye here at all ? For what use or purpose are ye here, if ye thus stand all the day idle ?” It may be that this question, as put in these words from this place, is fired into the air. It may be that those whom it most concerns are far �35 away, standing and loitering in a still deeper idle­ ness on this day—I cannot say “of rest” for “ rest” has no meaning for those who know not what it is to work. But if in the minds of any who hear me the words find an echo, the answer will per­ haps come back almost in the words of the Para­ ble, “No man has hired us‘ the life of this place ‘ is against us ; its studies do not suit us ; we have ‘ worked elsewhere; we have worked at school, ‘ but we cannot work here.’ No, not so. There is no fatal charm of indolence and apathy in col­ lege life. To labour here is indeed your special call. As the preacher stands Sunday after Sunday in this place, and doubts what is the special duty which he shall lay before you, there is one of which he can feel no doubt whatever; and that is, to work. In after life you may be in doubt what your calling is, but here it cannot be mistaken. Here, in the natural studies of this place, it lies straight before you. Now is the golden time which will never come back to you. The field of study may be narrower than you would wish ; narrower, perhaps, than with advantage it might be. But it is wider by many degrees than once it was; it is wide enough for almost every one to find his sphere. At any rate, do something; if not within the prescribed limits of study, then do something outside of them ; do something to justify your existence here; do something which will enable you in after years to say, “ This at least I then learned so as to re­ member still.” “This idea, this book, this chad 2 �36 racter then first broke upon my mind.” “This habit, this principle got hold of me in such a year, in such a term, and by God’s grace it has stood me in good stead until now.” II. But is it too much to ask you all to look for­ ward to those years to which some among us have already attained ? the years of those future profes­ sions and callings which are indeed the “callings,” the “calls” of God, and which derive their very name from this Parable. I am not going to dwell on so obvious a truth as that which bids us be diligent in our several spheres. But there is one object, one mode of diligence which perhaps hardly occurs to us with sufficient clearness, but which is worth many precepts, which presents a fitting object of ambition, not too high to be unattainable by any, not too low to be unworthy of any, namely, to make the most of your position; not merely to do your duty in that station to which God has called you, but to make that station all that it ought to be; not merely to be yourself an example to those around you, but to make your station an example and proof of the dormant capacities for good which such a station contains. We speak of a man “ fill­ ing his situation,” “filling his post.” How much is there in that word, and how few endeavour to carry it out ! Look round your situation; look round and round it on every side; look round it in pros­ pect now; look round it when you are in it; ob­ serve its dimensions, its opportunities, its associa­ tions, its idea, its intention, and then “fill” it, fill it �37 out with your own exertions; put on all the sail that it will bear; let them catch every breath of wind that is stirring; trust yourself to it, and then, like a gallant ship, it will of itself bear you to the haven where you would be. That was a noble saying which is recorded of a well-known modern Sovereign, who on the day of his accession sud­ denly encountered a conspiracy, which at once threatened his life and his throne,—“ If I am to be Emperor only for half-an-hour, in that half-hour I will be every inch an Emperor.” What he thus said of the loftiest and widest of all the spheres in the Divine Vineyard, may be said no less of almost all below it. Whatever you are, be every inch that which you undertake to be. Animate, inspire, strengthen yourself with the whole spirit of your profession, of your office, and it will make you twice the man that you are in yourself, and you in return will make it twice what it is in itself. Take the case of the future lot of so many amongst you,—that of a country pastor. He may go through the routine of his office respectably, he may be a popular preacher, he may observe the rubrics ex­ actly, and yet, as regards the real call made to him, he may be “ standing all the day idle.” But let him throw himself into his parish ; let him live for it and in it; let him gather its society round him ; let him treasure up when he is absent from it whatever may instruct, or amuse, or console, or elevate its inhabitants; let him draw from their experiences, from their conversation, from their �38 sorrows, the life, and language, and consolations of his own sermons and ministrations to them; let him be remembered not only as their minister, but as their friend and representative,—and then he will be transfigured through his office, and his office will be transfigured through him. Or take any one who is engaged in teaching. Who is it that really succeeds in leaving a deep impression on his school or his college ? Not he who “ stands idle in the market-place” as soon as his necessary work is finished; not he who makes it a mere stepping-stone to something beyond ■ but he who enjoys his work ; who makes it his own ; who makes his pupils feel that his interest is theirs and theirs is his ; who drinks in strength from the rising generation and pours back his own strength into them ; who feels that his calling is to him in itself sufficient for serving God and for saving human souls. Or take yet another case,—a country gentleman. How easy it is for such an one to stand idle all the day long, and say that no man has hired him; to shut himself up from his neighbours; to leave his home and its concerns to be looked after by others; to be himself, his better self, away and abroad, but at home, in his own place, to be nobody, to be no­ thing ; nobody in his own eyes, nothing in the eyes of any one else. How easy, how natural, yet how ruinous to himself, how ruinous to his generation, how ruinous, we may almost say, to his country. On the other hand, how ennobling, how inspiriting, �39 how sanctifying is the influence of such a position thoroughly used, thoroughly appreciated, thoroughly mastered. It needs no splendid abilities to be thus, in the full sense, a labourer in the vineyard of God. For such an one to be a support instead of a hind­ rance to the good works of his property and parish ; to look with his own eyes after the comforts, the health, the decencies of the cottages of the poor; to bind together in social intercourse the various classes around him ; to take part in the beneficent institutions of the neighbourhood; to render his wealth, his domain, his house available for the pleasure and profit of others,—this call can surely be heard and obeyed by all whom it concerns. Many there are, I doubt not, who will at once recal living examples of what is better seen than described, more easily learned than taught. It is not the romantic mission of the Hengists and Horsas, who bore the burden and heat of the first sunrise of civilization. But it is to work the work of the nineteenth century. It is to leave a name honoured in life and mourned in death. It is to be doing in our measure for England, as many doubtless are doing, what even in the eleventh hour might have saved the aristocracy and the clergy of France. The “Eleventh Hour.” It is one of those pro­ verbial sayings, charged with a thousand meanings, which this Parable has bequeathed to us. “The Eleventh Hour.” How the very sound of the word deepens every warning, at every stage �40 of our probation ! How much it says to us of the coming and final twelfth hour, which has not yet struck ! how much of the golden hours which have already struck and passed away! how much of the present hour which is still striking! Late, late indeed, but not too late; too late to undo all the evil that ought to be undone, but not too late to do all the good that ought to be done ; not too late for any of us, even in the eleventh hour of their stay in this place, to start afresh in the race of life, to be as energetic as they once were in­ dolent, as pure as they once were dissolute, as devoted as they once were indifferent. Not too late to see the disappearance of evil fashions and cus­ toms of whole societies of men, especially in the fleeting generations of a place like this. “ I my­ self,” (many of us may say this,) “ have seen ° an un­ godly,” an idle, a frivolous, custom “flourishing like a green bay-tree in a few years “ I passed by, and its place could nowhere be found.” A new genera­ tion has swept it out; the idlers are gone from their accustomed haunt ; a fresh interest has sprung up; an active work is begun ; the reproach that rested upon us has been wiped clean away. So, in the most hopeful sense, we may close up the ranks that are thinned and succeed to those who are gone. The evil is driven out by the good, and the waste places in the vineyard are repaired, and the former things give way to the new, and the last takes the place of the first. 0 Ps. xxxvii. 36, 37 �41 III. This leads me to yet one further application of the lessons of the Parable. Of the more special work needed in the other high callings of life, let those of other callings think and learn for them­ selves. But I may be forgiven if I say a word of my own sacred profession, my own sacred study,— the profession and the study of Theology. To us too, in this eleventh hour of Christendom, there is a call, clear and shrill as the voice of a trumpet, bidding us hear, and listen, and obey. It is, as I have observed on a former occasion, a striking testimony to the truth and the greatness of Christianity, that after all that has been done, so much still remains to be done in each successive age. ‘ Truth is always green p.’ The Scriptures are always fresh. The relations of Science and Theology ever require new adjustments. The words and works of Christ are a mine of unexhausted wealth. Many books of Scripture still need a faithful, wise, and honest interpreter. Many chapters of the history of the Church need to be told. False supports of the faith ever need to be removed, and true sup­ ports to be put in their place. We need every help that learning and intellect, courage and faith can render, to search out the manifold problems and treasures of the Gospel. And now, why is it that, in the full view of these divine studies, so many stand idle on the threshold ? Why is it that, when the harvest is so plenteous, the labourers specially needed for the work are so p La verdad sempre verde.—(Spanish Proverb.) �42 few ? Why is it that the number of gifted minds and loftier characters,—those who from their know­ ledge, their power, and their love of truth, are most fitted, and would naturally be most attracted, to the study of theology or to the ranks of the clergy of our Church,—are in this sphere so few, so very few, within the last ten years, compared with what they were in former days ? The fact, as regards the present time and this place, is, I fear, undoubted. If it be, (as I trust that it is not,) more than a mere local or transient phenomenon, it would be, of all the clouds on the future horizon of the Church of England, the dark­ est and the most portentous. Why is it,—why stand they aloof, apart, in this extremity of our want, as though no man had called them ? Many answers, more or less true, may be given. I shall confine myself to one, because it suggests, in connexion with the close of this Parable, a lesson of general and serious import. What if it be that, here or elsewhere, we, the elder, the fellow-labourers in the vineyard, instead of eagerly welcoming the consecration of such gifts, are careless or unwilling to receive them ? that we gaze at them with fear or indifference ; make them ‘ stand idle and silent, as the very condition ‘ of our bearing with them ; bid them begone where ‘ they will be more welcome; sell them for nought ‘ to the stranger that passes by ?’ What if it be that, when genius and learning and devotion have of­ fered themselves for this sacred but perilous service, �43 we turn away from them, we try to set the world against them, we distrust their arguments, we mag­ nify their errors, we overlook their excellences ? O, my brethren, if this charge be brought against us of thus casting stumbling-blocks in our bro­ ther’s path, of thus narrowing the entrance to God’s vineyard, of thus grudging the reward of God’s labourers, what shall we say of the mode too common everywhere and on all sides, of car­ rying on theological warfare? “Are not God’s ways equal, are not your ways unequal, O ye house of Israel ?” Are we not guided too often by a blind caprice, which bids us swallow the hugest camels of those who belong to us, and strain at the smallest gnats of those who do not ? which refuses to hear from the living what we gladly or patiently hear from the dead ? which quietly receives from a lay­ man what we condemn in a clergyman ? which re­ ceives without murmur from the lips of the great or the successful what we endeavour to crush in the friendless or the suspected ? which endures gladly the most fantastic novelties, in accordance with the popular opinions of the day, but cannot endure the least variation from those opinions, even though it be in accordance with the teaching of many an honoured name in theology, with twelve centuries of Christendom, with the Creeds of the universal Church ? It is an infirmity, I well know, of some of the best and purest; it is the ‘ original fault and cor­ ruption’ of the old carnal Adam of theological fear �44 and hatred, of which ‘the natural infection remains’ even in the most enlightened and the most generous. It is, perhaps, in God’s wise providence turned into good by becoming a clog on changes else too rapid, on speculations else too aspiring. But not the less is it a grave and mournful evil,— an evil against which, I humbly but firmly believe, it ■was one special purpose of Christ our Saviour to raise His continual and awful protest,—an evil, which in its more remote effects does as much to undermine the faith of mankind, to “ strengthen the hands of the wicked and make sad the hearts of the right­ eous,” as any heresy or any superstition of which we have the keenest dread. Yet this habit of discouraging and disparaging the highest gifts of God in the Christian Church and ministry has not always prevailed in other Churches, nor at all times in our own. True, in this way we lost Calamy and Baxter,—we lost Miltonq,—we lost the apostolical Ken. But, in spite of their vast latitude, we succeeded in retaining the “ evcr-mcmorable” Hales and the “ immortal” Chillingworth. In spite of the torrent of theological abuse that burst upon them, we retained the pas­ toral beneficence of Burnet and the persuasive holiness of Tillotson. In spite of their far-reaching speculation and singular moderation, we exalted Berkeley and Butler. In spite of himself, we almost (would that it had been altogether!) retained John Wesley. •J See Masson’s Life of Milton, vol. i. pp. 288, 292, 369. �45 What was possible in the Church then, may be and has been achieved from time to time since. Here, if anywhere, we may be expected to breathe a serener atmosphere, to recognise the truth of ancient days re-appearing in modern forms, to bear patiently with the struggles after light, with the weaknesses of noble natures, with the troubles of tender consciences. Here we know that there have been—we may trust that there always will be— those who shrink from breaking the bruised reed and quenching the smoking flax ; whose wise, and just, and silent endeavours to smooth the entrance into a new and trying career need never be re­ pented of by themselves, and will never be forgotten by those whose difficulties they removed, or with whose doubts they sympathized. Above all, let none measure the truth and the grace of God by the faithless murmurs or grudging complaints of men. Though “ our eye be evil,” con­ tracted, distorted, darkened, the eye of God and God’s Word is “ good,” gracious, long-suffering, see­ ing not as man seeth, judging not as man judgeth. Though individuals are narrow and small, institu­ tions are high and wide. Individuals and genera­ tions last but for an hour ; the loving-kindness, the loftiness of the Ancient of Days, the richness of the vineyard to which He calls us, last for ages. Those gifted souls whom the caprice or hardness of men may have driven into wayward courses, are yet, as a great historian1’ well reminds us, not forgotten by r See Niebuhr, Hist, of Rome, ii. 603. �46 God. ‘ God will judge their faults more mercifully than those which have ruined His noblest work? Jerusalem, of the Christian no less than of the Jewish Church, is surrounded by the tombs of the Prophets, which have been built by the children of those who slew them, nay, built by the slayers themselves. God knows His own ; “He can do what He will with His own.” “ Many that are first shall be last, and the Last shall be First.” �Note on pp. 10—12, 42—44. The principles insisted upon in the earlier pages of the first and the later pages of the second Sermon, of course admit of a very general application, which ought to be extended to the utmost length that justice and truth may require in any of the opposite difficulties which divide and perplex the theological world. But as it will probably have occurred to most of my hearers that a recent case was particularly in my thoughts, I wish to take this opportunity of adding a few words to explain and to strengthen what I have already said. It is not my intention here to dwell on the well-known fact that the distinguished person who now occupies with signal efficiency the Regius Professorship of Greek in this University has for the last four years been ex­ cluded, on theological grounds, from the just endow­ ment which has been awarded to all the other important Academical Chairs. The condemnation of this singular anomaly by almost the whole body of Professors, by nearly all the most eminent of the Heads of Colleges, and by the educational staff of all the most flourishing .Colleges, is, I would hope, a guarantee that the Univer­ sity will not much longer suffer from the continuance of so great a scandal. The demands of justice, however, require me to go a step further than this, and to point out (so far as it is possible without entering into personal or theological con­ troversy) the precedents and arguments that must be set aside before we can presume to treat, as many of us have treated, the particular statements of the Greek Pro­ fessor, which have exposed him to so much obloquy. I allude of course to those3 which have reference to mo­ dern theories respecting the Divine Redemption. How far • Professor Jowett’s Essays, 2nd ed., vol. ii. p. 537—546, p. 547—595. �48 those statements are correct, and whether they are well or ill expressed, is not here the question. But it is certain that they are entitled, if not to respectful con­ sideration, at least to dispassionate toleration from all faithful sons of the Church of England, on the following, if on no other, grounds :— 1. They are founded on a serious, reverent, careful study of the words of Holy Scripture. 2. They are justified by the general language of the Church of England in the most solemn expressions of its faith, particularly in those which on Good Friday com­ memorate the event and the doctrine in question. 3. They are not condemned by the Apostles’, the Nicene, or the Athanasian Creed, or by the four first General Councilsb. The silence of the Creeds on this subject has, in fact, exposed those venerable Confessions to the most violent attacks from partisans of the modern popular theologyc. 4. They are substantially in agreement with the general (though, it may be, not exclusive) teaching of the Church for twelve hundred years. That teaching has been, ac­ cordingly, assailed on this very account by many modern divines. But even as late as Anselm, his peculiar view of b At the close of a volume of University Sermons issued in 1856 against the Greek Professor, is printed, as if decisive of the question at issue, the following passage from the Enchiridion Theologicum:—“ Every minister ought to be careful that he never expound Scriptures in public contrary to the known uses of the Catholic Church, particularly of the Churches of England and Ireland, nor introduce any doctrine against ang of the four first General Councils; for these, as they are measures of faith, so also of necessity; that is. as they are safe, so are they sufficient; and beside what is taught by these no matter of belief is necessary to salvation.” It is the necessary cousequenee of a study of the Canons of the four Councils, that not the Essay of the Greek Professor, but the volume of Sermons by which that Essay is assailed, falls under the censure of the rule which has been thus set up as the standard of the controversy. For as, on the one hand, none of these Canons condemn the doctrines whieh the Essay contains, neither, on the other hand, do they contain the doctrines which the Ser­ mons declare to be “ matter of belief necessary to salvation,” * Eiland. On Church Reform, pp. 159, 160, 166, 167. �49 a part of the question did not prevent the complete accord­ ance of that great theologian with the general doctrine held alike by the early Fathers and by the Greek Pro­ fessor, on a point to which, in our own day, the most ardent opposition has been raised. 5. Since the time of Thomas Aquinas, and, still more, since the time of Calvin and of Grotius, another theory has gradually gained ground, and there is no doubt that between the ancient and simpler view, and those which are now popularly preached, there is sometimes a wide variance. But that simpler view, as maintained by the Greek Professor, has, even in modern times, been supported by names of great and acknowledged authority. Even in the last century it was protected, though not adopted, by Bishop Butler in his famous condemnation d of all conjec­ tures on this subject, as being “if not evidently absurd, yet at least uncertain and by Professor Hey’s summary of the doctrine in his celebrated Lectures on the Articles e. It is substantially that of William Lawf, the author of the “ Serious Call,” and of Alexander Knox, the distinguished friend of Bishop Jebbg. It is identical with the doctrine of Coleridge’s “Aids to Reflection11,” once used almost as a text-book by students of theology and philosophy in this place. It is, in its most vital points, the same that has received the sanction of the late Mr. Robertson1, who is regarded by not a few excellent persons as a model preacher of the Church of England —the present Dean of Ely, who is well known as one of the most esteemed divines of the sister Universitykthe present Dean of d Butler’s Works, vol. i. p. 212. e Hey’s Lectures, vol. iii. pp. 295, 320. f Law’s Letters, pp. 70, 93, 97, 99, 100,104. g Knox’s Remains, vol. iv. pp. 363, 372, 468, 511. h Coleridge’s Aids to Reflection, vol. i. pp. 257—270. ■ Robertson’s Sermons, vol. i. pp. 154—157, 162. j “ Oh! that a hundred like men were given us by God, and placed in prominent stations throughout our land.”—Appendix to Consecration Ser­ mon of the present Bishop of Gloucester, by the Rev. J. H. Gurney. k Harvey Goodwin’s Hulsean Lectures, pp. 27—37, 221, 223. E �50 Canterbury, in the most widely circulated of all English editions of the Greek Testament1; — and my lamented predecessor, the late Professor Hussey, who has guardedly but decidedly expressed this view in an Ordination Sermon on this subject “published at the desire” of the present Bishop of Oxford m. It would have been easy to multiply names and facts in the same direction. It will be easy, if necessary, to give at length the passages which I have here cited only in the briefest form. But I was unwilling to encumber these pages with a controversy which, I trust, is now all but extinct. What I have said will be, to any who are ready to be convinced, a sufficient proof that in my Sermon I spoke, not without ground, of the “unequal ways” of modern Theological warfare, and that the liberty which is there claimed for English Churchmen is not more than has been, in many instances, already conceded, without peril to the interests of true Religion or of the Church of England. 1 Alford’s Greek Test., vol. iv. p. 54. m Professor Hussey’s Ordination Sermon, preached in Christ Church Cathedral, December 23, 1855, pp. 9—14, 17, 19—21, 23, 24, 29—32. ]9rinteb bn Jttcssrs. pai’her, (fornmarlwt, ©iforb. � 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 &amp; 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 freedom of the gospel [and] The labourers in the vineyard Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn Description An account of the resource Place of publication: [Oxford] Collation: 50 p. ; 22 cm. Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. The freedom of the Gospel preached on the Act Sunday (the second Sunday after Trinity) July 5, 1859 -- The Labourers in the Vineyard preached on septuagesima Sunday, Feb. 5, 1860. Printed by Messrs. Parker, Oxford. Preached at Christ Church College, Oxford. The author identifies himself as the successor to Robert Hussey, Regias Professor of Ecclestical History which would identify him as Arthur Penrhyn Stanley. Includes bibliographical references. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [Messrs. Parker, printers] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource [1860?] Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G5361 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 freedom of the gospel [and] The labourers in the vineyard), 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 Sermons https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/51f6afb35cbf6ec6f90aeefa4e8cab54.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=SbbB6ynFOf6-TVOsZCWK2xH-5oOSWzhlakf2hMJtjxMsHKBTCK-c6f7qhFTylClHQ9p868lqcoHUs1cl7X4HyTfml741pZUn6IYXHZTwqSbtw0LKU4bXpcdahKXIEyukrReT61DFwMgUMsLxOxzGrDPMzpWISUiNSqpFBxicSUQSoDY1L5tEPEnGZ8-m2BzJ2prgPxF0uLqzggrEv52FdZ4%7EynTxhiYMoTI0xngKchAV0axGg5y5dSOsw1RW2RTnz7%7EleXB5-3wXzNLUdtpuyGmMSpyBDj95fztma2i-SyfL2nJ2ucwg45dCnpyfV3bkasAJ9VtB5KsbDa81MZ3YUA__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM a18b48f3b543ec8fc1f2ba72ea30fc42 PDF Text Text THE INFLUENCE OF HOME. _A_ SZEZEdZMZOIbT, PREACHED AT ST. GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM PLACE, SEPTEMBER 13, 1874, BY THE BEV. CHARLES VOYSEY. The text was taken from 2 Corinthians xiii, 11, “ Be perfect be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace, and the God of love and peace shall be with you.” He said—We are all familiar with the idea of the sacredness of sorrow ; from our youth up, preachers and moralists have instilled into us that chastisement is good for us, and that afflictions are but blessings in disguise ; as we grew older we learnt this holy lesson for ourselves, though, perhaps, by slow degrees and with much rebellion and unbelief. Far be it from me to throw this teaching into the shade, or to underrate the magnificence of this triumph of the human heart over its troubles. Yet I think we have, in our eagerness to give or to gain consolation, suffered another equally valuable lesson to drop out of our recognition. W& have not made enough of the sacredness of joy. We have not recovered from the depressing influences of the Puritanism of our forefathers, and, in all matters pertaining to religion and morals, the severity of discipline by sorrow has not only had its due prominence, but has been allowed to monopolize our regard and to appear as the sole agency in the culture of our characters. Man, in his usual extravagance, has cherished a tacit belief that because sorrow is a necessary blessing therefore joy is either unnecessary or unwholesome. Or, perhaps, it is because the pursuit of happiness is never likely to flag, whereas we are ever by nature striving to avoid pain, that happiness has needed no recom-- �0 mendation, is considered to be amply provided for, and, if only tolerated by preachers, the less said about it the better. I think the sacredness of joy has been overlooked, and by the term “ sscredness,” as applied to joy, I mean exactly the same as when it is applied to sorrow. Just as sorrow is found to be beneficial to the soul, in purifying, elevating and expanding its noblest powers, so joy has a like beneficial effect, and is capable of doing wonders in the improvement of character. True joy is therefore as solemn and sacred as Heaven-sent affliction. Both are needful, as the day for labour and the night for rest. Both are indispens­ able to the proper development of human nature, and both should be recognized by moralists and religious teachers as equally important, equally sacred. I wish this morning, after my long absence from you, to say a little of what is in my heart about the joys of home. Nearly all of us have a home, and most of us, it is to be hoped, can call theirs a happy one; but I wonder how many of us have ever thought seriously about our home as the real school-house of our characters, and as the mould in which our lives are cast ? How many of us are there who pay more heed to the fact of enjoying a happy home than to the fact of the daily rising sun? To very many, and especially to the young, the one is just as much a matter of course as the other. Years and years roll by, and they do not fully realize the priceless blessings of home until they have lost it. In the turn of events they are forced to go forth into the world and dwell among strangers, and to make a new home for themselves ; and then all at once they wake up to know how much they had so long unconciously enjoyed, and what they have now lost—perhaps for ever. And so it is with many of us elder ones ; we live on in the same smooth tenour of oui* way enjoying daily without reflection a thousand tender offerings of affection, till we get so accustomed to the things which make up our life’s happiness as to take them for granted, and forget altogether with how much toil and sacrifice they have been supplied. But all at once some stroke of misfortune descends, some sore bereavement �3 or calamity worse than death stirs us from our easy and blind satis­ faction, and makes us realize what our home has really been to us, and what holy and faithful services had made it so happy. Misfortune without, or the attack of unfriendly criticism, will often have the same effect. The blow which hurts one member shakes with electric shock all the rest, and so reveals the sacred and delicate bond which binds the family in one. The sympathy and help which are thus simultaneously awakened bring home to every heart the reality of that domestic love which all along had been giving them so much unconscious joy. And so too, but in a less degree perhaps, is domestic love revealed by temporary separation. Members of one family do not know how much they love one another until they have been divided. Then one by one the little endearments are missed, the old loving looks of affection and sympathy are thirsted for, and the severed ones become conscious how much of the pleasure of their lives was due to each others’ daily intercourse. Change of scene however interesting, change of occupation however pleasant, hospitality and kindness of friends however generous—all these fail to supply the joys that we left behind, or to fill the void in our breasts which is akin to pain. No personal comforts, not the best and most devoted of friends can take the place of the dear ones who are absent. Their memory is sweet to us; our rising thought in early dawn is of them and their welfare ; our last prayer before our eyes are closed is that they may be safe and happy. In the midst of our most refreshing recreations we wish they were with us to share them ; and if the slightest shadow of ill tidings reach us, we long to be back again to comfort and protect them. We learn in separation the intensity of our love, and begin to see how much more we owe to each other than we had ever dreamed. Ard so the return home is a sensation of exceeding joy. We wait for it as shipwrecked men wait for the dawn; we count the days and hours which must intervene, as poor school-boys do when the holidays draw near. We picture the scene in our vivid imaginetions, calling up the vision of each smiling face as it greets us �4 on the threshold, and wondering with a trembling heart what good or bad reports we may have to hear. Coming home is a most solemn joy. It is a holy sacrament to all who have a home—and not a mere dwelling-place—to come to. In all our experience there is nothing so religious, so exquisite; nothing which brings God so near to us, nothing which so completely wipes out dark memories, fills the soul with holy resolutions, or gives such foretaste of the peace and rest of Heaven. We know and feel at such moments, though we cannot put it into words, that God Hiipself could not give us greater joy on earth than this, that our cup of happiness is full and running over, and that our hearts are bursting with grateful delight. We feel that God Himself is with us rejoicing in our joy, and delighting in giving such bliss to his children. Such mercies knit our hearts to Him, and help us to love His blessed will, and be ready to give up all we love best at His bidding. And if religious emotion in its highest degree involve the penitent recollection of past misdeeds, and the pious resolve to amend our lives, what more fitting and natural opportunity for such feelings than this can there be ? Across the mind there sweeps a sorrowful thought of shame, and almost wonder, that any unjust or unkind word should ever have been spoken amongst us, much more any unkind deed done; and this spasm of godly sorrow is instantly followed by a flood of holy impulse to rule our lives by love, never to wrong each other by word or deed, but to help, comfort, and defend one another while life shall last. And this high resolve, not made on bended knee, or with tearful eye, but springing out of a joy too great for words, is propped up on all sides by hope—by hope which tells that there is an inexhaustible fountain of mutual love from which to draw, the depth of which we had not fathomed. We can thus promise to be good to each othei, for love will make it easy. And this is one of the most prominent and most natural results of true joy. It gives a sense of perfect peace with God and trust in His blessed will; it makes the heart shrink from its own iniquity, it fills it with holy desire to be utterly good, and turns the desire for �5 improvement into a promise of success by revealing love as the basis of hope. Away then with the foolish and unnecessary creeds ! As if God had not created the family ties, and consecrated domestic duties and troubles and joys on purpose to teach us all the religion and morality that we ever wanted I What do we want with altars for offerings and burnt sacrifices, for incense and wafers, when in every temple of home there is a fireside—a sacred hearth—where daily and hourly offerings of love and duty may be laid. What need have we for religious rites and ceremonies to please God or benefit our souls, when home-life abounds with opportunities for the holiest services, and the sacraments of love may be partaken of every day. I do not wish to be hard upon the Christian Sacraments or any other ceremony that may help feeble souls. But I do wonder that men should have gone out of their way to seek for God, should have hunted in the burning sands of the parched wilderness for the living streams of His bounty, should have invented elaborate devices for il pleasing Him ” when all He asks of us is to love one another; or should have wasted their wits and their toil to culti­ vate piety and holiness, when the Divine method of becoming pious and holy lies straight before them, and has been mercifully appointed as the common lot of mankind. To return to the more special subject of my discourse, if such joy is holy and elevating, it follows that the happier we can make our own homes the better shall we be. And by happiness, of course I do not mean the mere piling up of earthly comforts or luxuries, the acquisition of wealth or the realization of ambitious hopes ; but such peace of mind and pleasure in life as grows out of being loved and loving in return. In this sense, I believe many faults would be cured and we ourselves made infinitely more useful to the world outside, if we were to make each other happier at home, if there were more love and more determination not to wound or vex anyone around us. The effect of dwelling in an atmosphere uncongenial, where sympathy �6 is absent oi' scanty; where criticism is plentiful and sharp; where fault-findings outnumber the encouragements; where one error will obliterate many right actions; where cold hard duty, precious as that is, is made a substitute for affectionate interest; and where correctness is worshipped at the expense of generosity— the effect of dwelling in such an atmosphere, I say, is to wither the heart and to harden the manners, to lose a friend if not to make a foe. No husband or wife, parent or child, brother or sister, master, mistress or servant can hold ground in nobleness of character unless fostered by the warm sunshine of a loving inter­ course. To make the best of anyone, we must begin with extreme kindness, and if possible, by loving him. If we do not, we shall never see any but the worst side of his nature, unless it be too noble to be concealed or disguised. Begin by detraction and discourage­ ment, and the sorrow of the heart so oppressed will probably make it unworthy and drive it to baseness. Well may we say to each other what the Psalmist said to God. “ If thou wilt be extreme to mark what is done amiss, O Lord who can abide it ?” Yet, if we only make clear our loving purpose to make each other as happy as we can, oh ! how bearable then are each other’s failings and defects, how easily we can put up with weak tempers and hasty words, as well as broken promises and neglected duties ! We all have to fall back now and then on the loyalty of affection which is at the bottom of each other’s hearts; and if that be wanting, the superstructure of smiles and pleasant faces and pretty speeches are only a frightful mockery, making the void within more hollow and the soul’s insight more ghastly. Let people differ and wrangle sometimes, it is comparatively a trifle, if only they love one another at heart. If they do not and they are compelled to live together, God have mercy on them ! They need the pity of Heaven ! But have we no other words for those who have no home—or whose home is poisoned by the serpent of strife—no words but of pity and sorrow. Yes, I think Love has words of hope for all— even for the most hopeless. What are called incompatibility of temper, sourness of disposi­ tion, provoking habits and all the terrible list of reasons why people separate and why homes are either ruined or broken up, are not all incapable of cure. They who say there is no cure are those who have not had the patience to try, nor have the fortitude to �7 take up a course of conduct for which instead of thanks they expect only fresh insult. Where real love is not forthcoming, there still remains the moral power of self-control and the determination at least to behave well to each other. Let all persons who are in the unhappy position of living in a home without mutual love try the experi­ ment of doing the best they can for each other, of striving to avoid giving offence, of schooling themselves into actions and words of kindness. If no other happy result should follow, at least this course is sure to preserve domestic peace; and in nine cases out of ten it will do ever so much more. By slow degrees unwearied kindness and patience and forgiveness beget gratitude and go far to create an affection that is absent, or to restore one that is lost. Love is the offspring of pure kindness, quits as often as kindness is the offspring of Love. And so I would urge upon the unhappy that it is never too late to mend, never too late to ameliorate their own condition, if only they will go the right way to work and seek the happiness of those around them first. For in this also the principle holds good that joy is purifying and elevating. Make any man or woman less miserable, add ever so little to his or her happiness and the fruit of a better life will soon shew itself. And lastly I would say a few words to those who by inevitable circumstance are banished from home and have to dwell alone or among strangers. God only knows what some very tender and warm hearts suffer in the freezing atmosphere of unfamiliar faces and ungenial associates. But even for them there is left one blessing—and that God’s best blessing—the power of winning love and making a home for themselves out of the foreign elements around them. As every home is only Home when love reigns in it, so the veriest desert may become a garden if we do our part in the culture of the affections. Let anyone, however in other respects deficient in winning others, if only rich in kindness and manifest self-devotion, do his or her best for the comfort and peace of those who come in daily contact, and the strange faces will grow familiar and pleasant, hearts that seemed shut up to themselves and to only a few favoured ones will expand first with gratitude, then with esteem, and lastly with real friendship and love. �8 Governesses and tutors and servants, even boarders and lodgers can furnish a whole literature of this divine conquest of the human heart over the seemingly stony natures with which it is forced to dwell. Commanders of vessels, leaders of regiments, superintend­ ing engineers, a hundred times over have told the tale of their making a happy home for themselves out of the wealth of love and human feeling which they carried in their own breasts. If the ties have not been so tender, so spontaneous, so deep, as those wherewith God has blessed us in our natural domestic relations, still they have been strong and warm and have shewn their heavenly virtue in mutual self-sacrifice and in splendid heroism. And surely no public work, no reformation, no patriotism can be compared for a moment with the glory of that triumph over the hearts of men. More and more do I feel the solemn importance of being first in our own homes what we desire to be before the world. Nothing to me is more certain than that the ultimate test by which we and our work will be judged is the manner in which we live at home. If that will bear the scrutiny of the best and wisest and kindest among men, we need fear no failure in our philanthropic efforts in the world around us. But if our homes are darkened by strife or poisoned by impurity, the best among men will turn their backs upon our principles however sound, will revolt from our teaching however reasonable, and will point scornfully at our huge incon­ sistency, crying, “ By their fruits ye shall know them.” Let us prize as our most precious gift—even above all faith and hope—the joy of a happy home. Let that be our sheet-anchor; let that be the shrine to defend which we will pour out our life’s blood to the last drop. Let us banish for ever the idea that it is other people’s business to make us happy ; and instead of that, let us each one say to himself “ my one duty is, and it shall be my chief concern, to make everyone around me as happy as I can. If we but live in this spirit, we shall have lived for the greatest human glory, and we may add too, for the honour and glory of God; and our rewai’d will be—what no wealth or luxuries can furnish the confidence and love of all around us. God Himself can give no more I Garter & Williams, General Steam Printers, 14, Bishopsgate Avenue, Camomile-street, 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 &amp; 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 influence of home: a sermon, preached at St. George's Hall, Langham Place, September 13, 1874 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Voysey, Charles [1828-1912.] Description An account of the resource Place of publication: London Collation: 8 p. ; 19 cm. Notes: Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 6. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available [Carter & Williams] Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1874 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context G4830 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 influence of home: a sermon, preached at St. George's Hall, Langham Place, September 13, 1874), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span> Format 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 Religion Sermons Home Morris Tracts Religion Sermons https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/2332467e30dc10796e20757cb0759baa.pdf?Expires=1785369600&Signature=Jsx-xvZEcy6SYKD3hV1c%7Eo6-tYuR51nxc90wuAGtEstZYzvPHMbcLGz0nanxHagAPamYimzlrVBL8OpUJ51QAnqWK6PIMjKgv6qqN1wtcmXsqHecKYH6uSDcZXNN0hrQO9S1HPAGoz9yLMgvkvEjrIgSmYkHtQ30u-vpyu0aI6DvECMQuJyO6gCEmtLEsY8Ueh0e3jjX1QzcNoeXBa6iAsS%7EYxPzkEAgjeSlrqCDu2iHsPZFF1ph6PoQaP%7ERvNXVDlhDTP%7E7FtkF5hDorh1FOIF20RAAy42XxELHdRGVFAcCLKrCG6Zzb6hCoIUQTGaRhnmEvmSNDlq28Qj29uZCnw__&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 &amp; 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